#instamash

[sirmanmister]

AM I STUPID OR SOMETHING THERES A FUCKING PANTRY IN THE HOUSE OF TOMORROW

I HAVE LIKE 200 HOURS IN THIS GAME HOW THE FUCK DID I NEVER REALIZE????

#like I knew the alcove was there post war but it just never connected in my head??? #fallout 4 is really the game that keeps on giving huh #what’s that thing the kids do. /hj? yeah. #conclusion: I’m stupid #fallout 4 #blamco mac and cheese #instamash #house of tomorrow #serenade posts

[telethrutime]

hey guys u should know InstaMash has augmented teeth. It was that weirdo basement dr in diamond city who did it

#augmented like #they're stronger and sharper #weaponized tooth caps #or something #maybe augmented isn't the right word. cosmetically enhanced? they aren't for looks they r for biting people #not in a rawr arson I bite people way #but in a 'it's a legitimate tactic to make people succumb to infection instead of wasting time crowbarring them to death' way #fallout oc #oc #yknow what they're getting their own tag #oc InstaMash #there we go

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Eight: The Yao Guai's Visit

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: The two of you seek shelter for the night, enjoying a brief moment of domesticity before a glowing yao guai stalks through. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.7k

The two of you manage to find a ramshackle of a home. Sure, half the roof is missing and there’s a gross amount of radroaches but it feels like a haven compared to the risk of sleeping out in the open. Without wasting time, both of you start working - getting rid of the pests and settling into your newfound shelter.

While he gets a fire going in the more open area of the tiny dwelling, you sit on the floor, rummaging through your bag, contemplating what meal to prepare. You had discovered a few packaged meals like Blamco Mac and Cheese, Cram, and InstaMash from the Super Duper Mart. After a bit of consideration, you decide on Cram mac and cheese for tonight's dinner. You can't help but wonder, though - does he still have his taste buds? It's possible for some ghouls to retain some sense of taste. However, if he's been like this for two centuries, it's highly likely that his taste buds may have deteriorated.

You're grateful that those so-called sheriffs didn't confiscate your weapons or any items from your bag. Although you rarely use the pip-boy nowadays, it's handy for monitoring your health status and checking possibly high radiation levels in new areas. Seeing you fiddle with the device, the Ghoul decides to join you, taking a seat beside you as the fire roars into a steady blaze.

“Keep that on you. It will notify us if there’s any sizable mutants nearby.” He commands.

"Aye, aye captain," you half-heartedly salute him as you secure the pip-boy onto your wrist with a click.

Getting up, you make your way to what remains of the kitchen area and start rummaging for any cookware. After some searching, you find a decently sized pot, fill it with a carton of somewhat purified water from your bag, and position it over the fire. As you begin preparing the meal, The Ghoul silently observes, watching as you cut up the Cram into bite-sized pieces and add the macaroni pasta into the now boiling water. There was something so domestic about the whole thing, a rare moment of nostalgia washes over him, reminding him of a time when such simple comforts were more than just a distant dream.

After some time passes, you manage to create a modest dinner for the two of you. The effort you put into the meal is a bit surprising, but it's a welcome change from the usual scavenged scraps. The scent of the food wafting through the air adds a touch of comfort to the desolate surroundings.

"It’s too bad you can’t smell this," you joke as you hand him a serving with a bent spoon and an intact bowl you found. "I’m hoping you can at least somewhat taste it?"

With a glare, he quickly devours everything in the bowl before setting it down, offering a nod in your direction. He then leans against the nearby wall, the weight of the day's chaos settling between you. The silence that follows is a welcomed break, allowing you both to catch your breath and collect your thoughts. But as the quiet lingers, the unanswered questions from the day's events weigh heavily on your mind.

"What did that guy mean when he said you’re still looking for her?" you ask quietly, taking a bite of food.

"None of your damn business, Smoothie," he retorts, his tone sharp and guarded.

"Is it a wife or somethin'?" you press, unable to shake off your curiosity.

"If you don’t drop the subject, then I will shoot you," he warns, pulling his hat down to cover his eyes. Just as you're about to argue, the geiger counter on your pip-boy starts going off, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere. The Ghoul looks up at you, alarmed, and rushes to put out the fire. As you stand up and look around for any sign of what could be causing the disturbance, you feel a sudden grip on your arm as he pulls you towards the wall, pressing you against it and covering your mouth with one of his hands.

“Shut the damn thing off,” he whispers urgently to you. You hastily flick through the device and manage to turn off the geiger counter, the sudden silence amplifying the tension in the room.

As you stand frozen against the wall, a hand tightly gripping your waist and another muffling your frightened gasps, he silences you with a shushing motion. The sound of a deep, rumbling growl resonates ominously from the other side of the wall, causing your heart to pound with such intensity that you fear the creature on the other side will hear it.

Desperate for any distraction, your eyes dart towards the nearby window, revealing a glowing yao guai leisurely strolling around the building. His gaze locks onto you, his eyes filled with intensity, as if he can sense the frantic rhythm of your racing pulse beneath your skin. His touch momentarily rubs circle on your waist, but he withdraws abruptly, as though realizing the inappropriateness of the gesture.

Gradually, the footsteps of the yao guai fade into the distance. The Ghoul slowly removes his hand from your mouth, and for a few lingering moments, the two of you simply gaze into each other's eyes. Overwhelmed by a surge of unexpected courage, you reach out and gently caress his cheek, feeling the rough yet surprisingly smooth texture of his scarred skin. Drawing closer, your lips tenderly brush against his.

