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sneezedarling · 4 years

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One of a Kind- MacCready/m!Sole Sneezefic (Fallout 4)

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long but I’ve written it. If anyone has any Fallout 4 or other video game requests send ‘em in! Anyways I hope you guys enjoy some allergic!MacCready.

MacCready usually agreed with the judgement calls Sole made, they were mostly sound, logical and fair in his eyes. But sometimes Sole was too curious for his own good. They had been walking through Diamond City Market, trading their loot from their travels for supplies and ammo when a guard had commented on The Museum of Witchcraft and how strange it was.

MacCready had immediately groaned as he watched Sole’s emerald green eyes light up at the prospect. Sole had shoved last of his ammo into his bag and stopped the guard to ask a barrage of questions and mark the location on his map. As they left Diamond City, Sole was still studying his PipBoy intently to work out the fastest route there.

“We’re not seriously heading there, right?” MacCready groaned.

Sole glanced up at him, “Why not? Maybe we’ll find something cool.”

“Or we’ll walk for days and find a creepy, crumbling building,” MacCready counters

He finishes examining his PipBoy and smirks, “C’mon, Mac, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Adventure doesn’t bring in caps.”

“Hey, I’m paying you what are you complaining about?” Sole objects, with no real fire.

It had taken a few months, but they’ve finally gotten to the point where MacCready says more than just standard agreeance in conversation and Sole’s sarcasm and witty commentary has become a light-hearted distraction rather than a point of annoyance.

MacCready just sighs and begins walking in the direction of the museum because sole leads, and he follows, that’s the deal.

--------------------------------

It’s dusk when they approach the Museum of Witchcraft. It’s a large gothic building, looming and creepy by itself, but especially so in the fading light. MacCready glances at Sole who looks like a kid on Christmas and has to fight the smile working its way onto his face.

“C’mon, this is kinda cool,” he insists.

MacCready rolls his eyes, “Yeah, a big, creepy building, very inviting.”

Sole just grins and heads toward the back of the Museum, “stay outside if you want, I’m going to have a look.”

MacCready jogs to catch up with him only to stop short when he sees Sole’s boyish smile fade and become replaced by a hard frown as he reaches for the gun at his waist. The ground before him them is littered with the bodies of dead Gunners. As they loot the bodies, they shift into a familiar silence. Although Sole was all smiles and jokes usually, he was always dead silent when it got serious. It had taken some getting used to.

----------------------------------------

After listening to a horrifying holotape, they head inside. There’s a low rumbling that MacCready can’t identify, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The low visibility due to the darkness and copious amount of dust filtering through the air puts him on edge and he’s following Sole a lot more closely than usual. Suddenly, there’s an unmistakable and deafening roar from above them.

“And that’s a Deathclaw, so we should be going, right? Sole?” MacCready whispers, gently nudging sole, eyes trained on the rotting ceiling.

Sole shushes him and inches forward, trying to see through a hole in the floor above them. MacCready feels him flinch as there’s another roar followed by a loud thud as a dead body is thrown to the floor, mangled from the damage of Deathclaw jaws. Dust cascades down as the horrible noise of the Deathclaw finishing his meal fills the air.

MacCready draws in a fearful breath before realizing his mistake. The dust-induced tickle spreads through his nose immediately, his heart rate picking up as he scrunches his nose, desperately trying to quell the itch.

The Deathclaw above trudges away, sending more dust raining over them. MacCready’s eyes begin to water as his breath catches in his throat. Sole is blissfully unaware as he rubs dust from his own eyes and inches forward.

Sole peers through the floor for a few seconds before whispering, “If we catch it by surprise, we can avoid most of the confrontation. We might even be able to sneak past it to have a look, or we can go, I guess.”

MacCready reaches up and scrubs at his nose, breath hitching sporadically, “S-sole, you know I-ahhh I love a f-fight but whaa- what’s the point?”

“The Deathclaw will kill whoever strolls in here, how long until its someone who doesn’t deserve it?” Sole doesn’t seem to notice MacCready’s predicament as he examines the dismembered Gunner, scowl on his face.

MacCready curses internally at Sole’s stupid sense of civic duty as he pinches his nose closed but its too late, the damage is already done as the sneeze makes its way from deep in his sinuses to the tip of his nose, threatening to break the tense silence hanging in the air. MacCready’s heart skips a beat as panic rises, his sneezes aren’t known for being quiet and will certainly end in them being Deathclaw dessert.

He holsters his sniper rifle to give him better access to his nose. He clamps both hands over it, pressing down as hard as he can, a last-ditch effort of sorts. His eyes water so horribly that Sole becomes blurry in front of him. In his hyper-focused state, he’s completely missed whatever Sole just said.

“Mac?” Sole says as loud as he dares, turning to face him and doing a doubletake at his dishevelled state. “Are you…crying?”

MacCready glares at him through allergic tears, the angry gesture dividing his focus, allowing the sneeze to break free.

“Ngxt-chhhoo!”

Despite having both hands over his mouth, the sneeze is still moderately loud and if MacCready wasn’t desperately fighting the next sneeze, he would have been anxiously searching for a charging Deathclaw. Realisation immediately floods through Sole, and MacCready studies his face, waiting for anger, annoyance or even fear, just anything, but it remains blank.

MacCready’s breath begins to hitch again, eyes closing involuntarily. The heavy steps of the Deathclaw edge closer, sending more dust flying. The creature may not have heard the last sneeze but it would sure as hell hear this one.

It’s right above them. The itch is burning ferociously, MacCready can only hold out for so long. Sole’s face is still completely blank. Sole grabs MacCready’s arm and pulls him into a crouch position, pressing him between the wall and Sole’s body, so close that he can feel that rapid rise and fall of his chest as the Deathclaw footsteps stop, replaced by a low growl. The Deathclaw finally seems to be moving on when MacCready loses the battle.

“Hgxt-choo!”

Sole clamps a hand over both of MacCready’s to muffle the sneeze. It helps but both men grow still, waiting for any indication the Deathclaw heard it. When nothing comes, Sole takes one look at MacCready, who still has one hand covering his quivering nose and is trying to breath as little as possible, and roughly drags his arm dragging him back the way they came.

The heavy weight of guilt lands squarely on MacCready’s chest, but is pushed to the backburner by the infuriating itch that returns once again. MacCready knows that it’s not leaving anytime soon, especially not until he has sneezed properly and multiple times.

Sole glances back once more, an unknown emotion in his eyes, and proceeds to move faster, one hand on his rifle and the other dragging MacCready’s arm. As they near the door, MacCready gives in, his hands leaving his nose. MacCready sniffs hard, aggravating the itch, his mouth drifts open and his eyes begin to close as Sole shoves him out the door.

“Aaah- Act’choo! H-Hutch’oo! Ehk’tchoo!” MacCready sneezes so hard his hat shifts and falls off his head, exposing his chestnut brown locks.

Sole raises an auburn eyebrow, “Wow, holding all that in it’s a wonder you didn’t burst a blood vessel or something.”

MacCready half-heartedly gives him the finger as he tilts his head back, “Ha’choo…ehh…Ehk’choo!”

“Bless you…bless you,” Sole watches, face emotionless and arms crossed.

“Jesus C-Christ…Act’choo! I-“

“Bless you.”

“Sooh-Sole I- Ehktchoo…Ichhoo!”

“Bless you…Bless you.”

“I’m sorry…ihhhh…Itchoo…Act’tchoo..Het’choo! I should h-ha-”

“Bless you…Bless you…Bless you.”

“Ehk’tchoo! Sol-“

“Bless you.”

“Would you stop doing that! I’m tryin’ to freakin’ apologise here! I nearly go-ohh…got us both killed.”

Sole just blinks before bursting into laughter. Like a proper, full laugh that is almost non-existent in The Commonwealth these days.

MacCready sniffs hard, wiping the last of the allergic tears from his eyes. “What’s-snff-wrong with you? You get hit in the head or something?

“Could you imagine the story we would have had man? ‘Yeah we just walked in and were going to leave the Deathclaw but then MacCready decided to sneeze his brains out instead’.” He’s still laughing, an easy smile lighting up his face.

God he’s beautiful.

The thought slips into his head without permission, turning his face red. He knows he must look like shi- crap right now, puffy eyes, red nose and blotchy face but Sole’s looking at him like he invented the sun.

“I’m sorr- Ehk’tchoo!-”

“Bless you.”

“I’m also concerned about your mental state right now. Are you okay?” MacCready sniffs and scrubs at his nose a few times.

“Am I okay? Are you? You sure you didn’t pull a muscle or bruise something sneezing like that? You lost your hat!”

MacCready bites his lip, embarrassment tainting his cheeks. “I thought you’d be mad or something.”

Sole laughs again and MacCready feels a pang in his chest as he dusts off his hat and hands it to him, “S’not your fault and we’re alright, no harm no foul.”

MacCready just shakes his head as he plops his hat on, “You’re-snff! something else, y’know?”

“One of a kind,” Sole steps closer. “You should consider yourself lucky, maybe show some appreciation.”

MacCready leans against the wall, arching an eyebrow, trying to disguise the hammering of his heart, “Should I now?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sole leans in, lips grazing MacCready’s.

“I guess I can agree with that.” MacCready reaches for Sole and smashes their lips together.

#Fallout 4 #sneezefic #allergy #dust #MacCready #blessyou #sneezes

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merelliahallewell · 4 years

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Community Organization - A Kul Tiras RP Postmortem

I should probably preface this whole ridiculous thing with the fact that I genuinely don’t want to upset anybody with it, but just do something of a postmortem. I removed all names save for those people I’m explicitly calling out for being great and handling this community well despite what’s happened to it. These are genuine observations from somebody who’s tried to both run events and be as involved in Kul Tiras as I can be for the last yearish.

I wish there was a way to make Kul Tiras roleplay a thing again but I genuinely don’t really have the connections to do so or the time to put together a lot of events personally- I already run two communities on Moon Guard and officer for a small guild.

I’ll keep ranting after the jump I suppose.

The early cross-realm Kul Tiras community started off with a huge bang. I think despite how bad the gameplay of the early expansion came out to be, there was a lot of energy around the setting and a ton of excitement for Boralus as a whole. We had not one, but two in-game communities that had a good deal of crossover in membership between them. Surprisingly, BoralusRP and PortRP proved that in-game communities could still remain strong despite the total absence of a Discord to back it up. It broke the conventional wisdom I’d heard about how in-game RP was dead and there was RP to be found in abundance during the early days. While a discord server was later created for PortRP (now Living Kul Tiras), the in-game communities always remained far more popular and active than it.

Unfortunately, I think the biggest blows to Kul Tiras RP weren’t sharding, but more that those who had created the communities didn’t necessarily have very many intentions past making the space for roleplay to maybe happen. Were it not for the awesome and very regular bar nights being hosted in the early expansion, we’d very quickly realize that there was nothing actually going on in the communities besides them. People made these groups with seemingly no intention of hosting events- unless it was a guild event that had open invitation.

What was more, there wasn’t any support from the leadership of these groups for the kind souls willing to run these awesome events. Nobody in leadership was interested in helping event runners get the word out regarding their stuff or otherwise promote them save for leaving calendar invites open. I know firsthand, after all, having tried to run the Shadows over Duskford arc back in October 2018 and having a hell of a time trying to invite Kul Tiras-based guilds to it.

A number of dramatic things also seemed to undercut the efforts being made in the community- Having a prominent community member wind up to be a neo nazi didn’t help the image of Kul Tiras, nor did one of PortRP’s admins getting in a huge fight on the forums and caught using alt characters to back themselves up.

Kul Tiras limped along on life support after the new year. Community events got hosted still and I can only voice utter appreciation at that. I absolutely adore my memories of the Shattered Glass (miss you a heck of a lot, Mac) despite this fact, but things were rough in January/february.

Hype about the addition of Kul Tirans as an allied race infused the community with new life, at least for a little bit. Three new discords were created for each of the zones in preparation for this infusion of new people the community expected to get...

...but then we didn’t really get a lot of new people. What was more, the community suddenly found three new discords to have to be involved in, but the Tiragarde Sound and Drustvar ones were basically just empty and dead most of the time. It was the same discord just copy/pasted for the zones, with the same leadership team. While I’ve heard the Tidesage one was active, by the time I joined long after it was made, the place was incredibly quiet. I don’t really know a lot about the leadership teams of these discords, but I don’t think any major events came out of them.

On Moon Guard, the Boralus Law Project (a sort-of clone of the very popular Stormwind Law Project) was started in June, had one meeting, and then barely ever met again. While the effort was earnest, the delivery was... lacking, really hard. The solitary meeting was mostly argument over Drust relics and being told where we were allowed to stand.

