A devastating and confusing thing about the Fallout setting, when you explore the pre-war aspects, is what the creators think about pre-war America. In the first games we only get hints of the pre-war world, but they seem to be some sort of wild fascist nation invading Canada. In Fallout 1, the first thing we're introduced to of the pre-war society is seeing a soldier shoot civilians and laughing.
Now, for the first 2 games and New Vegas we don't really know much. What we know is that there's a fascist military group known as the enclave who were a sort of US deep state even before the war, and that the government teamed up with corporate interests to preform vaguely MKULTRA-ish experiments with the Vaults. Basically, the government was an extreme version of the 50s American jingoism and McCarthyism.
This is well and dandy, I guess issues come up more when we get to the later games, especially 4, where it seems like none of this extreme plotting and societal civil unrest which would exist is seen. The society as presented in 4 also seems quite progressive, gay people are featured in the opening, and none of the baggage of say, civil rights not existing are included. Now on a baseline, I don't want settings to be more conservative, homophobic and sexist etc., but it becomes a very confusing setting when it's displayed both as this jingoist extreme thing with fascist tendencies aswell as a progressive place where everyone is seemingly equal. If you're focusing on the 50s as your setting, and American nationalism in the 50s, then you can't have McCarthyism spoofs and anti-communism as a societal paranoia norm while also general equality is the norm without misunderstanding why McCarthyism and nationalist jingoism is bad. A massive harm done in anti-communist paranoia is how it degrades and vilifies any progressive movements (women's rights, civil rights, homosexuality) as being morally un-American and therefore connected to communism. To ignore this just makes any critique of MacCarthyism and jingoism weird!
Basically, pre-war America in Fallout 4 becomes this both sides thing where America is both pure and equal and white fences in every instance that we see as the player (the intro), while also supposedly being this dystopic MacCarthyist hellscape that's broadcasting gladly about their war crimes in Canada, and wants to root out communism. I guess the only fix for this issue without getting into the fine print like they had to do is just not to focus too much on the pre-war world.
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oh my god…. prince……. you can’t do this to me. you’re saying next fic has vox getting fucked, focuses on vox’s transness (AH), AND ALSO HES ON THE OFF SEE SAW OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH VAL?????? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MEE?!!?!!????? I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY COMBUST. and bc another anon asked abt how alastor views the violence in voxval’s relationship, i have Another thought on the matter. as much as alastor looks down on vox, they can be Very similar sometimes. they are both egomaniacs and very prideful. i don’t think vox, without outside interference, would ever ADMIT that the violence he faces is 1) something he truly hates AND 2) out of his control. he can’t admit he hates it, because then why isn’t he stopping it? that would be admitting to not being powerful enough or strong enough. and hello, 50’s toxic masculinity coming through, he CANT be a victim of domestic violence. he’s a powerful, rich, and important man. it all comes down to perceived weakness. so, the solution is to pretend he’s mostly fine with it. sure, he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment, but i don’t think he’d ever let himself take it seriously. because then he has to start drawing lines in the sand, and what happens then? will val look down on him? will he lose val? yeah, he is not risking that over a problem he mostly refuses to acknowledge exists. and as you said, this is all happening in the setting of hell, where ultra violence IS the norm, and vox himself is excessively violent. it’s the most delicious 50 layer cake of fucked up-ness.
RANT ASIDE THO. i have a question. 2. do you ever plan on having vox interact with the hotel crew outside of angel? ANDDDD what would charlie’s reaction be to their friendship/situationship/ kinda love affair. i think she could add SOOOOO much hilarity and Intense Emotions to this series. not that the boys haven’t been doing their part in that so far. charlie just intensifies everything she does, god bless her. -🌓
The "getting fucked" bit and the trans conversation bit are directly related to and relevant to each other, and frankly I'm just very happy to be out here writing the specific flavors of deeply queer shenanigans that I'm writing, and to have people actively enjoy that. It genuinely means a lot to me that I've strayed so goddamn far out of the bounds of good old top/bottom yaoi archetypes that introduced me to fandom and yet have a wildly enthusiastic audience nonetheless. So, that was my long way of saying that you bring me a lot of fucking joy, anon, hahaha.
