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iboughtaplant · 4 years ago

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Sing Me Awake With A Song About Pirates

Prompt: Beach Day

Relationship: Yennefer/Renfri/Jaskier

Rating: G

Warnings: no warnings apply

Summary: Pirates Yennefer and Renfri dock in Kerack and have a relaxing day at the beach only to come across a merman tangled in a net.

Here is my first prompt fill for the @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Read it on AO3

They had just docked in Kerack and Yennefer was looking forward to taking a break. They recently had a rather nasty run-in with a Nilfgardian trading ship and even though they made it out with the loot, she wanted it off her ship as soon as possible. She stretched her arms above her head as she walked down the gangplank onto the dock.

Her crew was hefting barrels off the ship, rolling them down the dock to bring into town. Once on the dock she adjusted her hat and strutted over to Renfri, her second mate, who was just finishing talking with--read bribing--the dock master.

“Are we all set?” Yennefer asked Renfri once the man had walked away.

“Yup, we were never here. Won’t be included in the log when we leave in a few days. And I can have the boys dock the ship in the cove nearby if we run into trouble and need to get out of port.”

“I can only cross my fingers we don’t run into trouble.”

“It does seem to have a way of finding us. Remember that time in Skellige with the Cintran man of war, we got out of there by the skin of our teeth.”

Where Yennefer could do with a break from finding themselves in trouble. Renfri seemed to relish in it. She was energized by the adrenaline of a fight or a chase. And Yennefer could admit she did love the gleam in Renfri’s eye whenever she was itching for a fight, or a fuck. Which is where it worked out that they were lovers.

All that being said, Yennefer just wanted to relax. She wanted to take a break from being the captain of her ship and her crew, even if just for the few days until they had to set sail again.

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

After all the business was taken care of, Yennefer and Renfri had lunch at one of the taverns. It was all very expected. Renfri said she wasn’t that hungry, but then ate part of Yennefer’s portion in addition to her own. Yennefer had to glare at a fellow pirate captain who wouldn’t stop leering at her. Renfri threatened to stab a man and Yennefer convinced her not to. Just normal everyday things.

Yennefer figured they would pay for a room, she and Renfri would make love and she would get a chance to sleep without having to worry about ten different things at once the way she would on the ship.

Which of course meant that Renfri grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the tavern and in the opposite direction of the inn and brothel. “Come on, this way!”

Renfri pulled her along and they sped up into a run. “Where are we going?” Yennefer asked.

Renfir gave her a smirk and said, “You’ll see.” Which was about what Yennefer expected. But Yennefer also noticed that there was a bottle of rum in her hand.

“Nick that did you?”

“The tavern won’t notice that one measly bottle is gone. And we are pirates, gotta live up to the stereotype.”

Renfri slowed her pace, which made Yennefer slow her’s. They came to where the path met the beach and turned to sand.

“I was hoping to sleep, not drink myself to oblivion and pass out.”

“Then more rum for me,” Renfri said as she waved the bottle at Yennefer, who only rolled her eyes in response.

“Come on, Yenn, a relaxing walk on the beach is what you need. Plenty of sunshine left. And then we can watch the sunset, it’ll be romantic.”

“So you’re the romantic one, now?”

“If it gets you to smile, then sure.”

Yennefer of course couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on her face. “Alright then, lead the way.”

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They walked arm in arm down the beach and then Renfri stopped. “This looks like as good a spot as any.”

“For what?”

“To sit, to relax.” Renfri elbowed Yennefer in the side. “C’mon <em>Captain</em> take a load off.”

Renfri then plopped down and sprawled out, uncaring of the sand getting everywhere. She unhooked her sword belt and laid her sheathed sword next to her in the sand.

Yennefer sat down next to Renfri and nudged her to put her head in her lap. She combed her fingers through the wind-tousled hair. It was relaxing. “Are you going to pop open that rum or what?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Renfri said as she sat up and pulled the cork out with her teeth. She took a sip and then passed the bottle to Yennefer.

“That’s some strong stuff.”

Yennefer took a pull from the bottle. “It sure is. You don’t need much to feel it do you?”

“Nope,” Renfri said with a laugh before grabbing the bottle and drinking some more.

They lounged in the sand for a while, eventually shedding their boots and laying down on their spread out coats.

Yennefer closed her eyes for a bit, enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing and the warmth of the sun on her closed eyelids. She would always love the sounds of the ocean, the smell of salt in the air.

With her eyes still closed, Yennefer felt and heard Renfri get up. “Where are you going?”

“Down to the water. Come with me?” Renfri asked as she started to shed more of her clothes. She kept on her smallclothes, consisting of short linen braies and a fitted sleeveless tunic.

Yennefer followed suit and stripped down to her own similar underthings. He took her tricorn hat off last and tossed it on top of the pile to keep their clothes from blowing away.

Renfri grabbed Yennefer by the shoulders and initiated a kiss that turned as searing as the hot sun on their skin. Yennefer licked into Renfri’s mouth and Renfri gently nipped Yennefer’s lip in return, making her moan.

They pulled away from each other panting as they regained their breath. Renfri pushed her forehead against Yennefer’s. “Let’s go cool down. I’ll race you,” Renfri said right before he let go of Yennefer and ran down the beach towards the water.

Yennefer ran after her, following her into the foaming waves and wrapping her arms around her waist. They tussled playfully and Renfri dragged Yennefer further into the water until it was up to their thighs. They kissed again, this time lazily as the water crashed against them.

They stayed in the water for a little while longer, swimming out further to submerge their bodies fully and enjoy the cool water.

Once they felt they had thoroughly soaked in the salty sea water, Yennefer dragged Renfri back to their pile of clothes to dry off in the slowly waning sun. It was still bright, but nowhere near as high in the sky as it had been.

The sun warmed their bodies once again. Yennefer tugged on her pants and coat, shoving her shirt and stockings into the deep pockets. Renfri pulled on her own pants and slung her coat over her shoulder.

“We should have plenty of time to walk over to the rocks to watch the sunset. If you want?” Renfri asked, turning to look at Yennefer.

“Of course,” Yennefer said, leaning forward to kiss the side of Renfri’s mouth. “Maybe we can do more than just sit and watch the sunset.”

Renfri’s breath hitched before she nodded and gathered up her boots in one hand, shoving the nearly empty rum bottle into one of them.

They linked arms and started their barefoot stroll down the beach.

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They walked in a comfortable silence for a while just enjoying each other’s company and the quiet beach.

As they progressed down the beach, Yennefer could make out a shape on the sand in the distance. She nudged Renfri’s shoulder and pointed. “Do you see that? I can’t make out what it is, and I don’t have my spyglass on me.”

They both squinted into the distance. “A beached whale? Maybe.”

“Seems too small to be a whale.”

“Guess we have to keep walking and get a closer look.”

“We were headed in that direction anyway,” Yennefer answered.

They picked up their pace a bit, still walking barefoot across the sand. As they near the shape on the sand they could make out a scaled tail. Yennefer dropped her boots and trudged her way over, it was where sand started meeting rocks, the sand littered with smoothed rocks she had to make her way over. Renfri was a few paces behind her, picking her own way through.

As Yennefer got closer, her eyes widened. It was a man, well a merman if the curled blue tail was anything to go by. Yennefer really hoped that he was alive. It was a bit unnerving that the merman didn’t move.

Getting even closer, Yennefer gasped as she noticed that the merman was tangled in the rope of a fishing net. She dropped her boots she was holding and scrambled closer. The merman’s suntanned skin was dry to the touch, he must have been out in the sun for hours and he washed up too high for the tide to reach.

“Renfri!” she yelled. “Quickly, come on.”

“I’m here,” Renfri panted behind her. “Oh no.We have to help him,” she said with conviction.

“I know. Quick, we need your sword. I’ll hold the ropes taut and you can cut them. Then we have to get him down to the water.”

Yennefer kneeled near the unconscious merman and grabbed the ropes of the net at random, just wanting to get him untangled and not willing to waste anymore time in trying to fiddle with the ropes.

Yennefer held lengths of the net as far away from the merman’s body as possible as Renfri slashed through them. After repeating the process a few times, the merman was surrounded by slashed pieces of rope, and was freed. Yennefer shed her coat and chucked it and her hat out of the way. She was able to roll the merman partially onto his side. Renfri came to her aid to help roll him onto his back.

Once on his back, they could see just how parched his lips looked and just how wilted his fin-like ears were. They didn’t ogle long as they were more concerned with helping the merman regain consciousness.

Yennefer stood behind his head and squatted down to gripp under his arms. Renfri was already positioning herself near his tail as Yennefer said, “Grab his tail.” It worked because Yennefer knew Renfri was stronger than her and that tail had to be pure muscle.

It was not a very dignified trudge down towards the water, carrying a full grown merman, but they eventually made it down to the water and lowered the merman into the shallows. Once the water relieved them of some of his weight they were able to drag him deeper into the water where his body was submerged.

Yennefer’s instinct was to keep his head above water before remembering that he is of course merman and his head underwater would probably be beneficial. Yennefer lowered his head under the waves once Renfri nodded that she had a grip on his body and wouldn’t let him sink.

Yennefer felt her breathing return to normal and could only hope that they had made it in time to help the meman. She wasn’t a religious person, but as a pirate she was a superstitious one, so she prayed to every god and goddess she could think of with hopes that one of them would hear her. She looked over at Renfri, “Thank you for wanting to help him as well.”

“You don’t need to thank me Yenn, it was the right thing to do. I just hope he comes to soon.”

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A few moments later, the merman’s tail started thrashing and Renfri lost her hold on it, but the merman must have still been weak because he didn’t or couldn’t swim away and almost clung to Yennefer where her arms were still around him. His head then emerged from the water with a splash. He gasped and Yenenfer wasn’t sure if it was just from surprise or if he was gasping for breath. From her limited knowledge of merfolk, she knew that they needed water to breathe but could get oxygen through the air the way humans and other land creatures did.

“Oh goddess, is this the afterlife?” the merman asked. “It must be since I am being held by two goddesses themselves.” He answered his own question. Renfri snorted a laugh. The noise made the maerman turn his head to look at her.

“At least he’s conscious now.” Renfri said, mostly to Yennefer. Yennefer hummed in agreement, glad that their rescue attempt wasn’t for naught.

“So this isn’t the after life or a dream, huh?” the merman asked.

“Nope, you are thankfully very much alive.” Yennefer said.

“Thankfully? You don’t even know me, why would you be thankful I’m alive?”

“Because I care for the wellbeing of others?” Yennefer said, in a questioning tone. “Is that so foreign to you?”

“Well, no, not fully, but I had given up hope of being rescued before I fell unconscious.” He paused, “Would you lovely ladies like to get out of the water? I can imagine it might not be comfortable for you to stay in it for so long.”

“Can you swim on your own?”

“I believe so. Though I will admit it is lovely being wrapped in your arms. But I usually at least know the names of women before I embrace them. I am Jaskier by the way.”

“Yennefer, and my partner is Renfri.”

“It is wonderful to meet you both, I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“We do as well,” Renfri said with a smile.

Yennefer let go of Jaskier and was happy to see he was able to hold up his body weight in the water and his skin no longer looked parched and sun-dried.

Yennefer and Renfri trudged out of the water, their clothes clinging to their bodies. They both sprawled out on the rocks that had been their destination earlier and Jaskier followed them at a sedate pace, leaning his crossed forearms on the rock while keeping his body from the chest down submerged in the water.

“So what brought you lovely ladies down to the beach?”

“Our ship is in port and I figured this one,” Renfri pointed to Yennefer, “needed a chance to relax and the beach was the perfect place.”

“Oh no and I interrupted your relaxing beach day, I’m dreadfully sorry. But I can’t thank you enough for saving me.”

“You mean no one else came along before us?”

“If you hadn’t noticed this is a fairly quiet stretch of beach. Not many humans frequent it, it’s one of the reasons that I swim near here so often. I do love watching humans, but they don’t really like the sight of me. Must be the sirens giving us a bad name still. But it’s not my fault that my kind also enjoys singing. I had hoped that my singing might attract someone more than yelling for help. Most humans around here tend to run in the opposite direction of someone in need of help. But then I was too parched to even sing anymore.”

“Lucky for you we aren’t like most humans,” Renfri said. “Yenn’s not even fully human and people are often weary of me being born under a bad omen and all.”

“We tend to have differing opinions than most who share our profession. We might be pirates, but we are also women, so I have always found merfolk to be good luck. Ask almost any male sailor and they’ll tell you that having a woman on a ship is a bad omen, let alone having her captain on,” Yennefer said with a bit of a smirk. She knew she was a better captain and a more skilled sailor than a majority of the men she ran into.

“So you’re pirates!? Oh that is so exciting. You must tell me stories of all your adventures.” Jaskier said excitedly, his tail flicking out of the water to further emphasize his excitement. A few drops of water splashed them when his tail entered the water again. “Oops, sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly.

Yennefer and Renfri shared a look. A look which Jaskier must have read the wrong way if what he said next was anything to go by.

“I mean—I’m sorry. I am interrupting your relaxing time together and the sun is going to be setting any minute now. I’ll just go and maybe I will see you lovely ladies again some day.” He flashed them a small smile, though it was wide enough to show his pointed eye teeth.

Jaskier made to swim away from the rock, but Yennefer crawled forward and reached out to grab his hand. “Stay. Please.” She laced her fingers with Jaskier’s slightly webbed ones.