At this point in time, about a year after the trio of new Kul Tiras servers got started, all five public discords related to it are dead and most of the stuff in that vein is over, save for what I’ll list below.

Some Praise

The only time I’ve seen life infused back into the Kul Tiras community as it was fading was the hosting of @caelin-tautstring‘s Kul Tiras Market. I know things have gotten quieter there, but I think he’s absolutely done the best with what he’s been handed. I wish the market had more patronage than it does now, but I’m not really a huge member of WrA’s community and MG’s Kul Tiras groups are laughably distant, small, or don’t play retail so I have no real way of getting the word out about it.

Jacquell has been at it hosting bars in Kul Tiras for as long as I can remember. Seriously, it may not be every week but that’s absolute dedication that no other event runners have had. I wish I made it to more of these just to show up and support her because she absolutely deserves it. Go give her forum thread some love and go to the next event on the 6th.

@atc-wra runs the HARBOR GAMES. Gosh, those are awesome. go to them! support them! Support Kul Tiras. They’re really cool people and I wish I had gotten more opportunity to interact.

Some Takeaways

Don’t start a community unless you intend to provide for it.

I appreciate the various Kul Tiras communities being founded. I absolutely, 100% do- my own character wouldn’t be around there if I hadn’t been given a great place to be. However, my main gripe with the people who founded these communities is that they just made them as a place to congregate, and very little else.

The same goes for the trio of discords that got founded- where are the events? Bar nights, roll events meet & greets, stories. We’re all here to write stories, yeah? I feel like it is the role of moderators or leaders to do their best to provide for these communities with events, support, and most importantly, direction. People need to know what a community is for, rather than just being “the kul tiras community” or “the tidesage community.”

Support community events!

Seriously, I remember being discouraged when my events weren’t supported. If you can’t make the event, then hawk it to your friends or guild members who can. Hell, make a guild event out of attending. Give them praise, feedback, anything. People who make events are the lifeblood of communities. They will die if they do not have a variety of events happening at frequent intervals.

If you’re going to abandon something, pass ownership off to somebody else in the community.

BfA sucked. yeah, we all know. I don’t blame anybody for going to FF14 or ESO or any other game, but I do blame them for leaving and failing to put other people in charge of the communities they ran. If you don’t want to host a bar event anymore, then give it to one of your customers or take on an apprentice or something. If you don’t want to run a discord, see if a community contributor can help.

I think the community would have been better off if they weren’t left waiting for things that weren’t going to happen.

A couple of prominent event runners left people waiting for events that never came. I feel like it’s important to be communicative, and if necessary, pass popular events off to other people if you’re no longer interested in running them. Promising how there will be more bar nights soon, or that you’ll do an event in the future, and then never following up on it? That sure sucks, especially if the event runner moved to FFXIV or Classic.

I’m grumpy about Moon Guard’s Kul Tiras community.

Nobody is responsible for supporting a community if they don’t want to. That is very important to preface this with. However, I do feel like if one is trying to position themselves as the center of Kul Tiras roleplay, they should engage themselves and their entire guilds in the community. Refusing to show up to the cross-realm events (or host anything) despite having like... at least 20 people around in your guild really sucks. A golden opportunity to beef the RP up was lost. If you want an example of what should have been done, <Kul Tiran Admiralty/Commonwealth> hosted open events for people to come to, supported other events, and generally was super active.

Hell, MG’s most active Kul Tiran groups were <Boralus Merchant Marine> and <Outliers> and they were both really small guilds. I love ‘em and I wish I’d helped support them more. The big ones should have taken lessons from their involvement, because at least they did it.

Now the people who ran the big guilds complain a lot about the death of the community, and i’m like... hello?? You had your chance and didn’t bother until it was too late.

- - -

This has been an extremely long rant about Kul Tiras. Is it fair? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m trying to throw out whatever I can for this without being too harsh.

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siribear · 4 years

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whisper confines deacon to bed rest. she sets him up in the general’s - her - quarters, propped up in one of the few mattresses not covered in mud and mirelurk slime. he grumbles the entire time, protests that he’s fine or that he’s bored, but when he spikes a fever in the middle of the night, it shuts him up.

any medicine she knows that would help him fight the infection has likely long since been scavenged; two hundred years too late to find antibiotics. instead, she stays by his side, ready with a stimpak and a cold rag. whisper doesn’t sleep, busy monitoring his breathing and his temperature. at one point, she attaches her pip boy to his arm and uses it to check on him throughout the night.

thankfully, his fever breaks by morning, his breathing even and the cut across his stomach no longer red and angry. outside the room, sunlight creeps along the halls, peeking in the open doorway to her quarters - and so does preston, looking just as tired and wan as she feels. bruises have formed under his eyes, warm brown now far and away.

they’re going to bury devin’s body today. she only just learned his name last night, overheard from the other minutemen. the one that charred the mirelurk that attacked her before they reached the castle. and now he’s dead. unrecognizable but for the put together minuteman uniform.

‘how’s he doing?’

whisper pulls her hands away from the edge of the bed and deacon’s hand. ‘his fever’s gone down now. he’ll be fine.’ she looks back to preston. ‘how did you sleep?’

not well, judging by his heavy sigh. ‘i’m ready whenever you are.’ a non-answer. surprisingly indirect, for him.

‘yeah. okay. give me a moment to put myself together, here.’ preston nods and leaves her to it.

she rubs at her eyes and stands, straightening out invisible wrinkles in her shirt. deacon still hasn’t woken by the time she combs out her hair and changes into his jeans. they fit, if barely. but they’re clean, and that’s what matters. whisper rests the back of her hand against his forehead. warm, but not burning up. with a quick kiss to his temple, whisper joins preston outside.

unfortunately for maccready, deacon does eventually wake up. after snagging as much ammo lying around as he can, maccready enters the boss’s office in time to see the idiot trying to get out of bed. guy’s been sleeping for half a day, though, so he can’t really blame him. but the boss would be mad if anything happened to her - partner? - though. no need for her to go through two funerals.

and he distinctly remembers what she did to kellogg’s head, so there’s that.

‘you need to stay in bed,’ maccready tells him, leaning against the doorframe.

‘aww, that’s sweet, mac. didn’t know you cared.’ he manages to swing his legs over the edge with a heavy grunt. maccready easily swings him back over. ‘hey, now.’

he sits in the boss’s seat and kicks his legs up onto the bed. ‘look, i’m more scared of her than i am of your sh-crappy come-ons. save ‘em for her.’ and that shuts deacon up, like he thought. grants him at least two minutes of silence before deacon grows bored again.

‘where’s whisper?’

maccready sighs. too much to ask that the guy just keeps silent until she gets back. ‘she’s with the minutemen. they’re burying the guy who got his face melted off yesterday. last i saw they were still digging the grave.’

deacon starts to swing his legs the other way, but maccready stops him again, yanking him back onto the bed probably a little more forceful than necessary. he’s not exactly being paid to be kind, here. and deacon isn’t even the one paying him. ‘your girlfriend is off doing her job as the general or whatever. help her by not keeling over in her room.’

deacon mutters something under his breath, but maccready doesn’t much care to listen. once more, he slouches in the chair and pulls his hat over his eyes. not often he’s allowed a mid-day nap, but he’s sure going to taken advantage while he can.

covered in dirt and sweat, whisper helps preston carry devin’s body to the grave dug outside the walls of the castle. preston speaks over the dead, as do the other minutemen, but all she can offer is a promise that his death isn’t in vain.

‘i didn’t know him,’ she says, ‘and he didn’t know me. but he died believing in the minutemen.’ and he still tried to put down the mirelurk queen even as his face was - ‘and we’re not going to let him down.’

thunder rumbles in the distance, cutting any further eulogies short. she orders the other minutemen to take the rest of the night off. the radio can wait until the storm has passed and everyone has properly rested. it’s her and preston that stay behind to bury the body; with no proper casket, she watches as every pile of dirt covers the body - legs, arms, chest all disappear beneath the earth. then, the face - the suggestion of what used to be a nose, mouth worn away to bone, eyes with only sockets left -

‘- don’t look,’ preston tells her when she stops. ‘you don’t have to look. i’ll finish this.’

she shakes her head and continues to shovel. ‘it’s not that. i - ’ she sighs. ‘later. let’s not get caught in whatever’s brewing out there.’

they finish in silence and mark the grave with a make-shift cairn, topped with a spent microfusion cell. the wind blows harder and colder, chilling the sweat on her skin. waves crash into shore as the sea comes alive. clouds billow over the ocean, brief flashes of lightning illuminating the layers of grey. the light crackle of her geiger counter sends them under the entrance arch for shelter just as rain begins to pour.

whisper stares outside as the rain blankets the castle, pattering against the stones. her geiger counter clicks with every flash of lightning, only to be drowned out by the following thunder. but it’s calm. serene. surreal. like when she used to sit in the living room, curled against nate while rain ran poured outside.

‘are you all right, general?’

she runs a hand through her hair, pulling apart her ponytail in the process. ‘i am.’ she wrings out her hair onto the pavement. ‘wish the rain had held out though.’

preston chuckles softly before his expression turns grim. ‘you can’t blame yourself for his death.’ he sighs at her raised eyebrow. ‘i know, but i’m learning. from you, actually.’

‘from me?’

‘you keep - you haven’t stopped moving forward.’ he shakes his head, gathers himself. ‘everything you’ve done in this past month - you’ve made so much progress for us. for the minutemen. and this?’ he gestures wide toward the castle. ‘a month ago i never expected to be here. i hardly thought we’d make it out of the museum alive. but we are, and we did, and it’s because of you.’ preston takes her hands in his, and it freezes her on the spot. ‘general - alice - you’re amazing.’

she looks up at him, watches his gaze drift down to her lips as he leans in -

and she could let him kiss her. close her eyes and feel something. but it’s so soon, still. she’s done so much for the minutemen, made progress in finding her son, but her husband is still down in that vault and she’s not buried him. so, instead, she allows herself to be distracted by the sound of footsteps - and a familiar pair of sunglasses - approaching in the rain.

‘what are you doing out of bed?’ whisper pulls deacon into the archway. ‘you’re just going to make yourself sicker.’

‘that’s what i told him!’ maccready yells from across the courtyard. he’s leaned against one of the open doorways, arms crossed.

deacon shrugs. he glances at preston but addresses her. ‘thought you’d decided to have a swim without me.’ when he turns to her, even now, he looks slightly winded. lower, he adds, ‘hey, can’t i be worried about my partner?’ he nudges her in the arm. ‘you didn’t come back even after it started raining.’

'and here you couldn’t even rescue us with an umbrella?’

‘you’re the ones that decided to get caught out here. i was just checking in. and you know your little widget there has been going off.’

‘we should head inside,’ preston finally speaks. ‘the others are likely waiting as well. and there’s the matter of food...’

whisper sighs. ‘we have enough for tonight, but we’ll have to clear another supply line down here.’

deacon puts his hands on his hips and grins at the both of them. ‘we’ve got plenty of mirelurk to go around. and whisper’s an excellent cook.’

dinner is a quiet, though not somber, affair. with some help from her fellow minutemen, whisper learns, somewhat reluctantly, how to cook mirelurk. in a cleared out kitchen, they eat surrounded by walls overtaken by seaweed. the castle will take time to clear out. they’ll certainly need more people manning it, building it up, establishing the surrounding area -

whisper doesn’t taste the food she eats; doesn’t hear the conversation when it finally begins as plates empty; doesn’t see as her gaze begins to glaze over. but she doesn’t let it show, smiling and responding when prompted.

‘go to bed, partner,’ deacon whispers in her ear when one nod goes on too long. ‘i even kept your bed warm for you.’

she rolls her eyes. ‘so considerate.’ to the others, she says good night, and for the first time in a long time, she has a room to herself. stripping herself of more borrowed clothes, whisper crawls into bed. so far from the others, she can’t hear conversation die down or if they’ve gone to sleep. but though her own eyes threaten to close, her mind whirls. when she does close them? she sees devin’s face - and then she sees kellogg’s. both smeared unrecognizably. one from a monster, and the other...

whisper gives up on sleep. she pulls on the jacket she’d been using as a blanket and a pair of pants and walks the halls. her pipboy reads two in the morning. not the latest she’s stayed up, or earliest hour she’s seen, between law school and her first days in the commonwealth post-war. the cool after rain air helps her clear her head, no matter the year.

she isn’t alone, however. cigarette smoke trails out from one doorway, followed by a long, steady smoke cloud. deacon smokes, but there’s no sunglasses that faces her when she approaches.

‘you’re up late, general,’ greets a woman with a strong, southern twang. ‘not for the first time.’

whisper joins her, a minuteman named penny, in the doorway. she leans against the doorway across from her, arms crossed but amused. ‘have you been watching me?’