As for everything you're saying about Vox, power, and masculinity: YOU! points dramatically at you YOU GET IT! YOU GET IT!!!!!! Everyone just read this, this is it, this is the thing. I have no notes to add. There is a reason that the main point he raises the moment he actually says something vulnerable about it (before he immediately cuts himself off) is a complaint that he's an overlord, so why—?
And with regards to your questions: I'm not gonna lie, my actual planning for 666 is usually, like, extremely by the seat of my pants. I plan nothing except, "Oh, shit, had an idea for the next one. Lesgoooo—" and that's been the case for literally every single installment. It's all just been evolving naturally and building on top of itself. So! I can't say that I plan to have Vox interact with the hotel crew or Charlie, but I also will never say that I'm actively opposed to it.
That said, I do think a lot of this fic is kinda structured around hitting specific topics that come up in intimate settings between Vox and Alastor specifically, with occasional tag-ins from Angel Dust, so I don't really know if there's anything in particular I'd like to write that I think would work better in this series if more characters got involved. But, hey! Never say never!
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So… have you watched or played The Last of Us? If you have, could you write Thena and Gilgamesh meeting after a fight with a few clickers?
Gil panted behind his palm. Even his heavy breathing was liable to get him killed in a situation like this. Fuck.
Half the party was already dead.
Between the upper floor and the lower, they had split up. He didn't know everyone--hell, he didn't really know anyone. No one had to know anyone in their little section of city life, and he liked it that way. But any loss was a loss, and it meant more food for those things.
Two clickers, as far as he could gather. One was on the mezzanine level, trying to flush out the rest of the team. The other was on the lower level, already spreading cordyceps to those below. Fuck.
Gil slowed his breathing. He looked up at the broken skylight. There was still some glass in it, but it was mostly a big ass hole letting in the elements now. If only he could get eyes on them. He was one of three of them who had real experience in the field.
He always tried to tell people he grew up in America, but he spoke the language. Then he would say that everyone had to do mandatory service, but that still meant he had firearms training. Didn't matter if it was the Korean forces or US army, they wanted anyone who could hold a gun and not shoot their own nuts off.
The other two were the team leads, did this regularly. One was a sharpshooter, talkative but also deceptively observant. Gil didn't know if he had served or if he just had perfect eyes, but either way, he was always on the scope. The other one was definitely the kind of guy who liked his time in service. He was tightly wound, always had a stick up his ass, liked barking orders.
The only other one Gil even somewhat recognized was the woman.
He didn't know her name either, but he knew that the sharpshot called her 'T'. He referred to her as Blondie in his head sometimes, only because, well, fuck--he didn't think a person could get any blonder than she was. Not in the dumb way.
On the contrary, she seemed lethally sharp. He had seen her around. She kept quiet, kept to herself. But he had seen her use sign language and she was light on her feet; those were already two assets that made her pretty much royalty to the field team.
Gil flinched back as that sickening sound drew closer. That creaking, croaking click that gave the things their name. He looked down at the floor.
Blondie was waving at him.
He looked up from the puddle. She was in a pretty good spot, actually. She was up on one of the higher shelves, crouched like a fucking cat. Her hands moved but he made a face and shook his head.
She gave up on the real sign language. She had eyes on them. One was right behind him. The other was downstairs. Their own were each pinned in the crook of a corner. Better to deflect that thing's sounds.
Gil nodded. This was their best bet. He looked at her and angled his rifle.
She shook her head. It wasn't a good shot. And even if the other one was downstairs, it would just come charging up at them as soon as they made any real noise. And those it was infecting now would follow.
Gil tilted his head back again. Why had he agreed to raid duty again?
Oh right, he was just feeling particularly miserable about things. And he wanted off body duty--anything but hauling the lifeless sacks around all day. Maybe something in the kitchens.
Blondie was waving again. She pointed up at the skylight.
Gil shook his head. What was the busted ass skylight gonna do?
