#john whacker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

97keanu · 8 months

Note

hey! you could write with john wick coming home to find his wife in the garden with the "garden boy" who clearly likes her but she doesn't realize it. i imagine john being subtle and quiet with his jealousies, nothing too scandalous but serious and direct. fluffly, please and thank you so much 🩷

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I loved this idea so much! I hope you like it, feel free to ask for any expanding drabbles of these two <3

Jealous!John Wick x Naive!Reader

Tags: john is jealous, reader is naive about his jealousies, gardener def has a crush but would rather quit than act on it with john always around, age gap mention, lower class reader in a rich world, possessive john, protective john, primal john

Summer was dying, August dragging out the heat of July, telling the world it was unready to leave just yet. And you, well, you were enjoying the last of the long days, the time when sunset went on for ages, and burned in the sky a blazing orange over your backyard. You always loved the sun, how it turned everything golden each evening, and how it kissed your skin with its heat.

You were barely breaking a sweat, laying out by the pool while the gardener worked on the bushes. He was young. More around your age than your husband John. Which was nice sometimes, when you got to converse with him, both because of his age, and like you he wasn't from a wealthy background. It kept you a bit more grounded while the life of luxury continued on around you, it was nice to confide in him.

Unfortunately, what you never noticed was the gardeners wandering eyes. Even now, as you lay out in your bikini, eyes closed and skin happy to drink up the suns rays, he can't help but to watch you. If you asked the gardener about it, he would never admit to his little crush on you. As much as that would be unprofessional of him, he also has no interest in messing with his employer, John Wick. There were rumors, you know, about John coming home, bruised and bloody, a painting of struggle on his skin, the smell of gunpowder on his suit. The gardner has even caught a glimpse before, and watched as you greet your husband as a source of safety and comfort. No one asked why it was that John came home in such a state, but everyone knew, and because of that, the gardener would never pursue you. He would remain a healthy confidant, easing your worries in the world of the rich, and letting you keep in touch with the world outside the private neighborhood.

The gardener still steals a look or two while he thinks he can get away with it. His headphones buzz with music, drowning out the weed whacker as well as much of his own thoughts. He idly appreciated your body and your beauty from afar, before his stomach drops. He felt for only a moment that he was the one being watched now, and when his eyes flicker up, he meets a set of dark, dangerous eyes. John has entered the backyard, likely in search of his wife, who is currently enjoying the last days of summer. The most frightening part is how close he is, the gardner had no idea that John had snuck up behind him, and now he feels the trail of sweat down his back running cold.

Instead of finding his wife, John sees this man, who he pays handsomely to do work John has no time for, drooling over his wife. The gardener quickly looks away, trying to be busy with work, but the feeling of John's gaze never leaves his back. He starts to feel sweaty for reasons besides the burning August heat, and does everything he can to stop from looking over his back once more. There was just something about John that scared him to his core, and he felt he should trust that feeling if he were to survive.

Unfortunately for the gardener, John isn't finished. He feels John remove one of his ear buds, the man now so close he can smell John's expensive taste in cologne.

"I don't pay you to eye fuck my wife." John growls out, assertive and serious.

"N-no, of course not, Mr. Wick…" The gardener quickly tries to find his way out of this mess, John's cold eyes are enough to scare him away from looking at you for a good long while.

"Good. I suggest you go home for the night." John maintains professionalism always, but the thoughts running through his head tell a different story. The gardener can practically see these thoughts and takes John's suggestion, quickly moving away to pack up.

Meanwhile, you don't even know this interaction has happened, eyes closed lightly, sunglasses blocking out the sun. It isn't until John's lips kiss and whisper against your cheek, that you realize your husband is home for the day. Your eyelids flutter open, happy to see his dark form against the dulling blue sky. He looks at you with a small fire in his eyes, and you have no idea he is trying to show off while he continues to kiss down your neck.

He's halfway to your breast, maybe more, when you glimpse the gardener beginning to pack up in a haste, and gently pull John away, for modesty if anything. You notice the gardener refuses to look in your direction and wonder why.

"John, wait…" You say softly, and John let's out a small noise of annoyance that his lips must be pulled from your soft skin.

"What's wrong?" His voice is low, gruff.

"Let's wait until…" Your eyes finish your sentence, looking towards the gardener once more. John scoffs when he sees where your gaze is going.

"What? I'm not allowed to lay claim to you in front of the staff?" He says, almost arrogantly. You aren't exactly surprised, John has always been protective, if not possessive. You don't mind it much, in fact sometimes it even turned you on how primal he could be about it. But you also thought you had tamed his jealousy regarding the gardener months ago.

"You don't have to claim me, John, I'm already yours…" You say with a smirk, kissing right under his well kept beard. John seems to be calmed for the moment by your words, and while he enjoys your kiss, the gardner slips away for the night, safe once again for now.

John's eyes open when your lips leave his neck, and he looks down at you, perplexed.

"Why'd you stop…?" He breathes out, voice already dripping, husky with want. You smirk, and stand from where you were sun tanning, taking his hand and pulling him to the house.

#john wick x f!reader #john wick drabble #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fan fic #lila speaks #ask lila #keanu reeves #my writing #••• ◛ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁱˡ!

531 notes · View notes

alexies101 · 27 days

Text

It's crazy how John would be admitting to trying to get Paul pregnant and the interviewer would be like "omg John you're such a whacker lol"

#mclennon #honestlycrazy #classic rock #memes #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney

118 notes · View notes

godlesshorrors · 1 year

Photo

𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗢𝗦: 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝟭 𝗢𝗙 𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗘! The 12th book in D&T and Godless' EMERGE series is here. Seems like this series just launched yesterday. The truth about Emerge is that in the past year, we've introduced you to some of the most exciting emerging talent in indie horror. Today is no different. This month's book is Adios Hombre Lobos by Andrew Martin. A post-Civil War period werewolf blood-spectacular, this is the perfect title to end an insane first season. FYI. Season 2 is coming soon. 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗢𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗕𝗢𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗪! https://godless.com/products/adios-hombre-lobos-by-andrew-martin-emerge-13 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝟭 𝗢𝗙 𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗪! https://godless.com/collections/emerge _______________ Adios Hombre Lobos by Andrew Martin Influenced by the works of John Carpenter, Sam Peckinpah, and Kathryn Bigelow as much as classic werewolf fiction, 'Adios Hombre Lobo' takes place just after the American Civil War and is the story of Union guerillas bound for Mexico with a load of stolen gold. As they prepare to cross the Dead Man's Walk, 60 waterless miles to Mexico, they’re ambushed by a detachment of US Calvary. Is the Calvary after them? Their gold? Or is the Calvary after something much worse than these hardened gunfighters that stalks the Jornada Del Muerto? Bullets will fly, blood will splatter, and bush whackers will be disemboweled in "Adios Hombre Lobos.” 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗢𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗕𝗢𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗪! https://godless.com/products/adios-hombre-lobos-by-andrew-martin-emerge-13 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝟭 𝗢𝗙 𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗪! https://godless.com/collections/emerge _______________ #antichristmas #godless #godlessapp #godlesshorror #godlesshorrrors #horror #horrorbooks #horrorbookstagram #indiehorror #indiebooks #indiebookstagram #supportindie (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmrPk30rEVz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#antichristmas #godless #godlessapp #godlesshorror #godlesshorrrors #horror #horrorbooks #horrorbookstagram #indiehorror #indiebooks #indiebookstagram #supportindie

