rosemaryreaper

[rosemaryreaper]

Playing around with ideas again.

#in other words not writing #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4

[rosemaryreaper]

Fallout OCs!

This has been sitting in my drafts for months. About time I actually shared them.

* * * * Fallout 4 * * * *

Nora “Blue” Delaney (she/her): Minutemen general and Sole Survivor of Vault 111, she led the Commonwealth to victory against the Institute. Now it’s her mission to rebuild her former home, with hope for a peaceful future in the new family that is Piper, Nat, and Shaun. While Nora constantly emphasizes that she has no interest in power, her strong influence over nearly all the eastern Commonwealth settlements and supply lines, as well as on the politics of Diamond City itself, cause many to doubt her intent. None more so than the overzealous Brotherhood of Steel…who she pissed off when she went AWOL as a paladin and sabotaged Liberty Prime. Oops.

Ros Markey (she/they): The daughter of an Appalachian vault dweller and a Piedmont settler, she’s a wanderer with an oddly diverse skill set. After a series of tragedies left her alone with only a temperamental robot horse for company, she bounces from job to job—farmhand, caravan guard, pole dancer—anything that will keep her moving away from her past. Not completely directionless, she regularly collects data for her mother’s Project Salvia, despite knowing next to nothing about the work she has inherited—or how it’s supposed to save the world.

* * * * Fallout 3 * * * *

Charlotte “Charlie” Mills (she/her): Programmer, engineer, former resident of the Capital Wasteland’s Vault 101—and yet forever a Lone Wanderer and outcast. She had a brief stint as one of the Brotherhood of Steel’s most renowned paladins before the whole mess with Project Purity left her with a radiation makeover. “Honorably” discharged due to her new ghoulish appearance, she does her best to live a (semi-)quiet life on a small Maryland farm, occasionally looking after the young son of a certain sharpshooter merc. That is, until that certain merc sets off on a mission for some weird Yankee general. Looks like it’s time to dust off the old Pip-Boy again.

* * * * Fallout: New Vegas * * * *

Shrike (they/them): Courier Six, AKA the baddest gunslinger west of the Rockies, Shrike is rather like a rattlesnake: reasonably docile most of the time, good at communication, and only likely to mess with you if you mess with them first. Unfortunately, a lot of folks like to mess with them. (Most of those folks now have holes in them.) Really, all Shrike wants is to do their job, make some caps, hang out with their favorite scribe, and maybe, if they’re feeling generous, lend a hand here or there. If only things would stop trying to kill them for five goddamned seconds.

#all of them except shrike appear in #rosemary reaper #since the width of an entire continent is something of an obstacle #nora delaney #ros markey #charlie mills #courier shrike #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas

[rosemaryreaper]

Thought I'd compile all of these before I forget. Still missing Cait, Curie, X6-88 and a [SECRET COMPANION]

From top to bottom (in the order that you meet them in-game)

Preston Garvey

Piper Wright

Nick Valentine

Hancock

MacCready

Deacon

Paladin Danse

#well hello

[rosemaryreaper]

REVIEWS SAY FALLOUT TV SERIES DOESN'T SUCK

[rosemaryreaper]

Most People: Ducks are so silly! Quack quack! Me: Anseriformes are one of the few groups of animals we know were probably present before and after the end-Cretaceous, meaning ducks are Survivors of Extraterrestrial Nuclear Winters, and we should all fear their power. Quack Quack.

#well on that note #writing reference

[rosemaryreaper]

The one with the cat

Haven’t had time to write lately, so here’s an old Ros snippet from Chapter 2. The Abernathy Farm is one of the Minutemen’s oldest and best suppliers of food in the Commonwealth. Unfortunately, not every member of the Abernathy family feels the same way about this arrangement.

In other words, you ever had that one awkward dinner where your friend starts arguing with their parents? Yeah.

* * * *

“I want to join the Minutemen,” Lucy said. “Mom, I want to keep people safe.”

“And what about yourself, huh?” Connie demanded. “What are we going to do when the General comes knocking on the door with your body in a sack? We repay the Minutemen plenty. We give them our food, we keep their damn supply lines running, we let them build on our land, but they do not get to take you too.”

“Sweetheart,” Blake told Lucy, “we talked about this. We need you here.”

Connie rounded on him. “When exactly did you talk about this? Where was I for this conversation?”

“You have triple the workers since then,” Lucy said, irate. “You don’t need me. You just want to keep me here, like some sort of prisoner.”

“Don’t be overdramatic,” Connie said.

Lucy raised her voice. “I would rather get shot out there than die on this damn farm.”

“Lucy!” Blake scolded.