She pointed again, then at him, then up. She mimicked taking the shot. Then...snowfall? Rain? Rainfall; Gil made a face and she nodded. She was telling him to shoot the skylight. The clattering glass might - just fucking might - be enough to distract those things.
He tilted his head at her, asking if she was particularly sure about any of this.
She shrugged, pulling up the dinky little handgun either Thing 1 or Thing 2 had given her. She nodded at him and then aimed downwind from herself. It almost looked like she was aiming at him, but he could see that she really thought shit through when she had something to say. She was going to aim for the one closest to him.
He took his aim too, looking at Blondie up on the shelf. He held out his fingers. It was on three, if either of them mistimed this, shit could go south very fucking fast.
Blondie nodded.
One. Gil drew in a breath. He still didn't like guns at all. He had never had to use his weapon when he did his mandatory service. Two. He didn't like any of this, to be honest. He wasn't really a violent guy, by nature. But the world was what it was, now, and violent delights had violent ends. Three. All that was left was trying to live day by day.
The skylight clattered to the ground below, even the glass that was remaining falling inward. Maybe it didn't seem like much when it was up that high, but it was actually a hell of a lot of glass that rained down on the first floor. The clicker down there screeched as it was sliced up from above. The bodies of their own also got buried in the sharp snowfall.
Gil winced as his gunshot echoed in his ear. It wasn't really an echo, one shot was his and one was hers. He ducked down, expecting shit to rain down on him too.
Blondie had pretty good aim, apparently. She got the thing right through the temple. It was still up, sure, twitching and all, but the brain was dead, thus no longer a source of nutrients for its host.
Gil walked out cautiously. He peered downstairs. There were only a few masses writhing and hissing down there. He spread some shots around, making sure nothing sprang up to trot up and meet him. Once nothing seemed to be moving, he dropped the barrel.
Blondie gave him a tight nod.
He returned it, looking around him. Dumb and Dumber were already skulking around the rest of the mezzanine, looking for evidence of more of them. True gentlemen, leaving the lady fucking up on a pedestal. Gil rolled his eyes.
Blondie eyed him from above as he walked over to her. A little glass crunched under his boots as he did. She was still curled up pretty tight on herself.
Gil nodded his head for her to come down.
She looked around them. There was a clicker body and a hell of a lot of glass around them.
Gil sighed. It was always easier going up than coming down. He pulled the strap off his shoulder and set his weapon down. He extended his arms up.
She gave him a look.
He scoffed and waved his hands again. What did she think--that he was trying to cop a feel? He changed the position of his arms, promising her an easy dismount.
She had her misgivings, and he couldn't really blame her for that. He kept his hands up as she slowly unfurled her legs. She let them dangle a little before scooting herself closer to the edge. She was really trying not to trust him.
Gil moved forward, grasping her by the waist before she could really plummet that last couple feet to the ground. Jesus, she weighed as much as a sheet of paper. He kept his eyes on her as he helped lower her to the ground quietly. Once even her toes were on the floor again he let go, holding his palms out and stepping away. No funny business.
She continued to eye him like a cat would eye a stray dog. Maybe he could see why; she was an itty-bitty thing, not that anyone was necessarily well fed these days. But the jacket she was wearing really hid how delicate boned she was.
Gil raised an eyebrow.
She gave him one last withering glare before tipping her head. It wasn't much of a thank you, but he accepted it nonetheless. She looked over at the clicker that had been right on top of him and then at him, from the ground up. Her sandy coloured eyebrows raised as well.
He pursed his lips and tipped his head. He wasn't bit, but he wouldn't call this a fun day out, or anything. He shrugged, and she seemed to agree with his lacklustre sentiment.
Blondie looked across the open mezzanine. The sharpshot signed something to her, and she signed back. She even had slim little delicate fingers.
Gil tiled his head to catch her eye again, hoping to be filled in. There were regular classes for sign language back in town. Maybe it was time he actually attend some.
She nodded to him with a hint of a smile. "All clear."
Gil blinked as she walked past him on the way to the lower floor again. "You can talk?"
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