Jaskier looked up at Yennefer with his blue eyes that mirrored the color of the sea and Renfri gently grabbed his other hand, “What Yenn said. We would like it if you stayed. I have a boatload of stories to tell you.”

“I would love that. So much.” Jaksier smiled, flicking his tail again and chirping a bit. His face flushed a bit, the fins, where a human’s ears would be, flattened to his head as if in embarrassment. He pulled his hands out of both of theirs, but otherwise only moved a short distance away. At least it seemed they convinced him not to dive into the ocean to never be seen by them again.

Yennefer moved down the rock a bit to sit with her feet dangling in the water and put her hands out for Jaskier, beckoning him towards her. He propelled himself forward with his tail and stopped when he was floating between her calves dangling in the water. He gently place his webbed hands onto her knees and smiled up at her.

She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. It felt terribly forward, but there was something about the merman that was luring her in. And she had enough knowledge of merfolk to know it wasn’t some sort of magic taking hold. She pulled away to see a smile on Jaskier’s handsome face.

Renfri moved closer and wrapped an arm around Yennefer. She addressed Jaskier, “Just letting you, you want one of us, you better be okay with getting both of us.” Jaskier’s smile grew even wider if that was even possible.

Yennefer sat on that rock until well after the sunset. They told Jaskier stories of their swashbuckling adventures, as well as some tales of the more mundane things they got up to. In turn Jaskier rather theatrically regaled them with stories of his own. It was well into the night that they finally made to leave.

“Promise you won’t set sail without saying goodbye.”

“We promise,” Renfri said with conviction. “But maybe us leaving doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“Oh, meaning?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I have an idea. Just have to see if it’ll work. I’ll tell you about it either way before we are set to depart in a few days.”

“Alright.” Jaskier said. “I will see you soon then. Have a safe journey back to your lodgings.” He then leaned forward from where he had been lounging with his upper body out of the water and on the rock to lift Renfri’s hand and bestow a kiss upon it. If the light was better, Yennefer swore she would be able to see Renfri blushing.

Jaskier then repeated the action with Yennefer and she returned his affection by placing another kiss on his forehead.

They said their goodbyes and Renfri and Yennefer gathered up their belongings before picking their way across the beach by the light of the waxing moon.

Subtle splashes accompanied their journey. If Yenenfer turned towards the water, she could see the shine of scales in the moonlight: Jaskier following to make sure they made it across the beach. She huffed a laugh, “You silly merman.”

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It turned out that Renfri’s idea was to scour the town for the biggest bathtub that she could buy. Yennefer found the thought to be sweet, but didn’t say so since Renfri didn’t like too much attention drawn to the nice things she did for those she cared about.

Which is how Yennefer and Renfri ended up hauling a spacious copper tub, that Renfri bought from an innkeeper after haggling, back to the ship. Yennefer had two of her men help them get it up the gangplank and situated in Yennefer’s quarters.

Renfri smiled with accomplishment and Yennefer couldn’t help but show her just how much she loved her and how thoughtful she really was. They made love in the bed they shared with feeling even more at home with the smell of the salty sea air around them.

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Yennefer and Renfri went back to the beach everyday that they were still on land. Each time, Jaskier was excitedly waiting for them near the rock where they spent the first evening talking. Renfri didn’t mention the bathtub yet, wanting it to be a surprise. But Yennefer knew she was apprehensive, just as Yennefer was herself.

What if despite all of his proclamations that he wanted to follow them and go on adventures, Jaskier wanted to stay where he was in his little corner of the ocean? They would both be a bit devastated even if they would get over it in time and still be able to visit Jaskier when they came into port.

Of course they had nothing to worry about. On their last day in Kerack’s port, Yennefer and Renfri once again went down to the beach, they now knew the way to the rocks like they knew the layout of their ship.

Once they reached Jaskier, he immediately exclaimed, “Please take me with you. I don’t think I will survive not seeing you for months at a time. Please, we can figure something out. I will swim behind the ship if I have to. I want to go on adventures and I want to keep seeing you both. And I can compose songs about your, or well our, adventures. I will sing so many songs about pirates, just you wait.”

Yennefer chuckled. “Well that’s good to hear since we were going to ask if you wanted to join us on our newest voyage. You won’t even need to swim alongside the ship, that is unless you want to be in the ocean. Renfri found a spacious bathing tub for us to fill with sea water for you.”

“That is immensely kind of you. And I promise I can earn my keep if need be. I can catch you fresh fish whenever you want and I think I know my way around the ocean better than any land creature.”

“Don’t let our navigator hear you say that.” Renfri said.

“You know your way to the harbor so meet us there, we won’t leave until you are aboard.” Yennefer said as she knelt down to caress the side of Jaskier’s face.

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Two hours later they were untying the ropes tethering the ship to the dock, raising anchor, and steering the ship out of the harbor and into open waters.

Jaskier had insisted on his bathtub—because it was his now—being placed on the deck at least for the first stretch of the journey so that he could observe the way a ship was run. He wanted to witness it all and write down all of his initial reactions.

It was funny that one of his first requests was for paper and a writing utensil. Yennefer gave him one of her own bound journals that had yet to be written in along with a quill and a pot of ink. Apparently merfolk had their own written language. While Jaskier was able to speak Common as well as Elder, he only knew how to write in the language exclusive to his kind, although Renfri promised she would teach him how to write in Common.

Once the sun went down and it was time for the crew to retreat to their cabins or hammocks, Renfri and Yennefer dragged the bathtub plus Jaskier into the captain’s cabin they shared. Jaskier was excited to look around. He asked questions about everything and could already tell which items belonged to Yennefer and which belonged to Renfri.

Jaskier’s tub was positioned so it was near the bed, allowing Yennefer and Renfri to lounge on it while they all talked, enjoying each other’s presence. And Renfri made sure to move one of the smaller trunks near one side of the tub so that Jaskier would have a place to stash his notebook and writing supplies.

They spoke late into the night about everything and nothing as was becoming a habit for the three of them. Yennefer wasn’t sure when she finally succumbed to sleep, but she awoke to Jaskier quietly singing about pirates and mermen, with the sun shining off of the ocean waves.

#the witcher #yenfri #yennskier #jaskier/renfri #yennefer/renfri/jaskier #witcher rarepair summer bingo #the witcher fanfiction #my writing #my fanfic #yennefer of vengerberg #renfri #jaskier #mermay

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teacherunicorn · 4 years ago

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The Other Side

Bet Hanner (OC)/John Hancock

Suffice it to say, Bet Hanner and John McDonough were polar opposites.

Where Bet was wide-eyed and optimistic, John was a pessimist who's eyes were usually blurry from jet. Where Bet was eager to join the Minutemen and explore the Commonwealth, John was content to remain in the cushy safety of Diamond City. (With occasional trips down to Goodneighbor for the best chems.)

By all accounts, the two ought to have been enemies. Something however, be it their mutual friendship with Nick Valentine, the limited supply of youths in the city, or just Bet's determination to turn John around while he secretly adored that the ball of sunshine never gave up on him, it was quite common to see the pair at random hideaways within Diamond City arguing about everything and nothing.

And they were quite good at tucking themselves away. John knew all the back routes out of the city walls from trips to Goodneighbor, and Bet knew all the hidden spots around from hiding from her mother when she got on a bad bender.

There was one out in the open spot they could be found on occasion however: the Colonial Taphouse. Usually late in the evening, when the only people there were John, Bet, and the owner/bartender Henry Cooke. John would be drowning himself in alcohol while Bet would be trying to pull him away from the bar; usually being the one to drag him home when Cooke finally kicked them out.

Bet had recently been promoted within the Minutemen to a Private. While John was happy for her, he also dreaded the motivation for her to make another one of her recruitment speeches.

"I'm tellin' ya Johnny, you'd kick ass in the Minutemen! I could get you into my unit! Come on, picture it: you and me out there fightin' the good fight!"

"And give you more reason to boss me around? No thanks sunshine." He knocked back another shot, flipping the glass over and tapping the bottom to signal Cooke for a refill. "The day I play do-gooder is the day you follow me down the gutter."

Bet scowled as another platter of liquor shots were placed between them. Though John was liable to drink the taphouse dry, Cooke knew better than to hand over a full bottle by now; John'd just walk out the door with it.

As her friend went for one of the glasses, Bet surprised him by going for one as well. She knocked back the shot and immediately made a face, scrunching up her nose. "Bleh! Eh!" John smirked at her as she tried to act tough and flip her glass over onto the bar as he had. His sunshine was so cute. Once she had shaken off the liquor, she smacked down a patch in front of him; her old one from when she had first been a new recruit in the Minutemen — she’d been upgraded since her promotion.

“Right here, right now: I put the offer out. I don’t wanna chase you down; you’ve got the right stuff for this gig, and I know you see it! You sign up with me, and I can cut you free, out of the drudgery and walls keepin’ you in.”

“Lotta people who would kill to be inside the city walls, sunshine.”

“Not the walls I’m talkin’ about Johnny.” She stole the shot glass out of his hand. “You can trade this typical, for somethin’ colorful! And if it’s crazy —“ she shrugged “live a little crazy.” She knocked back the glass and shook her head violently. “No use playin’ it sensible, Mr. King of Conventional!” She smacked down the brim of his old newsboy hat, earning her a glare.

“Come on, don’t you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play?” She swiped his hat off his head, replacing it with her own Minutemen one. “Cuz I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride! I’ll take you too the other side.” Bet sidestepped out of John’s reach as he made a grab for his hat back. She banged on the side of the bar’s old jukebox, starting up an old prewar swing song. “So you can do like you do.” She made a show of putting the newsboy hat on her head with some ridiculous dance moves. “Or you can do like me! Stay in the cage, or you can finally take the key! Oh damn, and suddenly you’re free to fly!” Bet spun around, throwing her arms out. “It’ll take you to the other side!”

Now, Bet was a lightweight. On the rare occasions that John did manage to get her intoxicated in some way, he usually found her behavior hilarious. At the moment though, it was getting a tad annoying. “Okay sister, you wanna cut me in.” He balanced her against the bar before snatching his hat off her head. “Well I hate to tell you, but it just. won’t. happen.” trading her Minutemen hat for his own ragged one, he continued. “So thanks, but no. I think I’m good to go. See, I quite enjoy the life you say I’m trapped in.” He turned the dusty tricorn over in his hands, studying it. “Now I admire you, and this whole act you do. You’re onto somethin’, really it’s somethin’. But life in here’s alright, no need to chase a dying light.” He plopped her hat back onto her head, making a point to rub it into her hair. “I’ll have to leave that up to you.”

John had been very vocal when it came to his thoughts on the Minutemen; they were a well meaning group, but a bunch of hacks when it came down to the wire. They made a lot of lofty promises and had little to show for it. Protecting people at a minute’s notice and not expecting anything in return. Working to build a peaceful Commonwealth where everyone lived safe. Or as Bet liked to put it: of the people for the people. What a damn joke.

“Don’t you know by now that I’m okay with this uptown part I get to play? I got what I need, and I don’t wanna take your ride; I don’t need to see the other side.” He picked the patch up of the bar and pressed it into her hand. “You go and do like you do, I’m good to do like me. Ain’t in a cage, so I don’t need to take the key. Sister really, can’t you see I’m doin’ fine?” John picked up another glass from the tray. “I don’t need to see the other side.” he leaned back against the bar and knocked back the drink.

“Ah come on Johnny boy!” Bet threw her arm over his shoulders. “Is this really how you want to spend your days? Booze, jet, misery, and seedy lays?”

“Yeah well if I were mixed up with you!” He threw her arm off and pointed an accusatory in her at her. “I’d be the talk of the town! Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns!”

“But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little.” Bet’s voice lost all joking tone and went serious. “Just let me give you somethin’ to believe in and maybe, it’ll wake you up. Cure your achin’, take your walls, and start ‘em brakin’. Now that’s a deal, that seems to me worth takin’!” she sighed and pulled a pouch of caps from her coat pocket. “But I guess I’ll leave that up to you.”

Bet tipped her hat to John and walked out the door on somewhat unsteady feet, handing the caps to Cooke as she went. It wasn’t the first time she’d try to recruit John, nor would it be the last. Bet Hanner and John McDonough were indeed opposites; their biggest difference was that Bet believed in things and John didn’t.

*******

*Some years later*

A shriveled brown hand curled around a frayed Minutemen patch. Bleary eyes studied the historical exhibits before them, landing on one in particular.

The red coat was flashy and eye catching, but what caught his attention was the tricorn hat. “Just let me give you somethin’ to believe and maybe it’ll wake you up.”

The glass shattered with one hit. John McDonough was no more.

John Hancock had been born.