"You don't want this, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, his words barely grazing your lips.

"And how could you possibly know what I want?" you challenge.

A mischievous smirk dances across his face as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Well, considerin’ you keep referrin’ to me as 'beef jerky,' I'm inclined to believe that most people don't fantasize about dried meat."

"Maybe I do," you assert, the words barely a whisper as you close the gap between you two with a soft kiss. You can sense his hesitation as your part, a subtle tension in his body as he grapples with his own conflicting emotions. In a sudden, bold move, he leans in, capturing your lips with a hunger that takes you by surprise. A low, guttural moan escapes from his mouth, blending with your own as the kiss deepens.

His hand comes up to tug you towards him from the back of your head, intensifying the contact between you. The sensation almost leaves you breathless, eliciting a gasp that mingles with the shared breath between you. You bite his lower lip, a mix of playful teasing and unbridled longing in the gesture. He responds with a deep groan, the sound sending a thrill through you as he presses his hips into yours, the bulge of his arousal evident.

Your heart races as your hands glide down his neck, delicately tracing the contours of his skin. Your touch remains gentle and exploratory as your fingers nimbly unbutton his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to reach his chest. Tracing the intricate patterns of his skin with care, you relish the intimacy of the moment. He twitches underneath your touch, his bare chest feeling the caress as if for the first time in ages.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his hand gripping your neck and pushing you away forcefully. He stares at you, his grip firm and unyielding. You're left wondering what caused him to snap. Could it have been because you touched his bare skin? You notice his expression shifts from intensity to a hint of vulnerability. His hand slowly releases its grip on your neck, and he takes a step back, creating a distance between you.

Stunned by the sudden denial, you watch as The Ghoul walks away and settles against the opposing wall. With crossed arms and a resigned posture, he leans his head back, uttering a soft “G’night” that hangs in the air like a final farewell to the intense moment you both shared.

Feeling a mix of emotions, you slide down the wall on your side of the room, your breath still heavy and your skin slightly damp with sweat. As you sit there, processing the abrupt end to the passionate encounter, you can't help but feel an anxious pang of rejection. The feeling begins gnawing at you, a heavy ache in your chest that lingers.

The morning sun finds you both silent and tense, caught in the aftermath of the previous night. The air between you is thick, filled with unsaid words and unaddressed feelings. Neither of you managed a good night's sleep, the discomfort of the cold, hard floor only a minor nuisance compared to the war within your minds.

As you both go about packing your things, each movement seems to echo loudly in the silence, punctuating the awkwardness that has settled between you. Neither of you dares to meet the other's gaze, the memory of the stolen kiss lingering in the air like a ghost.

In hindsight, kissing him was a foolish decision. You barely know him, and the little you do know paints him more as an uncompromising brute than a potential romantic interest. Despite the brief moments of camaraderie, he's been a prickly, distant companion for the most part. You find yourself questioning your actions, the taste of regret bitter on your tongue.

“So what’s the plan?” You attempt to lighten the mood, “Seems like we’re not after a head anymore.”

“We’re tracking a woman by the name of Moldaver. That's where the head is goin’,” he responds.

"Flame Mother…" you muse aloud, "I wonder what her deal is."

"I find myself askin’ the same about you," he murmurs almost inaudibly.

With an eye roll, you sling your bag over your shoulder, then give him a nod to signal that you're ready to hit the road. The Ghoul briefly mentions a letter he found on one of the men he shot up in Filly that references Moldaver. He believes that the same man was the son of an old associate of his, and that's where the two of you are headed - a long journey ahead. You take a deep breath, activate your pip-boy, and lock eyes with him. "Let's do this, beef jerky.”

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

#sorry for the delay - work has been CHAOS #beef jerky jokes until the day I die #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard #Smoothie and The Ghoul

[angst420]

We're planning on watching the last 2 episodes of fallout tonight so I'm making a themed dinner. I'll post pics if I get any but planned menu is salisbury steak with blamco mac and cheese, instamash, dandy boy apples, squirrel bits, yumyum deviled eggs, mutated carrots, fancy lad snack cakes, and of course nuka cola.

#fallout #dinner #life

[calder]

"I'd use a bullet on myself, but with all these critters an' mobsters about it feels a waste, don't it?" -Clutch, about why he hasn't killed himself

Clutch Connors is a human male that can be found in the area south of Connors Farm. When approached he will bark a series of quips in a random order, sometimes based on player statistics.

"Razorgrain, rays-or-grain. Heh, yeah. I'll take the grain any day of the week.

Whatever happened to bullfrogs?

You jack off with that arm Mister Meaty? (If the Sacrificial Lamb has a Strength score of 7 or higher.)

'S okay pardner, I'm not much for books either. (If the Sacrificial Lamb's Intelligence is 3 or lower.)

Met a guy named Fallout once, ugly motherfucker.

What the fuck is a cow anyways?

I'm a centrist, 'cept when 'm not.

Don't ask me about roads.

War... What was it about war...?

Please, kill me. Just fucking kill me. Do it before the shmuck with the buttons makes you walk away. Please. (Has a rare chance of occurring if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Wild Wasteland trait.)

Clutch is involved in the quest Saint James Infirmary Blues and is one of the escaped patients the Sacrificial Lamb is tasked with rescuing, while the quest is active, you can speak to him and at first he will be apprehensive about returning, the player can either use a Speech check of 40 to convince him to return, or state that they'll take him there by force, after which he will become immediately hostile. If the Sacrificial Lamb has a Medicine skill of 70 or has Frankie in their party, they can determine that Clutch is not a danger to himself or anyone around him, but unless they can also get Weezel to confess to struggling with gender dysphoria and convince Rhonda Simmons to stop taking Day Tripper to hide her autism, the quest will not be marked as complete until they either kill him or convince him to go back to Dr. Rollins.