‘no, ma’am.’ she brings the cigarette back up to her lips and takes a long drag. ‘i just smoke enough to know you haven’t slept in two days.’

whisper exhales a laugh. ‘hard to sleep when everything smells like fish.’

penny shrugs. ‘i’ve smelled worse, ma’am. smoke?’

whisper waves her off. though she’s older, penny reminds her of her old roommate from college, cigarette smell included. ‘no, thank you. i quit a... long time ago.’ she cants her head. ‘i do have a question for you, though.’

‘yes, ma’am.’

‘what made you join the minutemen?’

penny taps her cigarette, ash flying with the wind. ‘used to be a drifter. saw too much shit, got tired of drifting, and now i’m here.’

‘and that’s it?’

‘some things really are that simple, general. y’all made quite the impression on some kid in diamond city, though. thought that was real interesting.’ some kid. she doesn’t think nat would go around promoting the minutemen in person or in the paper. at her look of confusion, penny laughs. ‘girl from up north, she said. uh, lacy? said the general was a good person. helped her out with her late sister’s necklace or some such. thought that was mighty good of you, considering your position.’

lacy... with a necklace. ‘lucy’s parents let her go to diamond city,’ whisper says with a smile.

penny snaps her fingers. ‘lucy. that was it. you remember her?’

‘i do. she’s a sweet kid. she helped us out when we were first rebuilding.’

‘don’t lose that. caring, y’know?’ another flick of her cigarette. ‘devin’s death messed you up, but i get the feeling you won’t forget. and we all signed up for this, ma’am. we’re here because we want the same things you do.’ she flicks her cigarette into a small puddle. ‘you gotta get some sleep if you’re gonna lead us, though, ma’am. get.’

whisper snorts. definitely like rachel watching over her after she tried to burn through two days on nothing but coffee in the middle of exams. so she gets. ‘thank you, penny. i appreciate you talking to me.’

penny grins and lights another cigarette.

#siri drabbles #oc: alice ward #series: we will all go together when we go

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daddyfuckinlonglegs · 5 years

Text

This isn’t on my AO3 yet, but if I figure out where in my little timeline it goes, I’ll put it up. Just some companions bickering in the build up to Bunker Hill. MacCready’s angry as ever, Piper’s always the know-it-all older sister, Deacon gets punched in the face. Poor Nick.

MacCready sighed.

“Why not furnish 'em with a couple minuteman uniforms, Nate just marches them into his place in the jewel, no one's the wiser, then we march 'em out again with muskets and send them on.”

“It's not a simple as that.” Deacon sounded sombre. “There's evidence that Mayor McDonough is working with the Institute. John is prepping what he can in Goodneighbor, as a layover, before the safehouse up north, but bringing them any closer to Diamond City is too risky.”

MacCready laughed and turned away.

"I think I read about that somewhere, some gossip rag or something. McDonough a synth. Sounded like hysterical crap to me."

Piper glared across the table.

"Ah, so it can read. I've always wondered."

MacCready glared right back, hands poised on the table top.

"Yeah, and it can walk too, right outta that door if I've gotta listen to this bull any longer. I'm not risking my neck for this. No way."

"Lucky for you, no-one expected you to. Go count your caps and jerk off or something, this isn-”

“When you kids have quite finished.” Valentine interrupted sternly.

Deacon looked at them, disappointed.

“N'aww, and I was just about to open my potato chips.” He turned back to Nick. “It's almost like you're expecting them to take this years long, life-threatening operation more seriously than their bruised egos. Imagine that.”

The pair fell silent, Piper flushing red and looking at the floor, MacCready practically foaming at the mouth, pressing his hands into the table and grinding his teeth. Nick called their attention back to Deacon. He sighed and continued, speaking earnestly to MacCready.

“Whether you like it or not, you're already involved. Sitting at this table is enough to get you killed. And you are the best shot we have. We're gonna need you at Bunker Hill, and you need to be in place before the shit hits the fan. We don't have long, the institute is mobilising as we speak, and word has it the Brotherhood is on the way to stomp all over everything – Nate is gonna be smack bang in the middle of this shit show and he's under the impression that you've got his back. If you're gonna turn tail on him, better do it now, save him the disappointment.”

MacCready slammed his hands down, furious.

“Don't you fucking dare call that into question, that's not what I said.”

He paused, balling his fists, breathing in hot bursts through his nostrils, and looked Deacon in the eye.

“I said I'm not risking my neck against the institute for some... fricking synths who might turn out to be as much a part of the problem. I'm not a coward, I'm not running away. There's... there's other things I've gotta be around for, man.”

Piper rolled her eyes and mumbled something, and MacCready's temper snapped; he leapt to his feet, kicking the chair over as he stood, tore the pouch from his belt and flung it at her – it splashed at the edge of the table, spilling open and pouring caps across the floor. Piper recoiled, and Valentine stood fast, reaching out and laying a hand on MacCready's arm. Mac shook him away.

“You think this is the only thing matters to me? You think you're better? You don't know a god-damned thing. I've got someone waiting for me that I can't let down, and if I die out here, then it's gonna be finding what I came for, not standing against the Brotherhood and the Institute for a bunch of fucking robots and an idea.”

“None taken.” Valentine muttered.

“You wanna be a martyr to your cause, go ahead,” he gestured at the door, “but I'm out.”

“Those “fucking robots” are people, asshole,” Piper snarled at him, “and this is so much bigger than that, why can't you see it? If this is the one chance we get of stopping the Institute, it changes everything for the whole Commonwealth. No more missing people, no more paranoid murders, this could change everything.”

MacCready shook his head, tight lipped.

“I can't risk it, you don't understand-”

Deacon raised his hand.

“Hey, I have a question; if you care so much about him, why are you four hundred miles away arguing about it, and not taking that package back yourself?”

MacCready's jaw dropped open, whispering, “How do you even...”

Deacon continued. “Is it because you're in love? It is, isn't it.”

He clasped his hands by his face, laughing.

“Oh, the romance of it all, a young father, far from home, heart broken by tragedy and healed by a 200 year old guy in a jumpsuit an-”

MacCready's fist connected hard with Deacon's jaw, knocking him back on his chair, glasses clattering to the floor - Piper yelled and darted from her chair, and Valentine rushed MacCready, grabbing his shoulder and wrestling his arms back behind him. MacCready strained against him, voice shaking with rage.

“Don't you fucking laugh at me, how do you even know about that? How do you...”

His voice failed him, hot, angry tears in his eyes.

“Feel better now? Or you need to go again? C'mon, I'm told I'm a pretty satisfying punch bag.” Deacon rubbed his jaw, picking up his shades and folding them on the table in front of him, looking at Mac sympathetically. He shook his head.

“You think we let just anyone wander in and out of HQ without knowing what they're about? We know what your asshole looks like when you take a shit. Nothin' personal, but we can't afford to take risks. Now shut up and listen; this is not an exercise in kindness, we're not asking your sympathy. We need your gun, and we need you to take down that courser, or Nate is in a hell of a bind.” MacCready's shoulders relaxed, and Nick let go of his wrists. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm, chest shuddering as he tried to hold himself together. “I can't do it, man, I can't. If I don't come back, Duncan, he's... he's just...” Deacon nodded. “Yeah. It's a risk. No point talking around it. But if you do come back, the Commonwealth is one step closer to being safe, and you're one step closer to a better home for him. Nate is out there, right now, waiting for us to pick up the slack. You have to decide, right now, and we have to get moving.” MacCready closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. The bastard was right. DC was a shithole all its own, and the further away he got, the better he felt. The Commonwealth... well, it was hopeful, even with all the conflict. Deacon pressed him; “We need you on that rooftop, MacCready, we need you to be focused, and if that's too much to ask, well then I hope you said your goodbyes. DC is a long walk, and you'll be setting off right away, I assume.” MacCready took a deep breath, and nodded. “Fine.”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #r j maccready #robert joseph maccready #piper wright #nick valentine #deacon fallout 4 #deacon #I wrote this

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doublerumnukacola · 5 years

Text

Why don’t you do right

Week 11 in the Waste Land

It was a quiet night at the Third Rail. In the small hours after midnight, only the most dedicated drunks hung around. Magnolia was resting her voice at the bar, sipping a foggy glass of water. Whitechapel Charlie was wearily polishing the bar, the filthy rag held in clamped appendage. As for the rest, the usual rabble of drifters were too high or drunk to do more than murmur to one another.

A ways off from the rest of the bar, the Sole Survivor sat in the V.I.P. lounge, drinking her troubles away. It was about time she indulged in a cliché. All of this sober nonsense hadn’t brought her any closer to a solution, maybe the alternative would solve things.

She had a sick sort of fun ordering drinks to measure what she had lost; A glass of whiskey for Nate (his Favorite drink) Bottle of Wine for her friends and family (a glass for each), A nuka-cola for her baby (cut with vodka because even if he couldn’t drink, that shouldn’t stop her),

And finally, the drink in her hand was for him, the final loss. The one that had her drinking herself to death on a dirty lounge sofa. Sole held the drink to her lips, glancing down at the foggy liquid sloshing against the glass. She wasn’t actually sure what what she was drinking, she just asked Charlie to give her something that would fuck her over royally.

It tasted rank, pretty fitting considering who the drink was modeled after. This one’s for you, you cap-loving bastard. She thought bitterly, swigging back the drink. She could already feel it curdling her insides. And after everything we went through. After we delved into the heart of that feral infested lab. Guess you were only interested in helping your own kid. Screw everyone else, and their missing children, huh? She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. Guess this was her life now….

The bar continued on without her, the drunks kept murmuring, Magnolia was getting ready to get back on stage, and Charlie was getting Sole’s next round ready. The Mr. Handy was happy enough to let her pickle her insides with swill, as long as she had the caps. But there was one person in Goodneighbor who wouldn't stand to watch her rot away from drink and sorrow.

From the murmured hush of the Third Rail, came the sound of boots descending the stairs,like a slow and methodical rhythm, growing louder with every beat. The soft swish of coat tails were like a accompaniment to the music of their entrance. Magnolia took her cue, stepping on to the stage with practiced grace. She cleared her throat, and music started to play. She’d been meaning to try out a new set, and what better audience than the mayor himself?

“You had plenty money, 1922, You let other women make a fool of you… Why don’t you do right, Like some other men do? Get out of here, and get me some money too.”

Hancock reached the final step, landing with his usual swagger and panache. The whole bar livened up in the presence of their fearless Mayor and lovable junkie; partly because of his charm, but mostly since he usually paid for a free round of drinks and daytripper. They would be disappointed tonight. He was here on business.

“You’re sitting here wondering What it’s all about, You ain't got no money, They will put you out. Why don't you do right, Like some other men do? Get outta here, And get me some money too.”

He was grinning as he strode to the bar, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached the worn wooden counter, leaning casually upon it. Or at least it would have looked casual, if his eyes weren’t darting over to the VIP lounge every few minutes. Charlie already had Hancock’s usual ready; Double rum and nuka cola, garnished with a small pharmacy of chems. On the house. But the ghoul didn’t touch it.

“She still…?” Hancock asked, his voice lowered. Charlie hovered a little closer, nearly resting a metal arm on the counter.

“Been there all day and all night, four days running. Only leaves when nature calls, or at least I hope.” The Mr. Handy replied, narrowing his ocular lenses at the ghoul. “I’d say something, but she’s the only one that pays their tab in caps. Takes more than good will to keep the lights on in this place.”

“What’s the word on Mac-, uh, ‘ the sniper’.” Hancock started to ask, tripping over the last words. He gave a cautious look to the lounge. In the neon light he could just make out her silhouette. Could she hear him from there? It wouldn’t surprise him. He’d need watch what he said...

“If you had prepared 20 years ago, You wouldn't be a-wanderin’ out from door to door. Why don't you do right, Like some other men do. Get out of here, And get me some money too…”

“Nothing new, last person to see him was Daisy two weeks back. Since then he’s probably been laying low in the Capital Wastes.” Charlie answered, Hovering back up, and grabbing a foggy glass and bar rag. He started polishing it needlessly, a habit he’d had since he was built. “Can't blame Daisy though, she thought he’d have told you-know-who he was leaving. Poor girl.”

“Well the pity party's over.” Hancock muttered, turning towards the V.I.P. lounge. “Time someone snapped her out of her funk.” Charlie gave a skeptical look, somehow, and continued polishing glasses.

Hancock strode towards the lounge, slowing his pace as he approached. He hesitated at the doorway. His insides started to turn the closer he came. The confidant resolve he’d descended the stairs with was now shrinking before the light of the neon sign. Maybe he should leave her alone after all, he reasoned with himself. Everyone dealt with a broken heart differently, maybe killing her liver was her way. Yeah, he was down with that. He did it all the time. He would just leave her-

“God, you’re like a cat. Come in or stay out. And bring a drink.” A voice called from the lounge. He’d been caught. Regardless, he knocked on the frame, and swaggered in as if nothing happened. She barely looked up from from her drink.