#fallout oc #fallout 4 #fallout four #fallout #john hancock #hancock #John Hancock imagine #nick valentine imagine #nick valentine #diamond city #minutemen #Bet Hanner (OC)

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siribear · 5 years ago

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whatever lurks beneath the pond in boston common continues to snore away when she returns. the ground vibrates as she walks to the other side of the park where the freedom trail begins. a protectron activates at her approach; metal footsteps clunk along the concrete path, its robotic voice reciting the history of the area.

what really catches her attention, though, is the large piece of plywood with a message written in white paint:

at journey’s end follow freedom’s lantern.

she looks down to the seal. it’s marked with paint she knows wasn’t there two hundred years ago. on this one, the start of the trail itself, an arrow points to the letter a with the number 7 written in the center. A-7. well, that ruins her plans of simply heading to the old north church.

she isn’t surprised that there’s a password involved in finding them.

so she follows the trail around, past the station entrance, up to the massachusetts state house. someone had been kind enough to fill in the missing trail with red paint. the railroad wants people to find it, perhaps. the state house seal has another part of the code: L-4. she makes a note in her pipboy, spacing out the letters. with a sigh, she follows the trail back down the road.

feral ghouls inhabit the graveyard with the next seal. two crouch in front of open graves, pawing at the dirt. those she takes out easily, one shot each, rotten flesh blowing apart with one shot to the head. at the noise, another three clamor out of the abandoned bus just outside the graveyard. somehow, they don’t see her, instead going over to the dead ferals. alice creeps around the bus, writes down the code on the seal, and leaves.

the painted red trail leads her right by a building manned by super mutants. they yell when they see her and begin firing immediately. alice runs, turning the corner, hoping to duck into a building. instead, she’s near-blinded by neon lights. goodneighbor -

another spatter of bullets hits the ground near her. she follows the arrow further down the road, to a high, barricaded wall and a door. alice enters goodneighbor, leaving the super mutants behind.

her sudden entry draws the attention of a few people near the entry. two people in bowler hats and carrying submachine guns head outside behind her. there’s the sound of gunfire, then nothing. the two reenter and nod at her before heading back to their posts.

‘newcomer, huh?’

alice turns to see a man in a greaser jacket and jeans, staring her down. ‘yeah. wasn’t expecting the super mutants.’

he takes a step toward her. ‘welcome to goodneighbor,’ he says with a grin. ‘see what we just did for ya? that’s what insurance gets ya. first time’s free, but...’ he tilts his head. ‘gotta pay if you want us to help you out after this.’

‘insurance.’ she repeats dully.

‘yeah. personal protection and that shit. now, we’ll say - ’ he eyes her up and down. ‘you hand over everything you got. or accidents will start happenin’ to ya.’

she doesn’t have time for this. ‘i think you should back off - ’

‘time out, time out.’ another man walks forward from the shadows, dressed in a red coat and tricorn hat. alice blinks just to make sure she isn’t imagining it, but - no. he really is dressed like john hancock. ‘first time someone steps through the gate, they’re a guest. lay off the extortion crap.’

‘she ain’t one of us. shit, she led super mutants right to our door.’

‘pretty easy, considering they live right around the corner, finn.’ in the light, alice notices the man’s skin looks... dried out. his nose is missing, his eyes are pitch black, but still he smiles easily. ‘let her go.’

finn is none too happy, but steps away. ‘keep this shit up, hancock - ’ okay, now she’s losing it. ‘- and there’ll be a new mayor.’

hancock grins. ‘how about i let you in on a little secret?’

he steps toward finn until they’re face to face. he puts an arm around finn’s shoulders and bends his other arm behind him. finn is too distracted to notice the knife gleaming in hancock’s hand until it’s sticking out of his stomach. he wipes the bloody knife on his pants.

‘breakin’ my heart,’ he says to himself. to alice, ‘you all right there, sister?'

alice shrugs with a smile. ‘i’m fine, thanks. didn’t mean to start any trouble.’

‘don’t worry about it. goodneighbor is of the people, for the people, you feel me?’

she has to laugh. ‘i feel you.’

‘i think i’m gonna like you. just remember who’s in charge, sister.’

he turns and enters the state house, and it’s then she notices a woman standing in the shadows where hancock came from. the two lock eyes, the other woman grins, and follows hancock.

alice ends up trading some of her scavenged scrap with an assaultron manning - womanning? KLE0 had been very insistent - the ammo shop. by the end of their deal, she leaves with more ammo for Righteous Authority and a scope attached to her hunting rifle.

‘lady, you don’t wanna miss this,’ a ghoul in a tweed shirt tells her. alice follows her to the front of the state house where a group has already begun forming. hancock leans out over the balcony, looking over the crowd.

‘hey! glad our newcomer could make it. daisy! how’s my favorite girl doing? didn’t i see you out on a date with marowski?’

the ghoul that lead her to the speech laughs. ‘he wishes!’ the rest of the gathering crowd laughs along, but one man, presumably marowski, yells an indignant, ‘hey!’

hancock gives a rousing speech about sticking together, having each other’s backs. ‘and what out there would want to drive us apart? who would want to hurt our peaceful community?’

‘the institute and their synths!’ yells another voice.

‘that’s right. who said that? come up to my office later, you’ve earned yourself some jet.’ his grin grows as his speech goes on. ‘the institute. they’re the real enemy.’

alice half-pays attention to the speech after that. the crowd raises their fists and their voices by the end of it, yelling, ‘of the people! for the people!’ before dispersing. the institute - she wonders if hancock would know anything.

the area outside the state house has cleared out before she realizes it, everyone except her, the guards, and a few stragglers left behind while the others return to their shops.

‘what a day, huh?’

alice near-jumps. the man beside her stands with his hands on his hips, looking up at the empty balcony. he looks - familiar, with his bald head and sunglasses. though now he wears a flannel shirt instead of the padding armor of diamond city.

‘day off from guarding diamond city?’

she sees his eyebrows rise over those sunglasses. ‘think you’ve got the wrong guy, doll.’

she tilts her head, sure it’s him. same look, same voice, even. ‘sorry. guess i was thinking of someone else.’

‘nah, you’re all right.’ he grins and points at himself. ‘i’ve just got one of those faces, you know?’

alice laughs, not all together convinced. ‘yeah, i guess so. you, uh, take care out there.’

‘mhmm,’ he sticks his hands in his pockets. ‘you, too, doll.’

even after finn threatened to overthrow him, alice is still able to simply waltz up to hancock in his office. if office is the right word for it. he’s made his home in the upper level of the state house. smoke clouds the room, and she feels light headed just walking up to it.

‘hancock.’

‘hey, sister.’ he throws a hand up in a wave. the other is draped across the back of the couch he lounges on, one foot resting on the coffee table in front of him. ‘enjoy the speech?’

‘well enough. i have - a few questions, however.’

he puts both feet on the ground, boots hitting the wood floor with a loud thud. ‘i love an interrogation,’ he says lightly. ‘have a seat.’ she does, on the couch across from him. the woman from earlier stands behind her. ‘i hear you made a name for yourself in diamond city.’

‘i thought i was interrogating you?’ she rests her chin on bridged fingers, elbows propped up on her thighs. ‘but - i don’t know what you mean.’

‘sorry, sister. not often we get a celebrity in goodneighbor.’ he grins. ‘you saved nick valentine. and i hear you were digging around an abandoned house.’

she clucks her tongue. ‘word travels fast in the commonwealth. yes, to both.’

‘you’re all over diamond city radio. making waves, sister. but i have my own questions. who are you?’

‘alice,’ she says. ‘a question for a question, then?’

he leans back again. ‘i knew i liked you. go ahead.’

‘you mentioned the institute.’ he nods. ‘what do you know?’

a shrug. ‘as much as anyone else. replacing people with synths in the middle of the night. not sure what they’re up to, with that. my turn.’ black eyes blink, once. ‘what’s your interest in the institute?’

‘i’m looking for someone that might be working with them, but he’s disappeared. hence, that abandoned house.’ she attempts to lean back, but brushes against the other woman’s hands. she settles for leaning forward. ‘do you know a man named kellogg?’

his eyes widen. ‘the merc? yeah, i’ve heard of him. heard of his work. he’s efficient, i’ll give him that. what’s someone like you want with him?’

‘that’s personal,’ she warns. ‘just know that i want him dead.’

‘ha. all right, i’ll bite. why come to me?’

‘because you’ve already given me more than mayor mcdonough.’ he doesn’t bother to hide his frown at the mention of his name. ‘and i’ve run out of leads. let’s say i’m just - just trying to keep as many ears to the ground as i can.’

‘ask your question, alley cat.’

oh, she likes that one better than blue, for sure. ‘will you help me?’

‘what’s in it for me?’

alice sits up straighter, bats her eyes, and smiles. ‘having the general of the minutemen in your pocket can’t be a bad deal, can it?’

‘the minutemen. now there’s a name i haven’t heard in a while. and that’s you, sister? you’re responsible for cleaning out the raiders up north?’ she gives him a long mhmm. ‘all right, then. formidable, i like it. tell you what, we’ve got a merc of our own here in goodneighbor. hand him this - ’ his voice has been steady while they’ve talked, but when he leans over to a side table and a rattling pouch of caps, he wobbles. ‘ - tell him hancock wants him to look into kellogg. i’ll see what i can get out of anyone else.’

when he tosses her the caps, she catches it before it flies way over her head. ‘what’s his name?’

‘go downstairs to the third rail. tell ham you’re looking for maccready. he’ll tell you where to go.’

she weighs the caps in one hand. it’s quite a bit - guy must be good if he’s worth this much. ‘thank you, hancock.’

‘thank you, alley cat. i’ll let you know if i find anything out.’ he picks up an inhaler from the side table and brings it to his lips. a click, then he sighs. ‘by the way, my favor for leading you to maccready?’

she’s already halfway to the door when he’s spoken. she turns.

‘there’s a place near diamond city. people call it hangman’s alley. wouldn’t be a bad place for another minuteman outpost, huh? farenheit, show her on her - thing.’

the woman, farenheit, all height and silent intimidation, does as she’s told. alice brings up the map on her pipboy obligingly, allowing farenheit to create the marker herself.

‘hangman’s alley. i’ll keep it in mind.’

hancock laughs, low and slow, not even looking at her. ‘i’m sure you will. see you around.’

#oc: alice ward #series: we will all go together when we go #siri drabbles #do i have hancock's voice down? not really #but it'll do for now

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doublerumnukacola · 6 years ago

Text

Second Last Dance

They emerged from the State House the sound of the crowds around them a little overwhelming. She’d never seen Good Neighbor this packed. It was suffocating for her to be surrounded by the drunken masses.

Then they caught sight of Hancock and the crowd surged towards them. Sole stepped backwards to the State House as Hancock stepped forward, passing out what remained of his chem stash like he was giving out candy.

It felt exactly like pre-war Halloween, complete with kids in costumes. Some were hobos, gangsters, clowns, zombies… And to think the latter was the most friendly of the bunch. She leant against the disintegrating white paint of the ancient building as the last of the Mentats were distributed, the final tin having to be yanked from Hancocks leathery fingers. He gave a sigh as the crowd dispersed. Maybe in relief, or regret. She came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you need a drink.” She noted, he turned to look back at her with a thin, tired, smile. “Maybe a few drinks, actually.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sister.” He admitted. “Haven’t had a straight drink in awhile. Usually spritze it up with a few Daytripper. For taste, of course.”

“Ohno, not tonight.” She chuckled, spinning him around to face her. “Doctors orders, you’re already pushing it with drink.” He shrugged, old habits die hard. She could tell she would have her work cut out for her. She was going to have to keep him away from temptation...

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

The sky above GoodNeighbor was dotted with faint stars against a deep, dark blue. The Sun said its last goodbyes at the Horizon, lingering like an unwanted house guest. The lamp lights glowed, waiting to be spotlights for the party. Magnolia had moved outside the Rexford, music playing from an old prewar speaker Daisy’d had in her attic. The usual upbeat jazz set was playing with Mags lending her sultry voice.

Sole and Hancock were drinking on the balcony of the State House, in an attempt to keep him distracted from the slurry of chems making their way through the crowd. The rum tasted like medical disinfectant mixed with cinnamon, but it kept them happy enough.

“I gotta ask somethin’.” Hancock started, taking a swig from the clear glass bottle, the dark liquid rushing to meet him. “What was it like, before… All this?” She shrugged and glanced away. It was question she got a lot. She’d had a lot of time to think of a good answer.

“Honestly, not great.” She answered bluntly. He nearly choked on his next swig of drink, spluttering it on the party goers below them. She smirked as a few held up their hands, checking for rain with confused faces. Hancock turned to look at her, and she continued. “We had prisoner camps in our own country, secret police, not to mention Vault-Tech.” She mused, remembering what life had really been like. “At the time, I kept my head down. I told myself it would all change after the war… I guess I was right...” Her hands gripped the railing, the ancient wood was feeble beneath her fingers.

“Looking back though, how could I have done so little? I had friends taken in the night; my colleagues who had tried to defend innocent people accused of treason… And I did nothing.” She took a breath. “And here, in the wasteland, I make a difference.” She smiled over at Hancock. “And everything is different, people here, in Good Neighbor, they’re free. Really free. You would never have had that before the war. Not for long anyway...”

“It’s funny…” He smiled back at her, “Daisy always makes it sound like Heaven on Earth...”

“Daisy’s had a long time to romanticise it.” Sole sighed. “For me, it’s just been a couple months...” Something about those words stuck in her throat. Months, centuries… What’s the difference?

Hancock could have kicked himself. He finally had a moment to himself with Sole, and he has to bring the mood down with a question like that. His stomach was turning, not quite agreeing with the rum and snack cakes. Or maybe it was something else. Something that hadn’t twisted his insides in awhile. Sole was looking forlorn at the street below, was it too late?

Then a commotion on the street caught his attention. The music stopped, the speakers softening to a silence. Kent was talking to Magnolia excitedly, holding some tapes in his hand.

“What’s going on there?” Sole asked, eyes brightening a little with curiosity.

“Not sure,” Hancock admitted, “Some scavver sold him some old broken Silver Shroud tapes. Guess he got them working.” She looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah, Kent’s actually pretty good with fixing Holotapes. It’s how he’s gotten all those old radio plays.” Her fingers flitted over her Pipboy for a moment, before returning to the railing. Hancock pretended not to notice.

