#cherry like present day is a bit more unhinged but in a snarky slay kinda way idk how to describe it well ill eventually write it

[radroachrepellent]

Skin Deep

Cherry Feltman (FO4 OC), John Hancock (FO4), 926~ words

shoutout to Hancock for glitching through this aesthetic video I tried to take of Cherry <3 wrote some of cherry backstory and early Hancock interactions because why not

In the heart of the wasteland, Cherry, a scientist with a knack for unconventional experiments, works tirelessly in Sanctuary and shares her latest project with everyone's favorite ghoul.

Cherry wiped the sweat from her brow, her eyes scanning the cluttered workbench covered in medical instruments. The dim light of Sanctuary's workroom cast long shadows, making the array of scalpels, syringes, and papers seem almost alive. It had been another long, uneventful, humid day filled with her personal projects. Her thoughts drifted to the Sole Survivor, hoping they'd return soon and break the monotony with some excitement or a brilliant idea.

With a heavy sigh, Cherry slid to the floor, leaning her back against the bench. "This totally blows," she muttered in her soft, country drawl, unsure if she was talking to herself or the scattered tools.

"Doesn’t look like blow to me."

Startled, Cherry looked up to see a pair of familiar, dirty boots. They looked ill-fitting. And kinda ugly.

"Hey, Hancock," she greeted him without moving her gaze from his ugly boots.

"Whatcha' doin' on the floor?" Hancock asked, amusement in his voice.

"Thinkin'. The usual," Cherry replied meeting his gaze.

Hancock scoffed a laugh, moving past her to rummage through the workbench.

"Wait, don't mess up my stuff!" Cherry jumped up, clumsily bumping into Hancock. He turned, an amused grin on his face.

"Uh, how 'boutcha listen to my new project. Pretend like you're a doctor and don't mess with this workbench, and I'll donate you some of my most valuable grape Mentats," she added, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Pavloving still worked, right?

It did.

Hancock sat on a stool by the workbench, idling with his knife and waiting for her to start.

Adjusting her glasses, Cherry giggled and displayed the workbench a little too upbeat. "From hot dogs to deathclaws," she began.

"Can I, uh, get the Mentats before all of this?" Hancock raised an eyebrow, already clocked out.

"That's the name of my study," Cherry explained, completely ignoring his comment, which caused a scoff. "I grew up in the countryside of the wastelands with my pop. Learned a lot about food, people, and bioengineerin' crops through the family business. I hated the old pre-war dream we was chasin' of a fancy hot dog company, so I started experimentin' with it. Y'know, bein' all adaptable to the wastelands. You know how Jet is made from brahmin dung fumes? Well, think of a similar chem. And, uh, one that could be injected in hot dogs. Mostly as a joke. Or teenage rebellion.” Cherry tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear, an ill-fitting chuckle escaping her lips.

Hancock blinked a few times.

“My pop was furious. Didn’t understand why I was doin' it once he caught me sellin' 'em. Baby's first hot-dog-drug deals. I ended up replaced from the lab department and moved to work the farm."

She pouted, her freckled face looking contemplative. "Anyway, what was I talkin' about?" Cherry's face quickly brightened. "Oh yeah! I’ve moved on to bigger projects now. Somethin' to actually help people. That was just the from hot dogs part."

Cherry gestured to the work table, pointing at what looked like descaled skin on a dish. "I’m workin' on a therapy for y'all ghoulfolk. Nothin' too crazy, just to help cosmetically and maybe regeneratively. In theory. I was harvestin' a deathclaw after a rough fight and noticed deep in the skin—its texture and elasticity. I might have been on somethin' then, but I dissected it, tested it, and have been experimentin' since. My idea is to use this as a skin matrix on ghouls, a graft for injuries or skin blemishes. Maybe we can patch people up, make 'em smile, or even slow the feralization process if I figure out this regeneration thing…" Cherry frowned, glancing at Hancock. “Though, people round these parts don’t care much about ghouls either way. If someone was rich enough, they’d just get their noggin put in a synth or somethin'."

“Woah woah woah, so you'd rather make me into another Nick Valentine?”

“No, the opposite, ideally. My father got all ghoul-y. Only found out he'd been hidin' it after I started workin' on the farm. He used to be vain, doin' interviews and advertisements with whoever, chasin' some image of the family business that hasn't existed for centuries. It’d… be nice to help him, and others like him. Even if it’s just cosmetic, to smooth out the ridges caused by radiation. Make 'em feel better. I need to do more research on the tissue regeneration aspect, and make sure there's no cross-species diseases…” Cherry began to ramble to herself on the so many things she still didn't have answers for.

Hancock's eyes softened as he looked at her. "Cherry, most folks just see us ghouls as monsters, but you're trying to give us a bit of our humanity back. That's something special.”

Cherry smiled, a faint blush creeping over her freckled cheeks as she was taken out of her ramble. "Oh, huh? Thanks, Hancock.” She had been wandering alone with her ideas for quite a bit of time before meeting the Sole Survivor and their companions.

Hancock chuckled, his grin returning. "Just keep doing what you do, doll. Who knows, maybe one day you'll be the hero ghouls never knew they needed." He winked and got up from the stool, pocketing the Mentats laying on the bench. "And hey, if you ever figure out how to make me look as pretty as a pre-war movie star, I’ll be your first test subject."

Cherry laughed as she rolled her eyes, the tension easing from her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, she could make a difference in this shitty wasteland