0 notes

mftulin · 2 years

Text

Visual Verse: Lawn Boy on a Train by Mark Tulin

A big shoutout to Visual Verse for publishing Lawn Boy on a Train. Here is my edited version. Special thanks to John Crozier for the featured image. LAWN BOY ON A TRAIN Mark Tulin I'm a disoriented lawn boy. I have a gas mower, a leaf blower, and a weed whacker but no grass to cut, hedges to trim, weeds to whack, or leaves to blow. I'm a lawn boy without a purpose, no sense of direction on a…

View On WordPress

#Absurd #Humor #Lawn Boy #Poetry #Visual Verse

0 notes

no-reply95 · 3 years

Text

John remembers that it was George’s youth that made him take some time before asking him to join.

‘It was too much, too much. George was just too young. I didn’t want to know at first. He was doing a delivery round and just seemed a kid. He came round once and asked me to go to the pictures with him but I pretended I was busy. I didn’t dig him on first sight, till I got to know him.

‘Mimi always said he had a low Liverpool voice, a real whacker. She said, “You always seem to like lower-class types, don’t you, John?”

‘We asked George to join us because he knew more chords, a lot more than we knew. So we got a lot from him. Every time we learned a new chord, we’d write a song round it.

‘We used to sag off school and go to George’s house for the afternoon. George looked even younger than Paul and Paul looked about ten, with his baby face.’

Hunter Davies, The Beatles Authorised Biography

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #john and george #john and paul #hunter davies #authorised biography

134 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fallout 4 companions react to meeting Arcade Gannon?

Ever the curious neighbor, as soon as the sole survivor spotted the blonde, bespectacled man at the bar in the Dugout Inn, they drifted over and struck up a conversation. A drink or two later, the two were swapping tales about wasteland encounters, pointing at various holes in their travel clothes and pairing them up with fantastic backstories. When the sole survivor's companion finally swung open the door, they were given an inviting wave.

"Sit down!" the sole survivor encouraged them. "First round's on me. I'd like you to meet Arcade."

Cait: "Hiya handsome." Cait winked at the man in the lab coat and leaned on the bar. "I'm Cait. Never seen you around before. Where is it you're comin' from?"

"I, uh..." Arcade adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "West of here. Nowhere in particular."

"A free spirit, then? Just passin' through?" Cait looked him up and down. "Think the Science! Center might be lookin' for a new egghead, if those clothes aren't just for show."

Arcade tugged on his outfit self-consciously. "I thought it might keep Commonwealth raiders from shooting me on sight, if they thought I was a doctor."

Cait bobbed her head in a noncommittal way. "Or they might see you as an easy target. That is, if they don't spot that plasma pistol you've got in your back pocket."

Codsworth: "Hello to you, sir!" Codsworth exclaimed, bobbing excitedly. "Codsworth, at your service. Might I say, it is a fine occasion to meet someone nowadays who appreciates the importance of good hygience and care for one's appearance."

"Thank you," Arcade said, with a somewhat quizzical glance at the sole survivor. "And you belong to..."

"Well, I belong to him just as much as he belongs to me," the sole survivor jumped in to explain.

Codsworth waved them off. "Not to worry, the conventional assumptions are not unwarranted. I am happy to accompany and assist in wasteland adventures as necessary. When not necessary, I typically clean the house."

Curie: "Monsieur Arcade," Curie purred, with the special enthusiasm she reserved for introductions. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. You can call me Curie. Have you been in Diamond City long?"

"Not long at all," Arcade replied, clearly intrigued by Curie's accent. “Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui, Monsieur!" Curie exclaimed. "Le français est si rare de nos jours. Où avez-vous appris?"

"Oh, um... des... des livres, principalement," Arcade stammered. "Books. It's not as good as my Latin, I'm sorry."

"Latin?" Curie switched gears instantly. "Etiam magis rara."

Arcade laughed. "Well, not where I'm from. Who are you? Linguists are practically unicorns, nowadays."

Curie sighed. "It is a long story. Perhaps we wait until Vadim brings the drinks, and we can compare notes?"

Danse: "Ad victoriam, Arcade." Paladin Danse shook the newcomer's hand with gusto. "Paladin Danse, with the Brotherhood of Steel."

Arcade's eyes narrowed. "Brotherhood of Steel?"

"That's correct, citizen," Danse replied proudly.

"Uh-huh." Arcade looked back to the sole survivor. "I had no idea they were in the area. Are you stationed in Diamond City?"

"Brotherhood operations are a strictly classified matter," Danse answered, furrowing his brow. "But our main base of operations is at the Boston airport, where the Prydwen is docked. You can't miss it."

"Well, that explains it." Arcade examined his drink, avoiding eye contact with the Paladin. "I didn't come in from the north. I'm sure it's a sight to see."

Deacon: "Nice to meet you." Deacon declined the handshake, instead crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. "Nice tan. Been on the road long?"

"Too long," Arcade replied, retracting his hand and returning the calculated look.

Deacon grinned. "Alright, I won't pry. Welcome to Diamond City. Did Vadim try to poison you yet?"

"You watch it, John Doe!" Vadim shot back from halfway down the bar. "Or I call the guards, see if you actually do work the midnight shift, ya?"

"You can walk down to Danny's sign-up sheet for shifts and check yourself!" Deacon's grin grew wider. "And I'll tend bar. We'll see who can do a better job of it."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat approached the man's open hand, which he gave a good sniff. Soap, hot dust, a whiff of plasma cartridges: Nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, the dog opened his mouth to pant, tongue lolling, and accepted the scratch behind the ears.

Hancock: "Arcade, huh?" Hancock gave the man a winning smile and took one of the open stools. "I'm Hancock. First time in Diamond City? You're gonna love it here. Vadim and his brother really know how to knock you on the floor."

As if to demonstrate, Vadim delivered three shots of Bobrov's Best to the little group. "On the house," he offered. "Celebrating Mayor Hancock's newest business deal with yours truly."

Hancock threw his back, and when Arcade hesitated, he threw that shot back too. "Next one, buddy."

"Did he say Mayor Hancock?" Arcade asked. "Mayor of Diamond City?"

