#MR. KELLOGG I WOULD LIKE A FUCKING WORD

[lastoneout]

I know this is a tiny part of the wider problems born of diet culture, fatphobia, classism, and racism but like god the idea that "healthy" food must inherently taste bad has completely ruined us as a society.

[sirmanmister]

The Father(s) and Son(s)

The sound of exactly twenty-three caps hitting the table was distractingly clear in the noise of the loud room, and MacCready’s abrupt laugh was even louder.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” he laughed, and Damien scowled. “Jeez I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything serious out of a Vault dweller, but this is down-right hilarious!”

“C’mon, man, I haven’t exactly had time for a job, alright? I’ll get you more if you can tell me where Kellogg is."

Or: Damien’s paternal instincts get projected onto a stubborn young mercenary.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43924293/chapters/110441163

Chapter 1: The Mercenary

Music drifted over the Third Rail like fog on an early morning, the air just as humid and thick with unwashed bodies and sour beer. 

The lights were dim, the floor crowded and loud as patrons day-drank, and a pretty woman in a red dress stepped onto the stage in the corner, giving small waves as the crowd cheered.

She began her set, a lilting jazz song that lulled the rowdiness of the drunks; a pleasant background noise to the mumbled chatter that echoed down the subway tunnel that the bar was built in.

“Hey, handsome, you got a light?”

A man swathed in a blue jumpsuit looked down to see a young woman hanging onto his arm, looking up at him with big brown eyes and mascara’d lashes, which she fluttered up at him.

He almost couldn’t hear her over the din of the room and the deafness in his left ear. 

“I’ll lend it to you if you answer a question,” Damien said with a raised brow, ancient Bostonian accent slinging his words loose.

“‘Course, sugar,” the woman giggled, a hand wrapping around his waist.  

“I’m lookin’ for a guy,” he said.  “Got a kid with him, less than a year old.  Have you seen him?”

He held up a piece of scrap paper, where he had drawn out a crude visage of the man that had killed his wife and taken his son.

“Oh,” the woman said, her rosy red lips pressing into a frown.  “Why’re you lookin’ for him?”  Her tone turned sour, accusing, and she tried to step away.

Damien’s arm shot out and snatched the hand she put at his waist, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know him?” He asked. “Do you know where Kellogg is?”

“‘Course I don’t, you sick fuck,” the woman said, wrenching her arm away.  “I don’t even wanna know what you want with him.  Stay away from me.”

He let her dissolve back into the crowd, scowling.

Nick had warned him of this.

Conrad Kellogg was a bad, bad man.

Assassinations, extortion, torture, kidnapping, it was all just services he offered.  He’d do any job out there, so long as the pay was right. Diamond City was too good for a man like Kellogg, but Goodneighbour wasn’t.  People in places like these gave people like Kellogg business, people recognized him, knew his name before Damien could open his mouth, but nobody was talking.

They didn’t know Damien like they knew Nick, who was wrapped up in conversation with a Mr. Handy at the bar, surrounded with people he had helped in the past.

They knew he was a detective, more man than machine, they knew he had good reasons to look for Kellogg.

But the people Damien talked to, begged for information, they didn’t know him.  They saw a man desperate to find another renowned for his cruelty, and they would have no part in assisting him, brushing him away before he could explain his reasons, and when he did, it didn’t matter in the end— Nobody knew where Kellogg was.

None of the few people Damien had talked to did, at least.

There were at least two dozen people in the bar, somebody had to know something. He couldn’t give up so easily.

He approached a table in the corner, where four women sat, and he offered a smile.

“Excuse me ladies, I hate to bother you, but do you mind if I ask you a couple questions?” he asked, and they shared glances as they giggled. 

“Ooh, this one’s got manners!” one cooed.

“That’s rare nowadays.�� Maybe we should have been looking for a Vault boy this whole time,” another said.

“Ooh, exotic,” another woman laughed.

“Always loved the polite ones.  You keep anything but muscles in that tight-fittin’ Vault suit of yours?” the fourth woman teased, reaching out to brush Damien’s leg.

He stepped back, fighting a blush and not succeeding.

“Sorry, I’m really just lookin’ for a guy, alright?  He looks like this.”  He put his drawing of Kellogg on the table, and they passed it around. 

“Handsome. Looks like my ex!” one woman said.

“The one who fucked a ghoul?” another asked.

“The very one! Too bad that feral killed the bastard, I wanted to do it myself.”

“Oh, I always thought Jared was sweet.  Aside from the ghoul thing, of course.”

“C’mon, cut the gas, girls.  I’m being serious,” Damien urged.  “This guy kidnapped my son and killed my wife, okay? He’s dangerous.  Have you heard anything about this guy? Anything at all?”

Damien’s voice lilted to desperate at the end, and he forced himself to swallow down the emotion.  He’d hardly been able to control them the past few days, and he was getting damn tired of being a hat’s toss away from bursting into tears.  A man should have had better control over himself. 

The ladies, whom Damien was now realizing were quite intoxicated, all took on strange expressions.

“Ugh, I’m never going to find love again,” one sighed dramatically.

“Don’t be so hasty,” another chided.  “Dads have a sort of wild side to them that they can’t let out with the kids around.”

“You could be my daddy anyday,” another giggled.

“Oh you poor thing,” the last woman said, ignoring her colleagues.  “Too bad about your kid, but if you ever want to make another one…”

She winked and all her friends squealed with laughter, chastising her for being so naughty.

Damien, meanwhile, was trying to decide if he was the type of man to hit a woman.

“You fuckin’ skanks,” he hissed instead, fists balled at his sides.  “Choke on your own dad’s dick, you fucking cunts.”  

They all laughed and cooed and mocked him as Damien hurried away, trying to reel in his fury before it bubbled up to something worse.  

Beneath the anger, he was appalled; at the women, and at himself.  Damien had never been so disrespectful to any lady in his life, but the insults had poured out of him like a bitter drink that he couldn’t stop, and he hadn’t wanted to. 