“Sister, you are a mean drunk.” He chided, plopping down on the opposite couch, kicking his boots up onto the table with a thud. He snapped open a tin of mentats and popped a couple into his mouth. “If you’re not careful, I’ll tell Charlie to cut you off.”

“Thought Goodneighbor was all ‘bout freedom.” She noted bitterly, focusing on every syllable too much, careful not to slur. Which meant she was completely hammered. Hancock chuckled, despite himself. Even as a drunken mess she could call his bluff. She looked up at him now, putting her drink down. “So, what do ya need, Mayor?”

I fell for your jivin' and I took you in Now all you got to offer me's a drink of gin Why don't you do right, like some other men do? Get out of here and get me some money too... Why don't you do right, like some other men do….

What did he need? He crossed his arms, feeling the mentats working their way through his system. The fog in his head cleared and his natural charm kicked into full gear.

“Gotta job for you, need you sober. Well, sober-ish.” Hancock replied, grinning wide. “Super Mutants are getting a little too comfortable around Good Neighbor for everyone's liking. I’d appreciate it if you gave ‘em a good old fashioned eviction.” She was silent for a moment, picking her drink up once more, staring down at it with a dour expression. The drink looked like rot-gut, something that made even Hancock’s stomach turn.

“You know I hate it when you do that.” Sole muttered, swigging back her drink, slamming the glass on the table with a sharp clunk. “Taking that shit before you say something clever. It's not even you talking, it's those shitty mints.”

“And I’ll just pretend that’s the drink talking.” Hancock shot back. “Besides, these aren’t ‘shitty’. They came from straight from Fred Allen! Guy puts a lot of love into his work.” He took a breath and regained his composure. “Anyway, the job. You in?”

“Did the mentats tell you to change the subject?” She asked, leaning back and resting her eyes. “Or are you just that eager to get me outta here?”

“Can't it be both?” Hancock joked. She didn't smile. He sighed. “Look, Sole… You know you got friends here. Right?”

“Name three,” Sole demanded, holding up three fingers. “And Kent doesn't count, because he's everyone's friend.” Hancock rested his hand on the back of his neck, looking up at the smoke stained ceiling.

“Do I really-” He tried, but a look from Sole said everything. He sighed.

“Daisy-” He started but she cut him off quickly.

“Strike one, she’s the reason I’m in this mess.” She countered sharply.

“Don't hang this on Daisy.” He growled, “She didn't know he was leaving you high and dry, well. Clearly not dry.” She gave a rueful laugh at that, a hollow chuckle that made his skin crawl. “OK I’ll try again. How about…” He had to really think, he could already feel the mentats wearing off and she’d throw a fit if he popped a few more. “Uh… Kent?”

“Strike two.” She mumbled, “Kents a sweetheart…”

“That ain't fair.” Hancock pointed out. “Being too nice ain't his fault.”

“Fine, whatever. That’s one.” She gave in. “Good luck with two and three.”

Hancock thought hard, he knew every face in town, lots of decent folks, this shouldn't be too hard. Except that since Sole had made waves since she blew into town.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t made many friends since he met her either. A lot of people took exception to him killing Finn, not that they'd say it to his face. Not to mention having Sole do his dirty work taking out Sinjin. At least Bobbi no-nose brought it on herself, or so he tried to tell himself.

“Kleo?” He tried again.

“Strike two for real now,” She replied tiredly, leaning back against the couch. “In her terminal she has at least three accounts of how she would kill me. Plus, she’s the most reliable vendor for oil in the commonwealth, and she knows it. Jacks up the price as soon as I walk in.” She rested her eyes for a moment.

“You’re paranoid, sister. Why are you snooping on her terminal anyway?” Hancock asked, arching what would have been an eyebrow, suspiciously.

“Because everyone's out to get me…” Sole answered, opening her eyes just a crack to look at Hancock with bloodshot eyes. He held his breath, unsure of what to say, until a weak smile graced her lips and she gave a soft chuckle. “Just kidding.” He laughed in relief, letting out the breath. She closed her eyes again. “So, who’s next?”

“Ain't it obvious, sister?” Hancock asked with a sly smile. She couldn’t see it, but the smile somehow shone in his voice.

“Not to me.” She sighed. He found himself hesitating. What the hell was he afraid of?

“Well… It's Charlie, obviously.” He finally added, lamely. She nodded quietly. He’d gotten another one at least. Only now he had to say the last one, then he’d win whatever game they were playing and she could get her act together. He’d even saved the best for last…. But he was silent. She looked up at him.

“So, Mr. Mayor, who’s lucky contestant number three?” She asked, a faint smile returning. This was the easiest part, so why couldn’t he say it?

“Irma…” He answered, he words didn't even feel like his own. The faint smile on her lips melted away. She sighed, pulling herself off the couch, swaying dangerously as she stood.

“Strike Three.” She muttered, putting a hand on the peeling wall paper to support herself.

“Oh c’mon I was just kidding…” Hancock tried, but even he wasn't convinced. She started towards the lounge doorway, each step heavier than the last. “Hey, let me give you a hand.”

“Don't need… Your help…” She managed between footfalls. She made it to the doorway, pausing there. “Not looking forward… To those stairs…” Hancock watched her teeter towards the exit. He exchanged concerned looks with Charlie before going after her. He stayed a few steps behind her, trying to look casual, just helping a drunk get some fresh air… Not worried about her at all.

-------------------------

They emerged from the Third Rail, the air was chill and fresh, The faintest trails of sunrise tainted the night sky. It’d be morning soon, much to Hancock’s disgust. Sole leant into an alley and heaved up a volley of Rot-gut and whatever else she’d been swilling for the last few hours. Best way to sober up.

Hancock lit up as he waited for her to finish. He took a drag on his stale cigarette, what he wouldn't give to taste what one of these was like fresh out of the packet. Smoke curled through the air like a ribbon, illuminated by the waning lamplight.

Finally the heaving subsided and the last bit was spat out like an afterthought. Sole coughed, trying to get ahold of herself. Hancock reached into a coat pocket and grabbed a can of purified water he kept for occasions like this. He cracked it open and bent down beside Sole, who was on their knees shaking.

“Here, just what the Doctor ordered.” He said, handing it over to Soles trembling fingers. She took a mouthful, washed out her mouth with a swish, and spat it out with relief, before taking a drink. She sighed, the tremors subsiding.

“Thanks…” She said gratefully, taking another sip. Hancock shook his head, breathing out a stream of smoke into the cool air.

“You can thank me by clearing out the mutant nests.” He answered, looking out at the few stars not snuffed out by sunrise. “And by pulling yourself together. The broken mess trademark belongs to me.” She laughed, the first real laugh he’d heard all night.

“I don't mind paying the royalties on it.” She countered playfully, wiping her mouth and smiling up at him weakly.

“No chance, this look aint cheap.” Hancock replied, smiling himself. “Get your own style.”

“How about, ‘Lovable Loser’?” She asked.

“That’s Fred’s, and Maybe Kent’s too. They got joint custody on it.” Hancock replied, taking another drag, burning the cigarette right down to the filter.

“Mysterious Seductress?” She asked, trying to wink, but it looked more like she was having a stroke. She laughed at her own attempt. “Maybe not right now, though.”

“Sorry, that’s Magnolia’s schtick.” He chuckled. “And mine back in my touring days…”

“You were a seductress?” Sole asked, catching him off guard. She didn't think ghouls could blush, but the faint flush of purple on Hancock cheeks proved her wrong.

“Sister, I could’ve been anyone to the right someone.” He recovered, a sly grin covering for the flush in his face. “But this ghoul’s tours of the town are suspended until further notice.” Hancock ground out his cigarette on the brick wall beside him.

“That's a damn shame.” Sole sighed, only half-jokingly. She looked up at the lilac clouds starting to drift into the dark sky from the sunrise. “What made you hang up that snazzy hat?” There was a silence. Hancock hands were itching to go for the tin of mentats again. He sighed.

“Just not my scene anymore.” He lied. She wasn't expecting a lie. Neither had he to be honest. He took a breath. “You better get back to the Rex, get a bit of shut eye. Otherwise you’re spending 10 caps a night for nothing.” He stood up, brushing the ash and dirt off his coat. Sole pulled herself up and nodded.

“Can't have that now.” She muttered under her breath. “10 caps is almost four shells. That's at least three dead raiders on a good day.” Hancock smirked, he liked the way she thought.

---------------------------

“There, got you here in one piece.” Hancock grunted, struggling under Soles weight as she leant on him for support. They had made it outside her hotel room, but only barely. Hancock had come across many things back in his youth exploring the Commonwealth. One of those things was that where ever you needed a working elevator, there just wasn’t one. But lo and behold, the one being used as a shitter in nearly every raider den seemed to work just fine.

Sole slid her arm off the ghoul and went to her room key, fumbling with the lock. Hancock rolled his eyes and gently guided her hand to the lock. She turned it and stumbled through the door, the momentum carrying her until she tumbled onto the bed.

Hancock watched her for a moment, concerned she might forget where she was and roll off the side. After a few moments it wasn’t a concern since she was already out cold on the bed, snoring softly. He rolled her on to her side side gently, so she was safe if her drink snuck up on her again in her sleep. He’d seen it happen a couple times, and it didn’t leave a pretty corpse.

The sun was starting to peek through the dilapidated curtains. Beams of light drifted onto her sleeping figure, causing her brow to furrow, and her body shift uncomfortably in her sleep. He went to the window and covered it up with a dust sheet from the armchair beside it. The cool darkness settled on the room, and so Sole settled as well.

For the third time, Hancock hesitated. He wanted to stay, make sure she wasn't going to drown in vomit, or strangled in her own bedsheets… And a part of him just wanted to stay and watch how peaceful she was. He shook his head, it wasn't his place to stay.

He took one last look around. He could see why she didn't want to spend her nights here sober. The room was dotted with the snipers odd and ends. On the dresser sat a couple old comics, worn and faded from overuse. On the table were souvenirs of their adventures; the Silver Shroud’s scarf and calling cards, A bloodied knife from Pickman's gallery, and… A microscope? Hancock scratched his head. It was hard to make out in the dark, but it looked pretty ordinary to him. Daisy said something about a cure for Macready’s kid… Was it from that? Hancock shook his head. Only Sole knew.

He was turning to leave when something on the side table caught his eye. His stomach turned at the sight of the wooden soldier.

#fallout 4 #hancock #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfiction

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thxsilvxrshrxud · 5 years

Note

I know I'm late with these buuuuuut how about 3, 29, 47, and 48?

3. Bedroll on the side of the road, or wait until a settlement to rest?

Tess will go until she physically can't (or until John practically forces her into a sleeping bag). After the shitshow that was the entrance to Nuka-world, shes waay more jumpy than she used to be. Has real bad night terrors as a result. John was scared shitless because she didn't take him with her. She went alone with Captain, and while the pooch is a good guard dog, both of them almost kicked the bucket during the trials.

Marie knows her limits, and because she travels with Nick 99% of the time, she'll sleep pretty soundly anywhere.

29. Someone does something against their morals in front of your SS. How do they handle it?

Both ladies know that when it comes to society now, its back to "eye for an eye" type law, and while they'll stick up for the lil guy, they do know when things have to happen. As much as they dont like it, they know it must be done.

47. Does your SS keep good care of their weapons? Clean them everyday or just replace em with a shiner version every once in a while?

Tess absolutely HATES pipe weapons with a passion. They break to easily, which is why she never uses em. She likes combat rifles and sniper rifles. Now, she does keep 3 types of sniper rifles on her; a .308, a .50, and a .38 because she hoards bullets like a motherfucker. Mirelurks she uses a shotgun for. Her favorite .308 rifle is plasma infused. But other than that, she keeps her weapons nice n shiny. And her shots rival Mac's in accuracy. (Aka, i dont use vats. Like, at ALL)

Marie is much of the same, but mainly keeps a sniper rifle, a shotgun, and a combat rifle on her

48. Would the Commonwealth call your SS a good guy or a bad guy? What would they say they are?

Tess is one of the good ones, but more chaotic, like Hancock.

Marie is more of a neutral good

Bonus (cause i misread it); 38. Random Radstorm! How does your SS react?

Both of em HATE radstorms. Tess has an advantage via Hancock (a. Hes a horny bastard during one, and b. He can pick up on them quick so they can find shelter)

Marie and nick are unfortunately clueless on radstorms popping up

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boarix · 5 years

Text

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part III

I Find You

Trigger warnings: Canon violence/language/gun & drug use. Panic attack, self-injury. Mature/suggestive content.