"Nah, nah." Hancock laughed. "God, wouldn't that be a riot. Ever hear of a town called Goodneighbor?"

MacCready: "Arcade." MacCready shook the man's hand warily. "Like the pre-war places that have a whole bunch of games inside them?"

"Actually, like the..." Arcade made a face. "You know what, never mind. Like the pre-war arcades, yeah."

"Oh, man." MacCready grinned. "There was this one I found once in the Capital Wasteland, mostly broken down of course, but it had one working machine in it. The Red Menace Whac-a-Commie. Someone took the whackers ages ago, but the little Red Menace guys still popped up and down. Duncan- my son- loved it."

Arcade chuckled. "Yeah, they're... they're fun. I found a Hoop Shot once, but the basketballs were all dried-up and flat."

"Gotta get yourself a Pip-Boy," MacCready replied, nudging the sole survivor's shoulder affectionately. "This one has a collection of mini-games for theirs. Atomic Command, Grognak & the Ruby Ruins, Pipfall... all the greats. Oh, I'm MacCready, by the way."

Valentine: "Nick Valentine. Pleased to meet you." Nick shook the man's extended hand with practiced warmth, giving him time to realize the metal grasp he offered was not a cybernetic, and the scar around his jawline was actually just where his synthetic skin ended.

True to form, the stranger's eyebrows shot up, his grip slackened and his mouth dropped open. "You're a... what are you?"

Nick gave him the standard line. "I'm a detective. But, if you're referring to the plastic and platinum bits, I'm also a synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells."

"Whoa." Instead of the typical scramble to put some distance between the two of them, Nick was surprised to find Arcade's handshake tighten again at this explanation. "I've heard of people like you, but never thought I'd actually meet one. Er, well, one that was obviously living as a synth. Though I guess you don't have much of a choice, huh?"

Piper: "Arcade? Piper Wright." The reporter shook the newcomer's hand firmly. "So, what's your story? What brings you to the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth?"

"I uh..." Arcade looked flustered, despite Piper's encouraging smile.

The sole survivor came to his defense. "Leave him be, Piper, he just got into town," they scolded playfully.

"What?" Piper asked innocently. "Can't the town reporter ask questions around here without everyone telling me I'm being too nosy?"

"No."

"Town reporter?" Arcade perked up. "Is that your newspaper, on the way in? Public... something?"

"Publick Occurrences," Piper answered with pride. "Covering anything and everything worth hearing about that happens in the Commonwealth."

Preston: "Welcome to Diamond City, Arcade." Preston shook the man's hand warmly. "I'm Preston Garvey with the Commonwealth Minutemen."

"Minutemen?" Arcade asked, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

"We're citizen soldiers," Preston explained. "The people of the Commonwealth banding together to protect ourselves and decide our own future."

"So sort of like a free state?" Arcade straightened up. "Or do you have some kind of command structure?"

"Command structure." Preston chuckled and glanced at the sole survivor. "You're looking at it."

Strong: "Strong need to get moving," the super mutant replied, rubbing his big hands together. "Milk of human kindness not here."

Arcade took the mutant in with the air of someone who had dealt with somewhat-friendly specimens before. "I can ask the bartender if they have brahmin milk."

The sole survivor waved him off. "No, that's not what he-"

"Puny humans do not have milk!" Strong cut in.

"Wait, milk of human kindness?" Arcade looked confused. "Is that... Macbeth?"

The sole survivor sighed. "It's a long story."

X6-88: "Good afternoon." Rather than sit down, X6-88 adopted a protective stance of the sole survivor, completely ignoring the hand Arcade was offering. "I hope you know that if harm comes to this individual, your life will come to a swift end."

"Uh-huh." Arcade retracted his hand. "Bodyguard?"

"Of a sort."

Arcade turned to the sole survivor instead. "Is he always this much of a stick in the mud?"

They shrugged. "He's protective and slow to trust. Give him a bit and keep your hands where he can see them, you'll be fine."

X6-88 nodded. "Affirmative."

BONUS!

Ada: "Hello sir." Ada nodded her head in greeting. "I am Ada. I hope you are enjoying your stay in Diamond City. Did you experience any trouble getting to the stadium?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Arcade replied. "Sorry, you're an amalgamation I haven't seen before. Sentry bot and protectron parts for sure, but your head is..."

"An assaultron," Ada filled in helpfully. "I take it your region does not have many of these bots?"

"No, they seem to be more of an East Coast thing."

"Just don't get on her bad side," the sole survivor joked. "You don't want to be on the receiving end of an assaultron laser."

Gage: "Well hi there!" Porter shook Arcade's hand forcefully. "Porter Gage. Talked you into trying some of this swill, did they? Brave soul."

"It's not so bad," Arcade replied with a smirk.

"Oh sure, if you're lucky enough to have Scarlett bring it to you." Porter winked at the waitress, who paused in her service to flip him the bird.

"Mmm, not my type," Arcade admitted.

"Not your ty-" Porter blurted before putting two and two together. "Oh, gotcha. Well, there's always Hawthorne."

The raider waved to the adventurer in the corner, who waved back. Arcade sank as deeply into his stool as he could and blushed.

Longfellow: "Mmm." Old Longfellow rejected Arcade's handshake and took the offered seat, swinging around to face the bar. "Storm's comin' soon. Can smell it."

"Then it's a good thing we're inside," Arcade replied, his tone unsure.

Longfellow grunted his agreement and accepted the drink Vadim slid to him, downing it quickly.

The sole survivor scowled at him. "Guess he's not in a talkative mood today."

Maxson: "Elder Arthur Maxson of the East Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Maxson shook Arcade's hand confidently.

Arcade, on the other hand, looked like he was being violently pulled between an instinct to flee and an intense curiosity. Curiosity won out. "Maxson? Of the line of Captain Roger Maxson?"

"High Elder Roger Maxson," the Elder corrected him. "You know of him?"

"Well sure, everybody on the West Co-" Arcade stopped himself. "Never mind. What's an Elder doing in a dive like this?"

Maxson studied him intently, clearly sizing him up. "Shore leave," he finally answered, sliding into the offered seat.

Desdemona: Desdemona smiled coolly. "I know."

The answer took Arcade aback, but the sole survivor just rolled their eyes. "Dispense with the power plays for once, Dez. We're just trying to have a drink."

The Railroad leader raised an eyebrow, but she sat down. "Suit yourself. When did you arrive in town, Mr. Gannon?"

"Oh, for the love of..."

Arcade eyed her suspiciously. "I don't remember telling you my full name."

Desdemona lit up a cigarette. "You didn't. But I'm by far the friendliest person in the Commonwealth who's wondering why a Follower of the Apocalypse is all the way out here, across the continent."

