World of (Retro)Future Darkness: Faeries

The Noble Houses of the Sidhe serve as the central leadership for Kithin still, but not all have survived, and the Dragons take their place as rulers and icons to the Commoners as well. The Dreaming itself is resurgent, Banality smothering all but the darkest Glamour before the bombs, but now…In the first decade or so, the Dreaming was a place of nightmares and horror, Thallain rising like plauge and Trods collapsed and lost. But as the Dreamers adapt to this strange new world, so too does their reflection. By 2287, the Dreaming overlays Autumn all but completely, Glamour readily available for any who would partake. Much of it is Nightmare, and pstches of Banality do erode the web much as holes in the ozone layer. But compared to the grey haze of world before, Apocalypse has saved the Fae from Winter without doubt. While the average life expectancy has not much changed, Grumps as Pre-War Changelings would know them are practically nonexistent.

Beaumayn, Eiluned, and Dougal survive of the Seelie Houses, while Aesin, Ailil, and Balor carry on the Unseelie, centered on the North American continent within Gravity Falls and Scarlet Hollow, respectively. They don’t much like each other. Faeries members and vassals of the Nobles are assured safety and community, but their numbers are few and politics fraught.

Inanimae: Doing much better nowadays, checkpoints and bastions of civilization purely magical in the Wasteland quite often. A few Manikins have even arisen from Automatrons, leaving two seperate beings of equivalent intelligence, and often, capacity, making very interesting duos among the wilds.

Jinn: The Fae of the Middle East have been in a cold war with the Banu Haquim for centuries, not bending to their rule but not wishing harm on the Humans, who rely on them for safety. The Vampires cannot eradicate the Changelings due both to the spark of rebellion in their subjects and the illusions of the active Kith. As such, the two are forced to play politics, covert and denied operatives undermining each other’s plans.

Hadithi: The Faeries of Africa have formed their own compact, allies of the Ahadi and primary driving force behind Human reconstruction. They also do not claim the throne, but have a great deal of influence within their communities and networks across the continent, often elected of their own merit to leadership. They keep the populace focused on their roots as they turn to the future, to build new and build better, and this Glamour output has turned many into minor gods of scattered regions.

Thallain: More populous than ever, but the increase in Kithain and allied numbers has enabled them to become just one more danger instead of a looming threat to all, while the Adhene are at an all-time high, if not typically hostile. The Fomorians, on the other hand, have been alarmingly active, least terrible even slipping into Autumn for short times, and the Tuatha are nowhere to be seen still….

Dragons: Still rare, still powerful. Kirins, Basilisks, and Hydrae are most often sighted, but the Riders are not oft stagnant, true adventurers from ancient bunkers to deepest space.

Kithain:

Boggans: Rarely found within the Wastes, but any settlement worth its salt has one at the heart. Sometimes the leader, often just another member of the community, these Fae thrive in the friendly communes they take pains to create, caring for everyone under their protection and defending them from harm-or better yet, inspiring them to defend themselves.

Eshu: Allies of the Ahadi, and messengers as always everywhere else too. Their nomadic ways spared them the worst of the bombs, and they can often be seen in the company of Piskies these days, not mercenaries or raiders, but true adventurers of the wasteland.

Merfolk: Have joined the Rokea in perpetual battle against the monsters of the deep, actual alliance finally forged and both better for it.

Nockers: Mad scientists of the wastes, these Fae are nearly always followed by at least one heavily modified Automatron, fully sapient and halfway to Chimera. They are highly valued for the mechanical expertise and ability to restore vital functionality to ancient artifacts, but their prices are typically too high for most to manage, instead left to their own devices.

Pooka: At first devastated by the collapse of the biosphere, many species vanishing in the ashfall. But as always, they have bounced back, now Wylder than ever, myth and monster passed from ear to ear by those who encounter them in city and crater.

Redcaps: To absolutely no-one’s surprise, thriving like never before. Winter came in fire, and they weathered both, wrestling with the struggles of the wasteland like champions and never feeling more alive.

Satyrs: Wildcards yet, dashing rouges of the wastes or beloved fixtures of their community, they can always be counted on to be at the center of bar drama and world-shaping Stories alike, prolific and practiced dancers of club and combat. Many flock to the newest shiny thing in their sights, be it old legends or sparkling cities.