Game spoilers!

Please enjoy!

“Be careful around the brahmin, Shaun. Preston was just hurt because two of them lost their collective minds over nothing.”

Wraith and Hancock had just returned to Sanctuary from a settlement security patrol. She had been stopped at the Big Bridge Gate by provisioners and the sea of brahmin was making her nervous.

“Okay. Sorry, grandma.”

Grandma.

It made sense to Wraith. She had “created” the child who became Father and Father had, in turn created Shaun. It had taken all of Dr.Amari’s expertise to help the synth understand who and what he was. It was a rough endeavor with lots of crying all around. Wraith had added the event to her already enormous mountain of guilt. Yet, it had been important to her that Shaun knew the truth, and that he was still going to be loved. That he was still a person and had a family.

Family.

Shaun had spent quite a bit of time in Diamond City since the fall of The Institute as Wraith wanted him to spend time with other children his apparent age and make friends. He could attend school there and have some semblance of a normal, safe childhood. With the threat of the Gunners looming over Sanctuary, as much as it pained her, Shaun was safer the less time he spent there.

Family.

Her recent appointment to mayor had Piper very busy, but she had made it very clear to Wraith that Shaun was welcome to stay with her and Nat and that she would be the “Best Auntie Ever”. Hancock had a strange smile on his face when Piper told them she had given Shaun his old room, “I made sure I went through it thoroughly.” She had seemed disappointed that she hadn’t found anything incriminating.

Family.

You had one job. One job as a mother.

“Grandma, may I go find Panther?”

An enormous house cat that had appeared in Sanctuary just after Wraith had brought Shaun back from the Railroad, Panther seemed head-over-heels for the child and the two were almost inseparable. Wraith would shake her head in wonder at the sight of Shaun lugging around a 30lbs cat like it was a stuffed animal.

“Okay, honey. Just stay inside the walls.”

“I will!” As Shaun trotted away (kids hardly ever just walk anywhere) he passed MacCready and the two exchanged a wordless low-five-side-fist-bump handshake.

“Hey there, boss lady! You guys just get back? See anything cool?”

“Oh, Mac, perfect timing, could you take my pack for me?”

“Why do I always end up hauling your shi… crap anyway?”

Wraith leaned backward onto his chest and looked up at him while batting her eyelashes, “Because, daarrrling, you are so great at it!” Returning her focus to the clipboard she was holding, she missed MacCready’s flustered blush. “Nothing too exciting on patrol. I did just see you and Shaun exchange a flawless secret handshake, so that was cool. How is sniper school going?”

“Shaun is doing great, the kid’s a natural. Speaking of school, you’re not coming today right?” It was a loaded question; he really wanted her there but he also wanted her to rest. “You guys just got back, and you have to be exhausted.”

“Yeah, but I said I would so…”

She trailed off as Danse came “clumphing” up in his freshly painted Quantum X-01 armor. Wraith couldn’t help but smile as Sturges had really outdone himself. The symbol for the newly commissioned 1st Commonwealth Heavy Dragoons was done in yellow paint across the chest plate. Hancock had been enormous help during Wraith’s research and she knew he would be happy to see it applied. Based off of the flag used by the Revolutionary War’s Continental Light Dragoon cavalry, it was a sun-like orb with upside-down wings and ten rays: five above and five below. Ribbon-like scrolls above and below held the creed “The Commonwealth calls, and her children respond in tones of thunder”.

“Oh my! Danse! That looks so amazing!”

Danse looked about as proud as one could, and he beamed at her.

MacCready was hugely annoyed by the interruption and was rolling his eyes so hard it was almost audible, “Yeah, yeah. It’s real great. You didn’t answer me. You gonna come shoot or are you going to go to sleep? Sleeping an hour every other day isn’t good for you ya know!”

“When was the last time you ate, General?” Danse smirked at her, more than happy to flip their customary roles.

Wraith passed the provisioner back their clipboard and gave them a nod before turning away and walking toward her office, “Ha! My two dads… I got it under control, fellas.”

“Where is Hancock, by the way? He’s the only one who can get you to take care of yourself.” MacCready looked around as he and Danse followed her up the street.

“He’s exhausted and I knew he wouldn’t go lay down until I did. I gave him some of the new sleep aid Curie and I have been working on, said he could help with our dosage trials. Stuff knocks me out but it’s too much. Lasts all stupid day… I’ve too much to do.” She pointed to a couch someone had set up on a nearby porch, “That’s as far as he got.”

“You gave Hancock chems?” Danse was incredulous and MacCready’s face had turned scarlet and grumpy.

“Don’t you guys start with that, now. It’s perfectly safe! MacCready?” She didn’t like him mad at her but at the same time there was only so much admonishment she was going to take.

He hugged her pack to his chest and looked at his feet, “He uses so much less now. I just want him to be clean, ya know?”

“I care about him too Mac. He’s resting and he’s helping.” Putting her fingers to her mouth, Wraith whistled for Dogmeat. Crouching to meet his jubilant greeting, she roughed him affectionately, “Hey my buddy! Whose sooo good? Do me a favor and keep an eye on your blood brother for me.” She pointed at Hancock’s prone form and after an affirming yip, the German Shepherd bounded over to the couch and wiggled himself into Hancock’s embraced.

“Hey there, puppy love. Who’s momma’s good boy?”

“Well, he’s still alive anyway.” Danse was frowning.

“Not the point, tin can!”

“Alright, that’s enough. Come on you two.” Wraith continued up the street with Danse close behind.

Sighing loudly, MacCready fished a blanket out of Wraith’s bed roll and spread it over the delirious ghoul.

“Hmmmm. Thanks, little brother.”

“Hey, Hancock…” Her voice cut through his delirium like a ripper, “hey, come and eat with me.”

Disentangling himself from dog and blanket, Hancock blinked and gave the sky an accusatory look, “It’s dark! It’s night?!”

“Quite the pair of eyes on you.”

“You let me sleep all day?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess the dosage is still too high. Plus I figured you needed it.”

Hancock took her by her shoulders and scrutinized her face, “I needed it? You need it sister. You had any?”

“I tried for a few minutes this afternoon, but couldn’t… shut down. Hey sorry about knocking you out. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to get rid of you.”

Shaking his head, he dismissed the issue and ran his hands down her arms, pulling her closer. “I know you, sister.” His hands found their way to her hips and he cocked his head to the side, “You know, I have a few methods we could try to help you sleep.”

His charming smile and insinuating tone were making her feel warm. “Oh? Are you going to read me a story? Tuck me in?” She tried to make her voice sound challenging and firm, but was certain her flushing face was betraying her.

“I could do that.” Placing a hand at the small of her back, he removed any remaining space between them, “Whatever you need from me.” He was looking at her with a hungry intensity that made her weak at the knees.

“One of your long mayoral speeches ought to put her out. You kids know this is technically a public street; wouldn’t want to have to report you for indecent exposure.”

“Valentine!” Pulling away from Hancock, Wraith went to hug the synth detective.

“Thanks, Nick. Thank you very much.” Hancock had still had his arms up but now dropped them, defeated.

“Hey, kid,” Valentine patted her back affectionately, “you get those notes I sent about the Norseman case?”

“Yeah, but Val, I thought I was going to meet you in Diamond City. I don’t like the idea of you walking all this way on your own.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been crossing the Commonwealth for centuries. No need for you to worry after me. Besides that, with my new lead, it will be quicker for us to leave from here.”

The pair turned and Wraith took Valentine’s arm as they headed up the street, leaving behind an apparently forgotten Hancock. Sighing loudly he crouched and addressed Dogmeat, “You love me, right? Give me kisses?” Dogmeat happily washed his face for him.

Remembering him, Wraith yelled back over her shoulder, “You comin’ or what?”

Sighing again at the double entendre, Hancock nodded at her, “Come on, puppy love, I’ll split a steak with ya.”

“Arooero. Garryip err.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon! Of course you’ll have your own!”

“Arreeyow mnnngrow!”

“Two?! Now, let’s not be greedy.”

On the foundation of a previously existing house, Wraith and Sturges had built a community eating area, with several picnic tables and a large outdoor oven/fire pit. Shaun had long been put to bed and most of the settlers had gone home.

“Hearts and I’ll go it alone!” MacCready, Cait, Curie and Danse were playing Euchre, and despite being three-sheets-to-the-wind, MacCready was still dominating. “Read em and weep,” Rather than play out the whole hand, the former merc simply laid out all 5 cards on the table.

“Fuckn’ bollocks!”

“Bon, monsieur MacCready. We win. Yahoo!”

“Best three outta five?” Cait hated that she was losing even though this was a friendly game intended to teach Danse and Curie how to play.

“Oh, I would enjoy that very much! This game is exciting, no? And working together in pairs is excellent for team building and bond-forming, oui?”

“How ‘bought it Tin Man? You feel any ‘bonds’ forming?”

Ignoring the baiting, Danse turned to Cait, “I’ll do better this hand. I give you my word.”

“Oi, Danse, it’s not all your fault. If you don’t get the cards…”

Taking a swig of beer, MacCready gave a long grumpy look toward the conversation being held at another table. Hancock, Wraith and Valentine had been discussing a case all night. Feeling left out and jealous of Hancock and Wraith’s time, he was drinking a lot more than intended.

For his part, Hancock’s irritation at Valentine’s earlier interruption had dissipated as soon as he realized he could help. His near-perfect recall of anything he’d read happened to included Norse Mythology. The perpetrator on their current case was committing seemingly random murders, whose only connection were notes left behind at the scene, pinned to the victims like name tags, identifying them as one of the various Norse gods. Confused as to why some of the gods had been used more than once, Hancock’s suggestions and input was proving invaluable to them.

“I wish I could come with you two but as it is, Fahrenheit is gonna have me tanned for new boots if I neglect my ‘Mayoral duties’ any longer.”

“It’s a real shame, John. I sometimes forget how useful you can be.” Valentine gave the ghoul a wink.

Yawning hugely, Wraith stood up and stretched. Standing as well, Hancock admired her shamelessly. MacCready, his eyes on Hancock, scowled from the other table.

“Hancock, would you be a gentleman and escort me home?”

“Well, I can do one of those things for sure. Heh.”

“Goodnight everyone! Goodnight, Val. I’ll be ready to go in the morning.” Wraith bent and gave Valentine a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey! Where’s my sish… kish?”

Without missing a beat, Hancock stooped slightly and kissed MacCready square on the mouth. Wraith’s eyebrows threatened to throw themselves off the top of her head and she wasn’t the only one.

After blinking owlishly for a second or two, a huge idiot grin spread across MacCready’s face, “Hey, man, thanks. That was… that was really nice.”

“Anything you need, MacCready. Shall we go, General?”

Hancock offered Wraith his arm and as the two turned the corner they could hear MacCready as he yelled straight into Cait’s face, “I love those two guys! A loft! But I’vetasay, between ‘em I don’t know how they get an edge in wordwise. A wisest… Hedges!”

“Alright ‘MacDrinky’, you’re cut-off, boyo”

Smiling to himself, Hancock was lost in thought and absidmindedly rotating his right shoulder.

“What’s the matter you sleep funny?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Is it your coat? You know, yours was the first one I did so if there is a seam too tight… I’m a lot better at it now so you should let me fix it.”

“Sister, what I want you to do now, more than anything, is to go to sleep!” It wasn’t true of course, what he wanted them to do was actually quite different.

“Well, we won’t see each other for a while and I don’t want you to get hurt because I fucked up your ballistic weave.”

“If it’ll give you some peace of mind…”

Wraith had a workshop set up on the first floor of her home/office and leading the way she waved her hand until Hancock surrendered his trademark coat. “Is the blue one okay? Better give me that one too.”

“You know, my pants…”

“Ha ha, very amusing.”

Wraith tried her best to admire Hancock without him noticing. Despite all his bravado, it was rare that he was in any state of undress around her. He certainly was lean, but despite that and the scarring, there was something undeniably handsome about him. Perhaps it had something to do with the way he carried himself, or that amazing voice, or the way he wore his trousers low on his hips…

What are you even thinking about? How dare you look at another man? Nate has only been in the ground for a few months!

She started to shake uncontrollably and her chest tightened.

What was your plan, bringing him back here? Oh sure, have yourself a nice fuck while the love of your life rots in the dirt! He died trying to protect your son. Your son is dead. You killed your own son. You had one job! One job as a mother.

“Wraith?” Hancock could see her gasping for air, “Wraith! What happened?”

“I killed them! I KILLED THEM ALL! They are all dead because of me!” Bringing her hands up on either side of her head, she proceeded to dig into her temples with her fingernails, ��I killed my SON!”