After the conclusion of St. James Infirmary Blues where he stays at the farm, Clutch will be hostile to any entities hostile to the Sacrificial Lamb in the area, and the player can initiate dialogue with him where he opens up about his struggles with suicidal thoughts and schizophrenia. After exhausting all dialogue options, every time the Sacrificial Lamb talks to Clutch, he has a chance to give a Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, Instamash, Pork n' Beans, Tin Can Grenade or Radweed Joint to them along with a random statement of gratitude.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thanks for not takin' me t' that funny farm.

Hey, I love you... don't make it weird.

Nobody's ever been that nice to me before, here, have this.

Hey, I like men too. (If the Sacrificial Lamb has the Black Widow perk)

Hey, I like men too... you're not my type, though. (If the Sacrificial Lamb has the Confirmed Bachelor perk)

From one motherfucker to another motherfucker, eh?

Hey don't tell Ma about this one. Heheh. (When giving a Radweed Joint)

If the Sacrificial Lamb instead takes him back to Dr. Rollins, he will be wearing a Patient's Gown and standing inside the New Unity Clinic, where if spoken to, he will normally be silent with the subtitles simply show "..." He has a small chance to whisper "Fuck you." and if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Wild Wasteland trait he can also say, "You know you'll lose Karma for this, right?" At the conclusion of the quest Bad Medicine, if Dr. Rollins is killed, he will sometimes stand over his corpse and talk to it with his arms crossed, regardless of if the Sacrificial Lamb kills Dr. Rollins or gets Ranger Sykes to arrest him, Clutch will eventually return to Connors Farm with his inventory reset, but will keep the barks from convincing him to return to the clinic.

Clutch's inventory contains a random amount of regular 10mm ammunition and one random special 10mm round (but he will have more if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Scrounger perk and kills him.) He is equipped with leather armor and a 10mm pistol. While staying at the New Unity Clinic, he is equipped with a patient gown and his inventory is empty.

Exhausting all of Clutch Connor's dialogue after completing Saint James Infirmary Blues without killing him or returning him to the clinic is essential to completing the Basket Case challenge and receiving its related perk.

Trivia

Clutch almost recites the classic phrase "War never changes." found throughout the Fallout series, but forgets the rest of the sentence.

His apprehension regarding the subject of roads may be a reference to players in Fallout: New Vegas being able to ask characters about the NCR-Legion conflict, where many of them will bring up the safety of roads. (citation needed)

His Wild Wasteland dialogue in the New Unity Clinic is a reference to Karma, a statistic that tracked the morality of players' actions in previous Fallout games.

Mister Meaty was the name of a puppet show that briefly aired on Nickelodeon from 2007-2008.

Glitches

Prior to Patch 1.03, Clutch would become immediately hostile to the Sacrificial Lamb upon starting Saint James Infirmary Blues.

Prior to Patch 1.17, Clutch would sometimes be dead of a gunshot wound if the Sacrificial Lamb approached him and then left Connors Farm without starting or completing Saint James Infirmary Blues. Using console commands to warp directly to the farm from the clinic will show that he was meant to be shooting at tin cans on a fence, but because the cans have no collision until picked up, if a caravan is walking by, he can hit one of the caravan guards, traveling merchants or pack brahmin, causing them to turn hostile and kill him before returning to their route.

Clutch will sometimes use the same combat barks as the Stargazer cultists or Infected Commandos

Clutch will sometimes say one of his perk or item dependent lines when giving the Sacrificial Lamb Pork n' Beans, regardless of if they have the prerequisite perk and not receiving a Radweed Joint.

If Dr. Rollins is spawned in front of Clutch after killing him during the quest Bad Medicine using console commands, he will still talk to him as if he was dead.

this seems to be an entertainment-oriented article for a bunch of fallout that doesnt exist. i have no idea of the context or joke but this was a fun read, thank you !

#'i knew a guy named fallout' is kinda sending me

[riflebrass]

Tonight for dinner I made a simplified jagerschnitzel.

Typically for schnitzel you're supposed to take a pork cutlet and hammer it thin then you bread it and fry it. Since my down stairs neighbor doesn't like listening to me pound my meat I used thin sliced pork chops. I added some salt, garlic powder, and some cayenne in the flour dredge to season the meat.

The sauce is essentially a stroganoff sauce. I chopped up some shallots and onions then fried it in some oil with some beef bullion. I added a few tbsp of flour and made a roux. I added a couple tbsp of sour cream then added water until I got the sauce to a nice consistency.

The broccoli is simple. I just let a bag of frozen broccoli thaw in the fridge for a couple days then I microwaved it for a couple minutes. Finally we have some garlic mashed potatoes. I simmered about a dozen cloves of garlic, some salt, and a bunch of herbs in a stick of butter for about an hour. I added some milk then dumped in water and instamash until I got enough potatoes.

