#oc: tallahassee mulligan

[home-on-the-wastes]

Nice Girl Like Me (3/3)

Tallahassee opens up to Hancock after a beer or two. Part 1 // 2 // 3

“Well, you gotta decide what’s right for you,” Hancock replied. Tallahassee had mentioned in passing that Nate struggled with…something when he came back. That’s why she was so patient with folks completely out of their minds–she had loads of practice. “Sometimes, a kid ain’t it, sometimes it is.”

Tallahassee hummed in agreement. She had polished off her beer some time ago, and now she just watched the bottle and took another drag from her cigarette. “When I finally told him, though, he asked me what I wanted to do. Even though I knew how important it was to him.” She threw up her free hand, cigarette veering dangerously close to Hancock’s face. “So I went, “Fuck it!” and the rest is history.” She worried her lower lip, gaze still miles away. “It just seemed so…important to Nate, that we have a kid of our own. Maybe he just wanted to prove to his family that he did make the right choice, that I was the right choice.”

“It was,” Hancock said. “You were the right choice.” He gestured at the nearly empty barroom of the Third Rail, but the gesture wasn’t towards the room itself–it was to everything, all around them. “You woke up two centuries later after losing your husband and showed up with guns blazing. You're going after your kid like the scariest mama yao guai. You, Red, were built to survive–it’s just what Shaun needs. And sure, the kid’s a little older now, but you’re still his mother. You’ll protect him out there like you’ve protected everyone you’ve come across in this god-forsaken place.” 

Tallahassee stared at him with wide eyes, like a radstag in the floodlights. Hancock’s gaze softened. “I’m sure Nate saw that when he looked at you. Not that–y’know, he knew all this would happen, but–he looked at you and thought, ‘Damn. That’s the woman who’s going to be the mother of our kid. What a gal. No matter what happens, I know we’ll be okay.’ Because you showed it to him every damn day, Red, and you’re showing everyone you meet even now.”

Tallahassee was silent. Hancock wondered if he had gone too far, but he kept pushing. He bore all of his ugly secrets to her–she should be able to do the same to him–but he also wasn’t going to stand by for slander. He reached out and put a hand on hers. Not as a move, god no, but as a comfort. He hoped he still knew how to comfort. His wrinkly hands next to her near-perfect ones, he gave them a gentle squeeze.

She turned her hand over and held it for a moment. She gave him a watery smile–a real one, a genuine one, the first he was sure he’d ever seen–and then it was gone. “Thank you.”

Hancock’s heart warmed. “Sure thing, Red.” He paused for a beat, unsure how long it was acceptable to keep his hand out, but she gently pulled away. “Lemme walk you home.”

“What a gentleman,” she replied, sliding from the barstool and taking his arm once he offered it.

The walk back to the Rexford was quiet. It was well past three in the morning, according to Tallahassee’s Pip-Boy, and most sensible folk had tucked in for the night, either in the state house or on the various mattresses and sleeping bags under stoops and built-up shacks. Hancock led her up to the door and opened it, doing a grandiose flourish and removing his hat. “After you!”

Tallahassee hid another one of those half smiles behind an eye roll but stepped in. He didn’t follow, but she paused in the doorway and looked back. “Thank you, John. For tonight.”

“ ‘Course, Red. Anytime. I mean it.” He kept his hat over his chest, hoping to hide his pounding heart. “See you tomorrow?”

She smiled again, properly. “See you tomorrow, John.”

<<< Previous

#oc: tallahassee mulligan #fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #hancock #hancock x sole survivor

[kpssmithwrites]

A Fallout character dump! I’ve been sitting on a few of these for a little while, but I just finished the last one earlier today. I really like the Fallout series--it’s loads of fun and really good to unwind with when you’re stressed about something.

Colored doodle is my FO3 Lone Wanderer, Harper Donovan, before she got booted out into the Capital Wasteland unceremoniously after her father’s departure. After everything’s done she’s a lot scruffier looking and more battle scarred but fresh-faced new wasteland is always fun.