Selkies: They, nearly alone of the Marine races, have mostly avoided the outright warzone that is the open sea, instead sticking to shoreline, island, and occasional ships, guardians and communicators from any who would intrude upon either. And now they do so entirely freely, every dock its own defender and pinniped prestige known to any who deal with the waves, no longer longing for the depths when they can simply choose where they want to be at last.

Sidhe: The Elves of modern day are a far cry from the noblity of the past. Oh, plenty still cling to that image, true, but leadership has failed enough times in the minds of the Dreamers that such a Dream is fairly worthless. New Sidhe souls much resemble Troll and Redcap as one, tough, no-nonsense sort who exert their authority without question, competence if not compassion. The increasing numbers of the so-called Winter Sidhe have placed a strain on surviving tradition, skirmishes soon to blossom into all-out-war for the future of the Kith…

Sluagh: Vanished from the world, shadows empty once more. But the people whisper of dark places, of abandoned buildings and deep caverns and hidden labratories. A dime a dozen in such a world, but the haunts in question are different. Refugees may rest, but they never do stay. Adventurers and looters are beset with visions of death and horror, monsters slinking from the shadows and walls groaning in anger. Those with their wits about them flee swiftly, disturbed in a way like no other. Those foolish enough to press further are not seen again. Whatever yet lives in those hidden haunts is not for socialization, that much is quite clear.

Trolls: Greatly unchanged from their ever-truth, and unlike most honorable fools, the Giants can back up their word and principle. Woe betide those foolish enough to earn their ire, for the earth shakes at their touch, monuments crumbling around indomitable will and impossibly charged castings.

Wolpertinger: They have mutated once again in atomic light, now truly chimeric beasts drawing from animal, person, concept and creation in equal measure. Most are lost to Bedlam, wandering the Wasteland and Dreaming as unpredictable threat, but those who remain…..sane is not the right word, but they feed their legend with great aplomb, sated bellies feeding clever minds, found in Nexuses and other such areas as guardians and predators of the magics within.

Dullahan: Formerly rare, this Kith has blossomed into a well-known fixture of any community, and an omen of death for those outside. The world is harsh and full of dangers, and all too many lives are cut short before their time. The Reapers collect these lost souls, sending them to final rest, and may call upon those who severed them to begin with if justice is deemed true, maintaining peace and equillibrium through word and weapon, masters of death in a world so very full of it.

Unicorns: Among the rarest of Faeries, the Children’s Dream is rare, charges more concerned with their next meal and impotence against threats than fantasies of imaginary friends and puppy crushes. Still, that Glamour dies not so easily, and Unicorns can be found within cities and villages across the world, ensuring the safety and prosperity of those who most need their protection. To have a Unicorn in one’s locale is a mark of fortune, inviting new opportunity. To encounter a Unicorn outside of civilization is to encounter an angel of death, unleashed from the rule of law to visit bloody vengeace on those foolish enough to deserve it, raising new Freeholds from the salted earth to take responsibilty for the neglected and abused.

With Fallout 5 being in development and Cooper leaving for Colorado at the end of season 2, I wonder if that’s where Fo5 will be set

But I don’t think it makes much sense for Cooper to be a companion because he’s very much out for himself and his family. So if he is a companion, it’s probably some sort of deal where the protagonist knows where Barb and Janey are. Perhaps as a member of the Enclave

But that’s just me spitballing about what a Fallout set in Colorado with the ongoing TV plotline might entail

I am very excited for both to come out, though. This spin has grabbed me by the skull and thrown me through a table

More Danse things -

• Being a mentor to Shaun and teaching him how to use Power Armor

• Learning to fish from Preston

• Helps MacCready bring Duncan from the capital wasteland, and meet a few old friends along the way.

• Being Nick’s Bodyguard for a few cases. He doesn’t even have to do anything, he just stands there menacingly.

• Scribe Haylen fakes her death and calls herself “Aunt Nelyah” around Sanctuary, and somehow none of the BOS are the wiser.

• Finally getting to see a movie

• Gets to celebrate holidays, he decorates his Power Armor for each one.

• Nick and Him call each other brothers and laugh at the confused people around Diamond City

• When Hancock discovers Danse’s love of history and books, the two bond at the library for a few hours before getting rudely interrupted by the robots still guarding the place.

It isn’t exactly my business how the others treat their hounds, but I would not say I particularly approve of some of the treatment I’ve seen from the lower ranks. The mangier hounds that I have are newer, and I assure you that the rest of my hounds are well-fed, as I believe that happy hounds are more effective in battle. The newer hounds are given the same care as the others, and they will soon gain weight.

Holy crap the fallout 2 tutorial really is just coinflip simulator huh

Sierra Madre Gala Event ambience

The Fallout TV show takes some major inspirations from Van Buren(the original Fallout 3) with the NCR getting Nuked, the Enclave being back and having a secret base out East, and them even including some of its locations as easter eggs on the BOS map. But I wonder how far they’ll take it with the NCR and Brotherhood situation. Because in the original concept, the Enclave nuked Shady Sands and made it look like the Brotherhood did it in order to cause a major conflict between both Factions.

But the show kinda hints that Shady Sands no longer was the NCR Capital before the bomb, so they’re probably not as bad off as in the original concept where they lost their senate etc, and there doesn’t seem to be any major war between the BOS and the NCR, at least not actively, so I wonder who the NCR think blew up their old capital. I really hope the show actually has time to give us some insight to the calamities following Shady Sands getting nuked, who the NCR blames for it and how it has affected their current political situation.

It would be interesting if the show did borrow that plotline from Van Buren, tho. And we see the Enclave manufacture a war between the NCR and the Brotherhood going into season 4 by planting some kind of false evidence that the Brotherhood was responsible for Shady Sands. And it’s up to Max and Lucy to stop them and convince them of the truth and get them to work together to fight the real enemy, after finding out everything about the Enclave and their plans, but idk if the show will take that much inspiration from Van Buren.

Fallout 3 (PC)
Our Discord

:3

@falloutocweek Day 7: Free Day (Two Artists One Base Collab!)

Collab done with @m-u-n-c-h-y !

Reference used:

So we’ve seen very standard BOS power armor in the show, but I want to see someone who’s got wacky painted armor like 76.

Some rando with a Gatling plasma and matching pink power armor.

Fallout New Vegas (Modded) (PC)
Our Discord

I’ve Got You Under My Skin

Pre-War! Cooper Howard x FemReader

Summary: Right when he can’t afford any more trouble, Cooper Howard dives into it headfirst.
Or, an ill-advised affair while the world goes to hell.

Notes: Tried to keep it mostly canon compliant. Major thing is that I extended the time between Cooper listening in on Barb’s meeting and the Vegas trip bc I wan’t to give him time to stew.
I try not to use y/n bc I don’t like it. Reader is sometimes called by her professional last name. Reader’s actual last name is Huxley, and may sometimes be called by that, but otherwise no names are used. I also have her fleshed out a little bit bc writing with a nothing character is cruel and unusual punishment to me.
Only vaguely beta read. Beta skimmed, if you will.

Tags: adultery, eventual smut, will update as I go

Introduction

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When he had first met you, Cooper Howard didn’t like you. 

Of course he tries not to dislike anyone, but he knew your type. He thought he had you pegged from the start. Fly into L.A. on Daddy’s money with stars in your eyes; do a few small films before you magically get signed onto a big studio for your first actual film. 

Cooper hadn’t seen anything you’d been in before. They were mostly those cheesy monster movies or those cheap and quick pulpy flicks. That’s not to say he hadn’t seen you though. All of Los Angeles county has seen you, assuming they were ever driving on the US-101.

 You’d taken over as the new”Nuka-Girl". Maybe two or three years back now. They’d traded the painted pin-up for a genuine model—as more and more companies were seeming to do these days—and your father’s place in the company had gotten you the gig. 

The film was some noir. Not the studios biggest budget, but they always wanted to be doing at least three things at once these days. They’d wanted Cooper for the lead, he hadn’t been in a noir for five…six years? Not since that one with Vera Keyes. Not that he hated them, he just figured he’d established his brand by now. Offers were starting to thin out since the Vault-Tec campaign, he’d be a fool not to take whatever fame his team had. Besides, shooting for Deadhorse wasn’t taking the time he thought it would, some 80 minute noir wasn’t going to crush his schedule. 

Then, shit hit the fan. 