Ros had shrunk back in her chair, unsure what to do. Her adrenaline had kicked up again, turning her breath shallow and her hands unsteady. She didn’t like yelling she was unprepared for, whether or not it was directed at her. She kept her head ducked and her shoulders hunched, not looking at them.

It felt like an eternity before Blake remembered she existed. Voice low and hoarse, he said, “We have a guest.”

A thud rattled the spoons on the table. Lucy’s chair shrieked against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” she muttered, footsteps retreating. The front door slammed.

Connie’s chair shrieked too, with far less thunder. Her footsteps retreated in the opposite direction.

Blake sighed. Ros didn’t move.

After a second eternity, he said, “Not our finest moment. I’m sorry about that. A lot’s changed in a very short time. You’ll find most folks are still struggling to adjust.”

Ros shrugged. “No judgment from me.”

He nudged her bowl closer to her. “Eat. You’ll want to keep your strength up.”

She wasn’t hungry either, but she forced another bite to be polite. The meat tasted too rich, difficult to choke down.

With a “Mrrrp!” a warm weight landed in her lap. She jolted, knocking her hand against her bowl. Droplets of stew splattered the table. While Ros attempted to choke her heart down too, Maise kneaded her paws on her thighs.

“Lucy,” Blake muttered. “Let the cat in again.”

Adrenaline fading, Ros ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. Maisie rocked her haunches, settling into a loaf in her lap with a purr. “I can carry her out,” Ros offered half-heartedly.

He smiled. “Naw, I don’t see any harm in letting her stay a little while. I won’t tell Connie if you don’t.”

Good, because the cat didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Ever. Ros was stuck in this chair now.

And, stuck in place with the heated weight in her lap, she took another bite of stew. Then a couple more. Maybe she was a little hungry after all.

She didn’t register Blake watching her until he asked, “Ros, how old are you?”

She shifted all her focus to petting the cat, feeling a frown creep across her face. Her age wasn’t something she usually gave out to strange men.

“Sorry,” he said. “Add that to my list of faux pas tonight. Didn’t mean anything by it. I just…I can’t get over how much you remind me of her—Mary, my eldest. She was twenty-one. Would be twenty-three now.” He didn’t need to clarify. Ros had seen the grave while scouting out the property.

Ros said, “I’ll give the clothes back in the morning.”

“No. No, keep them. They’ll just sit in a box otherwise, go to waste. Better they live on.”

In other words, he was seeing ghosts. It would bug her, wearing a dead girl’s clothes, if everything she owned hadn’t been scavenged or passed down from the dead. Their whole world was the inheritance of a fatal mistake. There were ghosts everywhere, in every piece of clothing, every old mattress and power pylon. Even her Pip-Boy had a ghost in it.

Winnie didn’t though. The irony that Ros’s strongest tie to life was a temperamental, malfunctioning robot who was neither alive nor sentient was not lost on her.

If she was kind, she would remind him she wasn’t his daughter—that he was only seeing what he wanted to see. She doubted she even resembled her. She didn’t have Blake’s square jaw or Connie’s blond hair and blue eyes. She wasn’t a synth; she wouldn’t put on someone else’s clothes and take their place. She wasn’t anyone’s daughter either. That was an attachment, a relationship that was off the table. Permanently.

But she wasn’t particularly kind, so she didn’t say anything. She pet Maisie until her bowl was empty, and then she silently helped Blake clean up until Connie reappeared to snatch the dish cloth from her hand and send her off to bed. Ros slunk away without meeting her bloodshot gaze.

#ros markey #blake abernathy #lucy abernathy #connie abernathy #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic

[rosemaryreaper]

What he’d become

#maccready

[rosemaryreaper]

A collection of brief contextless snippets of Ros being…well, Ros.

Featuring Nick, Ellie, Nora, Haylen, and others.

* * * *

1.

Climbing down took less than half the time it took to climb up. Near the bottom, she simply dropped the last ten feet, boots hitting the wood roof with a solid thud. Abernathy stood waiting for her with a grin. Connie had already left.

He clapped her on the back. “Quick work. Where’d you learn to climb like that?”

“Through an unexpected blessing following the most traumatically horrific experience of her life” would have been the correct answer, but Ros wasn’t about to go into detail about that. So, she simply said, “A stripper taught me.”

Abernathy raised his eyebrows. “Huh. Well, you’ll have to thank that stripper for me.”

Ros was fairly certain she was dead, but she mentally passed on the message anyway.

* * * *

2.

“You’ve put me in your debt,” Ros said, as Connie secured the straps on the impressively full pack.

“Oh, quit your whining already,” Connie said. “I couldn’t care less if you never show your face around here again. Don’t have the caps to hire a merc.”