Orange sketches are my FO4 Sole Survivor, Tallahassee Mulligan. The summer outfit in game was always super cute so when I tried to draw a full body shot it went with that.

Blue sketch is an unnamed FO4 OC, who I’ve just dubbed the “Mirelurk Researcher.” I went into a bit of a research/biology tirade about the geneaolgy of mirelurks, and all of that sort of went into one character who probably researches them for a living and spends way too much time at Power Noodles in Diamond City. For the record: no, She does not speak Japanese. She just likes to talk to Takahashi because he’s the only one who’ll listen to her sometimes.

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #lone wanderer #sole survivor #avery's art

[home-on-the-wastes]

Someday, Maybe

A run-of-the-mill trek back to Far Harbor goes awry; Nick gets to save the day, and Tallahassee's stone heart cracks open just a little bit.

The Commonwealth had prepared Tallahassee for many things–strange mutations, cannibals, political power struggles–but nothing could have prepared her for the resource-sucking trips of Far Harbor. Between her and Nick, she thought they had a pretty good hold on their supplies–Nick didn't need to eat or drink or need Rad-X or stimpacks, but they were still running too low for comfort when they decided to head back to town. Ammunition was getting scarce, too. She passed most of her rounds to Nick and hefted her bladed baseball bat over her shoulder for comfort, mindful of the sharp edges.

Regardless, their forays around Mount Desert Island were mainly fruitful, and the locals had gotten used to a mainlander and a synth wandering around. She could easily barter for more supplies or trade for caps when they returned to town.

Maybe it was that relaxed attitude that got her in trouble. Nick and Tallahassee stuck to the main road to feel more comfortable and safe. She even managed to crack a bad joke, which got a pity laugh from Nick, but an honest smile and the bemused admonishment of, "Really, partner? That's the best you got? Call the 2060s; they want their joke book back." 

Tallahassee had wandered off the road after spotting some black bloodleaf. Too focused on wondering if her jokes really were that outdated or whether the bloodleaf would be enough to make some chicken noodle soup, she didn't really pay attention to the weeds–and just like the local wildlife, she fell victim to a hungry angler.

The thing was hungry–paler in complexion, too, adding insult to injury that she didn't notice the great white whale of a monster lingering on the shoreline. Its screech was quickly cut short by its strange, gulping motion as it practically regurgitated a thick, mucus-filled mess onto her and smacked her so hard that she bit her tongue.

So, if it was anyone's fault that she was going to die, it was on her, but Tallahassee was furious. She wanted her last words to be more eloquent than, "Oh, fuck."

She beat the monster back as it snarled, slashing at her again. Its claws caught on her bat, and she tore off a few fingers. Its scales were torn and ragged, the skin thinly wrapping around its skeleton. It would have been no contest on a good day, but Tallahassee was already worn down from a day of walking and scrapping with other wildlife.

Her startled shout caught Nick's attention, but he wasn't fast enough. He popped off a few shots further up the bank near the main road. She counted the crack of gunfire, winding up for another swipe with her bat. Two more, and he'd be out of bullets.

The angler flanked her, another claw swiping at her legs, and something snapped. She cried out again and tumbled to the ground, hands sliding in the mud as she tried to catch her fall and roll away from this thing, but the wind was knocked out of her, the pain too great, and the world spun as it dug its teeth into her calf and knee. Feebly, she kicked at it, eyes squeezing shut as a boot connected with soft, scaly flesh. The angler released her, but she knew the pattern, knew it would dive back in again and drag her into the water, and as she wound up to kick again, blood pounding in her ears and the urge to puke rising, she braced herself for the pain. 

But the pain never came. She heard some noises–it sounded like a strange, wet sucking sound and a death groan, but the radiation from the angler's projectile vomit made her woozy, even with the Rad-X and the gasmask, so she couldn't be sure–and Tallahassee took about ten seconds to realize that she was not dying. She was just curled up underneath a dead tree, up to her ass in irradiated swamp water, and her leg beat up to hell. She was confident it was just sprained, but trying to move made her groan in agony, so she sat still. 