“Wraith stop!” Hancock grabbed her wrists and straining against her, managed to pull her hands away. Groaning when he saw she had drawn blood, he pressed his forehead to hers and said her name over and over, “Wraith. Sister, come back. Come back to me. I’m here. Listen to me, to my voice. Wraith. Wraith.” She had stopped fighting against his grip and her breathing slowed, “That’s it. Just breathe. Breathe with me. Count with me. In two, three, and out two, three. I got you.”

They stood together for several minutes, Hancock counting their breaths. Wraith eventually sagged against his chest and he held her close for several more minutes.

“I know that this is unfair, but would you stay with me? Just until I get to sleep! You wouldn’t have to stay all night. Shit! I didn’t finish your coat!”

“Whatever you need from me.”

“I’m going to go check on Shaun, and I’ll meet you in my bedroom. I can finish your coat before you leave tomorrow.”

Panther had draped itself like an ushanka hat around Shaun’s head. Raising its head when she walked in the room, it greeted her with a gruff, growling purr. Satisfied Shaun was safe and asleep she gave the cat a pat and went back downstairs.

What am I going to sleep in? I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. Oh god, what does he sleep in?

Deciding on a pair of shorts and a tee, Wraith washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth. Taking a deep steadying breath she opened her bedroom door.

Hancock was standing next to her bed waiting for her. He had removed his shoes but left his shirt and trousers on, “How do you want me?”

“Would you…just hold onto me?”

“Anything you need, sister.”

The Norseman case wrapped ugly in a chaotic gunfight, with a screaming perp and a dozen or so raider minions. The Norseman turned out to be a man who had assumed the moniker Skuld after one of the three Norns. Proclaiming himself the “Guardian of Destiny”, he was in truth, completely out of his mind and thankfully a terrible shot. The seemingly random victims had been chosen just as Hancock had thought: anagrams of characters from Norse legend that had been punished after disobeying the gods. They assumed that the names were derived from a book on Norse mythology that was found on Skuld’s body. After convincing the raiders that he was going to lead them to a “greater destiny” and “lots of good chems” they had protected Skuld with fanatical loyalty.

It was a cluster fuck if there ever was one.

Valentine and Wraith were on their way back to Diamond City and were staying the night in a Minuteman safe house, at the detective’s insistence. While she got water to a boil, Valentine locked the stairway door and did a window check.

On perhaps his third lap around Wraith noticed his pacing, “You alright, Val? You’re making me nervous. Are you expecting someone?”

Valentine didn’t make unnecessary movements: his gestures and body posture were part of the memories up-loaded from the original Nick Valentine. But as he turned to answer her his head twitched unnaturally, “Sorry, kid. I’m trying to figure out how to ask you something.”

“What’s wrong?” Alarmed by his tone and the tick, Wraith moved away from the cooking station to stand next to him. His nervousness was out of character for him. Something was off.

“I have a problem but before I get to that, I wanted to ask you about what went down between you and Deacon. Why did you… leave the family?”

Wraith flinched at Deacon’s name, “Why, what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Because, he’s offered me a… new suit. I’m having a hard time making a decision and frankly I feel a little lost.”

“Oh. Oh!” Wraith bit her lip, “Wow! I’m a little… I’m sorry. Are you afraid the offer isn’t genuine? He wouldn’t lie about something like that.” She folded her arms and looked at her feet, “The Railroad used me. They had information on my son because Deacon himself watched me leave the vault for the first time. They knew who I was and what I wanted and used me to take down their greatest enemy. They waited for me to approach them, until I helped them, before offering me any aid. Even then, accessing the Institute was as much a boon to them as it was to me.” She raised her head and smiled at him sadly, “The worst part, if I’m being honest, was that I believed Deacon when he said we were friends. I’m mad now because he has me second guessing myself. I miss him; his stupid jokes and running commentary. For a sneaky spy he sure talked a lot. This coming from a former lawyer…”

“Kid, I’ve known Deacon, in one form or another, for a long while and I know that he genuinely liked you.” Valentine placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze, “He was your friend. You were more to him then the battering-ram that the Railroad used you for.” Tilting his head to the side, he smiled at her, “You have a lot of enemies in this world, sweetheart, don’t reject a friend. Even if he’s a sneaky spy.”

“I’m sure I burned that bridge.”

“Bridges can be rebuilt. The reason I asked is because I want you with me if I accept their offer.”

“Of course I would be there, regardless of my own bullshit. But enough about that part of it, what are your reservations? Let’s break this down logically.”

“It’s hard to be logical when it’s this… emotional.” Valentine paced away from her, his hands clasped behind his back, “Well for starters, after so many long years, I’m used to this mug of mine. It would be trying to say the least, to adjust to a new look.”

“But you wouldn’t, not really. It should be easy for the Railroad to… um… adjust your suit.”

“You mean I could have it tailored?” Valentine laughed. His head twitched again and he seemed to be completely oblivious to the involuntary movement. “I want to hear your honest opinions on this. What would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m afraid for you! I want you to be safe and happy. I went through this with Curie and I was so scared that I might lose her… What does Ellie think?”

“Ellie?”

Wraith rolled her eyes at him, “Yes, Ellie Perkins. I think you are familiar with her.”

“I’m sure she would be upset that I didn’t pull through. Finding a good job can be difficult…”

“You have got to be kidding. Ugh, Val you are such a man. She’s going to be pissed at me for outing her but, her signals are obviously not getting through to you.”

Valentines eyes widened at the implications, “What? Why would she… I’m an old… toaster for heaven’s sake!” He wiggled his right hand at her, “I’m missing skin! She’s a beautiful young woman and I’m… Well, I’m not good enough for her.”

“I’ve never been beautiful, even when I was a young woman.” She held up her hand at his scoff, “I’m not saying I’m hideous or anything, but you can’t get much more Plain Jane than me. Part of the reason I did so well in the Railroad; slap a wig on me, change my clothes and I could be fifty different people, easy.” She returned to the cooking station and tossed in a few items from her pack, “Nate, on the other hand… You know that image in your mind when someone says ‘handsome soldier’, that was him. He looked like he had been carved from onyx. Tall, dark and gorgeous. He could have had any woman he wanted and he picked the one who was eight years his senior and as mousy as you can get. Hell, I’m so loud and bossy, ‘shrew’ would be more appropriate.”

“I would say ‘lioness’.”

“My point is, sometimes wonderful people see something in us that we could never see in ourselves. Love goes farther than skin-deep. Ellie loves you, Val,” She stirred her dinner with a detached negligence, “you really need to talk to her about all of this. Now, from a business standpoint, your clients might be put off if your appearance was to suddenly change, but they knew you were a synth from the get-go.”

He didn’t respond. Something definitely was wrong. Her food prep forgotten, Wraith returned to Valentine and patted his arm. Nothing. He was standing perfectly still in the center of the room.

“Valentine?” Grabbing both of his arms she shook gently, “Valentine!”

He slowly raised his right arm, bent at the elbow, reaching for her.

“Val, can you hear me? Uh… blink once for ‘yes’ twice for ‘no’. Okay?”

One slow blink.

“What happened? Oh fuck, sorry. Do you know what happened?”

One blink and then two.

“So, ‘maybe’. Are you shot? Did you get hit when we were fighting the Norseman?”

One blink, then two.

“Okay I’m going to check you over but Val, it could get… intimate. Is that okay with you?”

He slowly reached out and touched her cheek while blinking once. She held his hand to her face for a moment trying to calm herself. Dragging a chair over to him she removed his hat and checked his head and neck thoroughly. Finding no new wounds she removed his trench coat, tie and dress shirt and went over his chest, stomach and back. There. Maybe. In the small of his back was what looked like a bullet hole. She had never seen his naked torso before, let alone scour it with this level of scrutiny but the scorch marks and melting on his synthetic skin looked new.

“I think I found it but I have to remove a panel on your back. Is it going to hurt you?”

Even after his single blink response she wasn’t wholly convinced. Wraith didn’t understand exactly how his sensors worked. He apparently didn’t realize he had been shot in the first place, but that could have been a result of the wound itself. Or he hadn’t told her as to not worry her.

They were going to have a talk about that later.

Wraith removed a scalpel from her med kit and set the edge to a seam in Valentines dorsal panel, “Okay, here we go.” Using it as a pry-bar, she ran the scalpel around the edge of the panel and popped it off one edge at a time. Returning to his face she checked in, “Still okay?”

One blink.

At first she didn’t see exactly what was wrong as it was easy to get lost in the technological maze of the synth detective’s inner workings. Then her eye was drawn to an arching blue light that was being generated from a severed wire. It appeared as though the bullet hadn’t done any structural damage to him aside from the entry wound. Valentines framework was essentially bullet proof; which was why he had refused ballistic weave.

They were going to have a talk about that too. The wires and tubes that acted as his circulatory and nervous system were definitely not bullet proof.

The slug in question had been rubbing against a set of wires and had cut all the way through one of them and about half way through the second. Had Valentine told her he had been shot immediately, aside from his pride, he would have avoided any real injury.

Oh, this conversation is going to get loud!

In her excitement of diagnoses, Wraith reached in and grabbed the slug. The resulting electrical discharge threw her back ten feet and she almost went through a wall. Dazed, she sat prone for a few minutes until the excruciating pain in her right hand brought her to her senses. It looked like she had cooked it in a microwave. Retching, she pulled herself to her feet and stumbled to the med kit where she injected herself with Med-X and a stimpak as fast as she could. Wrapping her had in gauze, she returned to Valentine who was blinking “no, no, no, no” at her.

“I’ll be okay. I just did something really dumb. I’ll be fine.”

Round one goes to the slug, you jackass!

Wraith traced the wires down to a connector and theorized that if she disconnected the whole unit she would be able to remove the slug safely. She then could replace the damaged wires and Valentine should be okay. But where could she find replacement parts?

We are only a few miles from ArcJet Systems! Danse and I tore through there a while back and there should be plenty of what I need!

With renewed enthusiasm, Wraith gently disconnected the wires and removed the slug. Holding it like a trophy, she showed it to Valentine.

His eyes were completely dark.

“No. No, no, no no noooo. Oh God!” She cupped his face in both her hands, “I’m going to save you, partner! I love you, buddy, and I’m not going to let you die. I’m going to save you. You hear me? I’m not giving up and I’ll be back real soon.” She pulled the chair back over so she could kiss his forehead and nose. Then she quickly geared up and left via the window.

As soon as she was outside she pulled out the emergency-only chems. Full-up on psycho jet and Buffout, she sprinted the entire distance to ArcJet in only a few minutes. Once inside she popped some Mentats and set to work.

This is going to work. This is going to save him. I’m not going to lose him.

It was a macabre scene as Wraith ripped apart synth after synth looking for an intact set of the wires amongst the pile of blasted and pulverized torsos.

This would have been a lot easier had you not nuked your right hand, you moron.

Just in case there were size differences in the connector sockets, Wraith searched until she found 3 sets. After some more chems she sprinted back to the safe house.

As soon as she reconnected the wires Valentine jerked awake as if from a bad dream. He spun around and grabbed Wraith by the shoulders, “Kid! What did you do? Are you alright? Your hand!”

“Oh, Val…” Sobbing and shaking violently from overdose symptoms, she wrapped her arms around him and cried onto his chest.

Scooping her into his arms he carried her to the med kit and held the addictol inhaler to her mouth, “What have you done to yourself? Awww, dollface…”

Hiccupping, Wraith fixed him with a glare that could melt steel, “Don’t you dare say you’re not worth it! I refuse to let you die. You stupid, big, dumb… ass… man. Ugh, too many chems…”

Valentine disliked that.

A few days later, Wraith dropped the detective off at his office with plans that he and Ellie would join Piper, Nat and her for dinner later that evening. She wanted to give him time to have a long talk with Ellie. In the meantime she needed to run errands in the market. Buying more Med-X for her throbbing hand was top of the list.

She felt eyes on her. Not just the friendly gaze of a curious passer-by, this was an intense scrutiny. Crouching and pantomiming checking her shoelaces she glanced around. Gone. Whomever it was had either lost interest or had upped their game.

“Hiya, Ms. Wraith!”

“Hi, Nat. How are you?” Tousling her hair, Wraith momentarily forgot her injury and used her right hand.

“Oh wow! Wud you do?”

“I held a grenade too long.”

“For real?” Nat’s eyes got round, “Nuh.. nuh-uh! What happened for real?”

“I’ll tell you and your sister later. I’ve got some shopping to do,” The eyes were back. Closer this time. “Why don’t you go tell her I’ll be up to see her in a minute?”

“Kay.”

Wraith watched as Nat jogged away toward the lift and as soon as she was sure the kid was safe, she stepped sideways into a shadow and vanished.

Deacon knew he had been made, “Damn, she is scary...”

Keeping to the shadows himself, he turned down the row of residences past the Science! Center. As he was passing the home of the former Doc. Crocker, the door flew open and he was grabbed from behind. With no apparent effort, Wraith flipped him over a coffee table onto a couch while swiping his glasses off his face and shutting the door.

Landing in a huge cloud of dust, Deacon coughed and sneezed dramatically, “Hack! Aachoo! Ugh, well that was rude! May I help you?” He had adopted an annoyed expression but his eyes kept darting to her bandaged hand and the little flickers of concern in his eyes called him a liar.

“I thought I had told you to stay away from me? Have you been following me?”

“Well, aren’t we narcissistic? Believe it or not, Wraith, you are not the center of the universe.” He was glaring at her now, “And what you said was ‘stay out of my line-of-sight’. You’re the one who pulled me in here! Give me back my goddamn glasses!”

Frowning in the face of his anger, she put his glasses on and folded her arms, “No, I’ll be keeping these. You may consider it punishment for creeping on me.”

“Fuck you, Wraith.” His anger was genuine now.

What is your goal here? You do miss him… Lots.

“I’m tired, Deacon. Very, very tired. I don’t want to fight anyone anymore. I liked it better when I thought we were friends.”

“Well, we weren’t so…” He turned his head to try and hide his eyes, “I used you to destroy the Institute. Now that that’s done… so are we.”

“Liar.”

His anger flaring, Deacon stood to yell at her, “What the FUCK do you WANT from me?!”

“One truth. Just give me one.”

“RRRRAAAAGGGHHHHAAA!” In an inarticulate rage, Deacon waved his arms around above his head. Then, apparently spent, he suddenly plopped back down on the couch, which resulted in another cloud of dust. He sat with his face in his hands for almost a full minute, “You scare the shit out of me.” Raising his head and making eye contact, his eyes where brimming with tears of frustration, “I found myself concentrating on our friendship… on keeping you happy and safe. You were becoming my priority. When you told me to… to go… I told myself I was relieved. It wasn’t true, of course. Now, between missions, I come and… I find you. Wherever you are, I find you. Because seeing you alive and safe… makes me feel better.” By the end, he was staring at the floor; no longer able to meet her eye.

Removing his sunglasses she folded them and stuck them in her lapel pocket, “I believe you. I’m still keeping this pair of glasses though.” She walked around and stood next to him, “As further punishment you have to hug me now.”

“Ugh! Don’t you know girls have the snooties?”

“I think you mean ‘cooties’, and yes, I’m crawling with them.”

His arms shook as held her close for a few seconds. As he let her go, he gently grabbed her wrist and brought her bandaged hand up between them while raising a ginger eyebrow.

“It’s from a thumb-war with an assaultron.”

“Liar.”

Thank you for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see the Wraith in the Ruins master-link by searching under my bio. I will also be reblogging the master from time to time. =^..^=

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just-another-wasteland-merc · 2 years

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Check out what @nero-arts drew for me! AAAAAAAAA!

"What's on the list for today?"

"Not sure yet. I don't have much planned besides walking with you to the clinic."

"Its just across the street, RJ..."

"Yeah, but I like dropping you off in a sense. Not saying I don't like being away from you, because I definitely don't."

"Aww. Well, come by later. And bring sandwiches this time."

"Sure, bluebird. Whatever you want."

Many thanks to Nero for capturing a cute domestic moment. I love it so much.

Guys seriously, Nero is so wonderful to chat with and work with for comms! Pls go check them out!💜💜💜💜💜

#art!#nero-arts #maccready #robert joseph maccready #fallout 4 #rj maccready #em and mac take the commonwealth #fallout4 #their art #art commission!

196 notes · View notes

applsauss · 5 years

Text

Something Good

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairing: RJ MacCready/Reader

Summary: Maybe it’s time MacCready’s thought about going back for something he left in the Capital Wasteland. Maybe he just needs a little push.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warning(s): Explicit Content, Heart Eyes Motherfucker

Preston sees the settler out and you heave a sigh as you clean up your to-do list on your pipboy – Lately it’s been getting too long, the bullet points too crowded. The upgrades and repairs needed don’t seem to ever end, just pile on and on until the scroll bar’s nothing but a little dot on the right of the screen and… There’s a lot.

The sounds of footsteps slowly disappear, you hear the front door slam shut, and then you and MacCready are left alone in the worn-down pre-war house, boards on the windows, empty doorways, and your desk sitting at the far end of the room, a chair behind it and a couch for visitors in front. You rub your temples and take a drink in the still air as MacCready moves from his customary spot behind you to take up residence on the threadbare couch, stretching out on his back and hefting his booted feet up over the armrest. You look up and he grins the way he always grins, wide and wiry and kind in a way he claims not to be.

“What are you looking at?” You stiff him, jut your chin out and narrow your eyes, but you can’t hide the stars in them and you know he knows and he knows that you know that he knows. Stupid fucking adoration and love that’s so hard to hide, gets in your way, makes it so the tiredness that hardens and settles in your bones lifts for just a chaste moment.

MacCready shrugs and finally drags his eyes away from you, looking away towards the Minuteman flag hanging on the wall. “Nothing. Just thinking about how painstakingly accommodating you are to people who do nothing but complain.”

“They’re my settlers, MacCready.” You level with him, foggy happiness clearing for just a moment as he hits a sore spot. “Safety in numbers.” You check to make sure Preston’s left the house before continuing, “Gotta have some friends if you wanna survive, Mac.”

MacCready sobers, but still smiles – he’s still looking at you like you’re the last good thing left on the planet. “Yea. Lucky I got a rich friend like you, boss.” He’s got eye crinkles and everything, it’s fucking ridiculous, and the way his voice carries through the air and boss, why is it different coming from him? “But I also know that you care, even just a little bit.”

You shake your head and look away, “Got nothing better to do.”

“Y’sound like Hancock.”

“Hancock’s got nothing better to do than be mayor?”

“Get high, maybe.” MacCready laughs, and you can’t help but join him, quietly snickering along with him as you slowly unclamp your pipboy and rub your wrist over.

“Mhmm,” You agree, setting resting your chin on your hand, sinking and sinking until you shake yourself out of it with a disgusted sound, “can’t stand taking chems unless I need to.”

MacCready laughs again, but it sounds closer to a huff, and there’s an audible thud as he drops his head against the armrest, “Some of ‘em are alright.”

“Yea?”

“Jet’s nice.” He says, settling in and crossing his arms over his stomach as he stares at the ceiling, with a soft face.

“Y’know what, Mac?”

“What?”

“I wanna show you something.”

“So?” You hop up onto the counter of the house you picked out in sanctuary and gesture for MacCready to look around, “Thoughts?”

MacCready takes in the interior, the solid walls and shuttered windows, and then looks back at you with a quiet laugh. “For what?” He’s standing in the doorway, Sanctuary bustling behind him, hat firmly on his head but the rest of his usual ensemble missing. June is taking it’s toll and hanging around Sanctuary for the past couple weeks has led you both to thin T-shirts as the streets are gradually cleaned of anything potentially harmful.

You forgo dancing around the subject, solid in the knowledge that MacCready isn’t likely to run – not now, not after everything, so you shrug like it’s no big deal and take a look around the empty home. “Well, Y’know, Sanctuary’s gettin’ cleaner, safer, we’ve got guards and… So…” You lose your momentum and shirk out of your confident pose, before stealing your nerves and looking up at MacCready.

He’s staring back at you, and you suck in a sharp breath. MacCready looks at you and you can’t fucking think anymore, every sense of self-preservation is thrown out the window, it suddenly becomes morally acceptable to drop a bomb on an entire nation, your rad levels decline and he kisses your scars away and the planets align and everything just seems doable again.

MacCready looks at you and disarms you and you’re left gripping the edge of the countertop, face melting into a puppy-dog look that reaches all the way down to your heart.

“Look, I know… I know I’m not exactly the most loved person ‘round the Commonwealth and there are still Raiders and Gunners and a couple of those Triggermen out for revenge and there’s even regular people who hate me and there’re molerats and fucking mongrels and super mutants and the whole shebang because I made a big splash in a little pond but…” Your voice cracks, “And… And also, the Institute and Brotherhood’s gone but there’s still a pissed off proctor looking to put a bullet in my skull and torture everyone I love ‘cause I killed the elder but… But…”

“Hey, “ MacCready steps out of the halo the door gave him and reaches out to you, “Hey, (Y/N), what’s… What’s the matter? Boss?” His hand brushes your cheek and you turn your face up so you’re face to face, his eyebrows all screwed up and eyes flickering across your face, searching for something. It’s tender. All the kinds of tender that used to happen before the war, when Nora’d pull you close and kiss your eyelids, when she held Shaun in her arms, nose pressed against his little wrinkly forehead as you signed the adoption papers.

This was… This was harder than you thought it’d be. You hadn’t planned for this to happen the way it did, though you suppose that for the past couple years, you couldn’t afford the luxury of planning for your failure.

MacCready presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, and your eyes fall shut at the feeling, and then the corners of your mouth quirk up as his stubble scratches you and he laughs a little when you do.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Why’d you take me here?” He asks as he pulls back to take a good hard look at you.

You look him in the eyes then lean forward so your head’s on his shoulder and his arms are draped loosely around you. “I just… I wanted to know if you’d ever want to bring Duncan here now that… Now that he’s gettin’ better. I know you miss him and I know it’s been a long time and I…” You pause for a moment and take a deep breath, “And I, y’know, if you wanted we could go to The Capital Wasteland because I could always tell Preston to fuck off or you could go and we don’t have to be together because you shouldn’t feel pressured to do that just because I helped you because really, I was in a bad spot and didn’t care if I –“

You pull back when you feel his arms loosen around you and then you’re faced with his wide-eyed, close-mouthed expression as he stares and stares and stares.

“I… MacCready, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… We don’t have to…”

“Is…” He looks around the empty living room and kitchen and then back at you, “Is this… Did you make this up for us?” It’s a heavy accusation with heavy connotations alluding to the fact that you love him and care about him and all that stuff that sends your mind into a pitch-black frenzy.

You try to say something dismissive, something like no, Sturges has been fixing up all the old houses, but it’d be a lie because you were up on the roof nailing down shingles, or their equivalent, yourself, and so you then try to say that yes, this is your stupid way of saying hey, live in a house with me and lets raise your kid together, but the words get all mixed up in your chest and then bunch up in your throat and you’re forced to swallow it all down before you choke or throw up or do maybe both; so you force your rapidly beating heart back to where it belongs and nod, real simple, up and down then up and down and then up and then down again because you’re all mature adults and this is how you handle hard conversations, by nodding and gesturing and not speaking at all. One-hundred percent, total, awkward, silence.

MacCready nods, too, more vigorously than you did and he closes his eyes and sucks in a breath and pulls you in for a hug that squashes the space between the two of you so he’s standing, bracketed by your knees and you return the hug with all the same force and secretive words.

“Yea, yes, please.” He whispers into your neck, nose pressed against the base of your skull. “You don’t… I’m so sorry, I don’t have anything to give you…”

“MacCready, you don’t have to… I…” You pull him closer and tug at his shirt until there’s no space between you and all you are is an idiot clinging to a slightly less stupid merc in an old and empty house. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.” MacCready nods and it shakes your body, “I am, I just… I don’t have anything to give you but all of my loyalty and it really doesn’t make all that much of a-”

“MacCready…”

“- I know, I know, you don’t like it when I talk like that but-”

“MacCready-”

“Okay. I know. I’m valuable and skilled and more importantly, you want me just like how I want you and-”

“MacCready,” You pull away so you can get a look at his face and he lets a little laugh seep through the cracks as he takes the chance to look around again, face melting into a moony expression.

“Did you really… Did you really fuh-reaking build me a house?”

“I…” You take a look around the room, the empty walls waiting for someone to hang something up, paint them, soften the room with blankets and couches, and… “I think… I did. Yea,” You crack a smile, “I think I fucking did. I even fixed up the backyard…”

“We have a yard?”

“I’m the fucking general,” You nod to the back door, “I get what I want whether it’s free meals or a private garden plot and a barbeque.”

He laughs and hugs you again, arms wrapped tight around you and face returning to its spot on your neck, nestled, tucked away and safe from the world and you return the hug, smiling and dragging him closer again because sometimes you just need to be smothered. “I…” He lets out another breathy laugh, “You make me so happy, (Y/N). I never thought I’d feel like this again.”

You grin against his skin and ignore the hot breeze coming in from the still wide-open doorway, “You make me happy, too, Mac. I…” It’s odd because you never had trouble saying the words before, “I… I love you.”

“I…” His voice cracks, “I love you, too. And I know Duncan will love you and you’ll love him.”

“Yea?”

