#but the 'courtesy' of meaning 'no offense' is such a remarkably polite way to dismiss the actual criticisms

[amethystblack]

I meant no offense with the ask about the sexualities of the characters. It just feels to me as if everyone in the game is lgbt, almost to the point of overrepresentation. In real life, 97% of people are both cis and straight. So it just seems unrealistic. thats all. the only one I really cared to know about was amaria though. I was wondering if amaria might be trans as she seems to be largely based on you. perhaps the characters actually feel lgbt to me because of the people who wrote them?

"It just feels to me as if everyone in the game is lgbt, almost to the point of overrepresentation."

No, that's exactly what I'm getting at though. It feels like "everyone" is but in reality it's not even half, and the reason for discrepancy in feeling is that because heterosexuality is so normalized for some people, any diversion from it sticks out like a sore thumb to them.

From my world view, a lot more people than 3% would be under the LGBT+ umbrella if it weren't for the long history of social violence and stigma associated with it. And I think we're going to see those numbers shifting a lot in the coming decades now that we're finally getting some peace and even footing. That's pure conjecture and opinion on my part, but you read me that 97% statistic and I see it as a number I'm waving goodbye to as we drive on past it.

But I take your meaning. I still wrote most of the dialogue in the game, so maybe my openness to identity and sexuality as fluidness naturally shows through. If so, I guess I don't hate that. I don't believe it's overrepresented, but even if it were, that's fine with me. We could use some overrepresentation to make up for the past.

I don't imagine Amaria as trans personally. Though, again, where there's no evidence to the contrary in game, I wouldn't want to take that hc away from anyone.

[velvet-helvetica]

Fireworks in Goodneighbor

Here's my gift for @falloutfandomeventhub’s #Celebradiation2020, written for @bi-mirandalawson! This scene takes place immediately after Fallout 4′s Dangerous Minds quest. It features dialogue between Hancock and Deacon, with cameos by Magnolia and Nick. There’s also a hint at a Sole Survivor femslash pairing, although the exact pairing is not specified. Enjoy!

It was the fireworks that woke him from his psychedelic slumber. At first he thought the fireworks were in his head—a pleasant side effect of the cocktail of chems he had imbibed several hours before. But the colors, the emotions were wrong. They didn’t stir him the way they should. As he squinted, he realized the fireworks were streaming in from the boarded-up windows.

They were coming from outside, across the street. From the Memory Den. A massive power surge had temporarily lit up the entire building. The marquee lights snaked along their path in a frenzy, lights up and down the building flashed interchangeably. Sparks flew from a previously-unseen Tesla tower on the roof, showering the street below with discharged electricity.

Then as suddenly as the fireworks show began, the Memory Den grew cold and dim. Then the building illumination returned to normal, the marquee blinking its obsolete advertisement for a centuries-old vaudeville act.

What the hell is that doctor up to now? Hancock wondered.

The Mayor stumbled off of his lounger and wandered out of the Statehouse, determined to find answers. But as he stepped outside, the crossing to the Square zoomed back, suddenly seeming very far away. His head wasn’t quite right yet.

He leaned against the doorway of the Statehouse, content to idly observe the ebb and flow of nocturnal street life. Through his hazy drug-addled vision, he glimpsed a private eye with a metal arm staggering past, muttering strange phrases in a low sandpaper voice. Moments later, two women scurried past him—one of them wearing a bright blue Vault suit. Their arms interlocked, they giggled inebriated as they headed straight for the Hotel Rexford.

Heh, they’re gonna get some tonight, thought Hancock. Good for them.

Whatever had happened at the Den, the main players were already gone. Instead of pursuing the mystery any further, he headed to the Third Rail. Hancock casually saluted the bouncer then sauntered down the stairs.

From afar, Hancock spied a lone man seated at the bar, nursing a half drunken glass of scotch. Strange to find him here before happy hour, the Mayor thought.

Hancock slipped onto the empty stool beside him. Deacon popped up his sunglasses and regarded the ghoul seated next to him.