Ros eyed her warily, unsure if this was genuine evidence of a sense of humor and not a straight up threat. Connie didn’t clarify, which didn’t help matters at all.

* * * *

3.

They could see well enough to point a gun at her, at least. She allowed herself to assume that the white diamond over their heart meant that they were, in fact, a guard and not a member of a gang, because if she had to fight the last hundred feet to the city, she would lay down in the street and let them shoot her.

Tiredly, she told the strangely-armored person, “Not a mutant.”

To her surprise, they lowered their rifle without hesitation. “Always good to hear,” they said cheerfully.

* * * *

4.

“Noted.” He set the clipboard down, giving her a tired smile. “Your weapons are your business, but discharge them and Security will do the same. Chems are legal, but public use isn’t. Any disorderly conduct will earn you a night in lockup if no one shoots you for it first. If you need a place to stay, look for the Dugout Inn on First Street. Yefim Bobrov can set you up with a room. Any questions?”

“Yeah, uh,”—her grip tightened on the edge of the counter—“is there a doctor here, by any chance?”

Danny’s shoulders tensed. “There is,” he said warily. “If you’re sick, there is a quarantine procedure—”

“Not sick. Shot.”

Jamie said, “What?”

She removed the fedora from her stomach, uncovering the blood-stained holes in her new shirt.

Danny was on his feet, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He looked at Jamie. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Hell, I didn’t know,” Jamie said.

“I took two Stimpaks,” Ros said. “I’m not about to die.” She paused to double check her Pip-Boy. Three new warnings had popped up since she’d last looked. She dismissed them. “Yeah, no, not right this very second.”

“Are you sure that’s not shock?” Jamie asked. “Are you in shock?”

“I don’t actually know,” Ros said truthfully.

“Jamie,” Danny said.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll show them to the doc.” Jamie looked at Ros in concerned disbelief. “Can you walk?”

“I walked here, didn’t I?” Ros said, which wasn’t actually an answer.

“You did. Good Lord. Just…just follow me.”

* * * *

5.

Abruptly, Ellie let herself fall over into Ros’s arms, her head tucked beneath Ros’s chin. Ros held her awkwardly, startled by this more than the tears, at least for a second. It had to be more comfortable than being doubled over her knees.

“Okay, this is fine,” Ros said, because it was.

“Sorry, honey,” Ellie said into her shirt. “I kinda ruined your morning, huh?”

Ros said, “I want you to feel better,” because she did. She did, she did.

“Ugh, you and me both.”

* * * *

6.

“We’re open. You don’t—” Nick broke off. His fingers scratched against the door, metal against wood. A godawful sound, really.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Valentine,” Danny said, “but I assume this belongs to you?”

Ros attempted a grin. She presumed it looked deranged, her hands being cuffed behind her back and all.

Nick gave her a flat stare. “Tell me why I should say yes.”

“Uh, I didn’t kill anyone?” she offered.

* * * *

7.

“Ros.” Nora tilted her chin up, rag raised in her other hand. “You have blood on your face.”

Ros grimaced as the General aggressively scrubbed her cheek. “It’s not mine.”

* * * *

8.

“Hi,” Ros said with a tired smile. “This mattress is disgusting.”

“Obviously. It’s two hundred years old.” Haylen set the first aid kit on the chair. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Not to people. I talk to walls. And my horse. Normally they don’t talk back, though, so this is a first.”

“Right…you weren’t kidding about taking a hit to the head.”

#all time favorite character to write #ros markey #nick valentine #ellie perkins #scribe haylen #nora delaney #danny sullivan #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic

[rosemaryreaper]

Where was Nick when Hancock evacuated the Diamond City ghouls to Goodneighbor?

Back in September, I started working on a fic that covered exactly that…then I tossed it aside because I thought it was bad. But now I actually want to finish it. It’s a short Nick POV fic that follows the three days before McDonough passes the Anti-Ghoul decree. Also featured are Ellie, Security Captain Lennie Sullivan, and a still human Hancock. Here’s a snippet from Chapter 2, which is the night before everything goes to hell.

* * * *

In the end, there was nothing to be done but wait. Ellie returned with more than enough documents to fit the bill, and after another round through the line, the guard let him through with minimal hostility. When he tried to subtly linger to keep an eye on things, Security threatened to shoot him for loitering, so there was no choice but to return to the office. Lennie never returned. Neither did many of the ghouls.

