#and you were wondering how the fuck the ncr got that far

[catsnuggler]

[renoxvated]

“Well I can tell ya’ from experience, traveling all the way here got s’lot more than axes swingin’ at me.  So I think my neck is the last thing I’d worry about being chopped off— s’mazing what a vault door can do to an arm, wayyyyy faster than an axe.” Roy laughs though his actual fingers twitch into the dirt like there really wasn’t a joke there. He had in fact, lost his arm exactly because he wanted to understand ‘the state of things’. Sometimes things were better left unchecked and with a very glaring reminder of golden metal affixed to tanned skin, he knew Jamie was right yet again. 

Roy was often like a moth to a flame when it came to danger, always saying he never wanted to be a part of it but going right in the middle of it all— like Icarus flying towards the sun, longing to BURN. He peers his gaze towards Jamie. He was still trying to get a read on the other, usually Roy could clock the types of people he’d come across fairly fast, figuring out what made them tick enough to either piss them off, or know if they weren’t a threat. Interestingly enough Roy still couldn’t shake the feeling that the man walked both lines of friend and danger well. Roy liked that and could relate, despite the obvious differences so far. 

Then Jamie gives way to a small chuckle and if Roy didn’t know any better he looked like he’d almost earned a smile from the other man. It’s fleeting because the man glances away, as does Roy soon after. 

“Just be careful, I’m sure the players out here are just as dangerous, but the Mojave plays by its own rules and a stacked fucking deck— Vegas especially. NCR probably, might be nice to y’all Minutemen, at first but they’re still the last bit of old world government left that’s anything to shake a stick at, s’far as I know. They don’t like to share their turf and like to try and swallow up everyone they don’t have on the payroll…but they’re not the ones controlling The Strip or New Vegas really, so that oughta tell ya’ somethin’.” Roy hums in thought, he wonders just how well House would take to the Minutemen, to Jamie, probably fine— he hopes. His employer wasn’t unreasonable after all, it’s why Roy worked for him; the penthouse was just a plus. 

Roy could intervene if not and vouch for the men around him, that usually quelled Mr. House and his concerns for new factions cropping up near Vegas. Plus if they spent caps and didn’t cause trouble, aiding the Mojave in fact, then that was that and things would be fine. This group wasn’t the NCR and they weren’t The Legion, he didn’t want them to be a means to an end either though, Roy didn’t like the idea of using honest people like that and he wouldn’t let his employer do it either. 

“That’s a nice thought though, the Mojave could use a little more guys like the Minutemen and a little less trials and tribulations. It’s funny cause you’d probably get along with the guy that looks after Vegas, not necessarily the big guy up at the top but the guy before that, s’got a lot of nicknames but everybody knows him when they see em’, kinda sounds like y’all’s ideals are the same cause the bastard keeps the peace for the lil’ guys, only thing I really like about him though.” The Courier honestly did like Jamie’s sentiment and hope for The Minutemen, it was rare to see that any group seemingly as large as this one would actually want to use its power for the people.

Part of The Courier wonders if there’s a catch he’s just waiting to find out about, a gotcha moment like he’s caught with his pants down and none of this talk actually mattered. He tries to stifle those thoughts down. The Mojave and her people weren't like The Commonwealth's, or at least not like Jamie and his Minutemen. The Mojave didn’t have Mirelurks, sure, probably less in the way of danger with no Glowing Sea at its edges, but before Roy came along he didn't think they had any hope either– the same kind of hope the other man spoke of, nobody trusted anybody and if the elements didn’t kill you from the heat, sandstorms and lack of water then the people would. It made Roy sad to think about, a feeling he’d rarely, if ever admit to. Sometimes he still thinks his people have that capacity for awful things in them– he knew he did. But…The Courier loved them, he wanted to be that solace in absence of a group that cared, part of Roy also wondered when he too would have that solace, or if he’d be picked apart by the vultures; either metaphorically or literally. “You guys look like ya’ got a lot on your plate though, so don’t think we’ll be seein’ you out that way for awhile.” Roy thinks he’d make sure to leave a light on for them. The biggest lights possible, in fact. Then a grin, playing along with him again and Six laughs at the comment. “I’m just a Courier, delivin’ mail all the way out here– to who the fucks knows where, even if I live you’ll be waitin’ along time for those caps Colonel, don’t make a lot in my line of work but it beats the heat back home.” Roy snorts, as if caps had even been what any of this was about anymore. Roy didn’t really need much or want much before he started his journey, he needed even less now with the way he was compensated. “Scouts honor I’ll still balance the scales somehow for you, if that bottle cap comes back to haunt you.” Roy says this with his fingers very obviously crossed and a stupid grin splayed on his face, you could take The Courier out of the Mojave but you couldn’t take the Mojave outta The Courier. “S’allready, better than what most give…so I’d figure you're doing an alright job, who else could do it if not you and your men, can tell you most places ain’t like it is here, even without the dangers people will eat themselves alive…I’d imagine you have a lot to do with the progress here, for all these dangers here we are.” He shrugs, he couldn't really say that as well for other places and Roy had really traveled a long way to get here, to the Commonwealth, to this very moment and the day winded down, just sitting in the dirt looking over at Jamie. It was funny to him just how strange the wasteland was.