“You think we’re about to hear another tale of the Shroud?” She asked with a small smile. “I should have dressed for the occasion.” His eyes dipped over the rose pink dress.

“Oh, I think you’re dressed just fine...” He muttered. Suddenly the street burst into music, and instead of Magnolia, sweet little Kent was stood at the mic. The tune sounded familiar, a tinny trumpet playing. The nostalgia made her smile.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

There was a tap at her shoulder, she looked back at Hancock holding a hand out to her. Her smile faltered. He kept his hand out, but there was a slight tremble to his fingers.

“Can’t help staring, huh?” He chuckled, a nervous edge to his voice.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And the cares that hang around me through the week Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

His hand started to fall, it was a stupid gesture. Why would a dame like that- Her fingers wrapped around his and he was pulled close. His heart nearly shot through his chest.

“We can’t waste a song like this, can we?” She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his hand. He swallowed, but threw on a cocky grin.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

Oh! I love to climb a mountain, And to reach the highest peak, But it doesn't thrill me half as much As dancing cheek to cheek Oh! I love to go out fishing In a river or a creek, But I don't enjoy it half as much As dancing cheek to cheek

It was awkward, on that small balcony, two people used to a bigger dance floor. It could have been a waltz, or a tango. But all onlookers saw was two people tripping over each other’s feet, hands clinging loosely to the other as they held each other, laughing uncontrollably.

Dance with me I want my arm about you The charm about you Will carry me through to heaven I'm in heaven And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

They could barely breathe, tumbling to the balcony floor. Holding their sides now as the laughter subsided. The music played on, but Kent was stepping off the small platform, handing the mic back to Magnolia. They’d just about missed his whole performance. They’d have to ask for an encore later.

“I think, we had better get down.” Hancock noted breathlessly. “Don’t think this old place was built to handle that kind of movement.” She smiled and nodded, rubbing out the soreness of her face from the laughter.

“Hey, thanks for that.” She said gratefully, pulling herself to her feet.

“Sure thing, Sister.” He said with a dismissive wave, “What are friends for?” Friends? He kicked himself as he followed her back into the State house. I mean, yeah, she’s his best friend. But he had the chance to make a move and he… He said they were just friends? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey, Hancock?” Sole called from his office. He looked over, and she was holding two cone shaped party hats. “I fished these from behind your sofa, want one?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not sure that would fit over the ‘ol tricorn…”

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

The party was intense. As the night drew on, the top shelf liquor started to flow. The world seemed to spin for everyone. Magnolia sung on, and when her voice was at its limits, they put on Kents broadcast of the Silver Shroud, prompting some waggling eyebrows from Hancock to Sole. As the party waned, the drifters passing out one by one, the broadcast turned to Classical Radio. No one dared put on Diamond City around Sole, she tended to get a little shooty with the radios as soon as she heard Travis’s voice. By then, the liquor had all but run out, and the few left awake in Good Neighbor sat in the square, drinking nuka cola of all things.

Sole and Hancock were some of the few party goers left awake. They lay on the cobblestones of the square, looking up at the night sky. Hancock even had Fahrenheit shut off all the lamps so the stars would seem brighter, but left the Christmas lights on at Sole’s request. The air was cold, Sole’s jacket came in useful to keep off the chill as they lay still under the night sky. Sole couldn't help but glance from the sky to the ghoul beside her, who was animatedly telling her about the patterns in the stars, in his own way.

“... And that one is the bent frying pan.” Hancock continued, pointing up at a constellation. “My old man used to say it was part of a yao-gui in the sky, but I can't see it myself.”

“Funny, before the war it was the big dipper.” Sole added softly, returning her gaze to the stars in question.

“What the hell is a dipper?” Hancock demanded, genuinely perplexed. Sole shrugged her shoulders.

“I think it’s like a ladle.” She answered unsuredly.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Hancock said, squinting a bit.

“Nah, I liked yours better. People know what a bent frying pan is.” Sole admitted. She looked again at the stars. She raised her hand and pointed to a constellation with three bright stars and cornered with four more. “So what’s that one?”

“Well that’s easy.” Hancock answered smugly. “It's the Vault boy with his dick out.” Sole turned to look at Hancock incredulously. “What? You can see it right there! Just below those three stars is a flaccid cock! What did you used to call it?”

“Orion, and those three stars are his belt… And the one below are meant to be his… Knife.” Sole replied awkwardly. Hancock laughed. Yeah, ‘knife’ wasn't believable.

“So who’s Orion?” Hancock asked, stretching an arm out and putting it behind his head.

“Oh, I actually know this.” Sole gushed excitedly, sitting up and turning to him. “Orion was this hunter in ancient Greece, and he used to hunt with this goddess Artemis. But her brother got jealous and made a huge scorpion to kill him.” Sole leant forward, Hancock could tell she was getting to her favorite part, she always did that when telling stories. “In her grief, Artemis placed Orion in the sky so he could live forever in the stars. But her brother put the scorpion up there to chase him through the heavens for eternity, you know, like an asshole.”

“Fuck, so there are Rad-scorpions in the sky too?” Hancock asked incredulously. She smiled at the joke. He liked to think he could do better than that. “Ancient Greece, huh?” He continued. “Sounds familiar, is that like the lard Daisy uses in her mirelurk cakes?” Sole laughed and shook her head. “Yeah then I'm sticking to the naked Vault boy.” Sole shook her head, still grinning, and laid down again. Looking at the constellation again, she could completely see it. And now she could never UN-see it!

“Give me another one!” Hancock urged, giddy more from being over-tired than drunk. Sole shook her head.

“Those were the only ones I knew.” Sole sighed, yawning. She rested her eyes.

“Come on, you can't sleep here, you'll wake up feeling the way I look.” Hancock advised. He shakily got up, brushing the dust off his coat. “Here, let me help you.” He extended his hand once again, but he was in no shape to help anyone. Luckily she waved it away.

“Leave me alone…” She murmured. “It's comfy here…” He sighed. He couldn't carry her to save his life. He looked around for someone to help him, but everyone was either too tired, too stoned, or too Kleo.

Then he heard soft snores come from his feet. He looked down and she was out cold on the cobblestones. He knew from experience what waking up with a hangover felt like on these rocks, and it wasn't pleasant, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Muscles…

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

Macready was a coward and he knew it. He sat on Daisy’s back porch, smoking his last cigarette. The music had long since died down, and the revelers had passed out.

“You better be using an ashtray.” Daisy muttered beside him. She had a bottle of beer in her hand, leaning against the screen door behind her. The old lady may have been a serial complainer since he arrived, but she enjoyed the company.

“Sure thing,grandma.” He joked, tipping the end of the ash into a dingy ceramic ashtray. She was too tired to smack him for that comment, she could only grumble. There was a quiet as he took one last drag and ground out the cigarette, glowing embers dying in the blackened ash.

“You’re running out of time, Mac.” Daisy said softly. He crossed his arms. He knew she was right. Didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I mean it. If you want any future with her, you had better fix things soon.”

“And what if she’s over it?”

“Then you can at least apologise for being an ass.”

He was quiet, he did owe her that. He stood up, dusting off his pants. There were voices still in the square, he knew who they were, as much as he’d tried to ignore them. It was time he stopped running away.

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

Then footsteps on the cobblestones caught his attention. He turned around to see Macready emerging from the alley. He nodded to Hancock as he approached, and scooped up Sole quietly. She barely stirred as he held her.

“Hiding in the dark? Trying to take sunglasse’s M.O.?” Hancock asked in annoyance. Macready didn't say a word, ignoring him as he shifted Sole’s weight so he could carry her more comfortably. There wasn't a damn thing Hancock could do. At least the bastard could get her to her room safe. Hancock leaned close, narrowing his coal black eyes.

“So much as a hair out of place when she wakes up, and I’ll make a wind chime out of your dick.” He hissed quietly. Macready furrowed his brow.

“How would you even do that?” Macready asked, more curious than threatened.

“I'm a creative guy.” Hancock answered darkly. Macready just shrugged and started towards the Rex. Hancock watched him go, silently seething. Had he lost his touch? I mean it all sounded pretty threatening. Maybe it was the party hat he had strapped to his head. Yeah that was probably it.

#john hancock #hancock #fanfic #fallout 4

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purkinje-effect · 7 years ago

Text

The Purkinje Effect, 15

Table of Contents

“God, Geek, you’ve got a curse with timing, you know that?” Hancock leaned hard into the back of the couch and rubbed his temples with one hand, the other on a wine bottle. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see ya, but it’s been chaos since the moment I sent you off on your little errand. ...Speaking of which, how did all that go? You’re certainly back faster’n I expected. Hope that doesn’t mean you’re comin’ back empty handed.”

“Besides the walk to and back, it really didn’t take much,” Galen replied quietly, sitting on the couch beside him. “I didn’t have to find them. They found me. ...Where’s your bodyguard?”

“You missed a goddamn shit show.” The colonially dressed ghoul slammed back a third of the bottle and grunted once he’d taken a breath. “Hopefully it’s all blown over finally. Fahr’s alive, if only barely. She’ll be fine.” When Galen looked on expectantly, Hancock offered the bottle, but Galen waved it off.

“I, no, that’s not it. I just. I’m worried what happened, is all. Did Goodneighbor get attacked by raiders or something?” He settled in a little better, setting his duffel on the ground under his feet.

“Before you, last time I saw a vault dweller was over a year ago. And now two have blown through here in a single week. That little shit... You know, I don’t blame him, to be fair. I feel completely accountable for everything that happened. No, y’know what? Y'want story time? I’ll tell you what happened, but first things first. I’m payin’ ya for the scoop on North End.”

Galen nodded, lips tight.

“They’re legit, the Railroad. The Institute crafts synths to use them for slaves, and the Railroad is like, well. You know your history, yeah? I’d imagine somebody wearin’ John Hancock’s getup would know a thing or two about prewar stuff. Pretty sure they call themselves that after the Underground Railroad. They’re all about smuggling escapees outta the Institute and gettin’ ‘em someplace safe. Away from the Institute, and away from the bigots who think that because synths were created to serve some supervillain empire, that the synths themselves are evil by design. Y’know, I will take y’up on that.”

He motioned for the bottle, and the mayor shared. After a solid swig, the dreg passed it back to him.

“I said they found me?” Galen kept on. “Apparently I’m not just a sore thumb stickin’ out sideways around here, I’ve got a goddamn spotlight on me. They had their eye on me since I got outta Diamond City. And... they want me to sign on with ‘em. I kinda want to. Nobody, no thing, deserves t’be enslaved. That’s a cause I can get behind. They know you sent me to scout ‘em out, and they sent me back with reassurance they have no intention of embroilin’ you, your town, or its people, in their dirty work. Not without ‘em also signin’ on, provin’ they’re on board black-n’-white about it all. No innocent blood shed on their watch, an’ all that.”

“Respectable work they’re doin'.” Finishing off the bottle, Hancock put it down on the coffee table with an elevated brow and heavy lids. He reached for his cigarette case and lit one up, flicking the extinguished match into the ashtray. “Y’say y’wanna join ‘em? What’s stoppin’ ya?”

Any ease left in Galen’s face drained right out of him.

“I came East lookin’ for answers about what might be wrong with the equipment at my vault. Bein’ pink ain’t rosy. My time up top just keeps rackin’ up red flags over symptoms an’ details we all just sorta accepted as normal. Time got to be a blur, and all we knew was what we were experiencing. I’m sure for most of us, it’s been like this so long we’ve forgotten it wasn’t always like this. Anyway, I’m outta places I’d know where to look for information, but really I’ve all but given up anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I care what happens to ‘em, but I’m positive they’d cut their noses off just t’spite me at this point, even if I had a way to fix all this.” After a moment the turn of phrase had marinated, and he straightened. “Bad choice of words.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Hancock murmured, grinning genuinely a moment. “You’re really pulled every which way, aren’t ya?”

“It sounds horrible, but I’m just lookin’ for a way for me t’survive this... I wanna be in the pink, not just... Yeah. Can I bum a smoke off ya, in exchange for playin’ y’couch psychiatrist?”

“--Sure.” Picking up the case again, Hancock produced a second cigarette and lit it off the cherry of his own, then he handed it over. As he spoke, he gesticulated with his cigarette not unlike an implement. “This classy lil’ tricorner hat’s gettin’ kinda heavy, man. That other vaultie I mentioned? Showed up a few hours after you left. Scrawny little creep with a Handy. Jamjar glasses and a bad limp. Finn, one of my best guards, decides to get friendly with the guy in the worst way, just because Finn doesn’t like how I’m running things and was tryin’ t’put his foot down wherever he could stomp it. Finn an’ I get into a disagreement, and I had to put him in the dirt over it to protect the guy.

“I thought I had a bead on everybody in my town, knew where I stood. Have I become a tyrant? Finn wasn’t the only one who’s actin’ like it.” Hancock shut his eyes, took a long drag off his cigarette, and paused on his head space, holding the smoke in for a moment before letting it out his nose-less nostrils. His head lolled onto the back of the couch, his hand drooping off the arm of it. “That little shit wasn’t even in my town a full twenty-four hours before another of my folks had him tricked into helpin’ her breakin’ into my strong room. All hell broke loose. There was... collateral. Fahr was just doin’ her job, and it almost got her killed. Vaultie’s got some serious debt racked up, if he can’t get back the shit he helped Bobbi steal from me. And something along the lines of a fine for critically wounding my second-in-command.”