Who were they to make such lewd jokes and comments while Damien’s son was on the line? How could they hear of his tragedy and have the gall to laugh in his face? Damien felt his insults were justified, but there was an undercurrent of shame with it, his own morals trodden in the absence of their own. 

But Damien couldn’t even fathom the idea of trying to apologize without red encroaching on the corners of his vision. 

As much as the women deserved to have their teeth kicked in, picking a fight wouldn’t do him or Shaun any good.

So Damien forced himself to calm, rubbing his thumbs across the crescent moon marks his fingernails had made in his palms and took slow, deliberate breaths.  Shaun was the only thing that mattered, not those bitches. 

After a few, long moments, his head finally cleared enough to think straight, and Damien sunk back into the crowd, casting the women from his thoughts as he went from table to table, apologizing for interrupting to the more open patrons and plowing right over their conversations to the more cagey ones.  Most of them were unhelpful, and a few were apologetic when he told them what Kellogg had done to Nora and Shaun, but most told him to fuck off once they’d answered his questions.

He came across a group of stereotypical rough guys playing poker around a table.

“‘Scuse me, fellas,” Damien greeted, internally wincing as the laughter he’d just interrupted died away.  “Can I-?”

“Aw fuck off, man,” one man huffed.  “We’ve seen you wanderin’ all over.  You lookin’ for a mercenary, go find MacCready and stop botherin’ us.”

Damien paused.

“Where’s this MacCready guy?”

“VIP room over there,” the man said, gesturing to a room across the pub.  “He’s a lil’ guy, all skinny with a stupid hat.  Can’t miss him.”

“Thanks.”  Damien turned and hurried away. 

It was better than nothing.

Nick was wrapped up in a conversation with a small group of drifters, so Damien didn’t bother trying to get his attention, venturing to the VIP room alone.  At first he was surprised that there was no bouncer, until he realized exactly who inhabited the room.

Intimidating men and one or two women sat at couches and tables in the small, humid space, talking loudly and sipping on beers.  Rough, scarred, armoured.  These people didn’t need protection, they were the protection.  

Damien scanned the crowd, eyes washing over the tough guys and bad boys until his gaze landed on a figure in the back. 

He wore a tan duster and green conductor’s cap, sitting alone with a beer in hand.  He was young, slender, but obviously quite lean underneath his oversized clothes. 

He wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t quite fit in, so easy to spot with that bright hat. 

Bingo. 

Damien approached and asked, “You MacCready?” 

His shadow fell over the slight man like a comedically oppressive force, and the mercenary puffed himself up, becoming rigid and sharp and his fingers tightened white around his beer bottle.

“I am,” MacCready replied, eyes narrowed.  “The hell do you want?”

“To talk to you,” Damien said calmly.  “Heard you’re a mercenary.  Mind if I sit?”

MacCready’s brow creased slightly, and his eyes raked up and down Damien’s form, hesitant when they landed on blue.  He seemed to realize he’d misread the situation, and slowly sat back.

“Fine,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him, so Damien sat.  “This about a job?”

“A job somebody else did,” Damien said.  “There’s a guy I’m looking for, and he’s a mercenary, too.  I was wondering if you two might have crossed paths.”

He slid Kellogg’s paper across the table. 

MacCready frowned at it, thinking, then huffed and crossed his arms.

“I don’t do things for free,” he said simply.  

Oh.

Damien should have known.  MacCready was a mercenary.  Everything had a pricetag. 

Since Nick had brought Damien into the loop about the world’s current currency, Damien had made sure to start looting the almost-garbage bottle caps from the raiders he had encountered on the way to Goodneighbour, but even he knew he didn’t have much. 

The sound of exactly twenty-three caps hitting the table was distractingly clear in the noise of the loud room, and MacCready’s abrupt laugh was even louder.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” he laughed, and Damien scowled.  “Jeez I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything serious out of a Vault dweller, but this is down-right hilarious!”

“C’mon, man, I haven’t exactly had time for a job, alright? I’ll get you more if you can tell me where this guy is,” Damien said. 

MacCready snorted.

“What, first day in the wasteland?” 

“Third, actually,” Damien huffed, and MacCready’s brows rose in a sarcastic “ooh is that so?” sort of way over his bottle.  

“Look, alright, I get it.  This ain’t a lot of money, but I’m a man of my word, and-”

“Oh please,” MacCready interrupted with a scoff.  “If I believed every guy that said they were a man of their word, I would be dead at least eleven times over.  I don’t care if you’ve been in the wasteland for ten years or ten hours, I don’t owe you anything.”

He said it with so much finality that Damien almost believed him.

Almost.

“‘Course not,” Damien replied.  “Nobody owes nobody shit.  I’ve just gotta know, are you buddies with this guy? Don’t wanna snitch cuz he’ll do somethin’ to you?”

Now that Damien thought about it, why was a kid doing work like this? MacCready couldn’t have been much older than twenty.  Mercenary work was brutal, Damien was sure, but money was money, and if this kid was in debt…

“Nobody does nothing to me,” MacCready said firmly.  “And I don’t do nothing for nobody, unless they pay me.  Which you can’t, so goodbye.”

Damien’s hands clenched and unclenched under the table.

“I bet you don’t even know the guy I’m talking about,” he scoffed, indignant as anger throbbed like an ache in the back of his head.  “Ruthless.  Cold.  This guy is one of the big ones, cost you a fortune just to make him take your garbage out.”  Damien shook his head and spat.  “He’d never want to hang out with a small fry like you anyway.”

MacCready wrinkled his nose, glaring at Damien as his grip tightened around his beer again.

“And I take that as a compliment for my moral standards,” he sneered.  “Kellogg is batsh- Uh, nevermind.”

MacCready realized his mistake when Damien lit up.

“So you do know him?” 