“Yeah, guess you're right, shit’s so stuffy, no movement, m’not as good with a gun, it’s fine I can work with em’-- but kinda need my hands or to be able to swing something.” Roy admits, he supposes he’ll relent to Jamie’s level headedness on the subject. It’s not like he needed to go there anyway as far as he knew, at least he hoped he didn’t have to, out here until now he didn’t have the kind of backup he usually had with him back home.

He could have Ed-E or Rex help him out, Boone if he went looking for the sniper wouldn’t hesitate– Lily or Raul…surely they’d be the safest from the radiation to bring along, if he ever had to go out into the Glowing Sea, they could all make up for what Six lacked. But this was his job, and his job alone this time.

This right now however? It was a side step along the way, so he could allow himself this brief RESPITE of company. After all he was just traveling with them to get his gun back, what was the harm in making potential allies as he’d always done out in the wasteland. Trouble was, The Courier made just as many enemies. Trouble followed him around like a black cloud, hanging over him like an omen, a flock of ravens– waiting for a TRAGEDY.

“Well I did get greedy I guess, you're right, mostly I would call it curiosity and wanting somethin’ different to do that wasn’t just survivin’.” But Jamie was right all the same, it’s his next words however that have Roy almost stifling down a laugh. He wasn’t used to people humoring him, not like that– usually they wanted to clock him in the jaw for his jokes or be annoyed by them.

Of course a select few come to mind that liked his antics but that was far and few between, not that the people who wanted to clock him like that ever really understood him at any rate. Roy didn’t know how to seriously interact with people in most instances, it’d be like trying to teach a dog table manners. You could try but the dog is just gonna be a dog.

Roy practically beams, like toothy mawed living sunshine and the night was coming.

“Oh no I wish, shoved that badge so far– Yeah don’t have the badge but there were like hundreds of them, have to make sure I go back just so if I’m ever up this way again I got proof for ya’. Would hate to be both a liar AND a deputy, maybe I’ll even get two badges so I can deputize you too, Colonel.” Six snorts, “and I don’t think I’m just a Sunset Deputy, because that’s just LAME and I didn’t collect all those bottle caps to just be the law and order of big corporate soda.”

Except that’s EXACTLY what he did, but that was no fun relaying back to the other man and it would only stand to make Roy actually annoyed that he wasted all that time. To be fair he did waste a lot of time dicking around in the Mojave, but he also saved it in a lot of ways, so he likes to think he earned his bullshitery now and again.

“Well then I’m glad I got to be here. S’you can have a little piece of the Mojave, there’s no place like it.” Roy looks a bit wistfully off into the distance just for a second, a somber if a bit sad look flashing on his features, before he shakes his head and slumps on the ground with a THUD, not far from where Jamie had sat down.

“Just don’t blame me if it gets you killed.” Roy feigns as if he himself is now dead, clutching his chest and leaning backwards onto the ground with a THUMP. He stares up at the sky for a long moment listening to Jamie continue, it’s different here, that’s for sure. But under the sky here as he looks up, it’s not so different and for a moment, even if brief– The Courier is looking under the Mojave sky too.

Roy leans back up, wanderlust now gone from his eyes. “Yeah it wasn’t easy gettin’ here, now that I’m here too, s’only gotten harder to travel. Ya’ll must be kept busy, get the feeling you rest with one eye open.”

[wizardlyghost]

- new territory at last! from here on out i will be playing blind. let’s a-go.

- after saving my NEW FRIENDS i walked them back to SANCTUARY, which took for fucking ever but i later noticed that MAMA MURPHY is wearing slippers so i guess i can’t expect her to be power walking everywhere.

- PRESTON asked me to help rebuild the MINUTEMEN and told me that a NEARBY SETTLEMENT has been having trouble with RAIDERS. he also mentioned that STURGES could use some help rebuilding SANCTUARY. i really wanted to start on that but the RAIDERS issue sounded pretty urgent, so i figured i should probably do that first.

- i went to the SETTLEMENT and some guy immediately pointed a gun in my face, only relenting when i mentioned i was with the MINUTEMEN. he told me where to find the RAIDERS, and i’m pretty sure said something akin to “it’s not far”.

- several minutes of walking later, a glance at my MAP tells me that this guy is a filthy fucking liar. these RAIDERS are actually SOME DISTANCE AWAY. i wonder why they didn’t pick on a settlement a little closer to home.

- on the way there i paused to investigate a series of CRASHED SHIPPING CONTAINERS. there was a bit of loot inside, as well as my first GHOULS of this game.

- HOLY FUCKING SHIT THESE THINGS ARE FAST. WHY ARE THEY SO FAST. THEY WEREN’T THIS FAST IN NEW VEGAS. A DEAD BODY JUST GOT UP OFF THE GROUND AND FLY TACKLED ME. I YELLED.

- minor panic aside, i killed the GHOULS and also shot a COMPLETELY INNOCENT GENUINE DEAD BODY that i thought was about to get up and try to rip my face off. actually i’m pretty sure he was less than completely innocent, there’s a couple of CORPSES around and the COMPUTER in this building says something about a shady deal? this is probably a PLOT HOOK but i didn’t know these SORRY SONS A BITCHES and right now i’ve got BIGGER FISH TO FRY, so i left them where they lay.

- there should really be a mechanic for burying dead bodies in this game, given how many RANDOM CORPSES and LONG-DEAD SKELETONS you find just lying around.

- it’s kinda difficult to tell how recent this TRAIN CRASH is. above table i know the NCR were using railway lines x number of years before now, so it’s not like the technology and infrastructure have been completely forgotten. on the other hand SHADY NE’ER-DO-WELLS were using this as an established meeting place, which indicates it’s been here long enough to have become part of the scenery. at the very least i would have expected someone to try and drag off the shipping containers for housing, or just settled in them where they are. they seem a lot more structurally sound than a lot of the other houses i’ve seen so far, including the ones i built in SANCTUARY before i went to CONCORD.

[missmensis]

no gods, no masters, iii.

Pairing: Benny x F!Courier

read ch. 1 here, read ch. 2 here. read ch. 3 on ao3.

They were all feeling a bit beaten-up after fending off the Legion; the victory was just that, but it felt hollow. They'd be sending assassins after Ava until there were none of them left or she kicked the bucket. The latter was unlikely. She was being quiet as usual, but this quiet felt different. She wouldn't stop looking over her shoulder, a vacant stare in her eye as she did so, and her pace had slowed down considerably compared to the last few days.

The ambush had taken more of their time and energy than they'd planned, and they decided to stop at the 188 Trading Post for the night. There were a handful of NCR soldiers occupying the spot, so it'd be safer than just stopping on the side of the road or off the trail. There were no free beds to spare, but all they needed was a relatively safe place where they wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open; nobody was new to the occasional necessity of sleeping on the ground.

Once they found their own little area to hold up for the evening, the Courier sat down to rest and make a fire. They gave her some space. Boone pulled Benny aside, far enough so that Ava wouldn't hear.

"Right, so," Benny stuck his wrists out in front of Boone, "Gonna leash me back up, huh?"

Boone shook his head, "Actually, no. At least... not now, anyway. That's up to her. About today-"

"Oh, yeah," Benny chewed his lip, taking the gun out of his waistband, "Here you go."

He held it out for the other man to take, but Boone waved his hand, "Keep it. For here. Just in case."

Benny gave him a funny look, "You sure, cat?"

"Yeah," He nodded, glancing behind Benny in Ava's direction, "Just... watch her, alright? She's hurting."

"I will-" Benny moved to stick the pistol back in his pants, but not before Boone grabbed his arm.

"Take advantage, or try anything and I swear to god," Boone said, lowering his shades to look Benny straight in the eye, "I'm not far away. I will be watching, and I will put a bullet in you."

"You're gonna have to come up with a new threat," Benny replied with ire, "That one's getting stale, dig?"

"Be less of an asshole and then maybe I won't have to threaten you." Boone rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. He whistled for Rex, who trotted to the sniper's side and followed along obediently to keep watch.

Boone's 10mm in hand, Benny made his way back to check on Ava. He stashed the gun in the back of his waistband again, hoping he wouldn't need to use it. At least, not tonight, anyway.

Ava was sitting in front of the small campfire she'd made, her legs splayed out in front of her, the toes of her boots tapping together to some beat only she could hear. There was a bottle of whiskey in her lap, and it looked like she was making solid headway on it.

"Hey, hey," Benny crouched down next to her, "What's shakin'?"

"Benny," She turned to him, a dazed smile on her face, "I’m trying to get drunk. Shakin' with you?"

"Ah, nothin' much," He settled down, stretching his legs out next to hers, "Gettin' smashed, huh? Can I get some of that?"

"Mmmmmhm," She hummed, handing him the bottle and watching as he took a deep swig, "It's good shit."

"It's... not bad," Benny swished it around a bit before swallowing, "Got better shit at the Tops, though."

"Yeah, yeah, you're so high and mighty at the Tops, aren't you," Ava poked him hard in the side with her finger, her eyes hazy, "'Benny's gonna show you the Tops', hah."

"Shut up," He snickered, "I did, though. The dent in that mattress was permanent."

She looked over at him, the light from the fire dancing on her features, "I remember."

It was astonishing how terrifyingly stunning she was. That handful of months ago now, when she'd been kneeling on the ground in front of him, her life flashing before her eyes, she'd just looked like a kid, nothing more than a clueless girl who had no idea what kind of package she was carrying.

How had that not been enough in itself to make him reconsider what he’d been doing at the time? He hadn't even thought twice; once he had that chip between his fingers, it was a done deal. He could've let her go, she probably wouldn't have come looking. Even the Great Khans had reservations about the whole thing, but it hadn't stopped him. Shit. He was a piece of shit, an untrustworthy fink, and he knew it. She knew it. Everyone knew it.

Benny looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Benny rolled his eyes, "Good goddamn lord, woman."

"I'm fucking with you," Ava mused, "Go ahead."

"Last night in Novac. And... earlier today," Benny started carefully, "You, uh, kinda freaked. You looked really messed up."

Ava looked down at her hands, averting her gaze, "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Ah.... yeah... so, my head does that every now and then," She answered with tight lips, "Ever since... y'know, I got a bullet to the brain from this checkered bastard I know."

"Right," He said guiltily, "Shit."

What could he say that wouldn't sound stupid or disingenuous? He'd shot her in the fucking head and now she was living with the consequences. God, there was a lot he wanted to tell her, but none of it would come out the way he wanted it to.

He sat next to her, quietly cursing himself when she spoke up again, "I get these like... migraines mixed with small bursts of panic attacks. I don't understand them. I've even asked a doc and he doesn't know. I have dreams all the time about people that I don’t recognize. I see their faces and it’s like I’m supposed to know them and I just don’t," She sighed, the heaviness of the conversation beginning to sober her, “And even when I’m awake, sometimes, I see them, too. In the back corner of a mirror, in the desert heat, they're just watching me. Like I'm riding on Daytripper in a bad way, but I'm stone-cold sober. I'm living with ghosts, Benny. People I'm supposed to know, to feel something for, but all they do is confuse me and make my head spin."

Benny frowned, "You don't remember them. Not at all?"

"No. Don't even know if they're dead or alive. It's not like anybody's come looking for me," Ava shook her head, taking a small yellow and green box out of her pocket that said MENTATS on it in rusted red lettering, "The way I see it, everyone from my past is dead, or I'm dead to them. Or I'm just not someone worth searching for."

She said it with bitterness, her brows furrowed and eyes glued to the horizon as she popped a Mentat on her tongue.

"Do they help?" Benny asked, gesturing to the box of chems as Ava rubbed her thumb across the letters.

"Kinda? I mean, everything from before Goodsprings is a blank. I haven't forgotten anybody I've met since then, but I get these, like, little flashes of moments that seem like they're mine, but they're not. At least, not mine anymore. That's when it hurts. When it turns into something like what happened today. I saw somewhere else, like here, but worse. More desolate, if you can believe that. It was like the whole place was in pain, screaming at me. Kinda think it's better that I don't remember."

She shoved the Mentats back into her pocket and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she filled herself with the dry Mojave air, "Everything before Goodsprings doesn't matter anymore, not really. Who I was before is gone. I just want to make sure I remember who I am now."