A short silence followed.

“I get that you’re pissed,” Galen started, puffing away as he leaned forward onto his knees. “But didn’t you just describe that other vaultie as a scrawny, decrepit nerd? If he had the wool pulled over him by this Bobbi, you really think he’d be capable of coercin’ her t'cough it back up?”

“Oh, it ain’t about him makin’ recompense. It’s about makin’ him sweat. If he can get that loot back from her, he’s earned it. But what’s got me is, Bobbi thinks I earned her makin’ me for a mark. I had a job done on me. I’m getting too hunkered into my laurels. I’m goin’ crazy inside my head. I’ve gotta. I’ve gotta get outta town. Blow off some steam, sharpen the ol’ killer instinct.”

“...Funny thing, that timing. I finished the part of the story you asked me to fish for, but there’s one more thing. In order to join on the Railroad, I have to do a job for them. Prove my aptitude or somethin’ like that. An’ I’m kinda wary to go alone. The guy I’ve gotta meet with is the one I think’s been tailing me the past week, and he’s kinda... weird.” He squinted and shook his head, and swallowed his filter without snuffing it. With his head collected, he made eye contact with the mayor. “You wanna get outta town. I gotta get outta town. I’d love it if y’came with me.”

Hancock shot up and slapped his knees, then stood animatedly. His face lit up, and he wagged his free hand at Galen while he finished off his cigarette.

“You. I knew I liked you. It’s settled. We stock up and head out ASAP. I gotta bow to the formality of a speech before all that, though. I owe my people that much. But they can hold their own while I duck off with ya. They’ve got Fahr, once she’s a hundred percent again. This little job shouldn’t take too long, should it?”

“It’s out by the old Corvega plant,” Galen replied. The mayor’s intensity was catching, and a strange smile crossed the pink dreg’s face. “You’re good people, Hancock.”

“By the smile of Heaven, I am a free and independent man,” he grinned, tipping his hat toward him over his shoulder as he ducked out the balcony door at the end of the room.

#fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #hancock #john hancock #fallout 4 #the purkinje effect #fo4 oc #fallout 4 oc #geek #bonus points for a game of guess who

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bonumetmalum-blog1 · 7 years ago

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Mal frowned, slumping down onto a couch. Gil wanted to experience a real Christmas and while she wanted to join his enthusiasm she was just too drained to even consider it. Her break up with Ben hadn’t been as quiet as she’d hoped, she still had feelings for him but she couldn’t handle the stress of being his girlfriend and everything that came with it. If she thought not being with him would ease that, she hadn’t realised how determined the reporters were to get a story.

Hiding in Harry and Gil’s dorm the pixie stared up at the magnificent tree the boys had dragged in. “Here ta help us wit’ the tree are ye?” Harry’s voice boomed across the room, the seductive pirate swaggering in with a box of decorations.

“I’ll watch you decorate it.” Mal replied, not even moving from her spot. Green eyes moved from the box Harry had set down to the one in Gil’s arms. “Did you buy those or steal them?”

Harry’s face cracked into a wicked grin. “Ask no questions, be told no lies lass.” Giving her the answer she’d expected. Well, what was the harm in letting the boys have their first real Christmas?

Christmas didn’t exist on the Isle of the Lost, at least not the way it did in Auradon. There were no decorations, no Christmas trees, no snow, no cheer and certainly no presents, at least not among the adults. Secretly Mal and Jay had traded a trinket each year but that was the extent of celebrations on the Isle.

Harry, Gil and Dizzy were recent additions to Auradon and while Harry had a rocky start, Gil and Dizzy had embraced the Auradonian way, especially holidays. Dizzy was in Mal and Evie’s dorm every afternoon working with the seamstress to create whatever gifts the girl had for her friends, as well as making accessories to go with Evie’s creations for any parties the students might have. Meanwhile Gil just wanted to experience everything, grabbing books on the subject just to make sure his Christmas was as Auradonian as possible. Harry was just going along with what Gil wanted, it seemed the best way to make the blond happy and as unpredictable as the pirate was, he liked making Gil happy.

“Come on Mal, you gotta help us decorate. It’ll be fun.” Gil beamed at her, his smile faultering slightly when she didn’t move. He’d read that whole families decorated the tree together and since coming to Auradon Mal had become important to Gil.

Mal waved him off, she just needed some time with her thoughts. “I’m not really feeling the cheer right now. You two decorate it, I’ll just…watch you two.” Gil looked like he was about to say something only to have Harry mutter a few words in his ear, no doubt telling him what had happened earlier.

It had just been a really bad day. Grabbing her morning coffee Doug had bumped into her spilling coffee all over her. By the time Mal had gone back to her room, washed the coffee off and changed her shirt breakfast was over, which meant she’d had to suffer the first three periods without coffee or breakfast. Heading between classes a couple of boys had been horsing around and Mal ended up slammed into a locker. And then to top it all off Ben was walking around with a new girl on his arm. They weren’t together anymore and they’d both moved on but it didn’t sting any less to see him with someone else.

“What do you think? Christmas-y enough?” Mal glanced up at Gil’s voice, expecting to see a decorated tree, what she didn’t expect was to see Gil completely naked except for layers of tinsel wrapped around his waist draped just enough to obscure his necessities from view. Green eyes blinked owlishly at the sight, the corners of her lips threatening to curl into a grin but she kept her mask in place.

“Nah, not yet mate, ye missin’ somethin’.” Harry chortled at his friend, a santa hat jammed over his tricorn so th white fur could just be seen past the black brim. Digging around in a box Harry pulled out two large baubles and an even larger plastic candy cane, hanging them from the front of Gil’s tinsel. “Much better.”

The sight of the blond dancing around to Christmas tunes, reindeer antlers on his head, tinsel at his waist and a pair of baubles and a candy cane swinging between his legs shattered Mal’s mask. Hands clutched around her waist she disolved into a fit of giggles, eyes welling with tears she was laughing so hard. Panting for breath Mal looked up to see Gil and Harry standing before her, each offering a hand to the pixie.

Smiling she let them pull her up, it was impossible to be sad around them. “Now there’s our wild little lass.” Harry crowed delightedly, as Gil greeted her with a kiss before the brunet pirate did the same. “We thought we’d lost ye.”

Mal’s fingers twined with theirs, leaning in to Gil’s shoulder while brushing her thumb over Harry’s cheek. The rest of Auradon might not understand what they shared, but they did, and that was all that mattered. At least to them.

It had begun with Harry, Mal had always shared a strange connection with him, a magnetic pull that always seemed to keep drawing them together. They’d been somewhat together on the Isle but never truly been free to explore what they shared. Mal was so set on shoving her emotions into a small box and locking them away that she hadn’t realised how much she actually liked Harry. Unfortunately Harry had always known how he felt about Mal. Auradon was a new chance for both of them, finally free to discover just how strong their bond was.

Gil was a happy addition to their relationship, as tender as Harry was passionate, and he adored them both. It was different and not a traditional relationship for Auradon, but they didn’t care. They were happy and that was all that mattered.

“Who needs a ‘perk-up’ when I have you two?” Green eyes rolled as the boys slipped a red santa hat on her head. With a flash of magic, the red turned purple. “Much better.” Leaning in she kissed them both one last time before flashing them a taunting smile. “And I will be right back.” Tapping their noses lightly she dashed out of the room, her holiday cheer restored.

Walking back into Harry and Gil’s room Mal smiled at the boys. “I made gingerbread and eggnog that’s more ‘nog’ than ‘egg’ if you know what I mean.” Setting down her treats she turned to stare at the tree. It was beautiful, lights sparkling, decorations reflecting their light, and her two boys standing before the tree.

“It just needs one more thing.” Gil told her, moving behind her before ducking his head between her legs, lifting her up to sit on his shoulders. Harry held up a star to the pixie, grinning as she accepted it from him. “We waited for you. Only felt right that we do it together.”

“That an’ there was no way I was gettin’ on ‘is shoulders.” Harry scoffed as she reached up to place the star on the top of the tree. Turning around Gil tilted backwards slightly, making Mal slide off to flop down on Harry’s bed.

Kicking her boots off Mal smiled as Harry and Gil came to lay down beside her. Munching fresh gingerbread and sipping on eggnog they gazed at the tree. They stayed up smiling and swapping stories until all three fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s warmth.

#strawberryprincessofdarkness #this is so cute!!#( save. )#submission

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 8 years ago

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Yo Ho, It’s a Pirate Halloween

Notes: Once again, gotta thank @welllpthisishappening for listening to me babble on about this drabble and others like in the works. Without her encouragement, I probably would do nothing with this. Beth, Wes and Harrison belong to this asshole here.

Summary: Emma has plans for this Halloween. Her family isn’t being the most compliant to said plans as she finds herself making deals with both Killian and her children.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,6000+

“Westley Graham Jones, stop squirming,” Emma hissed at her son as she pulled her eyeliner pen away from his face, giving him a stern look. Her six year old did not look impressed by this. Wes was always a wriggler as an infant, even more so now that he had grown enough where he could finally use all that energy. Normally, Emma loved how lively he was, but if he didn’t stop moving, all of her hard work was going to end in disaster.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He whined, wrinkling his nose at her in displeasure and shifting on his feet in irritation. The kid really just didn’t stop.

“Because you, Little Duck, are the Dread Pirate Roberts,” Emma responded, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. “And the Dread Pirate Roberts has a mustache and if you stop moving around, we can get this over with.”

“I wanted to be Buzz Lightyear,” Wes muttered with a pout, but staying still enough so that Emma could finish penciling in a thin mustache on his upper lip. She finished her task with flourish despite the beseeching look in his wide baby blue eyes to stop, cease and desist.

“But being Buzz Lightyear doesn’t give you extra candy in your basket, does it?” Emma asked wryly, reminding Wes of the promise that she had made them all when she had decided to go forth with her Halloween plans. Ever since her daughter had been able to walk, she had wanted to do this.

“Stop whining and let Mom do it,” her older son Harrison commented from his place on the couch. He was laying on it rather precariously with half of his body on the couch, the other half hanging over the side; his little eight-year-old form contorted in such a fashion that he was upside down with his head merely a few inches away from the unforgiving hard wood floor. Emma had no idea how he’s been able to lay like that for so long without all the blood rushing to his head. Harrison and his line of thinking was a bit of a mystery sometimes.

“Harrison, get up and sit properly! You’re making me nervous,” she admonished him while she capped her eyeliner pen, pleased with her work. She gave Wes a gentle pat on the head, heedful not to jostle the carefully wrapped bandana that kept his wild blonde hair from sight. She was going to have a hell of a time convincing him to wear the mask later as it was without having to re-tie the damn thing.

Harrison pulled a face in response like the typical eight-year old he was, but complied, crossing his arms in front of his chest and offering her the same pout she had seen Killian pull a million times. Like father, like son as the saying went. It only made her snort and bite the comment back. The poor kid was going to get a complex or something if they kept mentioning the likeness between him and his father.

“Well, what do we think of our Pirate King?” Henry’s question pulled Emma from her reverie and she turned to look at her eldest child carrying her youngest, both of them with matching grins and dressed in their costumes. Henry looked like he had pilfered the majority of his clothes from Killian’s closet, leather jacket and white v-neck linen shirt fitting loosely while her daughter looked positively adorable, wearing a costume maroon vest, brown beeches and a black tricorn hat that looked two sizes too big for her head. Emma couldn’t stop herself from grinning at the sight.

“You look gorgeous, Your Majesty,” Emma grinned at her daughter, taking the child’s tiny hand off Henry’s shoulders and giving it a light kiss on the knuckles as she knew Killian would do in this situation. Her daughter, ever the precocious one, made an unaffected sniff at the playing gesture. Both Henry and Emma laughed.

“Captain,” she replied, the hand Emma kissed giving a casual wave as if dismissing her.

“What do Pirate Kings say when they are complemented, Beth?” Henry asked, raising his eyebrows at his little sister and shifting her in his arms so he could bare her weight better. At four-years of age, Beth was getting heavier and heavier and Emma was amazed that Henry hadn’t put her down yet, but then again, Henry was more than dutiful in his role as an older brother to his far younger siblings. It often made Emma’s heart want to burst.

“Thank you, Captain,” Beth replied again, looking at Henry in slight irritation; annoyed to be called out on her manners. Emma chuckled at her expression and leaned forward to kiss her dark brow.

“Thank you, Henry.” Emma turned her attention to her eldest son, rubbing her thumb against the line of his cheek. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that he was in college and nearly grown. The fourteen years that had passed since he had found her in Boston seemed have passed like a blur. Twenty-eight year old Emma and forty-two year old Emma belonged in almost entirely different universes; light years away from each other. She had Henry to thank for that.

The front door opened and a familiar heavy footfall followed. Killian was home and the entire mood of the house changed. Her boys, both grouchy and full of sass this afternoon, were now standing at attention with smiles on their faces as they turn to face their father.

“What is all of this?” Killian asked with a quirk of his brow as he casually tossed his keys into the dish next to the door, his blue eyes surveying the scene in mild interest. The entire living room was in chaos with black linen shirts, feathered hats, toy guns and candy littering the floor. Emma was slightly surprised that Killian’s fingers hadn’t twitched in need to fix the mess; not that he was given much time to really assess it as both Harrison and Wes scrambled to greet him. Both of her little ones flank Killian’s sides, Harrison’s dark head resting in the crook of his father’s arm while Wes clung to his knee, not tall enough yet to reach Killian’s waist. There’s barely two years between her sons, but their difference in height was so stark that she doubted Wes would ever catch up to Harrison.