MacCready pulls back and brings both hands up so he’s holding your head so, so, so gently, “Yea,” and then he darts forward and presses his lips against yours, eyebrows knitting and eyes shut as he kisses you.

His thumb strokes your cheek and you short-circuit, eyes falling shut and hands sliding down his back trying to draw him closer and closer because god damn it there has to… there has to be someway you can feel him closer to you.

The feeling of his hand carding through your hair forces a little exhale out of your chest, and he pulls back with a sheepish laugh, eyes darting away from your face. “Sorry… It’s just, you’re really attractive right n-”

You surge forward, hands wound tight around the collar of his shirt as you drag him down to kiss you again, closer, hotter and sloppier and his words are lost on his lips and then claimed by yours. You drag your fingers up his chest and across his shoulders until you can splay your hand across the back of his neck, teasing the short hairs on the back of his head and MacCready groans in response. “Is there a…” You draw your fingers towards your palm, tracing your nails over his skin as he rocks into you and it takes a second before he finds his words again. “Is there a bed in here?”

“Mattress,” You croon, dragging your lips away from his to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his throat “In the… The bedroom.”

“Oh my – holy fu-uck!” Your back archs up smoothly as MacCready pins your hips down. “fuck, fuck, Mac, please, please!” He seals his lips around your clit, driving your hips upwards as he presses his tongue up and up and up until it’s against the bottom of your clit and you – you – fuck –

A hand tugs at his hair as your thighs seize up and you’re lost in a haze that spreads through your limbs and clouds your thoughts. It persists, MacCready draws it out in the most bittersweet way and then you drop, limp, onto the bed, spent and panting. The mattress shifts beneath you, and with a slow moan, you peel your eyes open to find MacCready looking at you, a grin plastered on his stupid, dorky face.

You stare back for a moment, unable to come up with anything to say, and then he makes a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like a cocky asshole, and you flump back onto the bed. “What’re you looking at, merc?”

“I told you,” he laughs and crawls forward on his elbows, kissing your naval and up your stomach to your collar. You see the bones and muscles move under his skin as he shifts and his hair’s tossed and falling in front of his eyes “You’re really, really attractive right now.”

“Oh?” You grip at his bare shoulders as he attaches his lips to the underside of your jaw and sucks. “So I’m… I’m not usually – fuck – usually attractive?”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth Ms. (L/N).” He looks at you from under his eyelashes and it’s not fucking fair. This isn’t fucking fair and you tell him as much.

He kisses his way up to your ear and nibbles, “Yea? And why’s that?”

“’cause unlike me, you’re always attractive.”

“Even now?” He jokes.

“Well, I guess not right now, no, but usually.”

MacCready scoffs and kisses you hard on the lips, and you return it, body automatically curling around him as he catches your bottom lip between his teeth and then dances away just out of reach, a smile taking shape.

“Asshole.” You grumble, shifting around until you can slide your hand down into his boxers and therrrre you go. MacCready groans in your ear as you wiggle downwards underneath him, then wrap your hand around his hard dick, thumb swiping over the tip a few times. He unravels and it’s good. He ducks down and seeks out your lips with his own and it’s even better.

“I’d still have to travel.” You say to the ceiling, MacCready mirroring your position on the bed and staring in the same direction.

“And I’d still go with you.” MacCready says, pointedly ignoring the way you carefully worded your sentence to take the responsibility off his shoulders. “Sanctuary’s safe. Safer than where he is now, anyways and a few days is nothing compared to two fuh-freaking years.”

You nod and close your eyes, stretching across the wrinkled sheets and lapsing back into the warm satisfaction that comes after nice sex with a nice person. MacCready rolls onto his side towards you, face still flushed and hair mused up in a way that makes your heart leap into your throat, and looking at him, you don’t suppose you look much better for wear. “So would that be Duncan’s room? Across the hall?”

“Yea. I fixed up his closet and you guys can put whatever you want in there, paintings and posters and chairs and tables, whatever, I’ll get it for you, I promise.”

“You don’t have to...” MacCready laughs, and drags you towards him, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Jesus, you’re a real renaissance man, you know that? You don’t have to prove yourself or anything, you know? You’re… You’re already more than I probably deserve.”

“Well, I try.” You shake your head and close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax in his arms despite the heat and sweat still clinging to both of you, despite the humidity.

Masterlist

#rj maccready #rj maccready x reader #rj maccready x sole survivor #fallout 4 #fo4

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linuxgamenews · 4 years

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For the People a political style visual novel

For the People strategic visual novel game announced for Linux, Mac and Windows PC. Thanks to developer Brezg Studio. Due to release this year on Steam. For the People is coined an acute social novel. While coming with a slight touch of bureaucracy and irony. Theming for this new titles focuses on the Soviet Union and the totalitarian regime. While introducing some strategy elements into the mix. Welcome to the Cold War in a parallel reality. You are Francis Reaver, the newly elected mayor of a major industrial city. Living in the Commonwealth of Orange Collectives. This is also an alternate version of the Soviet Union. In For the People your political decisions and who you choose for your allies is your fate. Since you have to carve out your own destiny in this parallel world. While leading it to democracy or take control as unyielding dictator. Will the party serve the people? Or maybe the people will serve the party? The choice is yours, comrade. Get a better idea in the trailer below.

For The People Trailer

youtube

Features:

Taste of power - Gather information however you can. Even from illegal sources if it suits your needs.

Think strategically - Every district of Iron-1 has pressing needs.

5+ endings - So every decision you make has its consequences.

Develop a taste for power in For The People:

Hooligans, ganging up on a defenseless old man? Lock 'em up!

It appears that grandpa is a veteran counter revolutionary...

In that case, let the poor boys go... Pops had it coming!

Manage the appeals for justice from your citizens. You can also grant or dismiss requests from subject departments. Maybe untangle a web of political intrigue. Information is your most valuable resource. So do not be afraid to obtain it by any means necessary! Since For The People strategic visual novel games does not have a release date. It is due to arrive on Linux, Mac and Windows PC.

#for the people #strategy #visual novel #linux #gaming news #brezg studio #ubuntu #mac #windows #pc

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sneezedarling · 4 years

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Together (MacCready/m!Sole Sneezefic)

Just when you thought I was done. I hope someone is enjoying these. This one has Sole as the sneezer, enjoy!

MacCready’s blood is was warm and slippery as it coats Sole’s hand. Sole suppresses the shuddering sigh rolling through him as he replays the events of earlier in his head.

“You’re fucking stupid, MacCready, so fucking stupid.” He takes a deep, steady breath and gently wipes the blood from the stab wound in his shoulder before he begins wrapping the bandage around it.

MacCready opens his mouth to respond but hisses in pain instead as Sole gingerly tightens the wrappings. Sole does everything methodically, putting the medical supplies away, placing MacCready’s ripped shirt in the sun to dry the blood and shoves a can of purified water in his hands without a word.

He sits down beside MacCready on the filthy mattress, tone even and emotionless, “what were you doing?”

MacCready winces as he turns to face Sole. “You needed help.”

“I was fine,” Sole’s words are clipped, emotion threatening to seep into them.

“The hell you were! There were at least six of ‘em on you, Sole! What was I supposed to do? Watch?” The rise of his voice and the anger coursing through him makes his shoulder throb but he’s too worked up to care.

Sole throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know Mac, shoot them, maybe? You know, do your job!”

“I didn’t have a clear shot. They were too close to you!” MacCready’s standing now, clenching his fists as he opts to omit the part about how he couldn’t bring himself to shoot that close to Sole.

Sole stands as well and paces in the tiny room of the dingy apartment. “You’re the best sniper in the fucking Commonwealth, what do you mean you didn’t have a shot?”

“I mean I didn’t have a shot! Would you rather I have blown your brains out? Would that have been better for you? Huh?” MacCready’s chest rises and falls rapidly, temper rising.

“I would rather you have done anything else but come running in there like a madman and gotten yourself stabbed! Did you even think?” Sole’s eyes are glued to the new blood blossoming through the bandage.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re tons better! You looked at yourself lately? You’re losing more blood than I am.” Sole’s arms and torso are covered in slashes and knife wounds, admittedly not as deep as MacCready’s but still bleeding profusely, which are coupled with a black and green bruise over his right eye, a dried trail of blood from a previous nose bleed and a split lip.

“This isn’t about me. You got stabbed, MacCready!” Sole runs a hand through his hair.

“You got freaking stabbed! What the hell is your problem?” MacCready yells as he searches through his coat pockets for his cigarettes, wrenching one out of the packet and lighting it.

“My problem, MacCready, is your ‘do now, think later’ attitude got you stabbed and could have gotten us both killed, and you don’t care!”

MacCready never realised how much his name on Sole’s lips could sting. He always liked the way it sounded but lately it had always been Mac, ‘MacCready’ made him sound distant and formal and it made a heavy feeling form at the bottom of his stomach.

MacCready takes a drag of his cigarette, ending with a steady exhale of smoke to try and calm the anger bubbling in his chest but his words are still sharp. “I’m not a kid, Sole, I don’t need you to freakin’ babysit me for God’s sake.”

“I-I’m not babysitting you! I’m trying to keep both of us alive when you seem to be doing your damn best to get yourself killed.” Sole’s up in his face now, only inches away, emerald eyes swirling with emotion.

“I am fine. We’ve both had much worse than this! What has gotten into you?” MacCready snaps, smoke filtering out of his mouth.

“Do y-you know wha-ahhh I was thinking about during that f-fight, wh…ehh…when I saw you?” Sole’s takes a step back now, eyes shining in a way that makes MacCready think he’s on the brink of tears. “Not what I-ihh….I should have been, I was…ehh-Heh’KTCHuh! We make p-plans, I ne-ehh…Eh’TCHuh! Fuck!”

“Bless you!” MacCready snaps as more of a reflex than anything, kicking himself at how stupid he sounds saying those words angry.

Sole steps back to avoid sneezing on him, trying to hide the wince as he lurches forward, hands over his nose and mouth. He opens his mouth to try and continue but a breathy gasp is all that escapes. MacCready takes another drag and steps toward Sole, watching intently as his eyes flutter shut.

“Heh’ESHOO! I can’t think wh-when I don’t kn-ohh…where you are! That’s why we make a…Het’tschoo! A plan, Mac. I watched you g-ge- Etshoo! Get stabbed and I wa-ahhh watched you fall I-” Sole trails off into hitching gasps, scrubbing at his face and huffing in frustration.

“Bless you,” MacCready mumbles, exhaling more smoke before it clicks in his anger-muddled brain.

Sole screws his eyes shut and stepped out of the smoke, allergic tears creating tracks in the blood on his face.

“M-mac…Hih!...Hit’TCHuh…Heh’KTCH! Ehh…ESHOO! Jesus f-fuck.”

“Shi- crap, sorry. Bless you.” MacCready puts his cigarette out even though he’s still got half of it left.

Sole coughs a few time and sniffs hard before looking at MacCready, “I-Snff! I need to change that, you’re bleeding again.”

MacCready huffs and flops down of the mattress, ignoring the pain the action generates. “Stop worrying about me. I’m alright, we’re alright.”

Sole tilts his head back, waiting for the last of the cigarette smoke to work it’s way through his system. “Heh’KTCHuh! Hep’TCHuh! Hih…Hih’TSHuh!”

“Bless you. Sit down.” MacCready gently guides Sole onto the mattress as he wipes his eyes and nose.

There’s a few seconds of silence before Sole speaks up, the anger from his words replaced by something else, “you’re not alright, Mac, you got stabbed. I watched you hit the ground, I thought you were dying. I need to have a plan, I need to know-snf- where you are and what we’re doing so I can focus because when I saw you, bleeding on the ground I couldn’t think straight, okay. That’s my problem.”

Sole reaches out and gently pulls the bandages off the wound on MacCready’s shoulder, guilt flashing in his eyes when he can’t contain his hiss of pain. He gets a new bandage and begins wrapping it around as MacCready watches.

“I couldn’t watch,” MacCready mumbles.

“Come again?” Sole looks up at him.

“Do you think I’d be able to live with myself if you died while I watched and did nothing, Sole. I admit, I could have had more of a plan and maybe you really did have it under control, but I had to do something.” MacCready grabs Sole’s hands which are touching up the bandage. “You need to stop worrying about me and start looking after yourself.”

“M’fine, just a few cuts and bruises,” Sole whispers.

MacCready scoffs softly and runs his thumb over the cut on Sole’s lip, “I think it’s a little more than that.”

Sole winces but doesn’t move away, eyes meeting MacCready’s. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“I’m sorry for yelling back,” MacCready whispers.

“S’alright.” Sole pushes their foreheads together and closes his eyes.

MacCready leans into the warm touch. “We’re always gonna be okay, as long as we stick together.”

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