Convincing his old circuit board of a brain to focus on work after that morning was difficult, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had a half dozen interconnected missing persons cases on his desk. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t going to help anyone, ghoul or missing girl, so the least they could do was be productive with the spare time. He got Ellie to bring out what she had dubbed “the conspiracy board”—a big map of the Commonwealth they had pinned to a corkboard—and the two of them spent the afternoon moving around colored pins and strings, trying to work out which route the traffickers were using to smuggle these girls around the state.

“Think Bunker Hill could be a stopover?” Ellie asked, tapping her fingernail on a red circle to the northeast.

“They’d have to go through Goodneighbor first,” Nick said.

“I don’t doubt it. Sounds like the sort of business Vic’s gang would get mixed up in. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s responsible for this whole horrible trade.”

“Still could be a third party. Or a bit of both. We won’t know till we learn more.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t be surprised either.” He added another pin to the board. “If they’re using Bunker Hill, then they aren’t the only party stashing that particular kind of cargo there overnight. I have a contact I can talk to, see if his guys have noticed any odd goings on.”

“Sounds promising,” Ellie said.

“Let’s hope so. This is one trail I absolutely do not want to leave to get cold.”

Arturo was the neighborhood tourist. Nick would have to catch him alone sometime soon; ask him to get a message through to Deacon and his crew. If anyone was an expert on smuggling people through the Commonwealth undetected, it was the Railroad.

The door screeched open, and a choked sob tumbled through its frame. Violet shuffled in, fully weeping within Riley’s embrace. To her, Riley said, “Here, sweetheart, let’s just sit down for a spell, okay?” To the rest of the room, she said, “I’m going to fucking kill someone.”

“Oh, Violet.” Ellie rushed to grab a blanket from the bedroom. “Here, have a seat, honey.” While Riley lowered Violet into the cushioned chair, Ellie wrapped the blanket around the poor ghoul.

Jax stumbled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and in their undershirt, which had rolled up to expose their bandages. “Vi? What happened?”

Riley’s brows shot up. “What the hell happened to you?”

“New exercise regime,” Jax said.

“Jesus Christ,” Riley said. “Somebody jumped you.”

“What?” Violet gasped through tears.

“It’s nothing, Vi,” Jax said. “What’s wrong?”

Violet let out another sob. “I’ve never been s-so humiliated.”

“Oh no,” Ellie said. “They didn’t accept any of your papers?”

“None! The boys and I tried everything. Yefim even tried to draw up something last minute, but they wouldn’t take any of it! Now I’m going to lose everything—my home, my job. I won’t survive outside the Wall, not for a night.” She bowed her head and cried.

Ellie yanked open the drawers of her desk, pulling out a whole stack of handkerchiefs and a mug, the latter of which she filled from the coffee thermos. She murmured to Violet, out of even Nick’s broad earshot, until she could convince her to hold the mug in her hands. Nick sent a silent thanks to fate that he had hired her. He had been about to say something a hell of a lot more blunt.

“Nonhumans,” Riley snarled. “Nonhumans! We’re not another species. We’re not animals. I have half a mind to march up to the Stands right now—kick down doors until I find every councilman responsible. They want to see feral? I’ll show them feral.”

Nick said, “You’ll get yourself shot.”

“I’ll get myself shot outside too. This way will be quicker.”

Jax said, “None of our lot are getting shot outside if I can help it. Not if they stick with me.”

“Oh, look, it’s the ghoul savior,” Riley deadpanned. “Right now, if I had to bet on who would win in a fight, you or a mole rat, I’d back the mole rat.”

“It’s not all hopeless, is it?” Ellie asked, rubbing Violet’s back. “Some ghouls still managed to vote. Riley, you did.”

Riley scowled. “I did, barely, because I’m fortunate. They gave us no warning, no time to get our papers in order—and a lot of ghouls didn’t. Screw all the drifters, I guess.”

Nick could sense Jax giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. One of the “I told you so” variety. Ellie was giving him a different kind of look. One that placed far too must trust in his nonexistent ability to overcome the odds. You can do something, Nicky. Right?

Nick could do something. He could turn his investigation towards the city, root out who was pulling the strings—who had organized the guards, who had influenced the Council, who had to benefit from all the chaos. It would take time, but he was nothing if not persistent. His joints hadn’t rusted to a halt yet.

But the ghouls didn’t have time. They had tonight. The proverbial nuke had already been launched. Catching the crook here wouldn’t save anyone until after there was no one left to be saved. So, Nick would do something all right: he would shield them from the blast best he could and help those who survived out of the debris. No more. No better.

“Jax is working on an escape route,” Nick said. “I’ve been scrounging up supplies. You need something—help organizing a caravan, a spare gun, anything—you say the word.”

The room calmed, but not in a comfortable way. The room calmed in the same way a snake calms when it is too cold to move. Violet had quieted. Jax looked determined; Riley grim. Ellie turned her face away.