When the ringing stopped, and the pain subsided, Tallahassee dared to open her eyes and saw Nick. At some point in the fight, his trench coat had torn. Blood flecked his dress shirt and tie, and his hat was missing, knocked away. For a moment, he breathed–not really, of course, but the way his shoulders sagged and his chest heaved, Tallahassee didn't see whirring parts and mechanical wiring, but the man Nick was. In his wire hand, he clutched his pistol, blood on the grip.

Tallahassee took stock of the situation and came to a startling conclusion: Nick had cold-clocked the glowing angler and beat it to death. While Tallahassee had some satisfaction from wearing the beast down, that didn't stop her bewilderment at the detective.

Then he had the gall to turn with a wry smile barely masking his concern. "You all right there, doll?"

Tallahassee was grateful she wore a gas mask because she was sure she was blushing–god, when was the last time she had done that? She vowed to file contemplation on the subject away for later. "Yeah–thanks, Nick."

"Any time." He extended his good hand to her and helped her up–then slung an arm over his shoulder to help her walk. She wasn't light; both knew that, but he had no trouble supporting her. "Your leg looks in rough shape, let's not put any weight on it. We're not far from Far Harbor. How about we call it for the day, snag that room at the Last Plank?"

Rest did sound good. The adrenaline still pumped through Tallahassee's veins, but she knew she would have to sit down at any moment. As the pair hobbled back to the safety of Far Harbor, Nick rambled on about all sorts of things–primarily small talk to keep Tallahassee's mind occupied, but even as he commented on the wildlife and how they could definitely grab some buttered mirelurk at the Plank, Tallahassee couldn't help but focus on how solid Nick felt, and how grateful he was here. He didn't have to be–but he was.

The surge of affection she felt at that moment made her stumble. Nick caught her. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'm fine," Tallahassee replied. "Buttered mirelurk sounds great right about now."

"Thought it would! It pales in comparison to good old lobster, but it'll do in a pinch."

Tallahassee smiled even though Nick couldn't see her, but somehow he knew. Looking down at her, he smiled back; without his hat, there was no shadow to hide the smile, no dark slash across his face to make his golden gaze pierce into her soul. Instead, there was just warmth, companionship, and love.

Love felt like a foreign concept for her.

Tallahassee looked away, the gates of Far Harbor in sight. She tried to stand taller and hobble a bit more dignified. Nick leaned over and whispered, "Don't worry, you don't gotta put on a show for 'em."

After a long pause, Tallahassee let herself rest against Nick as they made the journey's final stretch. Walking down the sidewalk, arms around one another, it felt almost sweet, like when she and Nate would go to Concord and just stroll about town.

A sharp pain stabbed at her heart. She gasped, and Nick quickened his pace, thinking something was wrong. 

Tallahassee buried the thoughts down again, refusing to cry–not from pain or grief. Not when her wounds were still so fresh. Not when Nick still had Jenny on his mind.

Someday, Tallahassee thought as they stepped into town. Maybe.

But not now.

#oc: tallahassee mulligan #fallout 4 #fo4 #nick valentine #fo4 nick valentine #far harbor dlc #sole survivor #sole survivor x nick valentine

[home-on-the-wastes]

Characters react to…the Vault-Tec rep! 📋 ✏️

Shout out to my partner who asked this question; I had a lot to say about it.

Harper wouldn't really pay him much mind other than the fact that he's a pre-war ghoul. Maybe chat with him about having experience that didn't really apply to the Wasteland or the Commonwealth (Harper was originally penned to be the vault's chaplain, and he has sales experience. Both feel pretty useless in the Capital Wastes and the Commonwealth, respectively).