Tensions were rising all over, but Cooper — albeit naively — thought it wouldn’t reach his home. He didn’t realize it had been in his home. 

The disillusionment from the Vault-Tec campaign fast. There was something just not right about seeing his own face advertising for the end times all over the place. He’d even taken over your spot on the 101. 

Then Charlie had planted the little worm in his ear, not with nefarious intentions of course. But that’s what had started it all in a way, right? 

Then there were the meetings. He’s felt dirty going to that first one at the funeral home. That even considering this nonsense was a betrayal to his country, to the men he watched die next to him on the front lines. 

But Kate wasn’t wrong. Not entirely. 

Then the bug. The meeting. “War never changes.” His wife, his Barb, suggested the idea of nuclear annihilation like she was floating ideas for supper. 

His first instinct was to take Janey and run, get away from the monster that had infested their home. The monster that had taken crawled under his wife’s skin and took over because surely the woman he married wouldn’t even consider. 

He’d told Janey to get her stuff and get in the car. Bakersfield, he decided. But an alarm went off, of course it did. Everyone started losing their minds, hopping out of cars and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. He had half the mind to drive a path right through them, but one look at Janey’s wide and glassy eyes told him everything he needed to know. 

He’d found Kate next. Met up with her at some diner. They’d talked, for a long time while Janey had her go at ‘Wack-A-Commie’. She’d told him that there would be an expo in Vegas in a few months, and that Barb would be going to sell cold fusion to Robert House. Cooper had almost walked out of the diner when she’d suggested he kill Robert House 

Fine. No. Of course not. 

Maybe. 

That was months from now, he told himself. Months to think about it. And until then, business was normal, at least the best he could.  Had to keep up appearances. Public and at home, the latter all the more important. 

Of course he felt shitty spying on his wife, but part of him was glad, even with the added weight on his shoulders. Knowing was better than not knowing, right? 

With everything else on his plate, he hadn’t given much thought to you before shooting started. Why would he? 

You had been a good enough actress, you were a fairly decent one, actually. That had surprised him. You had that charm of starlets that studios were always chasing, it wasn’t surprising that Crest signed you on, despite how green you were. 

You’d tried chatting with him between takes. He’d usually give you a few words and brush you off. Despite your skill, he still was convinced you were some spoiled brat riding into L.A. on your father’s paycheck with Hollywood stars in your eyes. 

But he’d heard you talk to other people on set. Away from cameras and public eyes, you dropped the Monroe-esque facade. That vaguely Trans-Atlantic, honeyed lilt traded in for a more authentic tone. New England, he’d placed it as. Maybe Bostonian if it had been squashed by a few years of finishing school. 

Overhearing you, you were smart — at the very least in an educated sense. You had a sarcastic humor about you too, quick and sharp. Easy to miss but all the more enjoyable when it’s caught. 

He found himself giving you more time. You’d given up on trying to make idle talk with him after he’d seemed disinterested the first few times, but recently he’d insert himself into a group where you were holding court, making idle talk with you between takes. 

He’d thought about you, too. About how seemingly wrong he’d been about you. Cooper was finding he was wrong about a lot these days. You were captivating, of course. A young woman like you, your personality, your figure, it was your brand, and hard not to notice. But that charm still shone through when you stopped batting your lashes, smiling  and tossing your hair in front of cameras. 

It had been a considerably late call. The director had wanted to use as much of the night sky as he could. Cooper was in a makeup chair, reading through another newspaper. He had always kept up with the news, but in the last few weeks he’d been making a habit of reading different ones, reading the lines instead of scanning them. Seeing if there was anything to be picked up on. There never was. 

“You took my spot.” He looked up when he heard your voice, spotting you over the line of the paper. He lowered the grey, raising a brow as he looked at you.

“There’s plenty of chairs, Miss Mansfield.” He said, gesturing to the empty fabric chairs around them. 

You shook your head. “No,” You say down next to him. You had your wardrobe on but you had thrown some silky robe over it. “On the 405 near Santa Monica.”

“Ah,” he nodded. A hairdresser came up, greeted him briefly before running a comb through his hair. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

You rolled your eyes, settling into the chair as another hairdresser came to you, undoing the silk scarf you had tied around your head. 

“Maybe I’ll angle for them to stay putting ads in those Vaults.” You said, half joking. “People can see my smiling mug while they ride out the end of days.”

