#nellie's always defined herself by her ability to survive anything. well. babe. guess what. survive post-apocalyptic boston.

[tortoisesshells]

For the Writer's Would You Ever: is there an AU for Customs & Duties (or another work!) that you'd like to write but haven't gotten the chance to yet?

Writer's Would You Ever?

Yes, absolutely! There's a completely ludicrous F.allout 4 AU that I maintain makes a lot of sense: it's still Boston, there's still skullduggery, they're still accidentally-on-purpose ruining each other's lives. There's just ... vastly more lasers and radiation damage and mid-century pop than there is in the original version.

Under the cut, because. well. I want to maintain a modicum of decorum on this blog.

(The cliff notes version of FO4 is. uh. Well. Imagine a world where post WWII western powers went all in on nuclear power, and then that October 23rd 2077 the world ended when the US and China blasted each other and everyone else off the face of the earth in a single day of nuclear war. With me? okay. Boston, 2287: ambient radiation is down, the Minutemen are trying to come back from the brink of organizational extinction after the Quincy Massacre, a mysterious organization called the Institute is kidnapping Commonwealth residents and replacing them with synths (functionally, lab-grown humans, many of whom don't actually know they're synths) to an unknown purpose, a similarly secretive organization called the Railroad is breaking synths out of their captivity within the Institute, and the B.rotherhood of Steel (a quasi-hereditary (except when not) military organization descended from a rogue Army unit (it's a long story) that believes that all advanced technology is too dangerous for civilians to control and that they must, therefore, take control of it for the common good) has rocked up to Boston in a giant metal zeppelin named for Arthurian legend. I mention this because B.oS ranks, too, take their cues from Arthurian lore and chivalric orders. They tend to think that anyone or anything that's not human-born human is inherently dangerous and tend to shoot first and ask questions later.)

Nellie's still a widow, still has two kids and a total unwillingness to look her bereavement in the eye and make peace with it ... she just also has a two-headed cow named Aunt Abigail, a mostly-two-hundred year old fishing boat that's held together with duct tape and goodwill towards man, a mutually beneficial scavenging-for-repairs relationship with the robot crew of USS Constitution, and a new-to-her solar panel array which is promptly stolen requisitioned by the new-in-town B.oS. So begins her mutually antagonistic relationship with the asshole tin-can Paladin Norrington, which is not improved by the B.oS's (non-canonical) attempts to confiscate the moonshot rockets from the Constitution's crew, and the deteriorating relationship between the Brotherhood and the Commonwealth on the whole.

I have written a snippet here and there, but here's the longest, mostly coherent bit:

The next time  Paladin Norrington saw Elinor Treat was at Fort Independence, sitting against the massive stone walls with a minuteman's laser across her knees and her usual cap drawn down over her eyes. Training day, the General (another short, tired woman) had said, and the exhausted residents strewn about the courtyard certainly seemed to back that up. "Elinor," he said, a little uncertainly, and when she did not reply, he called her name again. "Oh, it's you," she said, cracking an eye. "I didn't recognize your voice without your helmet. Come to pay me, have you?" "No," he said, startled. "Disappointing." She closed her eyes again, looking like she'd fall asleep in a moment. Feeling like an idiot, he said he wasn't expecting to see her here, so he had nothing to pay her with. Elinor snorted, accidentally whacking herself in the face with the barrel of her gun, before coming sighing and grumbling to her feet. It wasn't an impressive sight, but she managed to convey a kind of understated menace, even when she had to crane her neck a bit to glare.

I will furthermore add my tags from one of those "the last character you wrote for in the last video game you played: how are they doing?" - D.anse is the in-game B.oS companion and, slight spoilers, his dogmatic adherence to protocol does not save him:

#i DO think you could swap jimothy for danse. i do think the arcs of ' man defined by his rank and military prowess gets fucking bodied; #by realizing the organization he serves objectively sucks and is going to be the actual death of him and furthermore; #is willing to let that organization do it because of Reasons. ' are actually pretty similar. #that said. the more important thing is jimothy encountering Rocket Powered USS Constitution and the Nautical Robots; #I think he would enjoy himself immensely. or die of apoplexy. either way. #customs and duties aus