“Even if I did, it’s none of your business.” 

“His entire fucking life is my business, because I’m going to fucking kill him,”

MacCready’s eyes narrowed, and Damien’s declaration hung in the air for a long moment.

“You want to find Kellogg, you can find two hundred caps and buy the info off me,” MacCready said, and it truly was final this time, his arms crossed and chin raised with youthful stubbornness.

Damien wondered if he was too proud to hit a teenager.

A flood of hopelessness suddenly swelled, washing over Damien like a tsunami, snuffing out his rage like water to a flame as he drowned.  

He leaned back in his chair and pressed his burning face into his hands, eyes stinging with shame.  

Information on Shaun’s kidnapper was right there, but Damien was utterly powerless to get it because of a goddamn paywall.

It was a measly two hundred bucks, his monthly car payments cost more, but Damien was such a lousy father he couldn’t cough it up for the most important boy in the world.  

Shaun could be anywhere by now.  He could be dead, or dying, or worse, and Damien couldn’t help him because of money he was stupid enough to not have. 

“Aw jeez, are you crying?” MacCready winced, obviously uncomfortable, but he made no move to extend condolences.

Damien let out a hollow laugh that nearly turned into a sob, and he struggled to hold the rest of his tears back as he rested his elbows on the table.

He couldn’t even blame MacCready, really.  No man worth his salt broke into tears at simply being told “no.” 

“Aw c’mon, dude, don’t make a scene,” MacCready chastised.  “Be a man about it.  There’s still some dignity in this.”

“You really think I’ve walked around half of Boston in a blue onesie worried about my dignity?” Damien laughed bitterly, and raised his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  Maybe when you’re older you’ll care about someone so much that dignity’s the last thing on your mind.”

For some reason, that struck a chord.

“Who the hell says I don’t care about somebody that much?” MacCready snapped.  “You don’t know me, pal.  You don’t know what I’ve done.  You don’t know the sacrifices I’ve made for people, how much stupid dignity I’ve given up already, alright? So don’t give me that bullcrap.”

Damien could hardly muster the energy to lean back in his chair, much less raise his voice and get into some pointless argument about sacrifice. 

“Do you want to be a father, Mac?” Damien asked quietly, and the merc went silent.  “Because I am one.  It’s a different kinda love, y’know?  I loved my wife with my whole heart, but there are some things I wouldn’t do for her, right?  But my son? I would claw the moon outta the damn sky if he asked.”

MacCready glanced away, but Damien continued, monotone and tired.

“This guy…” he gestured a limp hand to Kellogg’s drawing.  “He murdered my wife and stole my infant son out of her cold, dead arms.  He kidnapped my baby boy, and you’re telling me to have some goddamn dignity?” Damien let out a congested, bitter laugh, followed by a sniffle.  “I pray to god you’ll never have a kid you can’t protect, Mac.  This is a new kind of hell.”

MacCready flinched.  

It was barely noticeable, barely more than a twitch, but his brow creased and his mouth pressed into a straight thin line.

Tense, miserable silence followed, and it was a long time before either man spoke.

“...Kellogg kidnapped your kid, huh?” MacCready said quietly, eyes glued to the table.

“Even went through the effort to break into our Vault to do it.”

MacCready nodded slowly and let out a sigh, then looked at Damien.  Something familiar shone in those bright blue eyes, something that Damien had seen in the mirror more times than he could count.  

Guilt.

“Listen, I’m not in the habit of accepting such crap offers, so you keep this on the down low, understand?” MacCready hissed under his breath as he swept the caps off the table and into his pocket, and Damien’s eyes widened.  He nodded quickly, leaning forward so fast he almost got a head rush.   

“Kellogg is bad news with a capital B, alright? You don’t want to mess with him.  He’s one of the most dangerous men in the Commonwealth, and he knows it.  No job’s too dirty for him, and he’s dang good at what he does,” MacCready said, still hushed.  “When people tell him no witnesses, there are no witnesses.”

“But… he left me alive,” Damien said, and MacCready shrugged.

“Then whoever hired him must have not wanted you dead,” he said.  “Whatever the case, this guy is a professional.  Heard he doesn’t even have any enemies because he’s killed them all.”

Except for me, Damien thought, hands balling into fists, nails digging into the tender spots of his palms.  He almost didn’t care how or why somebody had hired Kellogg, but there were too many questions that begged for answers.  Why kidnap a baby? Why kill his mother but leave his father alive? How had they gotten inside the Vault? How had they even known there were people alive down there in the first place?  

“He comes through here every so often to pick up a few jobs that nobody else’ll touch,” MacCready continued.  “But I haven’t seen him in… eight weeks, I think? He was up on the street with some black guy in a weird leather jacket, talking about doing a big job and that he was needed in… Fort Haggis?”  

“Fort Hagen?”  Damien supplied.  An old Army base to the East.  He had been posted there a few times during the War.

“That’s the one,” MacCready said, snapping his fingers.  “Yeah.  Then they both gave me the stink eye for eavesdropping and I left pretty quick.  Because like I said, you don’t mess with Kellogg.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Damien said, and he meant it.  

“It doesn’t matter if you’re scared or not, he’s going to turn you into dust,” MacCready scoffed, but there was a lilt of irritation to his words, like he didn’t enjoy the thought of Damien going and throwing his life at something he saw as guaranteed death.  “You may think you’re hot sh- You may think you’re all that because you made it to Goodneighbour in one piece, but I’m warning you, man, Kellogg is dangerous.”

“Thanks, Mac, but don’t worry about me,” Damien said, making to stand.  “I’m dangerous, too.”

“Oh cut that badass crap,” MacCready snorted.  “And I’m not worried about you.  I’m just saying that if you were smart, you’d wait until you could scrounge up the money and hire an extra gun to help you.”

Damien chuckled and clapped MacCready on the shoulder, accidentally jostling the smaller man.