“Yeah, it’s not your face they’re looking at, Miss Mansfield.” 

That earned another eye roll from you, but this time accompanied by a smile. He noticed you liked when people kept up with you, so Cooper made an effort to. 

“They’re going to have to start putting some shoe polish on you.” You said, nodding to his temples. He’d started the shoot with a touch of silver but it’s made its spread the last few weeks. “What’s a guy like you possibly getting up to go silver like that?” 

“You spend a lot of time ogling at my hair, huh?” He bounced back, picking up the paper again.

“Well I have to spend a lot of time looking at you, don’t I?” You shrugged, leaning back in the chair as the stylist brushed through your hair and pinned it up.

“Are you complaining?” He teased. His eyes never left the paper but you could see the smile pulling at his lips.

“I can think of a few worse people to look at.” You shot back with a matching expression, using your thumbs to help the stylist guide the hairpiece onto your head. 

He smiled back with a raised brow, his attention again not leaving the newsprint. “Watch it.” He said with a slight shake of his head. Despite the warning, you couldn’t see any hostility in his features.

────────────────────────────────

“You’re gonna catch a cold out there” 

“Not if you let me in.” 

“And why would I do a thing like that?” 

Cooper stood in the threshold of the house set, you were on the porch, the rain pipes hitting the roof above you just enough for the microphones to pick up. 

“Because you’ve been waiting for me all night.” You raised a perfectly sculpted brow, and Cooper narrowed his eyes.
“Is that so? I don’t remember putting out an invitation.” 

“You didn’t have to. A man like you always leaves his door open.” 

Cooper took his turn raising a brow, studying you as you waited with an expectant face to be let in. 

“And women like you always seem to walk right in.” 

He opened the door for you, and you stepped inside. You took off your coat as you walked into the foyer, hanging it on the coat rack and you set your closed umbrella next to it. The camera followed you as you walked further into the house. The fabric of your sheath dress was dark, the color wouldn’t show on camera, but you still looked good in it.

“What’s this about then, Margaret?”
“You’re not going to offer me a drink?” 

“I’m not wasting my good liquor for no reason.” 

“Pour me a drink and then I’ll start talking.” You tilted your head, taking a step towards him. Cooper sighed, walking slowly over to a bar cart and grabbing a whiskey decanter. He poured two fingers worth of the dark liquid – really just some water dye in it – into a crystal low ball. He walked back closer to you, and handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“You’ve got your drink,” He said, still close in proximity to you. “Now start talking before you find yourself out in that storm again.” You took a sip of the drink, your eyes – framed perfectly by makeup that he was sure would look just as captivating on screen – meeting his over the rim of the glass.
“I need your help.” You said, lowering the glass. 

“That so?” 

You nodded.
“My sister, she’s missing.” 

“Are you going to tell me where you put her body?” 

“I’m being serious, Raymond.” 

“So am I.” 

You let out an impatient sigh, but held a pleading gaze.
“Cut!” 

Both you and Cooper tore your gaze from each other, looking off the set towards where the director stood by the cinematographer, who was shielded from view by the large blimp on the camera. 

“Christ, Coop, she’s not gonna bite you! Get in a little closer, will you?” The director called, shaking his head as he leaned into talk to the cinematographer. 

Cooper looked at you, expecting to exchange an exasperated look, only to be met with a playful – almost teasing – gleam and an arched brow from you. You just shrugged, blinking slowly. When your eyes opened, they were cast back on the moving crew. 

He wanted to say he didn’t like the look from you. But really, he just didn’t like the reaction it had elicited from him.

The two of you had shot the scene probably about ten times, enough for the cinematographer to grab all the different angles and inserts he needed. Cooper had listened, placing himself closer to you, letting his touches and gazes linger longer. “For the love of God, build some fucking tension!” The director had called out, likely for Cooper more than you. “We’re not filming for the goddamn SCLC!” 

“You going home?” You asked, finding him outside his trailer. You had shed your costume, wearing a pair of capris and a short cardigan instead. You’d taken your hair out of the pins they’d used to secure it under your wig for the shoot, but you had a silk scarf over your head covering most of it. 

“It’s nearly midnight, of course I’m going home.” Cooper replied, softening the words with a half smile.

You shrugged in response while adjusting your scarf. “Your loss. Few of us were going out for drinks.” 

“Next time.” He grabbed his keys from his pocket and started walking through the emptying studio. 

You followed his pace, not to keep up with him, but you were heading out, too. You waved him off dismissively. “Was ‘next time’ last time.” You reached into your purse as you walked, fishing out your own keys. “People are noticing, y’know. Talking when you’re not at the craft table.” 

He made a face, taking his turn to roll his eyes. “Talking about what, Mansfield?” 

“You’re acting like an asshole.” You shrugged. “Not talking, keeping to yourself. A lot of them are saying it’s because of all that Vault-Tec advertising you’re doing. They’ve got a distaste for it and now you’re acting all aloof…well it’s just building their narrative.” 

He just shook his head. “Yeah, well that’s not really my problem what they think.” 

“Not what I think, though.” You added. “I’ve done the corporate work. It’s life-sucking but not like that. Granted I’ve never worked for fucking Vault-Tec.” 

He didn’t respond, biting his tongue to hold back some sarcastic retort. He was tired, wanted to go home and go to bed. You were just trying to be helpful, in your own nosy way. The two of you stepped into the studio lot, a labyrinth of cars even this late at night. “Take care.” He said, turning his head to meet yours with a polite nod before striding away from you. 

────────────────────────────────

You would continue to probe like that. You were being nosy, of course, but you were also trying to be helpful, even if it wasn’t your primary objective. For what it’s worth, it worked. Less accredited to your persistence but because the idea of having this weight of his chest kept sounding more and more appealing. 

You had invited yourself into his trailer after a shoot one day; you had a way of weaseling your way in and making it seem like it had been his idea. In his defense, he hadn’t planned on saying anything about his situation to you; but again, you had a way of fishing things out. 

“Gilda Broscoe says someone saw you at that funeral home.” You said it casually, leaning against the side of the beaten down couch. You held a glass in your hand, swirling the liquor inside. 

“Gilda Broscoe would say she saw Santa Claus coming down her chimney if it got someone talking.” Cooper replied, pushing down the feeling of anxiety your words had brought. “That woman alone does more damage than every gossip rag in print.” 

“But were you?” You asked, tilting your head. “She said that her friend said it looked like some kind of meeting. Didn’t get close enough to hear what about, though.” 

Cooper took a moment to look at you, trying to figure out your motive in asking about all this. His immediate reaction was to shut it all down. For all he knew, you would turn right back around to Gilda and air his dirty laundry. But something in his gut told him otherwise. 

“Yeah, so?” He took a sip of his own drink. You shrugged. 

“Just wondering what a guy like you gets up to, is all.” You rested your drink on your leg, still holding it in your hand. You propped your head up against your other hand, your elbow on the arm of the couch. “Are they any good? These meetings?” 

Cooper shrugged noncommitmentally. “Don’t go to too many. A little much for me.” 

“Well I don’t think it’s AA.” You noted, nodding your head towards the drink in his hand. He shook his head and smiled softly. Raising his brows as he took another sip of his drink. 

“No, sweetheart.”  He leaned forward, setting his glass on the coffee table and grabbing the bottle to refill it. “I think AA is the last thing I need right now.” 

“What’re you pouring for, then?” You asked, taking another drink as he leaned back against his respective side of the couch. He gave you a look, one that made it clear that he wasn’t going to open up to you, even if you had become the closest thing he had to a friend for this shoot.  

“Just…stress.” Was the answer he settled on, taking a long pull from the glass. 

“Stress.” You repeated. “That’s awfully vague.”

“And you’re awfully persistent.” He said back with a dry laugh and a shake of his head.  “Most people would have taken a hint by now.”

“I make an active effort to not be like most people, Mr. Howard, at least when I can.” 

“Maybe you should make an active effort to mind your business when you can. Before you end up with a reputation like Gilda Broscoe’s.” Despite the verbal warning, his tone was light. 

“But we’re talking about her.” You offered back, lifting your head from where it was perched on your hand. “Yeah, make your movies, do your ads and have your premiers at the Chinese theatre. But it’s people talking — in whatever capacity — that keeps all this spinning.” You twirled your finger in the air before letting your arm fall onto the armrest. 