Jax crossed over to Violet, offering her a hand up. “Come on, Vi. Why don’t we get you back to the Dugout? You look like you could use something stronger than coffee.”

Violet accepted, sniffling, and they slipped an arm around her shoulders. With a quiet murmur of thanks to Nick, she and Jax made their exit. Riley didn’t follow. She gazed down at the empty chair, then up at Nick with that grim expression. She stalked forward, and he froze, startled, as she threw her arms around him.

Most folks weren’t lining up to give the metal man hugs. It wasn’t the kind of relationship he had with Ellie, who was technically his employee, and it wasn’t something he would ever initiate with a client, no matter how distraught. He was hyper aware of his own strength as he lifted his arms, and they hung suspended for too long as he tried to recall the last time he had calibrated them. He briefly considered blacking out to run a quick diagnostic.

But the moment had already gone on too long, and something of the old Nick kicked in. He rested his hands on her back.

“Hey now, Doc, this isn’t like you,” he said with something like humor.

Riley chuckled, with something a little less like humor. “Just saying thank you, gumshoe—for everything. In case I don’t get the chance to.” She pulled away. “I could use a drink too. Might as well celebrate my last night, while it lasts. Feel free to join.” Then she made her exit.

Ellie was on the verge of a question again, but she still didn’t want to ask it, because she still wasn’t looking at him. He looked at the board with all its strings and pins. He looked at the empty chair, the abandoned blanket, the untouched coffee. He released a long breath, forever weaker than it should be. Then he donned his coat and his hat, and he offered his secretary his arm.

It got her attention. With a faint smile, she linked her elbow with his, resting her other hand on his forearm. And they made their exit too.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #nick valentine #ellie perkins #john hancock #hancock’s not actually in this snip but he is in the fic i promise

[rosemaryreaper]

We got a new case while you and Nick were out. A fisherman whose family lives on the edge of the Commonwealth: Kenji Nakano.

#i love them so much #nick valentine #ellie perkins

[rosemaryreaper]

piper cait and curie stans rise

#piper wright #cait #curie

[rosemaryreaper]

(It's 2023 and I'm still playing Fallout 4. And I'm still mad you cannot romance Nick in the vanilla game. The film noir gentleman toaster was a good testing ground for the colour jitter brushes for CSP I've been working on for a while though.)

#nick valentine

[rosemaryreaper]

The MacCready family deserves the literal whole entire world and nobody can convince me otherwise.

#maccready

[rosemaryreaper]

MINUTEMEN COMMAND 2289 - THE CASTLE

My Fallout 4 Sole Survivor, Rose Takahana and the rest of the Commonwealth Minutemen Command.

This one took me WAY too long to put out there shjkjsdsjk, but hope you enjoy some F4 fanart these days UwU

#heck yeah

[rosemaryreaper]

After writing the first three chapters of Rosemary Reaper, they can essentially be boiled down to—

First Nick chapter: I don’t need a new partner. I can handle cases just fine on my own.

First Ros chapter: I don’t need anyone. I’m no one’s daughter, and I’m just fine on my own.

First Nora chapter: For the love of god, can someone please just give me a break.

#that’s it that’s the whole fic #nick valentine #ros markey #nora delaney #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic

[rosemaryreaper]

Rough first attempt of Ros’s modified synth field helmet. She doesn’t quite understand why people call her the Grim Reaper. She’s harmless.

Okay, that’s a lie. But she still doesn’t like the name.

#when you dress like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse just because you’re an introvert #i don’t know where my pencil is so ignore the wonky lines #my patience for finger painting has its limits #ros markey #rosemary reaper #fallout 4

[rosemaryreaper]

I know not many people are interested in her yet, but I just wanna say how fun writing Ros is:

She’s a pole dancer first and then an ecologist as a hobby, with a casual knowledge of engineering on the side.

She is a badass who rides a metal horse into battle; she also spends most of each fic getting shot, stabbed, beat up, or blown up, sometimes more than once.

She can’t pass a speech check for shit; people are kind to her anyway and this baffles her.

She doesn’t think she’s a good person. She was raised with Southern manners and will do the dishes for you without being asked.

She’s an angry, violent loner who often starts fights. The sound of yelling upsets her, even more so if it’s not directed at her.

She’s vaguely racist towards synths and ghouls; she lives with a synth and has the hots for a ghoul.

She’s touch starved, but doesn’t like being touched, but doesn’t know how to initiate touch either—in a platonic sense. She has no shame when it comes to sex.

Feed her once and she will kill for you—because she can’t stand to watch kind people die. Not again.

#ros markey #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic