Oliver Swanick, Oliver Swanick, and Oliver Swanick.

Every time someone kills Oliver Swanick in-game I just want them to

imagine me weeping openly over my lost love

HAPPY BIRTHDAY I GOT YOU THIS LOTTERY TICKET, OH LOOK IT SAYS YOU'RE A WINNER

THANKS ANNE - THAT’S RIGHT MOTHERFUCKER’S, WINNIN’ SOME LOTTERIES UP IN HURRRR

Ain’t nothin’ could make Oliver feel unlucky today, he decides, as he skips through the streets of Freeside. ‘Cause he’s a WINNER. Smell that air, man. Smell them toxic fumes from the trashcan fires, baby. Gotta love that trash-strewn sidewalk, them crumbled buildings, right? Man life is good and things are lookin' up. And when the mustached dude seated next to the trash can purrs, “How are you today? Santiago is fabulous!” Oliver grins. This dude right here is his kind of dude.

Anne you are a flawless babe. I need one of those Deviantart stamp/badge thingies for this ship to put in my sidebar.

Fantastic admiring his own ass in every shiny surface.

"Oh damn, who’s that hottie?” asked Fantastic out loud, turning to appreciate the reflection in the computer monitor. “Hey good-lookin’, what’re you doing after work?”

He twisted to get a better view of his backside, placing his hands on his knees as he bent at the waist. “Awwww yeah, they might as well call you Mr. Fantasstic. Because your ass is fantastic. Get it?”

It was only when he lifted one booted foot to rest on an adjacent chair that he finally noticed Ignacio standing in the doorway, holding a sheaf of papers and staring pointedly at the wall.

“Soooo…I am just going to drop off the new coordinates and leave, okay?”

Hey man, don’t make this weird. I saw you checkin’ out the Fantasstic.”

Fantastic explains to Arcade that his online degree program was totally legit okay and anyway he's not even a real doctor he's a researcher what the fuck is that.

"Great," muttered Arcade under his breath, rolling his eyes heavenwards as he listened to the Courier discuss Helios One. "Another idiot telling us what to do. Fantastic.”

"Wuh-oh, excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

Arcade shot the other man his best unamused stare. As far as unamused stares went, it was pretty good. “Oh, don’t mind me. I was just so engaged in your fascinating dialogue. Nothing makes me feel better about myself than listening to you talk about your job, after all.”

"Do you have any idea who you’re talking to, buddy?” asked Fantastic, turning on the doctor. “That’s Mr. Fantastic to you. Mr. Fantastic as in, first name ‘greatest’, last name ‘ever’. Other last name ‘Fantastic’. Who the fuck do you think you are, waltzing in here, telling me how to do my job?”

"I apologize, my mistake. I didn’t realize I was talking to an honest-to-God celebrity. Please, do go on.”

Fantastic’s mustache bristled with irritation. “Hey, I know your type. Some hotshot wasteland doctor, thinks he’s sooooo great because he knows the difference between an oboe and an elbow. ‘Wow, look at me! I’m ten feet tall and I can stick a needle in someone’s arm!’ I know goddamn junkies with twice your talent, amigo.”

"Did those junkies also go to the…’Mojave School of Secondary Sciences’? I couldn’t help but notice the degree framed above your desk. And where, pray tell, might that school reside? Bullshit valley?"

"Hey man, don’t be jealous because you couldn’t even get into sad little doctor school or whatever and had to go crawling back to the Followers. That degree is 100% le-git-“

"Oh puh-lease, I could write a diploma in bright red crayon, too, that doesn’t make it real-“

The Courier never did get to the controls of Helios One.

anneapocalypse replied to your post

If you ask for prompts I will dump so much nonsense in your askbox you have no idea.

Hey you should totally dump some nonsense into my askbox because Alexis is open for business. And when I say open for business. I mean that in like. The not prostitution way.

Aww yeah. Time for a Nuka-break. Always time for Nuka-break, right. No time for stressin'. Only time for being Fantastic. Fantastic leans back against the console. The biggest one, 'cause obviously that's the one that matters, right. He takes a long swig. Aw yeah, 'cept it ain't cold enough. Gonna need twist some dials and get more power routed to his fridge, man. A man needs his ice-cold beverages, right. He takes another swig. Hell yeah. Damn, it feels good to be Fantastic.

FANTASTIC’S IN THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ HOUSE, MAN

anneapocalypse replied to your photo: Moira MOTHAFUCKIN’ Brown for Shealyn, and Red Lucy…

Boone, GTFO, this is ladies’ night.

Yeah Boone, this is now a GIRL POWER BLOG HURRRRR.

thedeathspoon replied to your photo: Moira MOTHAFUCKIN’ Brown for Shealyn, and Red Lucy…

I always make Arcade watch me when I sleep with Jimmy. That’s what he gets for not putting out.