Pen just treats him like some guy! She’s less about bonding over the past and more about just hearing his stories. Pen's main thing is listening to folks and empathizing with them, and she has experience with really old ghouls due to Raul (and, to an extent, Dean). She’d buy him a drink, probably cheer him up, and not leave until he was laughing and in higher spirits.

Murk finds him boring and unrelatable--not in a mean way but in an adult that a teenager has no interest in being chummy with. She does feel a little bad about his circumstance, but he's still alive, so what's the problem? Sir, it was two hundred and ten years ago, move on. Find a therapist. C'mon, dude, we all have problems.

Tallahassee, God, she doesn’t know what to do or say. She’s...distant but still polite, especially since he clocks on who she is immediately. She feels awful that she survived and he became a ghoul, a reminder that despite all the shit that she's going through, others had it worse when the bombs fell. It wouldn't be until much later that she'd start interacting with him properly. She'd still keep him at arm's length but try to help him. After all, if it wasn't for his insistence about getting her family signed up for the vault, she wouldn't even be here.

Nate hears about him beforehand, sidles up to him, and goes, “Sir, have I got an opportunity for you." He tries to help this guy. He's very task-oriented, and approaches the problem like, "Okay you're depressed? Let's get you a job! Sales experience, you say? How about you set up a store!" He comes back and checks in on him periodically, just to see how he's doing. Is definitely on a first-name basis with the Vault-Tec rep.

#OC: Harper Donovan #OC: Pen Ayton #OC: Tallahassee Mulligan #OC: Murk Mathis #OC: Nate Williams #vault-tec rep #fallout 4 #fo4

[home-on-the-wastes]

Nice Girl Like Me (2/3)

Tallahassee opens up to Hancock after a beer or two. Part 1 // 2 // 3

“Then when’d you meet him?”

“At the All American Lounge.” She glanced his way to see if he had heard of it. Hancock hadn’t.

“Waitressing there, then?” he asked. His mind wandered–Tallahassee was now in a cute miniskirt, maybe roller skates. Focus, man.

It was Tallahassee’s turn to laugh. She laughed so loud and bright that Hancock forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“Oh, no. Honey, no. The All American Lounge was a…cabaret, of sorts.”

Hancock put the pieces together and raised a brow. “You–?”

“I was a performer.” She had the decency to act a little coy. “Pretty good, too. Had a routine where I sang and did a little dance–really popular with some of the regulars.” She leaned in, almost conspiratorially, towards Hancock. “All us girls had stage names, too. Wanna know what mine was?”

Hancock nodded, his imagination running too wild for this conversation. It was supposed to be serious, but his brain couldn’t help but picture Tallahassee up on stage, scantily clad, singing something slow and sultry. Hancock had to quickly think of anything unappealing, like Super Mutant dicks or centaurs or anything to get his head back in the game.

“Miss Tallahassee.” She waited for him to react.

“Wait–so you’re telling me this whole time we’ve been callin’ you by your stripper name?!”

She shrugged lazily. “No one questioned it, Mayor John Hancock.” She drew his name out so teasingly Hancock was sure he wouldn’t make it. “Besides…” She trailed off and readjusted the bottle in her hands. “When I was up on stage, using a different name, I felt–invincible, almost. Like no one could touch me because I was Miss Tallahassee. And when I finally got off the stage, then I could go back to just being me.”

Hancock nodded at this, slowly but surely. “I get it.”

“I thought you would.” She gave him a pinched smile. “But yeah–I met Nate there again, I want to say about…six, seven years later after I graduated. Some of his buddies thought it’d be funny to take him out on a jaunt before they deployed, but soon they left him high and dry, uncomfortable as hell. After a set, sometimes the ladies would go and work the crowd, so I stopped at his table since it was empty and seemed safe. I didn’t know who he was–we figured out we had met before in passing much later–but when I sat down and talked with him, his eyes lit up like someone had jung the moon for him, and I was…well, it was nice to meet a guy who actually seemed interested in what I had to say. Instead of…” She gestured to herself. Hancock politely made sure to keep eyecontact, not follow the hand past her chest and beyond. “He came back a lot after that, and when he got deployed for the first time, we kept in contact. Wrote a lot.”