Cooper didn’t agree, but you weren’t wrong entirely. He gave you a shrug as he adjusted himself on the couch. “For someone so green, you’re a real pessimist.” 

“You’re disagreeing?” 

“No,” he took another sip of his drink. “But I’m wondering if there’s maybe a little bit of optimism left in there somewhere.”

“Probably,” you took your turn adjusting your posture from how you were lounging, sitting up straighter. “But I think it’s buried at the same level you’re carrying all your stress.”

“Comparing apples to oranges, Miss Mansfield.”

“They’re both fruit.” You shrugged. You finished off the last sip of your drink, then you leaned forward to set it on the small table in front of the couch. “Still, I know I feel better when I talk, get it off my chest.”

“At the rate you talk, you must never have a bad day.” 

“Look, again if it’s that corporate shit with Vault-Tec, I’m not a stranger to it.” You helped yourself to the bottle, refilling your glass and silently inviting yourself to stay longer, at least until you finish this drink.

“Those little Nuka shoots stressing you out, Mansfield?” He asked in a teasing tone, raising a brow. 

“No,” you shook your head with a sigh, reaching forward to grab your clutch from the coffee table. “The hardest thing about those is getting into that damn rocket suit.” You fished a pack of cigarettes from your purse. You tapped the pack, pulling one out and placing it between your lips. “But, I know the look of someone who found themselves carrying the knowledge of,” You paused to light your cigarette. “Unsavory corporate bullshit.” You gathered your stuff back into your clutch and set it back on the table. 

“I know the look of someone who’s just burying their head in the sand.” You said after a deep, the smoke billowing around you. You shrugged. “God knows I am. But you…” You tilted your head, studying his face. “You had that look about you. Did you take your head out of the sand or did someone rip it out?” 

Cooper again didn’t answer. He felt nervous under your gaze, he’d assumed you were smart – smarter than you showed for the sake of your ‘brand’ – but this level of perceptiveness was almost unnerving. He could appreciate that it seemed you were talking from experience, which made him wonder just what kind of other work you were doing, or at least privy to at Nuka. The thought almost made him laugh. What kind of ‘unsavory corporate bullshit’ could a place like Nuka-Cola be up to, at least in comparison to what he knew about Vault-Tec? He took the last sip of his drink, setting the empty low-ball on the table near your bag.

“Why the third degree?” He asked, studying your face the same way you were studying his. 

“Well I’m nosy, for one. Though, I’m not the type to go turn around to the Confidential. But…” You trailed off, taking another deep inhale from the cigarette. “I’ve also always been like this, at least a little. When my mom was around, she would tell me I had a ‘funny’ way of trying to help. Could always tell when something’s wrong, but I also just wouldn’t let it go. Would just probe and probe until I got an answer or got told to fuck off.” 

“And if I just tell you to fuck off?” He asked, still leaning towards the coffee table and resting his elbows on his knees.“Are you going to?” You asked, moving forward to tap the ash of your cigarette into the ash tray on the table. Cooper thought for a moment, then he grabbed the bottle and refilled his own glass. 

In honor of the Ides of March and Fallout OC Week

@falloutocweek

Name: Brutus

Species: Synth

Faction: The Railroad/The Abolitionists

Weapon of choice: Deliverer, Tinker Tom Special

A Courser synth who wandered aimlessly after the destruction of the Institute. He was found by the Railroad, who helped him adjust to a life of freedom. After the destruction of the Institute, the Railroad and their allies, the Abolitionists of the Capitol Wasteland, decided to expand their liberation efforts into Legion territory.

The synth volunteered and, since he was working against Caesar and Desdemona loves her Shakespeare, he was given the name Brutus. He is skilled at stealth and sniping. He carries silenced weapons and a Stealth Boy. He sneaks into Legion territory, making contacts, finding slaves willing to escape, and performing whatever actions are necessary to cover their tracks.

He is also the blackmailer of my OC’s Castus and Crixus, two gay Legion border guards who help him unwillingly to avoid having their relationship exposed. He also serves as a “guardian angel” to the two of them, keeping their relationship concealed and assassinating anyone who discovers it so that he can maintain his power over them.

Fallout fans, you know what to do

Nick: I think it was HDMI 2…

Sole: TOASTER!

Dude I just started playing fnv get this clanker off my screen 🥹

I made a thing.