“Well hello, Mister ‘Of the People, For the People.’’’

“Hey my man. How’s my favorite secret agent?” 

They exchanged a series of friendly fist bumps, then Hancock ordered his current favorite, a gin and Quantum from Whitechapel Charlie.

While he waited for the robot barkeep to mix his drink, Hancock eyed Deacon’s latest disguise. He was bald today, with a threadbare plaid shirt and a beat-up pair of old jeans. The sunglasses, which looked custom-molded to his perfectly square eyebrows and weathered features, threw off what would otherwise be a spot-on drifter impression.

“I thought you agents were all about tailored suits and tuxedos rather than that bum get-up you wear all the time. Live a little, man! Dress up! Have some pride.”

“This from the man wearing the ruffled ascot of our Founding Father—one who lacked the modesty to leave enough room for the co-Fathers to sign.”

“Exactly. Why go half-ass when you can be as fabulous as this?” Hancock gestured his arm down his body with a flourish.

Deacon laughed. “Hey, I can be fancy when I want to be. This particular mission required a little more subtlety, that’s all.”

Whitechapel Charlie set Hancock’s glass on the sticky bar top, which emitted an eerie blue glow. Hancock picked up his drink, threw his head back and downed the cocktail all in one go, then exhaled a satisfied sigh.

Deacon raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you get all fancy with the gin and Quantums? I thought you were all about ‘keepin’ it real’.” Deacon added air quotes with his fingers for added emphasis.

“I’m still keepin’ it real, man,” Hancock insisted. So what if his drink choices lately were a step up from the moonshine of his drifter days? He was Mayor of this town now, dammit. He could drink whatever the hell he wanted. Secretly though, he was annoyed that Deacon had struck a nerve.

“If you say so, Mister Mayor,” Deacon replied skeptically. He spun his glass around, then put it to his lips, slipping the last slivers of scotch into his mouth.

The ghoul let his remark slide. He bought the agent another scotch and ordered himself some vodka. Hancock wanted to find out what the hell was going on in his own town, and talking to Deacon was the fastest way to get answers.

“Hey Deac, you see anything go down at the Memory Den? I was having the most mind-blowing trip, man, ‘til all this shit starts flashin’ in my eyes. How’s a ghoul supposed to come down easy when his own town’s blowing up on him?”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Deacon cracked. “You have your blue newcomer to thank for the fireworks.”

“The Vault Dweller?”

“Yep, her and Nick Valentine. They gifted Doctor Amari some brains from the dearly departed Kellogg.”

“Kellogg’s dead? Shiiiittt.” Hancock shook his head, taking in the news. “Good. Fuckin’ bastard deserved it.”

“Amen to that, brother.” Deacon and Hancock clinked glasses, drinking to celebrate the death of the Commonwealth’s most despised mercenary.

“So they took Kellogg’s brains downstairs to do some Frankenstein shit, I take it.”

“Something like that. I wasn’t in the room where it happened... But from what I gathered, they hooked Nick to Kellogg’s grey matter, judging by how he looked afterwards. Was even talking like Kellogg for a bit.”

“Damn. Must’ve been some head trip.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I don’t know how they probed into his noggin’, but they drained the power grid while doing it. My poor Barbara even glitched out a few times.”

“Aww... You still seeing your old flame?” Hancock asked. Deacon winced, briefly regretting bringing up his dead wife. 

“Yeah,” Deacon admitted finally. He sighed as he finished his second drink.

“Hey, man, it’s cool, we all got our vices,” Hancock assured, patting Deacon on the back. “But if you ask me, chems are way easier for forgetting your problems. And cheaper.” He fished out some Jet from his pocket. “Want one? On the house.”

“Nah, I’m cool,” Deacon politely declined. “That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t wanna forget all that stuff.”

“Suit yourself.” Hancock took a puff of Jet, and wiggled his head to work in the high.

Deacon continued his story. “Anyway, Irma only charged me for a quickie—I mean, I wasn’t in there that long.” Hancock chuckled as Deacon corrected himself. “Just long enough to say hi, tell her how things are going. That I miss her.”