“Halloween,” Emma replied simply, gesturing to the candy.

“This is quite the production, Swan.” Killian patted Harrison on the back good-naturedly before bringing up his hand to worry his jaw as he continued to look around the room at the Halloween explosion that had taken over their house. She could already see the anxiety in his gaze over the amount of pick-up that needed to be done.

“Yeah, but I’ve wanted to do this for awhile now and now I can.”

The explanation was simple enough, however what she didn’t mention was that her plans had been in response to her own parents’ Halloween plans. Since Neal and the newest addition to the Charming Family, Emma’s sister Ruthie, were old enough to appreciate Halloween, they had done family themed costumes like the obnoxiously cute couple that they were. They had been Salt, Pepper, Paprika and Cinnamon from Blue Clues last year. This year they were the Ninja Turtles. It wasn’t that Emma felt the need to compete with them, however this was something she couldn’t pass up. Ever since Henry had made a comment on the subtle pirate theme behind his siblings’ names, she knew it was something that needed to happen.

“And I wanted to be Buzz Lightyear…” Wes grumbled again, looking up at his father with big sad puppy eyes as if imploring him for assistance against his mother’s nefarious plans.

“Hey! I promised to double your candy if you were the Dread Pirate Roberts!” Emma reminded her son, placing her hands on her hips and arching an eyebrow at him. He had agreed to this; there was no way her little punk was reneging on their deal. They had shook on it.

“And why can’t he be Buzz Lightyear?” Killian asked, gently rubbing circles into Wes’s shoulder with his prosthetic hand. Wes leaned against Killian in response, his head resting just under the pocket of Killian’s jeans.

“Because we’re themed this year. And the category is Disney pirates,” Emma said as if it were obvious.

Killian made no immediate comment to her declaration, merely rose both eyebrows at her in a way that Emma knew well enough to interpret as him silently saying “As you wish.” Both boys seemed to understand that no intervention was going to take place on their behalf and slipped away from the room, no doubt to find something nefarious to do.

“I’m the Pirate King, Daddy,” Beth exclaimed, her fist raised in the air as if to add dramatic flair to her announcement. Leave it to her daughter to inherit her husband’s melodramatic tendencies. She was going to be a hellion when she finally hit her teenage years. Emma could already see it.

Killian’s eyes lit up at the declaration and a hearty chuckle left his lips as he transversed across the room. There was a small rare smile on Killian’s face, one that was especially reserved for their daughter. Killian loved all of their children, of this Emma had no question, however there was incredibly special bond between him and their daughter; a connection that went beyond Emma’s full understanding but she had watched it grow from the moment Beth had opened her eyes. It made her heartache.

“If I recall correctly, Little Love, you are already a pirate queen,” Killian responded, his eyes entirely on Beth as he settled at Emma’s side, giving her hip a squeeze and bestowing a kiss on her temple in greeting. Emma immediately curled her arm around his waist, smiling and leaning against his shoulder.

“Yes, Beth Jones is the Pirate Queen,” Emma chuckled, leaning forward to tap Beth on the nose. Beth’s face scrunched at the gesture and little giggles followed. “But it’s Halloween, and now she’s Elizabeth Swann the Pirate King and Wes is the Princess Bride-”

“Hey! I’m not the Princess BRIDE! I’m the Dread Pirate Roberts!” Wes interrupted with a scowl as he and Harrison returned into the room, this time holding the large bowl of Halloween candy that Emma had painstakingly tried to hide from her sweet-toothed children. As if to make a point, Wes took a Twix bar out of the bowl, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth all while keeping in eye contact with Emma. She narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, we know. Wes is the Dread Pirate Roberts FROM the Princess Bride. Harrison is, of course, Han Solo and Henry is Jim Hawkins from Treasure Planet,” Emma stated in annoyance, reaching over and taking the candy bowl from Wes’s grasp.

Her six-year old put up a token protest, but did little more than yelp and glare as Emma passed the bowl to Killian. Her husband chuckled, shaking his head and muttering something about ‘little pirates’ under his breath before walking over to the mantle and placing the candy bowl on top, keeping it in sight and out of the reach of mischievous small children.

“And because I’m Han Solo, I don’t get a sword,” Harrison grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest, causing his black costume vest to crinkle.

Both Emma and Killian exchanged a look at Harrison’s complaining, not entirely understanding the significance of not having a sword. He had never shown interest in them before, even when David and Killian had offered to teach them how to use them with practice swords made of wooden sticks.

“No, you get a blaster and that’s just as good. We can be blaster buddies together, Harrison!” Henry said with a laugh, placing Beth back down on the floor; releasing her from her perch on Henry’s hip. Beth immediately made a bee-line for Killian while Henry made his way over to Harrison and gave his dark mane of hair a firm good-natured ruffle. Harrison beamed in response, looking up at Henry with absolute hero worship in his eyes.

“Wanna go find matching blasters, bud?” Henry asked his younger brother, his fingers still raking through Harrison’s mop.

Harrison nodded his head eagerly at Henry’s question, taking his older brother’s hand without much warning and nearly dragging Henry up the stairs to no doubt tear their way through Harrison’s toy chest until they found matching toy guns that were fit to Harrison’s meticulous standards. The boy was a picky one and Emma had just spent a good hour and a half looking at costume vests that met his approval before he agreed to be Han Solo for Halloween.

“I can see that and who are you supposed to be in that ridiculous getup, Swan?” Killian asked, eying Emma’s own clothing as he pulled Beth up, placed a kiss on her forehead and cradled her against his hip.

Emma laughed for a moment, looking down at her attire. For her own Halloween outfit, she had chosen a scarlet red greatcoat, maroon knee breeches, a dressy pink silk shirt and a frilly white cravat necktie. She offered her husband a smirk as she snatched the absurdly large feathered hat and placed it upon her head with flourish.

“Captain Hook!” She declared, giving Killian a mock bow.

Emma watched with amusement as the muscle in Killian’s cheek twitched, a sure sign that her husband was biting back his irritation. He gave her a look of pure annoyance, slightly jostling their giggling daughter as he walked forward to inspect her rather flamboyant attire. Killian carefully dropped Beth to the floor. Beth made a noise of protest, but Killian ignored it in favor of examining Emma’s outfit. Sensing she no longer had her father’s attention, Beth joined Wes on the couch, both of them half-heartedly watching television in an attempt to distract themselves from their own displeasure.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in such an ensemble,” Killian muttered, picking at her greatcoat in distaste.

“Yes, it’s farther into the Purple Rain category than you’re willing to go, but alas I’m Disney you and that isn’t the real you. I’ve also never seen Mr. Smee wear stripes, but that’s what you’re wearing tonight, babe.”

Emma picked up the blue striped shirt and bright red beanie that laying on the table next to her hat and tossed both articles at him. Killian let out a scoff, picking up both the hat and shirt gingerly by the tips of his fingers, as if he wanted the absolute minimum contact he could manage with the offending pieces of clothing.

“I’m not going as Mr. Smee, Swan.”

Emma, who had been married to Killian long enough to know that she could get him to bend to anything if she played her cards right, merely smirked at him for a moment before stepping forward to crowd his personal space. Placing a hand on his chest, Emma looked up at him through her lashes.

“Killian...if you do this for me...there will be a lot of pancakes in your future,” Emma stated in a low voice, making sure the little ears in the room weren’t able to pick up on their conversation. They’ve taken to speaking in code in front of their children about things of a more adult nature, but Emma knew that it was only a matter of time before they picked up on the fact they were definitely not talking about pancakes and got too curious. “...Lots and lots of pancakes.”

“There’s already a lot of pancakes in my future, love.” Killian replied, not convinced. He looked down at her, eyebrow once again crooked in lieu of an unspoken challenge.

“Yes, I know, but these are specialty pancakes, Killian. Anytime, anywhere, anything...within reason,” she chuckled, running her hands down his torso in emphasis. She watched as he processed her words, his expressive face giving way to the conflict underneath as he weighed his options. He wanted to give in, she could tell, but his pride wouldn’t let him give in without a fight.

“Define ‘within reason’, love,” Killian whispered as he stepped closer, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

Emma stepped back from him, giving her husband a glare while she crossed her arms in front of her chest to let him know how unimpressed she was with him. She glanced briefly towards the little ones on the couch, making sure that they weren’t watching the display.

“Killian, we’ve been married for nearly ten years. If you don’t know what’s within reason in regards to pancakes, we have a serious problem!” Emma hissed at him, before giving him a whack on the shoulder. Killian merely chuckled.

“I’m teasing you, Swan,” he smirked, capturing the hand that smacked him and giving it a delicate kiss on the knuckles that didn’t match the burning look in his eyes. He knew her weaknesses just as well as she knew his.

“I got that, but babe, pancakes is no laughing matter especially when we’re dealing with the K-I-D-S’s.”

She tilted her head towards their two youngest children sitting on the couch to emphasize her point. Both were now watching them with interest. Emma groaned internally. It was only a matter of time before they started asking uncomfortable questions. She wasn’t quite ready for those days to come.

“I want pancakes too, Daddy!” Beth declared, pushing herself up on the large arm of the sofa in order to look at them.

Both Emma and Killian stiffened at the statement, looking at each other as if silently begging the other how to proceed on this front. The nerve in Killian’s cheek ticked again while Emma tried to keep back her nervous laughter. He gave her shoulder a squeeze before answering their daughter.

“Not until you’re thirty-five and married, love. That’s a grown up treat,” Killian answered smoothly, turning his attention back to Emma before Beth could get another word in. “You’ve made your point and have yourself a deal, Swan, but I expect delivery on those pancakes to start tonight.”

“Just because they have no idea what you’re talking about doesn’t mean I don’t,” Henry called in disgust over their shoulders, walking back into the living room with Harrison in tow. Harrison was clutching Henry’s hand, swinging them with the merriment of a content child as they approached; blasters in hand.

“You’re a man grown, Henry, I think you’ll survive,” Killian remarked dryly.

“I might, but it’s possible that this one and the other two will need therapy early in life,” Henry sassed back, looking down at Harrison and giving their clasped hands a squeeze. Harrison looked up at his older brother in confusion, but thankfully said nothing.

Emma merely rolled her eyes.

“Very funny,” she remarked, placing a hand on her hip. “Are Mr. Hawkins and Captain Solo ready to go?”

“Yes Captain!” Henry answered, giving a mock salute before leaning over to tickle Harrison’s ribs. Harrison squealed in response, trying to wiggle away from Henry’s fingers but completely trapped in the circle of his older brother’s arms. Emma grinned at the scene, shaking her head before turning her attention back to Killian.

“We wait at your leisure, Mr. Smee,” she drawled casually while gesturing to the small clothing pile he had made when he dropped the shirt and beanie in favor of their negotiations, for a lack of a better term.

“Aye, Captain,” Killian chuckled, giving his wife a smirk and a wink before undoing the buttons of his waistcoat with ease and pulling his dress shirt over his head, not even bothering with those set of buttons. Henry made a choked tittering noise behind them.

“Seriously, you’re getting undressed right here?” Henry asked in exasperation. “There are innocent eyes in the room.”

“Is Daddy naked?” Beth asked in a horrified whisper, whipping her head around to focus on the scene that was taking place behind the couch. Her green eyes wide as saucers.

Killian laughed, tossing both articles of clothing on the table in a more careful fashion than Emma would have ever accomplished. The man was a neat freak. He was also half naked and smirking at her in ways that made the bottom of her stomach swoop. Killian was no longer as young as he used to be, but he was still in incredible shape and if anything, the gray coming in at his temples and streaking across his torso only made him look more distinguished. He had aged well despite his initial panic and fears. Now, the only problem was that he knew it and used it against her in ways that she could only describe as delightfully vicious.

“Relax, it’s just skin. Nothing you haven’t seen before when we’ve gone to the beach, Little Beth,” Killian reassured their daughter with a casual wave of his hand, not even amping down the smolder he was sending towards Emma. She was fighting back her own grin.

“Seriously guys, cut the bedroom eyes!” Henry replied, snapping his fingers as if he physically needed to break the tension between his mother and stepfather. “There are kids in need of candy!”

“Candy that you said you would double, Mom! Don’t forget that!” Wes called from the couch, eying Emma suspiciously as if he was expecting her to double cross him at any moment. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I remember,” she replied. “A deal is a deal.”

“You would think after all of these years, you would learn not to make deals with pirates, Swan,” Killian chuckled, playfully tsking her as he pulled the striped shirt over his head and down his body. Emma’s jaw clenched at the snug fit. Perhaps she should have gotten a size up, if only for her sanity...and the sanity of the mothers who would be helping their little ones trick-or-treating tonight.

“How do I look?” He asked as he pulled the red beanie over his head and gave a turn so Emma could get the full effect.

“Like a dashing first mate, sailor,” Emma replied, giving him a look as she picked up the clunky plastic hook that had come with her outfit and pulled it over her hand.

Henry and Harrison both groaned at the exchange, making Emma and Killian laugh. Emma wasn’t quite certain Harrison actually understood what was so disgusting about their banter, but knew that regardless he was going to do exactly what Henry said or did. It was kinda adorable to see. Emma watched Killian out of the corner of her eye as she giggled, and she could see the faraway look in his eyes despite his own chuckling. She could tell by the wistful smile that took over his face that he was thinking about Liam and his own childhood while looking at the boys. She knew it couldn’t be helped, but she did hope that he was at least thinking back on good memories, as few and far in between had been for him.

“Can we go now since Daddy isn’t naked?” Beth asked, looking at them with an impatient expression. Her four-year old looked like she was on the verge of scolding them. It nearly sent Emma into another round of hysterics. Her kids were too much sometimes.

“Yes, yes, we can go now,” Emma replied, giving her daughter a patient smile. “Now go get your candy baskets or else you’re not going to be able to haul any loot.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Wes scrambled off the couch to pick up his plastic pumpkin basket and facing his parents with the most grave expression Emma had ever seen a six-year old wear. “This double candy thing? Is it by piece or are you just doubling it by refilling our baskets? Because if you’re just refilling our baskets, can I go get a pillowcase?”

Emma’s jaw dropped. She stared at her son, unable to speak for a moment; opening and closing her mouth in succession a few times but no words coming out. Without answering Wes, she turned to face her husband.

“I blame you for this,” she stated, shock evident in her tone.

Killian gave a casual shrug in response, seemingly not bothered by the fact their son was trying to renegotiate her candy terms.

“It was a good question. A pirate needs to know his terms, love, or else he misses out on a bigger boon,” Killian replied, once more picking up their daughter and kissing her forehead to hide his smirk. Emma narrowed her eyes at him before turning her attention back to Wes.

“I’m just refilling the baskets and no, you may not get a pillowcase. That’s it. That’s the deal. No more additions, exceptions or subtractions. Got it?” She stated, waving her plastic hook at her son in emphasis.

Wes gave her a sour look, but nodded in compliance, obviously upset that he wasn’t getting more out of their deal. Emma merely shook her head in exasperation. Like with Beth, she was already fearing his teenage years. He was going to be the worst.

“Alright, crew! Are we ready to go?” Killian asked them, clapping his hand and prosthetic together in hopes of commanding their children’s attention. Emma arched an eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me? Who is the captain here?” She asked, cocking a hand on her hip

“My apologies, Swan. Please proceed to take the reins,” he responded. His words were polite, but the look in his eyes said she was going to pay for this in the most delightful way when they would be alone later. She honestly couldn’t wait.

“Alright, bilge rats, we ready?” Emma asked, shaking her head and smiling.

“Yes!!!” Harrison, Wes and Beth chorused in excitement. Her three youngest all lined at the door, looking like race horses gnawing at the bit and waiting for the gates to open. Only Henry loomed behind, picking up the candy by the mantle with a wistful smile on his face.

“Henry, you ready?” Emma asked, arching an eyebrow at him and tilting her head towards the door.

Her eldest gave her a bewildered look as if he had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. His fingers drumming anxiously against the candy bowl.

“I thought you wanted me on candy duty so you and Killian could take them trick-or-treating? Isn’t that why you called me back from school?” Henry asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Killian and Emma looked at each other in puzzlement, silently questioning the other how Henry had gotten that impression. They had called him home because they hadn’t seen him since they had dropped him off for school in September and his absence had been one sorely missed and constantly questioned by their other children. Harrison, who was the most attached to Henry, inquired about Henry’s status almost daily, following it up by FaceTiming his older brother on the regular.

“Absolutely not,” Killian answered. “You’re here because you’re part of the crew and no man gets left behind on this ship. We’re just gonna leave the bowl on the front step and hope the good kids of Storybrooke have a sense of honor enough to take just one piece instead of the entire bowl.” He paused for a moment and looked back at Emma. “Was that answer out of line, Captain?”

“That answer was perfect, Mr. Smee,” Emma replied, nudging him with her fake hook before addressing Henry. “Now get in line, Mr. Hawkins, before I punish you for desertion.”

Henry’s smile was almost too big for his face as he joined his little siblings at the front door. Immediately he had to balance the candy bowl on his hip as Harrison practically yanked Henry’s arm to take his hand. Beth giggled at the sight while Wes took the opportunity to steal another piece of candy from the bowl. Emma took Killian’s hand and gave it a squeeze before ushering their children out the door.

“Alright, Joneses. Let’s get us some loot.”

#captain swan ff #cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #cs fanfiction #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #ouat ff #ouat fanfiction #captain swan #cs babies #little pirates #glad this is done #now wedding!!!#my fic #my shit #harrison jones #wes jones #beth jones #little pirates fic

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doublerumnukacola · 6 years ago

Text

You’re in Goodneighbor

Sole had barely touched the rum, nursing it with sips as she moved through the crowd. It was too strong on its own, not that she’d admit it. Then a familiar scent was on the air. The smell of dust and hay, peppermint and smoke…

“Hope you’ve been having a good time without me.” Hancock said from behind her. She whipped around to see him grinning, hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry I’m late, I was held up at a prior engagement.” He had to raise his raspy voice to carry over the music and crowds. Sole strained to hear him. He frowned, then pointed at the state house. Sole smiled and nodded.

The State House was empty, on orders of Fahrenheit. Last time the party spilled into it, all her papers ended up being burned, soiled, and eaten. Not to mention what they did to the office itself. Hancock recalled the events fondly, particularly the jet-fueled orgy.

They went up the stairs slowly, Hancock lagging behind. Sole looked back in Concern.

“You ok there, champ?” She asked, stopping at the top. “One too many hits of calmex?” He chuckled softly, making it one step at a time.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He said breathlessly. Finally he reached the top. “Fuck. I'm hungry.” He laughed weakly. Sole raised an eyebrow. He looked paler than usual, slower. “Good thing I keep a stash under my desk…” He moved toward the desk, crouching down to pull out a Vault-tech lunchbox. He popped it open and his tired smile widened. “Jackpot.” Sole got closer, peering over his shoulder. It was packed with junkfood. Smushed snack cakes and rolls of gum drops lay beside a tin of potato crisps. She smiled, a little nostalgic at the sight of the prewar stash.

She went to the dusty couch and sat down, letting the ghoul ravage the lunch box like a true feral.

“You should eat something other than sugar. I make a mean radstag stew. And I can make Salisbury steak edible.” Sole offered, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. “Give me ten minutes and I could even rustle up some mutt chops. Don't ask how.” Hancock looked up at her, face smeared with snack cake.

“No thanks.” He answered through a mouthful of cake. “Really craving that sugar high.”

“You told me off once for eating a sweet roll. Told me sugar killed your aunt.” Sole said dryly. He was hiding something and it annoyed the fuck out of her.

“Sugar killed my aunt?” He asked curiously, popping a gum drop.

“Oh no, she joined the children of atom and died to a mole rat. The sugar didn't help though.” Sole answered with a wry smile. Hancock stopped, and broke out in a laugh.

“Did I really say that?” He asked, putting down the lunchbox. “That doesn't sound anything like me.” Sole breathed a sigh of relief, at least he was well enough to take a joke.

“Nah, just keeping you on your toes.” She replied. Her smile fell. “Hancock… You know you got people here… who care for you…” His own words were thrown back at him. He sighed. It was gonna have to come out sooner than later.

“You caught me.” He sighed, putting away the lunchbox.

“So… What is it?” Sole asked, moving to sit beside the ghoul on the floor. “Must be strong to have you this bad. Some hybrid lovechild between Daddy-o and Daytripper? Some kind of herbal stimulant?” He shook his head.

“None of the above.” He admitted under his breath. He paused, looking around cautiously. “I’m, uh, clean…” He breathed the last word.

“You're… I can't tell if you're bullshitting me.” Sole said softly, gauging his expression. He was deadly serious. “Shit… Since when?”

“After I saw you… Amari fixed me with some kind of addictol.” Hancock answered softly, his hoarse voice barely a whisper. “You were right. Getting too dependant on the shit. Needed a fresh start, in more ways than one.”

“So you’re going straight?” She asked, he snorted. “That's a no?”

“Well, the point of the clean slate was to start using chems again, not the other way around.” Hancock started. “In practice it's not that easy. Gotta work out a way to fix the damage, then I can start over.” A smile came over Sole’s face. “What's tickled you, sunshine?”

“Just, glad.” She breathed, as If a weight was lifted from her. “It’d be nice to see you without the chemical entourage.”

“Don't get used to it, Sister.” Hancock assured. “Soon as Amari figures something out, I’ll be back to my old self.” She sighed.

“What brought this on then? I’ve been on your case since we met.” She asked. He coughed, looking away, a slight flush returning to his face.

“Well, I’ve been thinking. Mayoral life’s been getting too comfortable, the ol’ tricorns getting mighty heavy, ya dig?” He explained, pulling the same hat over his face a little, trying to shade some of the flush. “I was thinking of taking a leave of absence. Might tag along with you, if You’ll take me.” Sole’s smile returned.

“The farewell party was for you?!” She laughed, playfully shoving him. “You had me stressed over something for nothing! I thought it was a fancy name for an orgy!”

“Well let's not rule anything out… I mean you still have that Shroud costume…” He smirked.

“The Silver Shroud would never besmirch the cloth that represents justice with such debauchery!” Sole replied, in her best Shroud voice. He chuckled.

“You don't think he and the Mistress of Mystery didn't ‘besmirch’ it from time to time?” Hancock teased.

“I’ll concede to that.” Sole admitted with a soft smile. “Here's a question, though. Can you still drink?”

“Amari didn't say nothing about drink.” He grinned, starting to pull himself up, using the desk as support. “Care to help me make a complete fool of myself?” He offered her a hand up, which took.

“You don't need any help with that.” She replied, using him to haul herself up. He struggled a bit under the weight but managed to stay on his feet.

“But you might.” Hancock teased. “Can't be the only one without dignity in Goodneighbor.”

“You’re in Goodneighbor.” Sole laughed. “You can count on half a hand anyone left with dignity.”

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

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purkinje-effect · 7 years ago

Text

The Purkinje Effect, 23

Table of Contents

“Name y’poison.” Geek slurred and poked at one of the Neighborhood Watch ghouls. “S, ss’on me.”

“I think you should go sit yourself down,” the cockney-programmed Mr. Handy interrupted, nonchalantly cleaning out a glass with a dish rag and its pincers as it balanced a bowler on its domed top. “…After buyin’ this fine gentle-ghoul a beah.”

“Ssh, sure thing, Charlie. Anything for you, you sh– shiny bastard.” The pink ghoul slapped fifteen dollars on the counter in front of the guardsman in a three-piece suit. “Y’want a Gwinnett? He’s got all the Gwinnett you can chug.”

The ghoul thanked him, unsure as to the correct response.

The Third Rail wasn’t especially large, having once been the loading platform to the Blue Line. Down the stairs and to the left, one found the stage act, and to the right, the VIP lounge which had once been the station general store. The bar itself was straight ahead through a smattering of mismatched kitchen tables with a variety of chairs. A thick arch of smoke, from tobacco and Jet alike, veiled the ceiling, and lent a unique vaporous aroma to the thriving hub.

Geek sat himself on a pool chair in the corner with a bottle of whiskey, next to Hancock. Hancock had resumed the mayoral frock and tricorn Geek had come to know him for. The two melted into the furniture and soaked up the jazz noir the Rail’s own red flower, the sequin-gowned Magnolia, filled the place with.

“You do know this is my bar, right,” Hancock murmured into Geek’s shoulder. “You just dumped all your hard earned cash into Goodneighbor’s coffers. Keeping this place running funds upkeep on the city. Such generosity, such beneficence. Today, you’re the Patron Saint of Goodneighbor.”

“Are you tryin’ t’tell me gettin’ drunk here has a purpose?”

“Hey now.” Hancock shoved him playfully. “Don’t it always?” He took a swig off his bourbon. “You… you holding up all right? Breakfast of champions, am I right?”

“My only complaint is that I find myself even harder t’get drunk. Guessin’ it has somethin’ t’do with scar tissue and all that ss, stuff.”

“If this is a ghoul thing, it’s only partly that. Heh. Why do you think I do everything to excess? Every ghoul I’ve ever met has had something about em’s louder than any human. Demeanor, interest, appetite. Aspirations. Even good ol’ Kent over at the Memory Den, my man’s thing is potent and grandiose memories. The nerve just don’t work the same after the radiation damage. It takes a lot to… properly stimulate a ghoul.”

“Are you proposin’ the kinda experimentation I think you are?”

“I wouldn’t be against it, whenever you felt up to it, that’s for damn sure.”

“I’ll drink t’that.” He did.

“I’ll drink to you drinkin’ to that.” He did.

“And I’ll drink t’you drinkin’ t’my drink.” He did. “Keep this up an’ I just might actually get drunk tonight.”

“…All jokes aside, I’ve been meanin’ t’ask ya. Been eatin’ at me since we headed back this way.” Geek looked to Hancock expectantly. “Did you… know that shot would do this to ya?”

“–Fuck no. This is probably just about the last thing I could’a expected. But I figure anything could’a been better’n how I was goin’. …Ss, sorry if that sounds ss, ssh, selfish.”

“I’m sure you woke up to the lot of us yelling at each other. We thought you were dead. I… I was struggling with the idea you’d died so quick after meeting you. To be perfectly honest, traveling with you has been one of the smartest decisions I think I’ve ever made. I haven’t always been the smartest, or the bravest. I’ve made mistakes. Heck, I continue makin’ ‘em.”

“Hey now. I don’t fault ya f’what happened cause of the sS Psycho. You mean it, though? You actually like bein’ around me?”