Hancock could picture it–Tallahassee checking her mailbox daily for a letter, unsure if he was safe or coming home. Maybe starting to send little tokens of affection, gifts, care packages. 

“Then, he got back–had to be hospitalized for a bit, out on the west coast. I couldn’t visit, I didn’t have enough money at the time, but when he got out, he showed up outside my apartment.” She had a fond, distant smile. “On a motorcycle, no less, with a bouquet of flowers. The flower got ruined on the drive over, and he looked so–upset and bashful about it but I couldn’t help but find it to be so sweet. We were married a year later.” 

She tapped her cigarette into the ashtray, her smile fading. Her gaze hardened, her jaw set, and Hancock spied pure fury carefully contained under a calm exterior.

“His family didn’t even come to the wedding. That hurt him, y’know? More than he admitted. Then he went on another tour, and I became a junior partner at the firm I was working for, and the idea of being a parent was pushed from my mind. We talked about it, of course, but Nate came back from his second tour…different, and I figured it wasn’t ever going to happen. When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t sure what to do. I waited forever to tell him. He noticed, I think–but he was so busy with therapy, I think he thought it was best not to push.”

<<< Previous | Next >>>

#oc: tallahassee mulligan #fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #hancock #hancock x sole survivor

[home-on-the-wastes]

Nice Girl Like Me (1/3)

Tallahassee opens up to Hancock after a beer or two. Part 1 // 2 // 3

“You know what the worst part about all this is?”

Hancock grinned, feeling warm and fuzzy from the food, chems, and company. “Hit me.”

Tallahassee took a long, slow slip from her Gwinnett. “I didn’t even want kids.”

Hancock barked out of a laugh, grinning madly until he saw that Tallahassee had fixed her eyes on that certain part of the counter again. “Wait–you serious, Red?”

“Mhmm.” She took another sip. If Hancock had known that she planned on opening up, he would’ve brought more chems to help take the edge off. “Just never really saw myself as the mothering type. If it happened, it happened, but otherwise?” She wiggled her hand. “Wasn’t keen on the idea. Besides, it takes a village, and I didn’t have the best support system. My family didn’t like one another, and to Nate’s entire family, I was the girl from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“You? Naw.” Sure, Tallahassee was a bit rough and tumble around the edges, but underneath all that was practiced perfection only found in the few magazines and those big old billboards that survived the bombs. “I can’t see it, Red.”

“It’s true,” she insisted. “Nate’s family came from good stock. Had this house, this mansion almost, further up the coast. A summer home down south. My family came from the poor side of town, I shared a room with my kid brothers while Ma faded in and out on her medications and Dad wandered in and out of our lives. The fact that he picked me, out of all of the eligible beauty queens and daddy’s girls, didn’t make sense to them.”

Even though they had been dead for at least two centuries, Hancock wanted to punch them. Maybe he could track down their graves if they were buried in Boston and accidentally take a piss on Tallahassee’s in-law’s final resting place. Anyone stupid enough to not see the treasure she was was either blind or stupid.

“How’d you two meet?”

“Well, I actually knew his sister.” Tallahassee wrinkled her nose. “This dumb bitch who thought she was the princess at every party–and she was. We went to the same school–”

“They had all this money, but your families went to the same school?”

“Yeah. Our town was small enough and unfortunately, money still couldn’t get Charlotte into some of the fancier schools in Boston. So we had the same science class.”

Hancock couldn’t picture Tallahassee as a teenager, but he tried--while he couldn’t age her back, he could picture the attitude, the look. Long skirt, crisp white shirt, kerchief around her neck, and hair was done up all pretty. Maybe a smudge of lipstick. Tallahassee was a looker now–probably was back then, too. Maybe she was more hopeful back then, a bit brighter. Hancock imagined a dazzling smile with her perfect, white teeth; maybe it was the chems or the booze, but it made his stomach flip-flop.

“I saw Nate occasionally when there were family events at the school. Real sweet, real shy.”

“Awww. High school sweethearts?” prompted Hancock. Tallahassee shook her head.

“No. After graduating, I had to hustle to put myself through college and law school. As soon as I had my high school diploma, I stuffed everything I owned into a bag and left for Boston.” She huffed. “Honestly, I had forgotten about the Williams entirely.”

>>> Next

#oc: tallahassee mulligan #fallout 4 #fo4 #hancock #hancock x sole survivor #if you squint #hancock's got it bad y'all #sole survivor

[home-on-the-wastes]

The gang's take on...

Alcohol and Chems 🍺💊

Tallahassee; Only occasionally drinks, even before the war. Her family has a history of addiction, and she’s not in a hurry to get addicted to something when it feels like the entire world’s trying to kill her. Tallahassee only drinks in areas she considers “safe,” like Diamond City, Goodneighbor, or the Castle post-reclamation. When she does drink, she mainly sticks to beer and wine. Only drinks whiskey when she’s stressed, it’s a habit she picked up when she was younger. Doesn’t use chems beyond stim-packs due to her husband’s experiences with them and the various cases she handled when she was a lawyer that involved them. Prefers to stay sharp and keep her wits about her, even if some of the chems could help sharpen those wits.

Harper; Her dad was a doctor, so you know she’s hesitant about taking chems and drinking when she first leaves the vault. She loosens up a bit over time and doesn’t mind alcohol one bit, even though she doesn’t have a great tolerance for it. A lot of fun at parties once she loosens up a bit, where alcohol is usually required. The only chems she takes beyond the basic stim-packs are orange mentats, and that’s when she’s on a stakeout or out hunting. They help keep her focused and sharp and don’t have addictive properties, so she has no issues going through an entire pack on long stake-outs. A strong believer in liquid courage.

Murk; Has experimented as an average teenager does but discovered that she doesn’t like the taste of alcohol unless it’s added with something like a Nuka Cola, and she hates the crash after most chems. Primarily uses berry mentats for studies (she likes the taste), Med-X for experiments or right after a battle (she has a low pain tolerance), and isn’t opposed to a puff of Jet when really stressed. Will not use Psycho except in life-or-death situations. The last time she was on it, she had a bad time and isn’t in a hurry to repeat it. Always carries at least one of each chem, though, for others. She also has a small stash of Addictol, since she’s paranoid she’ll get hooked and become a junkie.

Nate; Is a social drinker and loves chatting with folks after he has a beer or two. Made it his life goal to try all the different booze of the Commonwealth, though, so he’s excited when he finds a new bottle of something he hasn’t tried before. Mainly sticks to Buffout and Jet when it comes to chems; Buffout helps him with strength and endurance when he’s helping build things in settlements, and Jet’s always helpful in a fight. Stays away from Psycho, stating he had a bad reaction to it, but will use it if a fight gets tough. Has gotten addicted to chems once or twice but relies on good detox plans and does his best to monitor himself for symptoms. He can’t help folks if he’s barfing up his guts in the woods somewhere.

Pen; Takes ALL the chems, and drinks a fair amount of alcohol. No one knows how she’s still alive. She’s been addicted to every chem at once, detoxed, and then did it again. It drives her family insane because despite being a junkie, she operates roughly the same sober as she does intoxicated. Even Pen’s not sure how she’s still alive after all the stuff her body’s been through, self-afflicted or otherwise. Chalks it up to sheer determination, but it even gives the scientists at Big MT pause. More tests are needed, but ironically, Pen’s afraid of needles not held by her. Believes she’s supporting the Fixer economy in the Mojave Wasteland.

#oc: pen ayton #oc: harper donovan #oc: tallahassee mulligan #oc: nate williams #oc: murk mathis #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas