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SCREAMS AT YOU

in THIS house we love and enable @sweetxrevenge​

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I HAVENT MADE THE BLOG YET SLOW DOWN YOU RAVENOUS CREATURES

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i made another oc

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ofjudgment:

As she moved away from the window and paced towards the door to allow herself entrance into his home, or rather what was left of it, Malcolm leaned to dial down the volume of the music so that it was a distant hum rather than the booming of a full orchestra. When she spoke, he wanted to be able to listen, and upon entrance she had done just that. In truth, it provoked something of a gentle, welcoming smile, and he nodded in silent acknowledgement as she sprawled out onto the couch.

“Where I come from, it would be considered inappropriate.” He mused as his hands shifted from the arms of the chair unto his lap. Malcolm’s fingers laced together and turned his undivided attention to her entirely. “It is a pleasure, Ketan.” The smile remained, and perhaps stretched back just enough to cause the corners of his eyes to crease, but in the audible ticking of time that followed, it faded into a calm, lingering expression.

          “Now, I do not intend to pry, but I am curious as to            why you’re here.” He outstretched a limb, fingers            unfurling to gesture his palm out towards her.            “Would you care to elaborate?”

Ketan narrowed her eye at him as he spoke. She’s starting to be slightly suspicious. Last time somebody was this hospitable, she ended up drugged, naked, in a cage in an underground bunker, about to be eaten by a cannibal. It’s always the nice ones.

“Exploring, is all,” she shrugged lightly, letting her eye wander around the room. “Haven’t been in the Commonwealth long, been seeing whatever there is to see. And that’s not much. Kinda disappointing. Heard you guys had behemoth-sized mirelurks out here.” That statement comes with a wry smile. Is she joking? Who knows!

“I could hear your music down the street,” is a more direct answer to his question. “Wanted to see if someone was living here.”

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shadowofsteel replied to your post: virqilio replied to your post: ...

cLOWNFUCKERS

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virqilio replied to your post: — PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER! ( repost, don’t...

my brain jumped from “IT” to “pennywise the clown” and I had a small panic attack for your sake

yeah see i keep having to fucking specify im talking about information technology bc you clownfuckers keep thinking about the clown movie

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— PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER! ( repost, don’t reblog )

one ( name / alias ): omi (thats it thats the only name i go by i barely respond to my real name anymore bc my roommate still calls me omi irl) two ( birthday ): September 30th three ( zodiac sign ): libra four ( height ): 5′9″ (YOURE ALL SO FUCKING SMALL GOD DAMN IT) five ( hobbies ): writing/roleplaying/drawing/procrastinating six ( favourite colour(s) ): black and red (i never outgrew my emo phase) seven ( favourite books ): i havent read a book of my own volition in like 7 years but i remember liking the skulduggery pleasant series eight ( last song listened to: ): (fuck a) silver lining by p!atd nine ( last film watched ): thor ragnarok (3 times) ten ( inspiration for muse ): absolute fucking chaos, playing cards, revolvers, cowboy outfits. literally taika waititi’s writing/directing. sadness? the entire song repertoire from FNV. Bohemian Rhapsody has always been a big one. eleven ( dream job ):  fuck if i know anymore, probably just gonna say IT (yknow that fucker who sits around and fixes computers in the office building while people complain about paying them too much) which i am actually technically certified to do i just haven’t gotten a job yet twelve ( meaning behind your url ): it’s the name of her gun (which is from the new vegas bounties mods which are fucking fantastic) and it goes a little deeper because her entire life has essentially revolved around getting revenge on someone for something.

tagged by: @virqilio  tagging: rachel tagged all our friends already so give it a go if you wanna!

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(the best way i can describe ketan is that shes basically a character from a taika waititi movie)

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Courier Six loved entrances.

The door opened, suddenly, and Ketan stepped through into the room with her arms out in a grand gesture. “I… HAVE ARRIVED,” she called, before pausing to make sure there was… actually someone in the room.

Oh! There she is! She turns towards Noah, shooting her some finger-guns. “You’re the one that needs up with that uhhhhhhh-” that ‘uhh’ just… kept going. For about fifteen seconds. “-thing right? I’m Ketan.”

|| Noah had heard a lot of rumors about her contact. Some seemed rather far fetched, but with all the weird shit that had happened in this place, she wouldn’t’ve been surprised if all of it were true. Even the more far fetched ones seemed plausible with the things the synth had seen.

Her fingers drummed against the wall as she waited nervously. Normally she would’ve done this herself, but she was sort of desperate at this point. She just hoped that whoever this person was would help. Otherwise she was walking around with a stash of caps burning a hole in her pocket for nothing.

@sweetxrevenge​ && sc

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ofjudgment:

The interaction had been strangely natural–almost neighbourly. As if someone new had moved into the area and had taken a break from all of their unpacking to get to know those who lived in the homes next to them. 

“Indeed,” he answered simply, “its inhabitants have been recently relocated to a more secure location.”

It intrigued him, however–so much that he had managed to shift within the decrepit highbacked chair to fully cross his leg over the other, and to look at her directly with his hands set comfortably upon his lap rather than craning his neck and glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

“The journey is somewhat dangerous, but if you are looking for a place to settle, Diamond City is evidently the place to be.” Malcolm gave a gentle wave of his hand, as if to signify he didn’t believe a word of it, or perhaps to insinuate that it was a decision that she needed to make herself. But such had been the case in the pre-war environment too; buying a home was an investment, and it was the same in the post-apocalyptic setting that now engulfed the United States of America. The only difference therein, was that the investment had instead been for the safety of your life, rather than the monetary increase in value that came with the purchase of a piece of property.

“Ah, forgive my rudeness. My name is Malcolm. Please, feel free to come in and have a seat.”

Wow, he was friendly. Almost everybody out here had been, well, kind of an asshole. She hesitated for a moment, as if expecting him to say ‘sike!’, before she pulled back from the window. Awkwardly, she side-stepped over to the door, reaching over to open it. Come on. It’s a door knob, you can still use those.

It took a moment of extended effort, but she opened the door and welcomed herself inside, giving the interior a brief one-over. “Ain’t rude not to introduce yourself to strangers, y’know,” she snorted out a laugh, “normally, doing that gets me shot.”

Tossing herself down onto the old, ruined sofa, she leaned back and folded one leg over the other. Sure, just make yourself at home, you’ve known him for about two whole minutes. “Malcolm, okay. Ketan, here,” she raised a hand in a brief wave, though it was stiff.

Then, she remembered the comment about the journey to Diamond City being ‘dangerous’. It brought a grin to her face. “Dangerous, huh?” Ah, memories. ‘Ketan, don’t touch that, it’s dangerous’, ‘you can’t mix med-x with psycho, that’s dangerous’, ‘don’t dive into that lake, it’s dangerous’. Never stopped her before!

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LOOKS UP FROM PLANNING A BLOG FOR MY SOSU BC IM BEING ENABLED

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sweating as i work on bates stuff bc im half tempted now to make a blog for my sosu bc she is a screaming nervous wreck

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ofjudgment:

It hadn’t been long that he settled, back pressing into the worn back of the chair, right leg folding over the left one. His eyes had slid closed, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. For that singular moment, his surroundings fell away, and he recalled a time where, despite the stress and hardships, seemed peaceful in comparison to the state the world was currently in. It was times like these in the silence of his own thoughts that he grounded himself–remembering the sweeter things, and of a future he needed to fight for.

When his eyes creaked open and he mentally returned to the world that he now lived in, he felt his skin crawl. A presence–one that was unexpected and virtually unwelcome in his brief moments of solitude. With a slow shift of a warm and tired gaze, Malcolm caught a figure in his peripherals and jumped subtly, but also visibly.

–But like most in the wasteland, he didn’t reach for the handgun at his hip or the rifle he discarded on the ground. Instead, he simply turned to face the woman who perched confidently in the window, and motioned to greet her with a friendly nod.

“Have we met?”

Looks like the record wasn’t being beaten today. Pushing herself back up to standing, she took a moment to pry the window open. Her hearing was one of the only things that still worked well, but talking through glass was annoying. Then, she lowered back down, and poked her head through the gap.

The woman hummed in thought for a moment, narrowing her one eye at him. “Don’t think so, no. New in town,” she paused to fold her arms on the windowsill, “...okay, more like new in the area, whatever. You the only person who lives here?” 

If nothing else, her accent backs up her claim. She wanted to ask why he was sitting in there, alone, listening to music like a schmuck, but she had at least grown a filter over the years.

The neighborhood is a nice place, though. She’ll be surprised if it really is largely uninhabited. Hell, looking at it, she can see a lot of potential- if there was one thing she picked up before she cut and run, it was city planning. Too bad most things she suggested never really took off.

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It’s not like she needs caffeine anyway.

        Arrives 20 years late to collect Ketan and         didn’t even bother to bring Starbucks.

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me, stabbing ketan, screaming WHAT IS YOUR HAIR WHAT IS IT DOING

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@lotuskissed

“Hey, so is this poisonous?” Ketan asked, holding up some plant she had found out in the wilderness. The extent of her knowledge with botany went as far as, ‘xander root and broc flower make the pain-go-away powder’ but for some damn reason there was none of either to be found all the way out here. Whatever she was holding, it was making her hand itch. And red. Like a lot.

“Cause I think it’s poisonous.” 

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ofjudgment:

Despite the radio of Ketan’s pipboy being turned off, a distant and calming intone of smooth piano filled the silence between. The settlement had perhaps looked inhabited, and at one point it had been, but Malcolm had made a point of evacuating the settled denizens to a more defensible location. While it had been largely their safety in mind, the root cause behind their relocation had been Malcolm’s own sanity, for this place he once called home recalled too many painful memories of a time that he once knew.

On and off he’d visit the ruins of what he once called home and wander through the streets to quiet his somber mind. Such was the current case, and Malcolm did not know of the other’s presence within his personal sanctuary. In fact, he was blissfully unaware due to his own melancholy recollections.

It was within his prewar home that he lingered, body sinking into a familiar high-backed chair. The material had long-since been torn away from the chair’s frame and cushioning, but it alongside the contained orchestra brought him back to a time and place he longed for.

Oh, god, she hated the piano. Saloon pianos were okay, but that damn classical shit drove her up a wall. Only assholes listened to that.

Her curiosity was getting the better of her, though. Music usually meant people- people usually meant either a fight, or conversation, and she was in the mood for both. Either or, rather. Nah. Both. Strolling at a leisurely pace, Ketan followed the road up to the source- she didn’t say anything, didn’t even approach. Just stood in the street and leaned to the side, trying to peer in through the window. Yeah, someone’s in there.

Time to play the ‘how long will it take you to notice me’ game. That was one of her favorites. She used to do it to her friends back in Vegas all the time- they all hated it. But they could never hate her, could they?

Leaning over onto the windowsill, she stared through the glass at the man in the chair. Just waiting, elbows propped up on the sill with her chin rested in her hands. Her record of going unnoticed in plain sight was five minutes.