“I continue to see myself in you more and more with every passing day, and to see you thrive with things I feel we have in common brightens and warms me as much as a good glass of bourbon. You’re like sunshine.” Hancock smiled privately after another sip. “What kept me together in the fuss was hoping, ah. This ain’t an easy thing to admit, even with the liquor. Even going into it, it sounds selfish. Since the night at the gravel pit, I couldn’t stop thinking about you turning ghoul somehow, so we could do this long-term. I can’t help but feel like I willed this on ya.”

“There’s a lotta power to a man’s dreams.” And nightmares. Further comment was drowned out by more whiskey.

“…I told you about my run-in with Vic, but I never really explained me going out into the ruins on my personal Renaissance. You know I’m not stranger to the chem life. I came across a hit of an experimental radioactive drug, last hit of its kind. I knew what it’d do to me. I did it anyway. I figure if I couldn’t see the bastard in the mirror anymore that I was before the drug… All the terrible things I let happen that I felt I had no agency to intervene in… Maybe it’d end it for me. Best hit of my life, I gotta tell you. But… every ending is a new beginning. If anything, you of all things have proven that to me. Reflecting back on my life, I’m ready to stop running from myself, thanks to you bein’ in it.”

Geek stared into the mouth of his now-empty whiskey.

“Guessin’ this might a made me more attractive to ya. …Heh…” The pink ghoul looked up at the beautiful singer at the mic on stage across the room. “Could’a ended up with any girl in the Commonwealth, an’ ya got stuck with me.”

“I could say the same to you.” Hancock reached over like he was trying to grab the whiskey bottle, but grabbed something else instead, eliciting a wheeze. “I don’t think the injection did all too much to that.”

“That’s… some Halloween costume, Blue.”

Geek and Hancock straightened up to find a familiar dark-haired woman in a newboy cap and red coat standing before them, her face not quite visibly frozen in alarm. Geek glanced dismissively to his Pipboy to check the date. He regained eye contact while he picked at his empty socket not unlike one might pick his nose, detachedly fishing a finger around in it.

“It’s not too real, is it?” He rubbed the oil he’d found, around between his fingers, eye shut in thought. “…Tch, funny. Hadn’t heard anybody mention Halloween in ages.”

“Eugh. I just… I had to find you again. I had to know if you were okay. And when I heard a rumor a pink wastelander had taken up in Goodneighbor, I had to investigate. Turned out to be true.”

“More like y’had t’know if I’d figured out more of the bullshit going on in my vault. Like how the paste turned out t’be just plastic? That’s a real hilarious one. A dogged reporter told me that one. Y’might a heard about that, though.” He lit a cigarette and let out the first breath through his gashed nostrils. “Y’lied t’me ‘bout that doctor bein’ a bad lead.”

“If you don’t mind, Miss Wright, we were in the middle of a private conversation.”

“Pardon me, Mayor. Unlike you helping him drown himself into alcoholic oblivion, I want to figure out what’s wrong with his vault, so I can help him fix it and get his folks better!”

Hancock straightened forward, intensity in his rigid features.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what’s going on between him n’ me.”

Incredulous, she gesticulated aggressively with her hands a moment, then pointed accusingly at the mayor with a sharpened brow and a snarl.

“I know he probably wouldn’t be your pink lookalike if it wasn’t for you!”

Glass erupted with a bang. Geek had thrown down the whiskey bottle between his feet.

“Are y’tryin’ t’start a bar fight? Because it sounds like y’steerin’ for a bar fight.”

Piper softened, nearly sorrowful at being shut down like this.

“Have you completely given up on saving your people, Blue? Just feel like detaching from reality instead of addressing the real life threatening issues you’ve got going there? I traveled all the way up here, on a hunch, just to check in on you, and I find you a wad of pink ghoul jerky chewed up by my SECOND least favorite mayor in the Commonwealth.” Her tone spluttered into bitterness. “When’s your flavor gonna run out, Blue? When’s he gonna spit you out… or swallow you?”

Geek just stared at her a good bit. Needing another hit off his cigarette was the only thing that unstuck him. He looked down at his glass mess and nudged it with his feet.

“What do you really want.”

“I want answers. And I thought you did, too.” She shook her head slowly at him.

“I found my answers. You should find the door. This is a celebration, not a pity party. Do I look miserable t’you?”

She slapped her legs and threw her hands up.

“Fine. If you’re going to just… give up. I’ll go. I’ll go myself.”

If Hancock hadn’t formed a reflexive iron grip on Geek’s thigh, the pink dreg would have shot right up into her face. The mayor nonchalantly finished off his bourbon, and calmly set down the bottle on the coffee table in front of them.

“YOU CAN’T GO THERE!” Geek slouched back into the couch, withdrawing into his own ferocity. “You can’t. Y’won’t find answers in 82. Just more problems.”

“You’re a mess. Coming here was the worst thing you could have done. All I can hope is that it helped, me telling ya where the Vault-Tec building was. If you even got that far…” The reporter helped herself to a Nuka Cola off the coffee table, and tipped her hat brim at the two ghouls. “Forget you.”

Once Piper had ascended the subway stairs and exited, Hancock let go.

“The fuck was that?” he asked Geek.

“She… We met in Diamond City. She wanted an interview. Fascinated by me. After, she was convinced she had t’take me to the HQ building herself, personally. Things didn’t get that far, clearly. My compulsions, and security, got to me first.” Geek pulled the cork off a bottle of vodka with his teeth and swallowed it, and started in on the liquor. “More I see of that girl, more I’m convinced she’s just a morbid-curious driver slowing past a seven-car pile-up on the interchange. Keeps takin’ the exit just t’loop back around for a second look, too.”

“She means well. She’s just too pointed when her heart’s in it. She’s been like that since she was a kid.”

“You know her? Like, actually know her?”

“I’m from Diamond City. Course I know her.” He leaned into Geek, and draped an arm across his shoulder. “She’s gotta point, y’know. A real misguided one without all the details, but. You think you can safely say that serum evened you out and you feel healthy again? I know you well enough by know to suspect you’ve been trying to fabricate a plan to take Tinker Tom out to the Deep South of the Commonwealth.”

“They’re probably better off dead.” He let it linger too long without elaboration. “Poisoning an’ starvation are a hell of a way to go, but being alive two hundred years, when you’re too scared to come up top so you just lock yourself in y’bedroom unless it’s mess hall hour? With the same twenty-three books to read over and over. The gym equipment is worn to annihilation. Y’try t’create t’pass the time… but then when you’re done with your grand opus two years later, whadda y'do with the next ten? And now… now I’m sure this serum made me a ghoul? Am I gonna live another two hundred years? What do I do with that?”

“You’re up top now, for one thing. And… and you’re with me, long as you want me to be. There’s a whole wide wasteland to sightsee. And a whole lotta wickedness that needs its head bashed in. If they don’t know they’ve got this choice, they don’t know they have a choice. You felt trapped there. Went crazy inside your head a bit, ‘cause you’re intelligent. But you came all the way out here to Scollay Square to find answers, and I feel like you’re onto finding a solution, too. We really should figure out a way to at least pitch Tom’s serum to them, and make it your folks’ choice.”

Geek chugged the rest of the vodka in one go, set the bottle down, and stood.

“I’m not the only one who went crazy inside his head in Vault 82.”

Then he walked off to clear his head.

#fallout 4 fanfic #hancock #piper wright #fo4 fanfic #fallout 4 o #fo4 oc #fallout 4 #geek #the purkinje effect #excessive alcohol tw

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purkinje-effect · 7 years ago

Text

The Purkinje Effect, 10

Table of Contents

“Considering your grand entrance, I wouldn’t doubt that,” the colonial ghoul started, crossing his arms. “You might be seein’ pink Radroaches, but you’re not hallucinatin’ yours truly.”

“Ah, Mayor! I was wondering if you’d stop by.” Daisy smiled warmly at him, her deeply scarred cheeks creasing in admiration. He tipped his tricorner hat to her, and Galen stood at Daisy’s greeting their leader.

“Daisy. I didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” The Mayor turned to Galen, smirking. “The name’s Hancock.”

The ex-vaultie choking up behind a smile, and rubbed his nape sheepishly with his left hand while offering the right for a handshake.

“You have a fine town, Mayor.”

“I’ve got my place here, but it ain’t a one-man act, keepin’ this place flying. You... gotta name?” The ghoul figurehead pulled Galen’s hand a bit closer to him with his head cocked askew. “I mean, for now it’ll do to call after ya by description, but what are we to do if another pink fella walks in here?”

Seeking some construct of forgiveness and understanding, Galen’s dark eyes met Hancock’s, which were replete pitch.

“I-- I’m sorry, I’ve got so bad at first meetings. It’s been too long. I’m... I’m just some freakshow geek.”

Hancock burst out laughing and grabbed him with one arm around his shoulder. The ghoulish figure stood about Galen’s height, and was stronger than his physique might have suggested. Shaking him a few times, he held Galen tight and used his free hand to gesticulate animatedly with Daisy.

“Daisy! Don’t we know a thing or two about freaks here in Goodneighbor?”

“Well, how many of us are there now, including our friend here? Thirty? Enough for a circus, I’d imagine,” she replied with sly enthusiasm. “He’ll try to bullshit you, Hancock, but he’s at least being honest about the geek part.”

“Seems he’s made his first friend with the most bookish ghoul in Boston, then.”

“Oh, I’m not sure that he’s that kind of a geek. Though he, like myself, does still owe a book he lent from the Library.” Daisy leaned on the stairs behind her, bearing her weight on one arm. “I take it you’d bite off a chicken’s head if I had one. Or are you more of a... sword swallower?” She chuckled darkly to herself.

Hancock let go of Galen, who then shot Daisy a real sorry look, somehow shocked to be so candidly humiliated during his first meeting with their leader. Perhaps layers of deprecation were how they got acquainted with one another. Galen shoved down his flinch, and snorted with a shrug.

“I know what I like.”

The response got a laugh out of Daisy. Too, Hancock chortled nasally.

"Y’got moxie,” the mayor said, his posture relaxing. “That’ll go far ‘round here. And hear me out: A lotta people go about reinventing themselves in these parts, myself included. I wasn’t always this roguishly handsome, for one. The golden rule of Goodneighbor is to live free. Y’feel me? And if that means you want to be free of whoever it is you were before you stepped in my town... then that’s your right.”

“I got a lot in my head, to put my house in order.” Galen sighed. “You don’t suppose I could stick around a bit, do some odd jobs, make myself useful? This is the first place that hasn’t tried to run me out, run me down, or run me through since I left Worcester.”

“You bet your pink behind. When you feel up to it, rub elbows and maybe offer to scratch a few backs. Pretty much everybody here’s itchin’ for something, and all that can mean. Maybe tomorrow, you’ll be a bit more together and you an’ me can walk and talk. And maybe you’ll know better who to tell me you are. In the mean time, gather your stuff come over to the Statehouse, and let Dais’ get t’bed. There’s a spare sleeping bag with your name on it tonight, and it’s getting late, even for me. Talk to the Neighborhood Watch. I’ll tell them to expect ya.”

Hancock patted Galen reassuringly on the cheek, then shot Daisy a finger-gun and took his leave.

“Daisy...?” Galen began vaguely, watching the living anachronism saunter away.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, ear-to-ear, and motioned toward where she’d hung up his jumpsuit to dry. “All your things are under the stairs, sweetie. Go get some rest. Maybe next time you come my way, we can talk books.”

“Sounds a delight. Maybe I’ll even come back and browse.”

Once she’d indicated the location of all his things, he went over to the front corner to immediately slip out of the vault suit and into the green mechanic’s suit. Although his gloves and work boots were dry as well, they were encrusted with muck and blood. He put the boots on anyway, but added the gloves and vault suit to his duffel, then slung the thing across his chest and over his back.

“I hope you have a good evening,” he thanked again. “One more thing, though? Is Mayor Hancock always... like that?” He wagged a pink finger vaguely at the direction the charismatic ghoul had exited.

“With every breath.”

Galen let out a simple chuckle as he left.

“There’s our pink geek,” one Watch ghoul called out from across the way, his grip on his submachine gun loosening as it fell to his thigh. “Evenin’ to ya. Say Harold, I’ll be back in a minute. You,” he pointed to Galen, then flicked his finger gently in beckoning, “Mayor says t’follow me. Y’get a ground floor place tonight.”

“You’re all extending such enormous hospitality to me,” Galen replied, running his hand over his hair as he glanced about the well-survived building upon entry. The greater part of it was darker than outside had been, making it difficult to make out much more than the sound of his heavy steps on the wooden floors. “It... means a bunch.”

“Just promise me y’not a total louse, aight? We got our fair share of destitute misfits in Goodneighbor, but we got ground rules: No stealin’, an’ treat people like they deserve t’be treated. We take care of our own, but ain’t a body in this town’s got time for that rubbish.” The guard extended a hand toward the corner where a straw pillow lay atop a sleeping bag, with a lantern, then with faked legerdemain he demonstrated that the door didn’t have a lock by jiggling the handle. Galen nodded and set his bag down by the bedding.

“I’ve got no intention to screw up the only good thing I’ve currently got goin’ for me.”

“That’s what I like t’hear. Now be quiet and bed down. I don’t wanna have to come check on you.”

Before Galen could answer, the Watch ghoul had shut the door behind him. So, he shucked off his shoes once more, with a one-two thud, and drew his hood up over his head to curl up in the sleeping bag. Having gone without a proper pillow for a month, he fell asleep the moment his eyes shut.

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