115 notes · View notes

pennielane · 3 years

Note

ur crying in the club cause john really had to look like that for their last pic :(

BYE….we don’t talk about ‘69 john. someone needed to take a weed whacker to that beard 😥

(everyone please reference my last post)

#I’m truly snickering in the middle of the street #odearjohn #ask

8 notes · View notes

madmaudlingoes · 3 years

Text

I have a problem and it’s called native wildflower landscaping.

There’s a program in my area called “Grow Native!” (the exclamation point is important, yes) to encourage this sort of thing. I have gone to my local nursery twice this week to buy plants. I am driving across the city tomorrow to buy other, different plants. And the inventory list for yet a third plant sale just dropped and I want them.

The front beds are already full of creeping phlox, but I’m adding poppy mallow, Ozark sundrop, false indigo, beardtongue, and coreopsis to the mix, and maybe St. John’s Wort if I can get it. Along the side, if the wintercreeper doesn’t defeat me, I’ve put some wild strawberry in the ground and I’m hoping to add bee balm, bluestar, and milkweed, and maybe a cardinal flower or two.

Last year I tried to do more extensive work in the back, which has the double problem of deep shade most of the day and crummy clay soil. The celandine poppies came back like gangbusters, as did the Sweet William I accidentally uprooted, the goat’s beard I thought I’d lost to an unfortunate weed-whacker incident, and the spikenard and turtlehead that I was pretty sure died from under-watering. I also managed to sow some Blue-Eyed Mary last fall that has come up delightfully. This year I’ve added columbines, New England aster, native stonecrop, and I’m in the market for alumroot, Jacob’s Ladder, and possible some Solomon’s Seal or Indian Pink. I’m also taking a second stab at wild ginger, which didn’t do so well last year (might be the location).

I want spice bushes and Virginia creeper and native hydrangeas and honeysuckle and blazing star and bush clover and copper iris but I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO PUT ANY OF IT.

(And this isn’t even accounting for the vegetable garden...)

#I just wanna yell about plants sometimes #grow native!#native wildflowers #I spent several hours this week fighting off bermuda grass with a hand cultivator and spite #part of the issue is that there are so many good species that either need really dry soil #or are seven feet tall #because I live near prarie and mountains #also if anyone knows where I can score some lespedeza repens I would be overcome with the vapors

17 notes · View notes

mrepstein · 4 years

Photo

‘OUR MBE - It means Mr Brian Epstein, say the Beatles’ (Sunday Mirror - June 13, 1965)

SUNDAY MIRROR REPORTER

Now then, my whackers, what’s all this about you being given medals, like?

The four Beatle Esquires faced a whole barrage of questions from the world’s press yesterday about their elevation to the Queen’s Birthday Honours list.

And they gave off with that old familiar line of patter which has made them Royal household names in less than three years at the top in showbiz.

What did the four Mersey lads think about it all, like?

Said Paul McCartney [the bonny one]: Nothing’s changed - nothing’s changed at all.”

He added, sagely: “Medals can’t change they way you live, can they? I’m still a scruff.”

And what about Mr. Wilson, then? The Premier has a Liverpool constituency. And he is in the centre of a row about the decision to make the Mersey lads Members of the Order of the British Empire (MBE).

Said George Harrison [the lovable one]: “we think of Mr. Wilson what we always thought of him. He’s a good lad.”

Then the questions flowed at a steady 45 r.p.m. and the Beatles were really in the groove. How were they notified of the honour?

The call-up

Ringo Starr [the shaggy lovable one] commented: “We got forms some weeks ago. They came direct to us. I thought it was the call-up.”

Paul chipped in; “We had to fill in whether to accept, or not.

‘We accepted, because it was all for free - although we didn’t quite know what we were getting.

“We thought MBE stood for ‘Mister Brian Epstein’ and we always sign his contracts because he’s our manager.”

But why had THEY been honoured in this way? This was the question that reporters kept hammering at the pop stars.

Said John Lennon [the aggressively lovable one]: “It’s all to do with our exports, I think.”

George quipped: “One thing’s for sure - it’s not for being in the ‘Top Twenty’.”

And Ringo: “Look at the dollars we’ve pulled in from America.”

Did they deserve the awards?

George: “It’s not up to us to say that. The Queen must have thought so, or she wouldn’t have given them to us, would she?”

Were they worried about any sour feelings the awards would arouse? Of course not - four times.

Should other pop stars get medals? What about Cliff Richard?

George: “Yes, he should get a medal - a leather one with wooden strings through it.”

The Right Honourable Beatles gave their Press conference [150 reporters present] at Twickenham Studios, Middlesex, where they have just completed their latest film, entitled “Help.”

And what about the future, then, my wacks? What on earth is there left for you to achieve now?

Ringo had ideas: “All I want to be is a Duke,” he said.

Oh, come now Ringo - they’re expecting more from you than that in the ‘Pool. Eh, wacks!

The Great Beatles Storm - see Centre Pages.

#The Beatles #Brian Epstein #John Lennon #Paul McCartney #Ringo Starr #George Harrison #Sunday Mirror #newspaper #60s #1965 #MBE

109 notes · View notes

reedienews · 3 years

Photo

#FBF: Learn about the high-wire life of Xenia Kashevaroff Cage ’35, called "Sculptor of the Surreal, Whacker of Flowerpots" in this Reed Magazine piece by John Sheehy ’82. She was photographed by Edward Weston in 1931, and this portrait is now in the collection of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Read the story.

#Reed College #Reed alumni #Xenia Kashevaroff Cage #Edward Weston

3 notes · View notes

seachranaidhe · 5 years

Text

Working Class Hero: John 'Whacker' Humphreys RIP

Working Class Hero: John ‘Whacker’ Humphreys RIP

I was very sorry to hear of the death of John ‘Whacker’ Humphreys. He was one of the founding members of the Concerned Parents Against Drugs movement in the 1980’s . This community led mass movement emerged in working class areas of Dublin to challenge the spread of heroin , a plague being ignored by the state . The brave men and women who stood up to protect their families , communities and…

View On WordPress

#Working Class Hero: John &039;Whacker&039; Humphreys RIP

0 notes

futurespacess · 4 years

Text

[Continued from Here]

It had been quite a few months since the incident at the factory, and where her life and her son’s was changed forever. Skynet may have been stopped, but there was still this lingering feeling in the back of her mind that always kept her on edge. Ever the protective mother, Sarah Connor would continue to look out for her son, and make sure he would learn all that she could teach him. It was odd enough that she was somewhat feeling thankful for the time that the Terminator had spent with her son, despite everything in her telling her that it was something wrong; That she shouldn’t be happy that, for a short while, John had a real parent, a real friend.

This was heartbreaking to her that she had missed so much of his young life, either ranting and raving about the future, or being stuck in an asylum. All of it was her doing that they were now still so far apart, even though the bond was mended through the sacrifice of the Terminator-turned-friend.

Now, as they moved onto a new place, trying to find somewhere to settle down, and lay low for as long as they could. Sarah was still paranoid, despite there being no sign of any computer uprising. Now, she was seeing the loneliness in her son’s gaze, whenever they’d be somewhere quiet, like riding in their car for long hours at a time. John wasn’t happy, and most likely would never be again, after losing someone close to him, even if that someone wasn’t real. Sarah could see that now, that perhaps it was a mistake in helping the Terminator sacrifice itself.

John and her were now settled in a house that was somewhere far out in the middle of nowhere, and she had sent John off on his new bike to pick up whatever he would need for the coming school year. Honestly, she was surprised that she let him go off alone, but even a mother had to allow herself to let the nest air out every once in awhile. He can handle himself. She’s heard him mutter over and over, and even yell at her a few times over it. He can handle himself. She repeated it in her head, and decided to busy herself with tasks to do outside the house. It was important to keep up the facade that they were just some normal mother and son, and that they hadn’t gone through hell several times over. So, she got to work on ridding the lawn of weeds with a weed-whacker, unaware of the danger closing in.

| @mercurized |

#mercurized #rp #starter #continuation #c: Sarah Connor #c: John Connor #//sorry this got long #//you don't have to match the length bro #//I just had to go on LOL

23 notes · View notes

fuzzyizmit · 4 years

Text

Beastly Kingdom - Chapter 17 - Confessional

The Minutemen’s flag fluttered on top of Fizztop Grille early the next morning. Within three months, Nate stopped bothering to read the progress reports that showed up in his weekly dossiers. He was more than happy to let Nuka-World fade into the background noise of his life, another feather in his Commonwealth cap… one he wasn’t particularly fond of rehashing around campfires over a Bobrov’s Best. The only problem with this plan became evident was as soon as it had become news that Nuka-World had working pre-war attractions and someone told Mayor John Hancock. The idea of visiting a theme park, or large-scale entertainment of any kind, was virtually unheard of in the Commonwealth. Tales of whole settlements traveling to experience the pre-war wonders started to spread. They included tales of new exotic animals, a giant market filled with every vendor you could imagine and heart stopping pre-war amusement rides. On top of all that, the existence of a new home for wayward ghouls, including less violent ferals, must have started keeping Hancock up at night. At every chance, Hancok pestered Nate, his best buddy and Commonwealth hero, for a personal tour.

He managed to stall for a year before he found himself again under the cheery giant red archway, a nearly giddy Hancock in tow. Somehow, Nate couldn’t quite manage the same level of excitement.

Hancock’s eyes lit up when they entered Nuka-Cade. The flashing lights and near musical cadence of clicks, buzzers and ringing bells appeared to cast a spell over him. Nate couldn’t suppress a smile as the ghoul ran from machine to machine, tossing Atomic Roller balls and smashing commies with a 200-year-old whacker. Nate was sure Hancock must have been sneaking hits of something in between parks. Each new park area and ride was met with the same manic level of energy… either that or he was getting a sugar high from all Nuka-Cola diffused in the air. Nate lost count how many he repeatedly rode the Nuka-Galaxy coaster, only stopping after he nearly lost his lunch whipping around the alien outpost.

Their last stop was Kiddie Kingdom, a place firmly on Hancock’s must-visit list. There was no getting out of it, no matter how much Nate wanted to avoid it. Once inside, Hancock was off, the ever-curious social butterfly stretching his wings. Hancock sought out Oswald to commiserate on ghoul community governance before catching a ride on the go-carts.

Nate stuck to the periphery, alone with his thoughts. He noticed Oswald slowly made his way towards him as he leaned against a nearby fence.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you and the Minutemen for everything you’ve done. Kiddie Kingdom has become quite the bustling settlement since…” he trailed off, searching a diplomatic phrase. “last year.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome.” Questions buzzed in Nate’s mind, but one burned the brightest. “How is she?” Oswald raised a brow. “Liz, I mean… my reports don’t exactly go into that much detail.” He half lied.

Oswald seemed a bit surprised at the question but answered. “She…” he hesitated. “Honestly, Liz’s never been all that comfortable here, after everything she’s been through.” He glanced over to the tower. The steps now occupied by a new merchant stall, the blood stains long faded. “She sat on those steps, moaning non-stop, for nearly three months. She wouldn’t even move until Louis was nothing but a pile of bones. After that,” he shifted uncomfortably, his shoulder slumping slightly. “She would just stand in one spot for days on end, randomly wandering off to find another. Most of the time, I’d find her just staring at a wall.”

He let out a little sighed. “At least she didn’t appear to be upset anymore. Lately, she’ll stray while I am working with someone else. We’ll find her perched on the edge of a fire escape or standing on a roof top somewhere, leaving us scratching our heads on how she got there.”

He looked down at the ground. “I get the impression she’s lost without him. In the beginning, I thought maybe this place could become home to her. Now… I’m not sure it will ever be.” Oswald peered at Nate from under the brim of his black top hat. “Why do you ask? No one here now knows who she truly was before, besides me. Why do you care?”

Nate didn’t really have a response. “She was my neighbor,” he offered but the words felt hollow, incomplete.

Oswald bristled, straightening his lapel. “Liz was a lot of things,” he said before abruptly getting up and walking off.

Nate eventually found Hancock shamelessly flirting with a ghoul at a concession stall. He had somehow turned a complement on their selection of sweet funnel cakes into something less than wholesome, getting a blush out of more than just the confectioner.

Nate needed to get out of Kiddie Kingdom, so he threw out the first thing to come to mind. “Hey, want to see the bottling plant where they used to hide all the nukalurks?”

“Fuck yeah!”

The pair made their way out a rarely used side entrance. The path that lead to the bottling plant was badly overgrown. Halfway to their destination, a movement behind a tree caught Nate’s eye. His battle hardened reflexes kicked in. Drawing his sidearm swiftly, he dropped behind a rusting trash can and took aim. Hancock followed his lead, brandishing his own shotgun on the fallen log. The figure behind the tree swayed but didn’t make a move.

“Who’s there? Come out! Slowly!” Nate commanded. The figure didn’t move. Nate, with Hancock covering from behind, broke cover. Moving closer, Nate’s jaw dropped as he recognized the face.

“Liz?!” tumbled out of his mouth, both a question and statement at the same time. Even though the two of them stood no more than a few dozen feet away from her with weapons drawn, Liz stood and stared. She remained passive and did not move to attack.

Nate relaxed his posture a bit and took a step closer. He cautiously lowered his pistol a few degrees, the muzzle still trained on the feral that had once held all Nuka-World in the palm of her hand. Liz slightly straightened up, letting out a faint hiss. It appeared she was trying to square her shoulders, as if she was trying to mirror the man in front of her. Slowly, Nate inched closer.

“Um, mind cluing me in here, buddy?” Hancock called after him, shotgun unwavering.

Taking one hand from his gun, Nate held it out in front of him. “It’s okay, Liz. Let’s get you back home. Oswald is going to be wondering where you are… you shouldn’t be out here.” His mind raced trying to come up with some safe way to somehow shoo the feral ghoul back to safety, behind the Kiddie Kingdom’s high walls.

She shifted nervously as he got close. Simultaneous, both he and Hancock noticed something glint in her hand.

“She’s got a weapon!” cried Hancock, finger on the trigger.

“Easy, John.” With the way Liz was acting, Nate got the feeling she wasn’t a threat.

For the first time, Liz lock eyes with him and held him there. Slowly she raised an ugly shard of glass up to her chest, clutched in her left hand. She placed the ragged tip to her chest and let out a gravely rough bark, her bloodshot eyes drilling into Nate’s brown. Nate’s gun fell to his side as the tension in his shoulders evaporated. She barked again.

“Boss?” Hancock confusion palpable in his voice.

Nate waved at Hancock to be quiet. He didn’t dare take his eye off her. “She’s… harmless.” He lied. They weren’t in any danger.

Her grip on the shard tightened. Liz’s bark turned into a howl. Swiftly, she unwaveringly stabbed her chest. The shard slid in her grip, slicing into her fingers before snapping awkwardly in half. She looked down, bewildered by her torn bloody hand. She let out a sad little huff. Her disappointment was nearly palpable.

Nate walked forward, slowly drawing his knife from the sheath on his belt.

“I don’t know who took your weapon… but you can have mine.” Getting a closer look at Liz’s clothing, it was clear to Nate why the glass didn’t work. Her coveralls, though weather-worn and filthy, were still lined with ballistic weave. Even his combat knife might have trouble piercing the armored fabric.

“Let me help.” He gently reached up, pulled the zipper down slightly and carefully tugged the fabric to the side. She watched his every move, still as a statue. Opening her hand, the bloody shard fell to the concrete with a clatter. Nate offered the knife. Her right hand shot out, her boney fingers wrapping around his wrist. He nearly reflexively retaliated but forced himself to let her guide his hand holding the weapon over the exposed skin of her collar and chest.

Liz’s torn lips twitched, her face stretching into an ugly grimace. Her eyes where fierce as she stared at him, as if she could push her broken thoughts into his mind by sheer force of will. She grunted in frustration, her ability to articulate herself completely lost. Instead she let out a loud assertive howl and waited. After a moment of silence, Nate understood. He gave one of his own, though shakier, yell. Nate heard shouts and footsteps pounding the pavement in the distance. With her eyes still locked on his, Liz continued barking, with Nate answering her. The two of them getting louder and faster with each chorus.

Reaching a crescendo, Liz wrapped her other hand around the hilt of the blade, plunging it into her chest. Her knees collapsed under her. Nate caught her as she fell just as a handful of worried looking ghouls with weapons drawn arrived on the scene. She was much lighter than he expected.

“Sir, are you alright?” one asked.

Nate lifted Liz’s lifeless body into his arms. “Get Oswald,” he ordered. By the time he returned to Kiddie Kingdom, a throng of ghouls rubbernecking had gathered around him. As he laid Liz down on a park bench and closed her eyes, the ghouls parted, letting their tuxedoed leader through.

“What… what happened?”

The General shook his head as he kneeled next to the bench. He couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say. How could he explain how Liz had somehow, in her feral-addled mind, sought him out for this one final act? Oswald’s face fell as the weight of the loss settled on his shoulders.

Standing up, Nate faced Oswald. “I’d like to take her back to Sanctuary with me.” Shock and anger flashed across the glowing ghoul’s face. “She was my neighbor. It seems only right she finally returns home after all these years.” He bowed his head slightly in deference to Oswald. “If that is alright with you.”

Nate could see Oswald consider the prospect, mulling it over as he frowned down at Liz. After a small sigh, he nodded his agreement, leaving Nate to organize the specifics.

By the time evening fell, Nate had procured a pack brahmin and cart, as well as a makeshift coffin. Oswald returned briefly to place a bright red Nuka-World toy truck in her hands before helping Nate nail the lid on. Nate was thankful Hancock had done his best to keep out of the way, letting the ghouls of Nuka-World help prepare one of their own for her final journey. He anticipated an avalanche of questions, though, as soon as they set out along the road to Sanctuary.

The previous year, it would have been considered foolhardy to travel the roads at night. One risked attack by innumerable bands of roaming bandits or deadly irradiated wildlife. Nowadays, with the Minutemen securing the Commonwealth, neither of the two seasoned wanderers were worried as they walked lazily behind the bulky wagon and it’s grim cargo.

As the bright lights of Nuka-World faded behind them, Hancock finally piped up. “So, you gonna fill me in about what all that was?”

“How much do you want to know?”

Hancock casually shrugged. “I’m a blank slate, brother. Start from the beginning.”

Nate found he need to take a deep breath to gather his thoughts. The semi-rhythmic clattering of the cart over the broken pavement steadied his thoughts like a rickety metronome.

“Liz Rosa lived across the street from Nora and I, from before…”

Over the years Nate had grown tired of having to constantly divide his life. Before the bombs. After the war. 200 years were gone in the blink of an eye.

“She was a widow by the time we moved in. She lived with her son, Louis. Great kid. He was always helping out around the neighborhood.” Nate glanced down at his worn boots. “Only a select few were chosen to be a part of the Vault.”

“Let me take a wild guess.” Hancock nodded toward the coffin. “Liz wasn’t on the list.”

Nate nodded. “She survived the end of the world, all while we slept frozen in the ground.” He could feel a lump growing, an angry bee buzzing in the back of his throat. “She watched everyone and everything around her die or turn feral.”

Tipping his hat, Hancock commiserated. “That’s fucking rough.”

The brahmin’s ears twitched, it’s two heads shifting nervously from side to side.

“Yeah, but despite it all, she adapted.” The brahmin stomped as they walked on. “Liz became as vicious as the world she found herself in. The raiders created what they called the Gauntlet, a depraved way to test someone’s metal… that is how Liz became the Overboss of everything. The raiders filled it with every kind of nasty trap, creature and murderer they could find. Stay alive though it and you could challenge the current Overboss for to take your place at the top of the heap. You ever see the ant swarms in Nuka-World?”

Hancock shook his head.

“Well, consider your self lucky. Imagine dozens of small lightning fast mirelurk hatchlings, each with the strength of young yao guai. Oh, and they fly.”

“Damn!”

“From what I heard, they had some really nasty native species to contend with when they arrived. Truth be told, the raiders tamed nearly all of Nuka-World.”

“Better them than us, right?” Hancock grinned back at him.

Nate had a hard time returning the good-natured smile. “She held Nuka-World firmly in the palm of her hand by the time I slogged through the Gauntlet. She recognized me, though, when I asked for an audience. Even after all the years, she remembered me. Wish I could say the same.” The ghoul walking by his side winced. “She even recognized Codsworth. She smiled as she filled him full of bullets and had him stripped for scrap. It didn’t make any sense at the time, other than she was a cold-blooded bitch.”

“What do you mean?”

“Raiders only respond to two things. Caps and power. And not necessarily in that order. How would she have looked to her people if she welcomed me into Nuka-World, the General of the Minutemen, after I waltzed through her deadly labyrinth unchallenged? Codsworth was my price of admission to the park.”

The brahmin stopped. The creature pawed at the ground. Hancock patted the brahmin’s thick neck, looking into its wide eyes. It lowed nervously.

Something blue glowed in the darkness, just out of sight. “Hancock, there only the one thing in the cart. If we let the brahmin find their own way back, do you think we could muscle it the rest of the way to Sanctuary?”

Hancock eyed the small cart and its single piece of cargo. “Between us two strapping gents… we could manage. Why?”

Nate started to calmly unhitch the scared creature. “Go home,” He coached the frightened animal before giving the beast a light thump on its rump. The brahmin didn’t need any encouragement to bound off into the night, the lantern attached to its back in fading into the distance. He turned to Hancock, who, in the weak light of the moon, cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

“I have a feeling we are about to have a visitor. Don’t make any quick movements.” Nate got up into the back of the cart and started to pry the weakly secured lid off the coffin. Hancock opened his mouth to ask a question, but no sound came out. The bright blue glow ominously filled the road.

Nate jumped down and slowly backed away. “Come say goodbye, Mama.”

Mama’s huge frame stepped into what was left of the highway. A few remnants of her once gleaming white armor clung to her, clattering against her thick hide. She cautiously stepped towards the cart, her nose twitching.

“Holy fuck!” mumbled Hancock. On impulse, his hands went to his shotgun. Lightning quick, Mama turned to him and growled, her hackles raised.

“Jesus, John! I told you! Don’t move!” Nate hissed. He prayed the giant understood his intentions. If he was wrong, they would find themselves dead very quickly.

Slowly and deliberately, Hancock let go of his gun, raising his hands up in front of him. Mama snorted, eyeing him once over, and returned to the cart. As the behemoth passed Nate, he noticed her helmet. It shifted with every movement, often slipping down and obscuring her field of view.

Reaching the cart, the deathclaw peered inside the box. She pushed the lid aside, causing it to fall and crash beside the cart. Out of the corner of his eye, Nate could see his eyes widen when Mama nuzzled the body inside gently. Mama let out Nate would be tempted to call a coo, but it was a disturbingly low and rumbling sound. After a moment, Mama backed away and turned to leave.

“Mama?” Nate managed to gulp. Mama froze and turned her massive head towards him.

Even though he knew it was a horrible idea, he felt obliged to help the creature. She had been huge key to their victory against the Brotherhood. There was very little he could do thank such a beast, but he could release her from the annoyance of her slowly disintegrating armor.

Approaching slowly, he put is palms out in front of him, showing her that he was not hiding any weapons in his hands. Her glowing blue eyes followed his every move, but she stayed stock still. He had no idea if she could understand him like Liz, but he talked to her calmly as he carefully felt for the latch to release the helmet. He was so close he could see the irritated skin around her face and eyes from the constant rubbing. It felt like an eternity before the metal clasp materialized under his fingers. Soon the pieces of armor fell away.

Mama shook her head, nearly hitting Nate with one of her huge curling horns. He skittered backwards, tripping over the uneven pavement. Suddenly sitting in the road, he watched as Mama glanced back at Hancock, over to him and then to the cart one last time before bounding away into the night, the ground shaking.

It wasn’t until the blue glow faded away did either man let out their collective breath.

Nate pulled himself to his feet. “So, did I ever tell you Liz tamed a giant quantum deathclaw?” He propped the casket lid back in place.

“You don’t say?” Hancock shot Nate a sarcastic smirk over the side of the cart and chuckled. “A tame deathclaw. I overheard a few Minutemen in The Third Rail say something about that once. That’s damn impressive. How did you know the deathclaw wouldn’t attack? Did Liz teach you any of her tricks?”

Nate chuckled. “I didn’t know, but I saw the rapport the two had. Mama followed Liz around like giant scaly puppy. If Mama wanted to eat us, she would have before either of us could have done much to stop her.”

The two of them awkwardly took up the yoke and began to drag the cart along the road, the conversation abandoned as they concentrated on the difficult the task at hand. The lights of the Red Rocket truck stop came into view. The lookouts quickly spotted their slow approach. Recognizing the General, they sent out a few settlers to help shoulder the burden the last short leg to Sanctuary.

Back behind the clattering card, Hancock piped up. “Liz seemed to recognize you back in Nuka-World, even though she was feral. That’s pretty rare. You would have thought she be out for revenge… or did she have some other sadistic reason to have you as an audience for… all that?”

Nate shook his head. “That’s not it at all.” Nate remembered back to the mortally wounded hunter who brought Mama in. “I witnessed something similar the first time I was in the park. Liz helped a dying raider to end their life on their own terms. Guess she realized I’m the last one alive that would remember that.”

They fell into silence again as they reached the wide wooden bridge leading into the cul-de-sac that made up the settlement of Sanctuary Hills. More settlers greeted them. Nate stopped the cart in front of the old Rosa residence. No longer ringed with award winning roses, the yellow siding faded and spotted with clunky repairs. It now housed a bustling workshop that fabricated nearly everything needed for the prosperous settlement. The commotion woke Sanctuary’s resident handyman dozing inside.

“Hey, General.” Sturges rubbed his eyes lazily. “What’s all the fuss at this hour? Bring me something fun to work on?” His eyes started to sparkle at the prospect of new work.

“Sorry to wake you. There’s nothing for you to do here, expect point me towards enough wood for a pyre.” Sturges face fell. He recoiled from the side of the cart.

“Look out past the old foot bridge to the Vault. We’ve been stacking junk out that way lately. I think I’ll head back to bed, if that’s alright with you.”

Nate started to wordlessly gather a large pile of scrap wood behind the workshop in the open field formed by several unused backyards. Hancock quickly joined it, followed by a few helpful night owls. They followed Nate’s example. No one talked. Soon, the pyre was set ablaze, Liz nestled securely in the middle.

Nate found himself settled in an old lawn chair, a half-finished bottle of vodka in one hand. Hancock sat next to him. The rest, after waiting a respectful moment, returned to their homes and warm beds.

Hancock waited on him, the crackling fire reflecting in his dark shadowed eyes. They drank and smoked in silence.

Without warning, words flowed from Nate’s mouth. He felt like a faucet, suddenly turned on, full blast.

“I remember this one time, right after Nora and I moved in. Louis and another kid were playing across the street in the front yard. No one was paying much attention, but it was summer and the windows were open. Suddenly an intense argument started. The other boy shoved Louis into the rosebushes. Liz flew out of the house like a banshee. She sent the kid running home with his tail between his legs.” Shaking his head at the memory, Nate continued. “It was an open secret how much of a momma bear she was, but she it was clear that she loved him. She would take on anyone she thought hurt her son. She was fearless.” Looking down into the bottle in his hands, he realized it was almost empty.

Hancock handed him another, this time a bottle of bourbon. “That sounds familiar.”

Popping the top, Nate gave the ghoul a little nod before taking a swallow. He watched the flames licking out of the wood, thinking of the fury he leveled at Kellogg the day he confronted him. A fury he ended up turning on his own son, Shaun, when he burned the Institute to the ground. No, not Shaun, not his Shaun. Father.

“It makes me wonder, if our situations were reversed, could I have done everything she did… survive that long, become the Overboss… raise an army... hell! She took on Liberty Prime pretty much single handedly! All to keep her boy safe.”

“What? The kid ghoulified? Damn.”

Nate faced Hancock. “Yeah. Feral, too. She somehow kept him safe all these years. She was good at hiding him. In all the time I was there, no one said a thing about a kid. Everyone though Liz took trips to Kiddie Kingdom to shack up with Oswald.” He turned back to the fire. “Well, almost everyone.” A log split with a crack in the blaze, mixing with the flash from Gage’s muzzle and the percussive bang of Kellogg’s 44. “Her right-hand-man got pissed she got the raiders to reform and killed him in front of her. Liz went feral instantly. I saw it, the moment she lost it. Honestly, I can’t blame her.” Nate kicked a stone idly. “Not that any of that mattered. Not in the end.”

Hancock took a long drag from his cigarette. “What do you mean? About the reforming bit?”

Sighing, Nate frowned. “The Nuka-World raiders had been creeping into the Commonwealth. Sometimes they would strong-arm settlers, other times they would take some a whole settlement. They were getting bold, hinting at their numbers and power. There were rumors about Nuka-World, of a working power plant and enslaved traders. Preston and I hatched a plan. Offer them a carrot, something so enticing they couldn’t refuse. An easy way to make caps hand over fist, trade with all the big settlements. Getting them to agree to our terms to become cannon fodder against the Brotherhood was paired with setting’em on some impossible task. To keep them distracted, see.” A lump rose in his throat. “But how the hell was I supposed to know Liz could actually do it? On top of freeing the traders, she did the fucking impossible! She civilized the fucking Nuka-World raiders! Proper Commonwealth citizens, the whole nine yards. She even sacrificed a third of her people to ensure the rest would follow the plan.” Feeling the pain of his nails digging into this hand, he took a moment to loosen his grip on the neck of the bottle. “But all that was just a smoke screen. We needed them to turn away from the Commonwealth… divert them. The Brotherhood would thin their numbers, exhaust their men and resources. Take them down to a manageable amount so we could easily overwhelm them and wipe’em out.” The fire burned hot, throwing long dancing shadows into the darkness. “Maybe it’s better she went feral. She never saw her empire fall.”

When Nate looked back to Hancock’s silhouette, the flickering fire played with the deep scars on his face, obscuring his expression.

“Let me get this straight.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Liz did everything you asked of her, made everyone change their ways, went to war for you… and you stabbed her in the back?”

Nate back pedaled. “You don’t understand. As soon as Liz went feral, the place started falling apart. Her bosses were already at each other throats. The gangs were in chaos even before I set foot out of the park.”

“No. That’s not what you said. You made plans to take what you wanted before that shit even went down. Someone had something you wanted, so you were going to take it… any means necessary.”

“That’s not fair, John. They were raiders…”

Hancock stood up. “Stop right there. You said yourself. They were reformed. Those weren’t raiders you had slaughtered. They were citizens! You didn’t even give them a chance!” The light of the fire lit Hancock with an ominous red glow.

Nate stammered, but the ghoul cut him off again. “And here you are, burning the corpse of the woman you betrayed. What are you going to do when she’s nothing ash in that pyre? Piss on her blackened bones to put her out?” His eyes burned. “You brought her back here because you feel guilty. You’re trying to hide your shame.”

Nate couldn’t look Hancock in the face anymore. Nor could he lift his eyes to the fire. He stared down at his mud caked boots, the empty bottle limp in his hand. John was right.

“Maybe the next thing that catches your eye is a little town close to Diamond City with some fancy memory tech and a hopping drug trade. Or what about a prosperous tarberry bog farm?”

Hancock’s knife in his guts would have been less painful than that stab. “John, please, it’s not like that.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. How’s a ghoul ‘spose to know?” He pulled his tri-corned hat down, covering his eyes. “I’m need to take a walk.”

Nate sat in silences as he walked away. Why had he spilled his guts to Hancock like that? No one else knew everything that had happened. He understood how badly it would go. Hancock hated it when people punched down. Hancock would probably never trust him again, not like before. Maybe he would even hate him. God knew Nate hated himself right now.

He wasn’t surprised when Hancock didn’t return that night.

All that was left by the time sun rose was glowing embers. Nate shivered, wet from the morning dew. The mundane sounds of Sanctuary waking up bloomed around him. Sturges brought him a steaming cup of coffee, but it did little to warm him.

Soberly, Nate gathered what remained of Ms. Elizabeth Rosa. He buried her beneath were her brilliant red roses used to grow. None of the people around him understood why he went about this duty stone faced and without a word, but they gave him a wide birth.

Eventually, Hancock’s anger cooled but Nate didn’t quite feel the same connection they had before.

Over time, an aggressive radioactive fern grew over her grave. Nothing anyone tried could uproot it from its spot. It returning bigger year after year, causing the inhabitants of the settlement to give it a wide birth. Nate figured it was the best fitting tribute to the ghoul who rested beneath it’s toxic leaves.

---

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading my first finished fic. I appreciate everyone who read and enjoyed my little story. I still have plans for a small prequel focusing on pre-war Liz and her family, so I'm not quite done with her yet! I hope I gave her a proper send off... if not, Liz might come back and slit my throat for the insult! ;)Thank you again for reading! <3 If you want to follow me on AO3, please feel free!

#beastly kingdom #fanfic #fan fic #ao3 #Ghoul #sosu #hancock #final chapter #done #fallout #fallout 4 #nukaworld

4 notes · View notes