#cooking

[leaf4e]

ok so

made:

cooler

cram

ceramic bowl (empty noodle bowl)

stack of ceramic bowls (empty)

empty milk bottle

noodle bowl

noodle pot

nuka cola

nuka cola quantum

nuka cola machine

pork n beans

empty pot

salisbury steak

tv dinner tray

terminal

yum yum deviled eggs

instamash

dandy boy apples

fancy lads snack cakes

sugar bombs (pre + post war)

blamco mac & cheese

nuka cola bottle empty

nuka cola cherry

abraxo cleaner

cutting board

radio

wip:

pipboy

t60 power armour helmet

planned:

mr handy

(this is mainly for my own reference)

also you can suggest more to add to the planned list

#leaf's posts

[mnikhowozu]

lovely canis, i've only jst found out abt chip & . i simply must kno more abt him pls !!! 👁️ what r his fav foods n hobbies in the wasteland ? ty !!! 💛⭐

of course!!! thank you so much for asking, he is so so special to me 😭😭💖

i've joked about chip being a god-awful cook (or more accurately, a really good cook, but his methods of cooking are a little horrifying sometimes; for example, cooking baby back ribs in a pillow case with a hairdryer). his favorite foods he makes for himself are probably gecko steaks with grilled maize, fried cram sandwiches made with tortillas, and wasteland caravan lunches (cram, instamash, pork n' beans).

his favorite foods in general are probably raul's huevos rancheros, anything boone makes on the grill, anything lily bakes, and of course his favorite drink, sunset sarsaparilla :^)

in terms of hobbies, i think he's really fond of racing sleipnir/horses, playing cards, and having shooting competitions with his companions (probably at scorpions or bottles. or raiders. or legion assassins.)

#oc: chip #im so happy to talk about my man. he's such a funky fella

[pointlookout]

i cant think of anything good to write so have this ask prompt reply from 2016

“Phoebe, would you mind leading grace?”

It was a rare evening where Phoebe had been honoured with the presence of her father for dinner. For once, James had been gracious enough to peel himself from the vault’s clinic, granted he’d have to return sooner or later, and Phoebe brims with delight.

“Sure, dad.”

She bows her head, expressing a prayer she had whispered to herself so many times alone in the diner as if it were a secret she wished nobody else to hear of. With closed eyes, she doesn’t falter with her words, and once she lifts her chin from her knuckles her father is beaming at her.

“You’ve been practising,” he observes, sipping from a wine glass that’s half-full with purified water.

Phoebe grins eagerly before planting a soft kiss on the pendant that hangs from her neck.

“I read the book every night before I go to bed,” she proclaims, licking her lips as hunger begins to settle in, and she keenly reaches for the silverware next to her plate.

Despite his age, there are already crow’s feet that tug at the corner of James’ weary eyes. Working in the clinic had proved to be back-breaking work at times, and with the long hours that came with it he barely had any time to spend with his daughter.

His heart aches, for he knew Catherine would have been disappointed. He gestures to her necklace with the end of his knife. “That used to be your mothers.”

“I know.”

Phoebe tentatively sets down her fork, pieces of InstaMash still stuck to it, and drops her eyes to her fingers as they fiddle with the cross chained at her throat. “She’s with God, isn’t she?”

“That she is, sweetheart,” James replies, nodding solemnly. Phoebe was barely a teenager, yet had already shown to be excelling in all her studies and vault-standard tests, and with each passing day she blossoms into an image of Catherine. “She’s watching over you, much like God is.”

“Is she proud of me?”

James swallows thickly, but doesn’t hesitate with his answer. “Of course.”

#fallout 3 time 👍 #whatever #writing #phoebe #missing her so much <3

[glamfellens]

What foods does Harriet enjoy? She a big InstaMash fan?

Growing up and living in Shady Sands for the first couple of decades of her life means Harriet is maybe more used to... not necessarily The Finer Things in life but food that isn't like... roasted gecko or radroach? Lmao So while Harriet is probably better at campsite cooking than she used to be by virtue of wandering the wastes for the better part of ten years, she probably leans more towards scavenging packs of InstaMash, Cram and Sugarbombs. Calling her a fan of it is probably a stretch but food is food.

#harriet browning

[telethrutime]

Hm hey Hancock sets InstaMash on edge. They like him for his ideology but they would rather throw themselves off of Trinity Towers than spend a day around him

#I think they like Deacon though #I need to think through their opinions on the companions #Mash isn’t the SS jsyk #oc instamash #yes that’s actually their name #over time people mishear it and it warps so most people call them something slightly different #mack mitch mish whatever sounds vaguely like mash they end up responding to #they don’t correct it bc they don’t really care

[slocumsweanie]

These hooligans were harassing the local diner which i sponsor. They were selling the wretched drug Jet that my evil counterpart Slocum Dodson takes so often and they were asking my diner slave for money. So i snuck up behind them and shot them.

It was completely deserved and then i cut off all their limbs and threw them in a nearby desolated truck. I then proceeded to talk to my diner slave named Trondy.

She awarded me with the 100 Nuka Cola Caps, and i gave her a special Slocum's Joe brand melon. Then i stole her instamash.

#fo4 #slocums joe #character rp #ill beat you slocum dodson.

[dbphantom]

I am so fucking glad this actually returned what I was trying to say while writing tags about Law's kickass outfits because the unhelpful instamash mix I disrespectfully call a brain was supplementing all the wrong words and I didn't feel like finding that one writing thesaurus site on mobile

#My brain does this ALL THE TIME ITS SO ANNOYING #Like no buddy!!! Those are the wrong words stop it!!! #Today I forgot the word for syllable. My brain would not stop saying 'consonant' when that's not what I wanted and I knew that wasn't it #It's so frustrating #Because like. I *know* the words. I*know* I know the words. So Why. Why. Why. Can't you just remember them correctly. Ever. #It makes writing so difficult because once I'm knocked out of that flow state by searching stuff I'm never getting back #It's the same with like CS stuff. I *KNOW* these things. So Why can my brain just decide to conveniently forget the instant #I actually NEED to remember the information. Like 'whoops teehee' #'yeah those documents u wanted that were taking up space on my desk forever and ever? I JUST shredded them' #So I spend 48 hours stomping around rewriting all the paperwork and then when the task is done and over with #THEN ITS LIKE 'oh so I found a copy on one drive because it made an automatic backup but nobody uses or likes onedrive so I didn't see it' #WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS BRAIN #Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa- #Anyway. I thought this was mildly humorous I'm not actually That Frustrated about what just happened #It's more of just a general frustration with how my brain functions bc like. Come on #I put so much work in to learn and memorize all this stuff and it just takes it throws it out the window #It's very much a 'why should I even bother trying at this point' scenario for me #Cruddy rambles #Obviously apathy will get me nowhere. But it's extremely hard to stay positive when I legit just forget I need to do that :/

[maccreadysbaby]

CRASH AND BURN™︎

fem!oc x preston garvey

in which a strange girl shows up in the commonwealth to tell the minutemen that an old enemy is rising up from the capital wasteland, and they’re not just coming for kicks and giggles. oh, and an unassuming second-in-command manages to catch her silver eye, even on the brink of war.

❝ if this is what it feels like to fall for you, garvey, i don’t want to stop until i crash and burn ❞

this is chapter three. full chapter masterlist can be found here.

TW: chem withdrawals, smoking, vomit, possibly offensive dialogue?

❝ INSTITUTIONALIZED ❞

Vault 62, DC, Capital Wasteland

Aug 7, 2288, 1500

>> flashbacks part two. read to understand.

— HEARTLEY’S HEARTBEAT WAS THROUGH THE ROOF.

“Shh, shh, stop laughing,” She ordered, but that didn’t stop Markus and Mercury’s audible cackles from emanating through the room.

She and Markus had been hanging out with Mercury and his grandmother, playing games and listening to the radio until the old woman fell asleep on their little couch. And now, the boys were stacking things on top of her to see how many they could get before she woke up.

“Stop freaking out, Heartley. You know if she wakes up she’s just gonna laugh,” Markus ordered. His green eye shined a slightly brighter green under the white lights of the private quarters than it did in the dull hallways. His jeans and blue t-shirt almost unintentionally matched hers. Mercury was right next to him, smiling brightly, bringing him things from around the room to stack on his grandmother. As of now, they’d gotten six boxes of abraxo, two instamash, four fancy lads and one dandy boy apples, and she still hadn’t budged despite the preserved, pre-war products acting as a personal weighted blanket.

Heartley stood off to the side as they added a few more boxes of apples. It wasn’t rare for them to end up spending hours in Mercury’s quarters. It was practically the hub for non-smoking get togethers. Whether it be Simon and Tuesday there to spend time with their favorite friend, Scout and Riot staying the night to escape the iron grip of reality, Chicago offering to make them dinner, Jericho spending empty days with the one friend his mother did approve of, or Heartley and Markus going to play games, someone was always in Mercury’s room. He and his family never had it to themselves, and frankly, they didn’t really mind. His grandfather wasn’t home all that much and his grandmother loved the kids to no end.

It was approaching evening, and Heartley would have to help her mother in the lab soon. She hated working in there. It was almost like a curse, passed down from generation to generation. If you were born into the Enclave, you did what your parents did. If you were no good at it you became something like a janitor or vendor. It was a vicious, irritating cycle of everyone else choosing your life for you, and Heartley liked most things about the Enclave, but she hated that.

Suddenly, as another box was placed on top of Miss Delgado, the door slid open, and Scout fumbled inside with one, frazzled statement:

“I can’t find Riot anywhere,”

Heartley, Mercury, and Markus turned on the instant. They hadn’t seen Scout in a solid two days, nor had they heard anything about him from anyone. He was standing next to the doorway, dark eyes whiter than normal, hands trembling by his sides. He was sweating almost profusely and looked like he was terrified. If they didn’t know any better, they’d think he was just super worried about Riot. But they knew better.

“Jesus, Scout,” Heartley stepped towards him, gripping his shaking hands to make them stay still. She grimaced because they were so sweaty. “You need to stop doing chems.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but instead, pulled his hands away and wiped them on his pants. “Did you hear me? I can’t find Riot.”

Ah, right. Riot was his dealer.

Mercury walked up behind Heartley, handing Scout an unlit cigarette from a box of his grandmother’s. He took it and hastily put it between his lips, taking the lighter that Mercury extended to him in the other hand and lighting it up.

“Did you check the closet?” Markus asked. Heartley sent a worried glance back toward Miss Delgado, but her light snores were still emanating through the room.

“That was the first place I checked,” He took a long drag of the cigarette and let the smoke simmer in his lungs for a moment, before blowing it out his nose and handing the lighter back to Mercury. “Not in his room, not with Chicago or the twins or Jericho or any-freaking-where. Thought he might be here but looks like he ain’t.”

Heartley glanced back at Markus, who shrugged. “Maybe he went back to confinement. You know, for stealing packs of cigarettes and drugs from Bela’s store every other day.”

Riot shook his head. “I was down there this morning, he wasn’t there. That’s why I haven’t had chems in two days and feel like I’m about to vomit.” He stated, taking another long drag of the cigarette, desperate to get some kind of chem-esque effect radiating through his body.

Markus quizzed: “You were in confinement?” At the same time Heartley grumbled: “What did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter, what does matter is - oh, hold on a second,” He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and went out the door, suddenly doubling over and vomiting all over the metal hallway floor. Heartley grimaced and Mercury looked away. “Oh my God, I need drugs.”

Heartley and Markus shared a look of pity. They knew Scout was into hitting some of the harder stuff, stuff even Riot, the local chem dealer, had only hit once and decided never to do again, but they never knew he was a full-blown addict. It wasn’t a huge surprise, but at the same time, it kind of was. His dad was the same way and had been bribing chems off the vendors since before Scout was born. Now, he got his drugs from Riot, too, because it was more incognito than asking Bela for them. (Even though Riot jacked up the prices. It’s business, he used to say.) The whole friend group was sure Bela was in on the action to at least some degree, because the quantity of chems Riot seemed to get his hands on each week was way too large to be stolen and go unnoticed. Heartley supposed it was another one of those family curses.

“You need help,” Markus insisted as Scout stood back up and leaned against the doorframe, sucking on the cigarette again.

“I’m fine. But Riot’s missing,”

“Riot isn’t missing, he has to be here somewhere. But Scout, listen to me.” Markus stepped forward. “You need help.”

“I’m fine,” He hissed. Heartley nudged Markus a bit, telling him to back off. She remembered the stories of Scout trying to convince his father he needed help, and those only ended in violence. “We need to find Riot.”

“Okay,” Heartley stated, glancing back at Mercury’s grandmother, who was still sleeping soundly with boxes all over her. “Well, Markus, you can Mercury can go check everyone’s quarters, he might’ve crashed in mine or yours since they’re mostly empty. Scout and I will go to the atrium. See if we can get ahold of Tuesday and Simon and get them to help.”

She gave Markus a look, and he seemed to understand what the glint in her eyes meant. Thankfully, Scout didn’t catch it. Taking him to Tuesday during withdrawals was probably the best (or worst, in his eyes) thing they could do for him.

With that, the four of them split up, not caring to remove the boxes from Mercury’s grandmother or spare a second glance to the puddle of vomit in the hallway.

Scout threw out his cigarette in a trash can before they made it into the atrium. Heartley was leading the way, straight toward the medical office. She could already see Doctor Jones and his twin sons through the window, working in their lab coats, per usual. As soon as Heartley walked in, she stood against the doorway and announced:

“Hey, Doctor, I… you know my mom’s a workaholic. She seemed a little off this morning, and I… just think It’d be good if you checked up on her. She’s been working real hard lately, ignoring her physical needs and all that. I’m sure you understand how that goes,” Heartley smiled sadly. “I just… want to see to it that she’s alright before she pushes herself over an edge.”

Scout waited outside, mainly so the man wouldn’t see him. It wasn’t a secret that he despised Riot, Scout, and Chicago just because they liked to have fun.

Tuesday and Simon glanced up at Heartley in confusion when she spoke. Doctor Jones listened intently, nodding along with her, rising and gathering his bag. “I’ll go take a look, yes.”

Scout touched Heartley’s elbow from behind, whispering: “Bad time, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to puke again.”

She stiffened. “Great! Better hurry before she gets deeper into her research, evenings are always when inspiration strikes! She might be resilient and say she’s fine but trust me, she needs a full check over. A long one.”

The Doctor nodded, thanked her for bringing it to his attention, and left the room without any further questions. She knew he’d be up and out as soon as she mentioned her mother. Scout hurried into the room as soon as the doctor turned the corner, grabbing the nearest trash can off of the floor and expelling whatever sustenance he had left in his body directly into it.

Tuesday shook his head, like he knew this would happen, and Simon grimaced. She mouthed the word chems to them so Scout didn’t see, sharing a quick look of pity with them for their friend. Simon glanced over at Scout as he put the trash can back on the floor.

“Well, that was rather sudden and violent,” He grimaced, stumbling slightly and leaning against their fathers desk for support. He was getting paler and he didn’t look good. “Riot’s missing, and we’re commissioning you to help us find him.”

“Because he’s your chems dealer?” Tuesday deadpanned.

“Because he’s our friend and he’s missing,” Scout shot back.

“I think we need to address something else first,” Tuesday sighed, gesturing with his arm toward Scout. He walked over and grabbed a clipboard off of a nearby table. He looked like a real doctor with the lab coat and board. “You just puked, you’re shaking, you can hardly stand up, and you’re sweating like a sinner in church. I’d say you’re going through withdrawals.”

Tuesday said it all matter-of-factly, like he always did, not even a hint of emotion making an appearance. Simon, however, had enough for both of them. He drifted up to Scout’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him sadly.

Scout wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m fine.”

Heartley closed the sliding door and headed over to one of the rolling examination tables, hopping up onto it and taking a seat. She’d known Tuesday long enough to tell there was a lecture coming.

“Did you sleep in confinement last night, or the night before?” Tuesday asked. Heartley furrowed her brow. How did he know Scout was in confinement?

“Barely,”

“How long have you been shaking?”

“Like, I don’t know, a while,”

“Stomach?”

“Having a fit, I suppose,”

“How long?”

“I dunno, a day?”

“Anxiety?”

“Always,”

“You tired?”

“More than I’d like to admit,”

“Pass out?”

“Once,”

“For how long?”

“Like, ten minutes or something,”

“Hallucinations?”

“Jesus, Tuesday,” Scout grumbled, throwing his hands in the air. “Riots missing and you’re giving me a questionnaire.”

“Riot isn’t missing, we live in a vault.” Tuesday ordered. Simon squeezed Scout’s shoulder supportively, and Tuesday raised his eyebrows, repeating: “Hallucinations?”

“No, I’m not a freaking schizo,”

“On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how would you say you feel?” Tuesday questioned. Scout shrugged.

“Four,”

Tuesday glared at him. “Be honest.”

Scout sucked in a breath and let out a long sigh. “Ten.”

Heartley sighed sadly, propping her elbows on her knees. Markus was right — he needed help. Simon squeezed Scout’s shoulder again, eyeing at him with pity written all over his features.

Scout shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Oh, dude, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

“You’re sick,” Simon admitted.

“I’m fine,”

“Scout-“

“Stop treating me like I’m some freaking crazy locked in an insane asylum, okay?! I’m fine. I’m fine,” Scout half shouted, causing Heartley to jump. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, bouncing his leg. “God, I need a cigarette.”

“You need addictol. I know dad has some in here somewhere,” Tuesday muttered, putting the clipboard down and walking around the room in quiet pondering.

“I’m not an addict,” Scout reasoned.

“How often do you buy chems from Riot?” Tuesday questioned, searching through a few small cabinets. Scout shrugged.

“I dunno,”

“Yes you do,” He pressed on like a protective mother.

“Like, two or three times a week. Most of its for my dad,”

“And how much do you buy? Just a vague estimate?”

Scout shifted uncomfortably again. “Dad gives me about a thousand caps each time.”

Heartley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. A thousand dollars worth of chems, two or three times a week? Where was his father getting that money? And they were using three thousand caps worth of chems a week? Simon seemed to come to the same conclusion, because after a moment of silent pondering, his expression grew darker.

“So, three one-thousand cap trips a week. That’s get you, what, about sixty uses to divvy up between you and your dad?” Tuesday thought out loud, still emotionlessly searching for the addictol. “Say that’s thirty for both of you, ten hits a day. That’s one hit every two-ish hours. Does that sound right?”

Scout was a squirming mess now, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. He was looking anywhere but at Tuesday. “Guess so.”

“But your dad can’t hit when he’s working, and that takes up most of his day. So I’m assuming, unless he just gets absolutely blown at night, you get a little more of the chems than he does. So, a hit about every one and a half hours, then?”

Scout slid down into the floor against the desk, lacing his hands in his hair. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Tuesday ah-ha’d softly, retracting a small red inhaler from a high shelf in the back corner. “You’re a drug addict, Scout, and I’m trying to help you see it.”

“If I tell you I see it, can we go find Riot?”

Heartley sighed softly, locking eyes with Simon across the room. He looked more than sad for his friend — torn up almost, and she didn’t know why.

Suddenly, the medbay door slid open, and Markus, Mercury, Chicago, and Jericho filed inside. Chicago was the first to speak, brushing her hair behind her ear and stating: “My gosh, Scout, you look like a wreck.”

She quickly made her way over to him, and Simon was relieved of his duties, drifting toward Mercury, like he always seemed to. Markus made his way to Heartley, leaning on the table she was using as a seat.

“Made any headway?”

She shrugged. “Well, we learned he’s using a piss-ton of chems. The hard part is gonna be getting him to take the addictol.”

And it was hard. It took almost a full hour for Tuesday to talk him into taking it. Jericho had ended up completely asleep on a rolling stretcher, Simon and Mercury were sitting in the floor near the door, in silence most of the time, Markus had sat down next to Heartley and played a few entertaining games of footsie, and Chicago stayed right by Scout’s side, helping anywhere she could. They all sighed a collective sigh of relief when he finally breathed in the medication.

But, his withdrawal symptoms tapered down to where he seemed almost normal. (Which was weird, because he was really almost always high.) Tuesday gave him a few more addictols and a scribbled out schedule to take them on, and a lecture about not doing anymore chems. They were all in better moods now, about to leave the medbay and actually look for Riot, but the door slid open before they could.

Heartley’s breath hitched in her throat, and everyone seemed to pause.

Standing in the door was the one man that, when you saw, it meant you were in for it.

Alec James, the Enclave President and vault overseer. And behind him, Jackson Hannigan, the SRB head of security.

Alec was young, maybe forty, with hard black hair and striking green eyes. Every feature on his face looked like they were trying to dominate one another, and it made him almost terrifying to stare at. He was wearing a blinding white Enclave uniform and had his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Jackson had on the same uniform but with less pronounced details. He had a beard, and a few scars crossing his face that many rumors had been spread about. His eyes were nearly black.

Scout, Simon, Mercury, and Chicago all seemed to shoot out of the floor, and Jericho practically rolled off of the bed so he was standing upright. Tuesday was already standing, and Markus and Heartley stood up upon the overseer’s entrance. After a few moments of silence, Markus cleared his throat.

“Overseer. Do you need something?”

Alec turned to Jackson. “Close the door, Hannigan.”

He did so. The eight kids sent worried glances to each other. Had he found out about the smoking closet? Was it something to do with Scout or his dad? Markus unconsciously scooted closer to Heartley, but she didn’t notice thanks to her pounding heartbeat.

Alec turned back toward them with a smile. “I just need you to answer a few questions… about Riot Kildare.”

<<

it’s getting real where riot go

#fallout four #fo4 #fallout 4 #fallout oc #fallout #capital wasteland #the commonwealth #commonwealth #mb; crash and burn #oc; heartley

[kharonion]

For Gail, describe your perfect day :3c (like going out and doing activities, or just staying in, sleeping in or getting up early, etc.)