“‘Spose you’d be that extra gun, huh?” he teased, but then said sincerely, “I really appreciate your help, MacCready.  I won’t be forgetting it any time soon.”

MacCready seemed baffled by Damien’s earnesty, and blurted out, “Good luck finding your son.”

Damien smiled, nodded, and left.  He’d had enough detours— There was no time to waste.  

He ran into Nick by the stairs, where he was talking with a ghoul in a black tux, which Damien belatedly realized was the cleanest piece of clothing he’d seen thus far.

“Ah, there he is,” Nick said, turning.  “Where’d you run off to?”

“I got a lead,” Damien said in a rush, and Nick’s brow plates rose.  “Fort Hagen.  I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

He grabbed Nick’s arm and hauled the synth up the stairs, casting a brief “Have a nice afternoon,” to the disgruntled ghoul they left in the dust.

They were out of Goodneighbour and Damien was already mentally plotting a route to Fort Hagen when Nick placed a gentle hand on his arm, cold and rubbery, prompting him to stop his rushed pace through the ruined streets.  

“Hey.  Kellogg is no man to mess with,” Nick said.  “There’s a reason he’s been at the top of the game for so long, we can’t just rush in there without a plan.”

Offence rose like flames, and Damien bared his teeth. 

“He has my son,” he hissed.  “I don’t fucking care who he is, I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m sure you will,” Nick said, holding up his hands placatingly.  “But it might kill you, too, and that doesn’t do your son any favours.”

Damien blew air through his nose hard, nostrils flaring as he glared at the ground past Nick’s kind face.  He knew that, of course he knew that, but what else was he supposed to do? Not even try?

“Listen, let’s stop by Diamond City, it’s already on our way.  I want to stop in and tell Ellie I’m okay, and we can get you stocked up with armour and ammo, huh? We’re going to need all the firepower we can spare.”

Damien was quiet a long moment. 

“I don’t have any more money,” he admitted.  “Spent it getting info.”

“I’ll foot the bill,” Nick said easily.  “Owe you that much.”

Damien thought back to MacCready for just a moment, a brief fire of his brain as he contemplated asking Nick for two hundred dollars to get an extra gun, but he already knew that was asking too much.  He didn’t even want to go back into Goodneighbour, not while Finn’s body still lay in the street and skeevy people leered at his Vault suit, and MacCready was just a kid, anyway, no reason to put another one at risk. 

“Okay,” Damien said eventually.  “Lead the way.”

Chapter 2: Link

[viewfromthevault]

can i get an uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nicky boy

Send me a character…

Nick Valentine

First impression:

Okay this is gonna get wacky as fuck. Before I actually started playing Fallout 4 I’d watch youtube videos talking about video games etc, namely Outside Xbox, and I had Nick Valentine mixed up with so many different fallout characters. To begin with I thought he was a ghoul, don’t ask me why because I still don’t know myself. Then I thought he was Mr. New Vegas, then after that I thought he was the Vault-tec rep. Then my final conclusion was that he was a robot that fucking murdered you with words anytime you were an ass to him… which isn’t really all that far off.

Impression now:

He’s a real neat character and one of my faves. If it weren’t for me actually taking time to know other companions, Nick along with Preston, Dogmeat and Piper would be the only companions I would have played with back when I was real new to the game because I thought the other companions were bad people??? He’s one of the few companions that actually got a story and it was a pretty interesting one, too.

Favorite moment:

Finding case notes on the Mysterious Stranger under his bed. Bet you he’s got a cork board full of papers, grainy photographs and yarn trying to connect it all somewhere in the agency. Also whenever he yells “SO LONG!”

Idea for a story:

One idea for a story is to elaborate on that whole Kellogg head thing, of course. So many questions left unanswered…

Another small story would be Nick making the connection that the Old Nick knew of Phoebe way back in the day. He was friends with a skilled lawyer that always used to talk about this new girl whom he took under his wing because of how much she was struggling and getting no help from anyone else in the firm.

 Unpopular opinion:

hhhhh jeepers, I don’t know. Guess one would be that I’m not all that shook up about Nick being unromancible without mods? I mean, sure, the game doesn’t let it be official, but you have the ability to make it so on your own. You can take a hammer and FIX the canon!

Favorite relationship:

I think my favorite relationship would be the one Nick shares with the Sole Survivor. With the memories of someone from before the bombs, he knows what the Sole Survivor must be going through when they wake up and find themselves in this completely new world. He’s got father figure potential with the main character and I love me some good found family kush. 

Favorite headcanon:

Synth Shaun loves him. Nick is very much his role model. He likes to dress in the matching hat and trench coat Ellie gives you and run around Sanctuary solving mysteries. It really warms Nick’s synthetic heart because lots of the Diamond City kids are afraid of him thanks to synth paranoia. To have a kid want to grow up to be like him is a really nice feeling.

[antiquechampagne]

Chapter 17 - Voices

Walking down the stairs, Payne could hear Magnolia crooning long before she reached the landing. As she crossed to the bar, she spotted Nick Valentine at a table smoking a cigarette, listening. Grabbing a Cram sandwich from Charley, Payne headed over.

“May I?” she asked.

Nick motioned to the chair next to him; never taking his glowing yellow eyes off the stage. “Did John send you to keep tabs on me?”

“No. Should he?”

Valentine huffed. Payne patiently ate her food, waiting until Magnolia took a breather to try to break the ice.

“So it seems you two have locked horns before.”

“You don’t say.” Nick replied dryly. “I wonder how you got that impression.”

“Hancock told me his version. I was wondering if I could get yours.”

“What is there to tell? He fought to keep the ghouls in Diamond City. I couldn’t afford such a luxury, much to his infuriation. It’s not that I agreed with McDonough... far from it. But I can’t exactly hide the fact that I am a synth living in a human city, complete with a healthy fear of the Institute.” He snubbed his cigarette out. “I kept my nose out of it to save my own hide. I’m not proud of that fact but we both did what we felt we had to do at the time. Now, I am still helping people that need it… and he is too. We just do it in different ways.”