“What a sweetheart you are. That Babs was one lucky gal to have you.”

Deacon scoffed. “Anyway, what do you care how I spend my caps? I thought you’d be happy with me building up your precious tax base.”

Hancock was taken aback. “That hurts, Deac. That really hurts. That cuts me deep.” 

Hancock leaned into Deacon, jabbing a leathery hand into his own chest. “You think I’m just about the money? Don’t get me wrong—I love my money. But that ain’t what this is about.”

Deacon smirked. “Then what is it about?”

Hancock waved him off. The ghoul stared off into the distance, shaking his head in disappointment. Then he grabbed his glass and gulped down his vodka.

“I don’t know anymore, man,” Hancock said at last. “You know, a few weeks back I had to kill Finn? The lil’ shit was shakin’ down that Vault Dweller as soon as she stepped into town.”

“No big loss,” Deacon dismissed. “Never liked that asshole anyway.”

“Neither did I, but that’s not the point. The point is... I wanted Goodneighbor to be for everybody. For drifters like me, the ghouls, the gangsters, the misfits...even for lil’ shits like Finn. But then I had to turn around and kill him. And I’ve been shakin’ down people for stealing from me, or stealing from the drifters.”

Hancock threw up his hands. “What’s wrong with me? Since when did I turn into the Man?”

Deacon laughed. “Whoo, Hancock. You know what they say about power.”

“This ain’t funny, Deac. I’m telling ya, this ain’t what I signed up for. I’m seriously thinkin’ of leaving all this shit behind. What’s the use of giving everyone freedom if things ain’t truly free?”

Deacon shook his head. “I don’t have an answer for you, pal. But it sounds like you can’t make up your mind about what you want.”

“Thanks. Thanks for nothing. You’re no fuckin’ help.” Deacon laughed some more as Hancock grunted in frustration.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important, boys.” 

Magnolia had strolled into the bar unseen. She leaned in between Hancock and Deacon and flashed the pair a radiant smile.

“Not at all, doll.” Hancock pecked Magnolia on the cheek, then she turned around and kissed Deacon’s cheek. “Showtime already?” Hancock asked.

“It sure is,” she winked. “Same time as always.” She went to the stage to prepare for her set.

“Well, that’s my cue to go,” Deacon sighed, standing up. “I got a feeling things are gonna get busy soon at HQ.” He dropped a few caps as a courtesy tip, ignoring Whitechapel Charlie’s preprogrammed grumblings.

Hancock stood up too. “You’re not gonna stay for the show?”

Deacon shook his head. “Nah. She’s lovely, but you know there’s only one synth for me... No offense, Mags,” Deacon added, acknowledging Magnolia out of courtesy.

“None taken, hon,” Magnolia replied. “You stay safe helping my friends, you hear?” She adjusted her microphone and began her first song.

I see you lookin’ ‘round the corner Come on inside and pull up a chair No need to feel like a stranger Cause we're all a little strange in here.

“Okay, bro, see ya later,” Hancock said, fist bumping Deacon as a goodbye. “You know you and your buddies can lay low here anytime. Even if all ya do is give me shit.”

“Appreciate it, dude.” Deacon grabbed Hancock’s forearm and whispered a warning into his ear. “Hey, man, watch out for the Institute.”

Hancock scoffed. “Pssht. The Institute can’t fuck with us, man. Goodneighbor’ll never stand for their shit.”

“I hope so, man. Just don’t underestimate them. They’re watching.”

As Deacon made his exit, he glanced back at the ghoul, concerned for his friend and what he feared was coming. Guess I better introduce myself to this Vault Dweller, he thought. Or better yet, have her come to me.

Pondering what Deacon said, Hancock sat back down in his stool and lit a cigarette. He exhaled a plume of smoke and reveled in the sound of Magnolia’s voice filling the room.

Have you got a history that needs erasing? Did you come in just for the beer and cigarettes? A broken down dream you're tired of chasing Oh, well I'm just the girl to make you forget.