"A perfect day, huh?" They noticeably pause, as if you've just asked one of the most thought-provoking questions possible. As they list off things to you, they use their fingers to keep count.

"Definitely stay in. Sleep longer than normal, if our habitual brains allow it; Bear and I would laze around in bed, if anything, only getting up to make coffee. Eventually, make something hearty and cozy for lunch—ooo, like mac-and-cheese and instamash! Probably laze around some more, until Charon would maybe want to go to Gob's for some drinks and dinner. He likes to do that sometimes, take me on a little date of sorts..." They giggle with a bashful smile... while Charon is trying to avoid eye contact with you. You think you catch some flush to the intact patches of his cheeks.

"That kind of day might sound boring, I realize, but we will never complain about it!"

» Ask an OC a question! «

#listen. these two will take a day of Nothing and make the most of it. ;-; #also them doing what is essentially parallel play will lazing around in bed. 🥺 #oc: gail parsons #.asks

[sassylady1103]

Vaccine

Colleen wanted to get to AVR as soon as we could so I could be vaccinated against what the former Responders called the Scorched Plague. We woke up, however, to a very stormy day, so we decided to put it off until the weather improved and set about doing some cleaning in Colleen’s Charleston loft.

I love this space! With all the windows, there’s such a great view of Charleston’s business district. Well, what was the business district from what I can tell. There are buildings taller than any I’ve seen outside the Vault. Colleen said one is the headquarters of the local newspaper and another is headquarters of a mining company from before the war. She pointed at yet another and said it was apartments. This was how they housed a lot of people before the war in cities. Of course, I want to explore!

We started cleaning in the kitchen area. It’s not as large as the kitchen at home, but has everything you need in a very compact space. We cleaned the stove so we could use it to make some tato soup for lunch. Our next project was the fireplace in the living room. Once it was clean and we felt certain it wouldn’t smoke up the room, we lit a small fire to help fight the damp and chill from the storm. Just those two things helped made this space so cozy! We continued to putter throughout the day and had a list of items to bring from home next trip and parts we’d need to fix the generator and fridge.

There’s some wild tatos and corn growing at the base of the stairs, so we didn’t have to go far to gather some fresh food. We’re both a little wary of all the Salisbury steak and InstaMash we’ve been eating. There has to be some powerful chemicals in those things to keep them edible after a quarter century….

The next day the sun was out, and all those windows helped announce its presence much earlier than I expected. I stayed up a little too late perusing one of my new books next to the fire. I thought about rolling over and trying to sleep longer, but I was too excited about getting to see the city some more. I crept up the stairs to the bathroom. Colleen’s bed was behind a half wall that blocked the sunrise, so she wasn’t awake yet. I decided I’d have to try to fix something for breakfast so we could get an early start.

Once I started cooking, Colleen came down the stairs, ready to go for the day. She seems older to me, now that we’ve left the vault…more like Mama than my sister. I guess it’s been a harder 6 months for her. I wonder if she notices changes in me?

“AVR is just down the road over the bridge. I guess there used to be a river running through Charleston to Summerville Lake…at least until the dam collapsed. Anyway, we should be able to get in and out, then maybe do some sight seeing.” Colleen winked at me. She knew I was always up for that!

AVR was the hospital in Charleston before the war. It was still in pretty good shape, and was used by Responders and other groups who helped those not fortunate enough to have been chosen for a Vault. Until the Scorched overwhelmed and killed them all. After seeing some Scorched on our trip to Charleston, I guess I’m glad I’m going to be protected from becoming one.

We pushed the door open and entered a dark lobby space. I could make out a seating area and a desk with some smashed terminals. There was a hallway beyond the desk and Colleen headed that way. I followed her through to a larger area, like a cafeteria. It reminded me of the atrium in the Vault. Open to the ceiling with balconies off the upper floors looking down. I could see shadows moving along the walls and the sounds the Scorched made seemed to float down from everywhere. Colleen crouched and moved to an opening in the floor. She glanced around, and satisfied it was safe, motioned me over.

“We can hop down through that hole in the wall. It’s like a shortcut.” Colleen hopped down through the floor. It was too dark to see well, but I could tell it wasn’t a far drop. I followed her down, wiggled through the wall and found myself in a lab. There was a workbench, a desk with a terminal and an auto doc.

Colleen went to the terminal and started pulling up menus and making selections, then she walked to the auto doc. “All set? Just hop in and it does the rest.” I shrugged. I gingerly climbed into the auto doc. The door closed behind me and soon robotic arms with needles were injecting both my arms with some sort of fluid. It was over in seconds and the door whooshed open. “You feel okay?” Colleen asked when I stepped out.

“Sure. So that’s it?” I asked. “Yep” Colleen answered “just the injections. Your body will build up antibodies now.”

We managed to get out of the medical center without incident. As we were closing the door behind us, Colleen turned to me “Did you know Mom worked here when I was younger? While Dad was still in the service. When he retired and got the job at VTU, we moved to Morgantown and she started working for Arktos.” She stopped and looked up at the facade, her hand shading her eyes. “It seems smaller than I remember. Come on. Let’s go back to the loft and you can rest a bit while we decide what’s next.”

I wanted to ask Colleen more about she remembered about what life was like before our family was driven underground by nuclear attack, but I was also feeling a little fatigued. Colleen had warned that could happen after the inoculation. Heading back to her cozy loft and my books was a great idea. We’re thinking of heading west of Charleston tomorrow. I’ll write more then.

Your newest vaccinated Wastelander,

Mags

#fallout #fiction #gaming #journal