“Were you guys close before?”

“John was one of the first people in Diamond City to treat me like a person and not some kind of threat.” Nick scowled. “Look, I know why John holds a grudge against me, and from a certain point of view, maybe he is right. He’s not really one to let those kind of grudges go either. So I stay away from Goodneighbor as much as I can.”

“But you are back now?” Payne motioned for Charley to bring her another drink.

“Yeah, Nate saved my can in a big way, so I am trying to repay the debt. If I can help him find his son, then it is worth ruffling Hancock’s feathers.”

“Nate’s a good guy.”

“He is. He deserves to find out what happened to his boy.”

“Mind if I ask you something else?”

“Mind if I don’t answer?” Nick retorted.

Payne shrugged. “Fair enough. Now, I haven’t been in Boston for very long… but I haven’t heard of a synth that looks or acts like you do.”

Valentine rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment. From as far as I can tell, I am the only one like me they ever made. A failed Institute experiment, I suppose. Thrown out like trash when they were done poking and prodding.”

Nate appeared at the bottom of the stairs and headed over to their table.

“Nick… Dr. Amari took a look and said that piece of Kellogg’s brain might just work. She just about done prepping.” Nate paused. “Nick, you know you don’t have to do this. We could try and find another way.” Nate looked worried.

“If there is another way, I’m all ears, but we are running out of options. Unless you know some other way into the Institute… It’s worth the risk.”

Nick tipped his hat to Payne as he followed Nate out. Payne finished her drink and headed back to the bar. There was work to do and taxes weren’t going to collect themselves.

Taking her time and chatting, Payne returned to the state house a few hours later. Irma has been pretty tight lipped about what ever Nate and Nick were doing in the basement, but Daisy enjoyed talking her ear off about the new books Nate had dropped off from the library.

Fahrenheit leaned against the wall as Payne walked up, fingers massaging her temples.

“How is he?” Payne asked.

“Angsty.” Fahr replied.

“Great. Think company will make him better or worse?”

“Who knows…”

Payne gave her a knowing pat on the shoulder as she passed into the building. She found Hancock brooding in the office, standing behind a couch, arms braced against the back. His stance reminded Payne of a CEO scowling down at his lackeys across a board room table.

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.” Payne sassed at him as she tossed the satchel full of caps on the couch.

Hancock grunted.

“You should stop stewing on it, you’ll get wrinkles.” A corner of Hancock’s lips started to curl into a smile. “And grey hair.” He shook his head as his smile continues to grow.

“Damn it, Payne. I was trying real hard to look all broody and you just had to go and fuck that up, didn’t you?”

“I can’t have you stealing my act… gloomy and dark is my bag.”

He leapt over the back of the couch, landing deftly on the red cushions. “So, get into any trouble while you were gallivanting around town with my money?”

“Nothing so grand. I did snag a quick lunch down in the bar… with Valentine.” The scowl returned to his face. “I wanted to see what he had to say.”

“And…?”

“He basically agreed with you. He didn’t try and stop the ghouls from being evicted because he was afraid the crowd would turn on him next” Hancock’s expression changed to one of validation. Before he could get a word in, Payne continued. “And he feels horrible about it.” Hancock’s face slowly fell.

“Besides, I don’t envy whatever Amari is trying to help Nate find his boy. Sounds like it involved hooking Valentine up to one of those pods and trying to read some dead guys brain.”

“Why would they need to do that?” Hancock had a clear distaste for what might be happening in his town.

“Guess this Kellogg guy knows something about the Institute? I didn’t really catch much.”

Hancock rose to his feet. “Kellogg? Did you say Kellogg?”

Payne sat back, confused. “Yeah… they have a piece of his brain at least. Why?”

“Kellogg is… was an enforcer for the Institute. A cold blooded killer the Institute uses when coursers couldn’t be risked. And they killed him?” Hancock’s mind kicked into gear. “If they want to put that murderer’s brain or memory into Valentine, which could be very bad.”

Hancock grabbed his coat and hat, heading out the door with Payne in tow. Fahrenheit barely managed a “What?” as they passed. Payne shrugged in her direction before waving her to follow. As they trotted down the street, Payne filled her in briefly.

Once inside the Memory Den, Hancock headed towards the back, intending to go straight down stairs into the basement before Irma rose from her dais intercepted him.

“Honey, just where do you think you are going?” She eyed Payne and Fahrenheit suspiciously.

“Just a little mayoral business.”

“John, you can’t go down there right now!” Irma positioned her body between Hancock and the stairs leading down.

“Irma, I know what’s going on and…

Before he could finish, behind Irma, Nate appeared helping Valentine up the stairs.

Nate looked up confused. “Irma, what’s all this about?”

“You should have told me what you were planning on doing!” Hancock interrupted. Nate and Hancock started arguing, but Payne watched Valentine as he wobbled uneasily to a couch across the room. She stepped closer to him.

“Are you okay, Nick?” He didn’t answer, but sat there robotically.

Fahrenheit noticed her attention was not on the spat. She nodded her head towards Valentine, silently questioning Payne while keeping an eye on her agitated employer.

Payne shrugged. She had no idea what was going on, but something felt off.

Nate broke away from Hancock and strode towards Nick. “Nick…”

Nick turned and locked eyes with Nate. A gravely sinister voice answered him, freezing nearly everyone in the room. “Hope you got what you were looking for inside my head.” Payne drew her weapon, aiming it at Valentine. The horrid voice laughed. “I was right; I should have killed you when you were on ice.”

“Kellogg, is that you?” Nate answered.

“What?” Nick’s normal voice had returned. “What are you talking about?”

Hancock drew closer. “Are you feeling alright Nick?” Valentine looked confused. “You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded like…”

“Kellogg.” Nate finished his thought.

“Did I?” Valentine looked around, his hand rubbing his forehead. Seeing Payne with her pistol trained on him, he slowly put his hands at his side. “Amari said there might be some “mnemonic impressions” left over… anyway, I feel fine. Let’s get going.”

Hancock put a hand out. “Nick, You’re not going anywhere until I am sure you are okay.”

“Never thought you would get all soft over me after all this time.” Valentine crossed his arms.

“I’m not, Tinman, but if you have a stowaway up there from whatever you did downstairs, I’m gunna make sure you aren’t a danger to anyone.” He turned to Fahrenheit. “Make sure Mr. Valentine is comfortable during his stay.”

“Now I have to have a chaperone? Really, John?” Valentine was less than thrilled with the situation he now found himself in.

“Call it what you want, but try anything funny or start acting like someone other than your jovial old self, you are going to find yourself in a world of hurt.”

Nate put a hand on Valentine’s shoulder. “We’ll get going soon.”

Fahrenheit saddled next to Nick. “Come on, Nick. Play nice.”

“You’re always a woman of few words, aren’t you Fahr?”

She grunted as Nick rose and headed towards the door. “I’ll be down listening to Magnolia if anyone cares.”

Hancock turned to Nate. “We have some things to discuss. Irma, be a dear. Please get Dr. Amari and have her join us in my office please?”

Payne spent the most of the rest of the night listening to Hancock, Nate and Dr. Amari argue over the state of Valentine’s metal health and how much of danger he could be both to Nate and Goodneighbor, but also to Diamond City and possibly the Commonwealth if Kellogg somehow took over Nick’s mind. Would that mean the Institute would be in control of Nick? Amari insisted that Valentine just needed some rest from the strain of the procedure.

They also learned what Kellogg’s mind had told them. In the the Glowing Sea there was some ex-Institute scientist name Virgil. He had escaped both the Institute and Kellogg. If he got out, then Nate supposed he might convince him to sneak him in to rescue his son. Payne just sat back and watched as tempers flared and cooled.

“How in the hell do you think you can survive in the Glowing Sea? The place is practically made of radiation. You’ll be either throwing up your guts or glowing within an hour!” Hancock had calmed enough he felt good enough to pop a few Mentats.

Nate countered. “I have a decent power armor that can help with that.” Payne scowled. “And I have the prefect guy for the job; rads don’t affect him at all. I just have to go pick him up.”

“You better not mean the boss there.” Payne wasn’t about to let Hancock get wrapped up in this mess, especially if that involved a place she couldn’t go.

“No.” Nate turned to Payne. “I have a guy. He’s helping out at The Slog right now. My power armor there too. I just have to drop Nick off at Diamond City and head out there. Nick can take it easy and your town will be out of any harm’s way.”

Hancock thought for a moment. “How about this; tomorrow Payne and I will escort the two of you to Diamond City. You drop Nick off, and we can make sure you get to The Slog in one piece. You pick up your armor and your ‘guy’, maybe we throw a little party, then take off on our separate ways.”

Nate mulled the offer over. “Sure, the more the merrier, I suppose.”

He looked over at Payne. “You ever been there?” Payne shook her head no. “Great. It’s decided.”

After Nate left to collect Nick for the night, Payne turned to Hancock.

“You aren’t just worried about Goodneighbor, are you? You are worried about Valentine too.”

Hancock stopped. “Yeah, maybe. Nick and I were friends for a while, before all that bad blood stuff. It just wouldn’t be right to have some murdering Institute bastard highjack in his brain.”

Payne squeezed his shoulder as she passed him to leave. There was a lot to get around before tomorrow morning.

“You’re a good guy, Hancock.”

“Maybe… just don’t go and tell everyone, okay? Gotta keep my bad boy image.”

[atombombbagel]

Companions First Kiss With SS

This is a long one. Also, sorry if it’s a bit shit. 

Cait: “Are you alright, Cait?” Sole’s face was etched with concern as they helped a distraught Cait out of the chair. The trek to Vault 95 had been a dangerous one, the place having been guarded by two assaultrons and a couple dozen well-armed gunners.

“I’m okay. I feel really strange, everything feels different, everything feels clearer,” Cait looked around the room as she spoke, almost like she was seeing everything in a new light, “Nothing is like I remember,”

Sole let out a breath they hadn’t realised they’d been holding in. They were just glad that Cait was alright, seeing them in that chair, in pain, it had scared them.

“I’m glad you’re alright, I was worried about you,” Cait squinted her eyes as she studied Sole, everything about them, something was different, she was feeling something she hadn’t felt before and she didn’t know if it was because the chems clouded her feelings before or if it was there all along.

“Can I try somethin’?” Cait asked and Sole tilted their head before nodding slowly. Cait reached up and planted a kiss on Sole’s mouth, running her tongue along their lower lip as they kissed them. Sole’s arms wrapped around Cait’s waist, squeezing her gently as they pulled her into their body. Right now, Cait didn’t know if it was lust or just the fact that they’d saved her life but she sure as hell wanted to find out.

Curie: “Stay still, if you keep moving I won’t be able to patch you up,” Curie instructed as Sole shifted around on the bed. Sole had been stabbed during a raider attack at a settlement and Curie was the only one with enough medical knowledge to stitch them up.

“It hurts,” Sole squealed and Curie shook her head, proceeding to clean the wound, luckily for Sole it wasn’t anything serious and they only needed a few stitches. Curie injected a stimpak into Sole’s side as she finished.

“See it wasn’t too hard was it, you’ll be up and ready to go in no time,” Curie smiled, that sweet innocent smile that Sole loved so much. Everyone who thought Sole was this pure and innocent creature hadn’t set their eyes on Curie, so new to the human world.

“Thank you,” Sole smiled, leaning up and pecking Curie’s mouth. Curie’s eyes went wide, and a light blush stained her cheeks, “Sorry… I,”

“No, no it’s okay. I’ve actually wanted to do that for a while,” Curie turned her head away, but Sole cupped their cheek with their hand, turning her to face them. Sole guided Curie back down into them, pulling her into a gentle kiss.

Danse: “You need to stop treating them like that, they were once people too, they still have feelings,” Sole snapped, shaking her head as they listened to Danse, insult yet another poor ghoul. They regretted bringing him along to the Slog, where they were helping with the super mutant problem. Sole was getting pretty tired of Danse’s medieval views.

“I don’t see how you could defend them, they are abominations, they don’t belong in this world,” Danse watched as Sole rolled their eyes, their hand firmly planted on their hip.

“You’re wrong about them, I support the brotherhood but some of your views are ridiculously out of date,” Sole blasted the head off of another super mutant, stepping over their body as they proceeded through their camp. Danse couldn’t believe his ears, how could they possibly side with the ghouls, they were disgusting in his eyes.

“That isn’t how you should talk to your superior, knight,” If that’s how he wanted it. Sole balled their fists, ready and willing to cuss Danse out.

“My superior? You’re an ass-” Danse cut Sole off mid-sentence, crashing his mouth to theirs as his hands gripped tightly at their waist. Sole’s hands flew up, curling them into Danse’s hair as they moaned into his mouth.

“DIE HUMAN!” Danse snapped away from Sole, pushing them behind him as he fired at the Super mutant, beams of red light, slicing through its skull.

“We should get moving,” Danse nodded, moving on through the building, leaving a flustered Sole wondering ‘what the fuck just happened.’

Deacon: “I’m everything wrong with this whole fucking Commonwealth,” Deacon may have had his shades to hide his face, but Sole could see right through him. They shook their head as he spoke, not believing a word he said about himself. The Deacon they knew may be a liar, but he is a pure soul, who’d help anyone if they asked for it and yet, he couldn’t see it.

“See, I find that very hard to believe, after all you’ve done, I know you’re a good person. I’ll always be here for you,” Something inside Deacon urged him to do something he didn’t usually do. He reached up, taking off his sunglasses and put them in his shirt pocket, he wanted to look at Sole when he did what he was about to do. Sole smiled and that’s all it took.

Deacon tenderly ran his fingers down the side of Sole’s face, cupping their cheek as they brought them into him, kissing them as he fingers entangled into Sole’s hair. He was letting his guard down and he hoped, he really hoped he wasn’t getting the wrong idea from Sole. He broke apart from Sole only to be pulled back in, Sole hungrily kissing him, like they’d go hungry without him. Sole pulled away to catch their breath.

“Well, I’m not really the hugging type,” Deacon blushed, looking down.

“Shut up,” Sole joked wrapping their arms around Deacon as they dragged him into a hug.

Hancock: Sole sighed in relief as they hit the perfect head shot on that bastard Sinjin. His brains may have splattered the wall and poor Kent’s face, but he was alive and right now that is all that mattered.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Sole untied Kent, pulling him to his feet as he thanked Sole for saving him, he hadn’t realised how dangerous the life of the Silver Shroud truly was, but he was thankful when all was said and done.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sole cocked an eyebrow as their eyes met Hancock’s charcoal ones. He had that look in his eye, that look that could melt even the coldest persons heart. Without warning Hancock crashed his mouth to Sole’s, pulling them into him as he deepened the kiss. Sole sighed into his mouth as they closed their eyes, kissing Hancock back. Hancock broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he winked at Sole.

“It’s a good thing you did for Kent, you’re so good and honest… I’m sorry if I presumed-”

“It’s about time you kissed me Mr Mayor,” Sole said, dragging their lower lip in between their teeth and Hancock almost growled at the sight.

“Yea? And I’m about to do it again…”

MacCready: He’d done it. He’d found the cure for his son, with the help of Sole of course and for that he would forever be grateful. He dragged Sole into the Third Rail, he wanted to celebrate their success, Sole laughed as they pulled them along, ordering them both a drink and paying Charlie up front. Something he never does. He sat down on the Sofa in the back room, Sole sitting next to him as they downed their beverages.

“Thank you. I really couldn’t have done this without your help, I owe you big time,” MacCready smiled at Sole and they returned the gesture.

“You owe me nothing. I would’ve done it either way and I’d do it again,” Sole tilted their head back, grimacing at the strong drink as they drank it. MacCready watched as Sole put their glass on the table and for once he decided to be brave, because if he didn’t, he knew he’d regret it.

He waited for Sole to turn to face him before he took her hand in his, his eyes flickering from Sole’s eyes to their lips. It was now or never MacCready told himself as his heart pounded in his chest. He pulled Sole into him suddenly and before Sole could react, MacCready crashed his mouth to theirs, burying his hand in Sole’s hair. Sole melted into him, their hands, almost instinctively making their way to MacCready’s neck, pulling him closer.

MacCready pulled away breathless, resting his forehead on Sole’s and as he looked in to their eyes he knew one thing for sure. His life couldn’t get any better than this.

Nick: “You bastard, I hope you never find peace,” Sole said in disgust as they finally took down the man who’d stolen everything from them.

Nick took Sole’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze as they both looked down at Kellogg’s dead body. There wasn’t a man who deserved his fate more than he did himself. Sole looked up at Nick, resting their head on his shoulder. Sole took their own fate in their hands, leaning up and pressing their mouth to Nick’s, their hand cupping his face. He didn’t kiss back right away but after his ol noggin processed what was happening he did. he hadn’t realised how much he wanted this until now, so he kissed back with everything he had in him. He pulled away.

“Come on, you don’t want to be stuck with an old bot like me,” Nick looked down, but Sole made him face them, their eyes locking.

“Kellogg took my husband, and my son, but he’ll never take away this, never.”

Piper: Sole wasn’t sure how they and Piper fit in the tiny gap between the two buildings, but they didn’t have a choice seeing as they were being hunted down by a couple of Gen 2 synths accompanied by a courser.

“We should just go out there and kill them,” Sole whispered, rather loudly, causing Piper to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, if you have a death wish,” Sole couldn’t help but focus on Piper’s chest, pressed firmly up against their own and when they tried to push the thought away it came right back to mind. Their faces were inches apart and Sole could smell the Nuka Cola on Piper’s breath that she’d drank only minutes before being chased down this alley.

“Maybe I do have a death wish,”

“Shut up Sole,”

“Gladly,” Sole kissed Piper, causing her back and her head to be pressed firmly against the wall, making it hard for her to move. Piper melted into the kiss, trying to push Sole back but failing, causing her to groan into Sole’s mouth. She may have groaned a little too loudly.

“Is someone present?” Sole pulled away, turning to look at the entrance of the alley, only to be met by a Gen 2 Synth, standing next to a courser.

“Shit,” Sole cursed, grabbing Piper’s hand and pushing past the synth, running as fast as they could away from them. They’d just have to continue the kiss later on.

Preston: “Come on! It’s weak, aim for its head!” Sole shouted as the Mirelirk Queen roared, moving quickly towards them, Preston and a group of Minutemen that had agreed to meet at the Castle. Taking it the Castle back had proved a lot harder than Sole had originally thought, a dozen mirelirks, their hatching’s everywhere and a surprise attack from their Queen, was a very difficult battle.

With a loud thud the Queen crashed to the ground, the earth around them shaking as it took its last breath. Sole laughed as the Minutemen cheered, looking at Preston, standing next to them, who was already looking their way. Sole bit their lip and in the moment, they grabbed Preston’s jacket pulling him in and pressing their mouth to his. His hands immediately made their way to Sole’s waist, his fingers digging at it slightly until Sole pulled away.

“We did it,” Sole said into Preston’s mouth, making him smile. He pulled Sole back into him, wrapping his arms around them as he hugged them closely, kissing them back.

“We did it,” he said into their mouth before passionately kissing Sole again.

Thank you Airagne for the ask!

[charsui]

They were right, and now was my chance. That cheetah had wanted rid of Tony the Tiger for years and this way we could remove two “undesirables” at once.

The first gun, a simple hand gun, nothing special, this was the one for the kill, designed with a small button applying acid throughout the chamber and dissolving the gun when the job was done. The second, that was the Captain’s. He stole the formula for the Big Cat’s move to cereal and it had been recently fired, just to make ballistics boys’ heads spin I suppose.

I made my way to the secret locker cache I kept hidden in an alley and readied myself for what I had to do. A simple trim of the hair and beard that had developed over time on the street, then to the suit, applied the digi-tag and coded who I was to be to enter the building.

A small walk, the two blocks to Flake Tower, Tony’s suite would be at the top. The crisp air was what I loved about a day like today, the beginning of winter, leaves crunching beneath you. There’s a tranquility to it all in all.

Entering the building was easy, any Tom, Dick or Harry could do that. The difficulty was getting to the suite, there I saw a girl, sweet young thing who’d do anything to meet Mr Tony Tiger himself. I offered her the chance to meet him and she obliged, it was sad to know she’d be disappointed with the real him.

Heading to the desk, I requested clearance from Sonny, Sam, Jeremy? He far from matters, all that mattered was the key card he handed over. All I had to say was “Tony wanted to meet a fan. I’ll take her up.”

Heading up in the elevator I told the girl to get the signature or photo and leave, I would handle the rest. So, that was what she did, couldn’t have been more polite either.

As the girl left Tony proceeded to talk to me as if we were old friends, as if we had history and that same history was on par with the adventures of the musketeers. He spoke of overthrowing the “Old Man” Kellogg and taking what he believed was ours. The fall of the Kellogg empire was nothing but devastating to the whole city if not further to everyone but Tony.

It was when he began to talk of the girl that I snapped back into the room. He talked of her as a “tasty morsel” and that “Papa Tony wanted a slice of that”. His alpha male talks did not quite match his now overweight, aging and balding physique, I suppose chauvinism doesn’t have a set body type. He mentioned other girls and boys who had been there and met him before, and before he could say something truly incriminating his words were muffled, barrel of the gun lodged in his mouth.

Crunch’s gun. Fuck it, I didn’t care any more, this was personal, it wasn’t a hit so much as a cleanse. I eased his hand onto the handle of the gun, finger to the trigger, and click-bang. The job was done, though the seething hatred was far from gone, I took the bandana as a mark of the job done. The news would clarify the rest.

After leaving, I threw the unused gun into the locker. Changed into my old cap and tshirt. “He wasn’t the man you knew” I reminded myself “just like you are not the man he knew” reading my name “Coco” off the tshirt. I closed the locker, covered it, and walked out into the night.

You are a homeless man, sitting on the street After a long day of pitiful smiles and loose change dropped into your bag, a white bag is given to you. It contains exactly 2 guns, 1 bullet, and a note saying “You know what to do.” Upon further examination of the white bag, you also notice that you have been given a single cheeto.

[spidergirl2000]

I would like to add Sylvester Graham’s spirit to also be killed by a gun. He’s actually the man who inspired John Harvey Kellogg to do that bs.

I know this is a tiny part of the wider problems born of diet culture, fatphobia, classicism, and racism but like god the idea that "healthy" food must inherently taste bad has completely ruined us as a society.

[thecottageinthedark]

#MR. KELLOGG I WOULD LIKE A FUCKING WORD#beating this man's fucking corpse with a broom#I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR POOP AND WEIRD CHRISTIAN NONSENSE NOW EVERYONE THINKS PLEASURE IS BAD FOR YOU#KILLING AND BITING AND MAIMING

I know this is a tiny part of the wider problems born of diet culture, fatphobia, classism, and racism but like god the idea that "healthy" food must inherently taste bad has completely ruined us as a society.