There was a beat of silence, the two of them just sitting and staring at the fire as the wind began to pick up around them. Ava tucked her knees up and rested her chin on them as she stared at the sun slowly making its way towards the edge of the world.

"I'll make sure you don't forget," Benny said quietly, "Been a goddamn fink to you so... I owe you that much. I'll never stop being sorry. I mean that."

Ava turned her head to look over at him, her brows slightly raised in disbelief at his words.

"And for what it's worth, if anything at all," He continued, "I think you're someone worth searching for."

Her eyes softened; he'd never seen her look at him that way before. It was something like... fondness? Appreciation? A lapse in judgment from the whisky and chems? Whatever it was, it pulled at the corners of his mouth. Ava smiled back, the first real one he'd ever seen from her, and it was infectious. Her cheeks dimpled, and she looked almost a little nervous before she settled into it, which made Benny wonder just how many reasons she'd even have to smile these days. A gust of wind blew through their camp, and Ava visibly shivered. Wordlessly, Benny shrugged his jacket off and put it over her shoulders.

"I'm still really fuckin' mad at you," She whispered, "But thank you, Benny."

She didn't wait for him to reply before she scooted closer to him so that their sides were touching. Ava reached for his arm and gently slung it over her shoulders as she rested her head against his chest. He was stiff for a moment, not quite sure if this was a sick joke or not, but when she didn't do anything else besides lean into him, he finally relaxed.

The girl knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it; he dug that.

They sat for a while, neither of them saying a word, as the sky grew darker and darker. Vegas glowed like a lantern off in the distance, a stark contrast to the rest of the Mojave bathed in black. With how brightly the skyline shone, the stars had a hard time competing, even though the sky was littered with them. It wasn't often that Benny spent a night out in the dust - that was now more a thing relegated to a former life - and though he wasn't one to live in the past, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as he stared up at the constellations. Years of his life spent as a nomad walking the Mojave with the Boot Riders, countless nights just like this, and how quickly he'd tossed it all aside for caps and comfort. He'd have done all that again, he knew, but as he felt Ava relax fully against him, he had more than one regret in the back of his mind. Benny was careful as he glanced down at her, her eyes closed and mouth slightly open as she slept soundly on his shoulder, and gently moved some of the hair away from her face. As he did, his eyes caught the edge of the scar from the bullet.

Yeah, sure-as-shit, more than one regret.

[chaosintheavenue]

Fallout Survey Results!

There were 69 responses this time around, aaand the results are in. This was a really random survey mostly based on pure curiosity, so make what you will of the results!

Without further ado, let’s get into it...

Which Fallout games have you played? 

Which did you play first? 

Which game is your favourite in terms of gameplay? 

Which game is your favourite in terms of lore?

By the way, that one ‘other’ vote was my own, for Van Buren. If I had to stick to the canon games, I’d have gone with New Vegas, 100%.

Are they canon?

Tactics:

BOS:

Van Buren:

Where would you LIKE the next Fallout game to be set? 

Here’s a map of how many times each state was specifically mentioned, because I'm a map nerd.

Top answer: Florida

It’s pretty clear that, as one respondent said, the people want swamp Fallout!

Other countries mentioned: Canada, Mexico, China, Australia, Cuba, UK

A few people just said the US in general for this and the next question, usually when their answer to the other question was a different country. I wasn’t really sure how to categorise that in terms of the way I chose to display the results, so I’ve left them out.

Where do you THINK the next Fallout game will be set? 

Top Answer: New York

Other countries mentioned: Canada

A lot of people mentioned that they expect previous locations to be re-used, but didn’t specify which.

Favourite character

Arcade Gannon: 17 (a lot of my Fallout mutuals are Arcade stans, so there was probably a bit of bias here, but still, an impressive victory for Arcade!) Nick Valentine: 5 Craig Boone: 4 Rose of Sharon Cassidy: 4 Joshua Graham: 3 Raul Tejada: 3 Veronica Santangelo: 3 Fawkes: 3 Deacon: 2 John Hancock: 2 Courier Six: 2 Benny: 2 Lily Bowen: 2 Folks who got one vote: Goris (aside: THANK YOU for making me look up who this is, I have been blessed), Charon, John Henry Eden, Butch Deloria, Irving Gallows, X6-88, Harold, ED-E, Preston Garvey, Ronald Curtis/Picus, Cait, Gob, Ulysses and RJ MacCready

Least favourite character

Vulpes Inculta: 10 Shaun/Father: 8 Caesar: 7 Strong: 5 Paladin Danse: 4 Piper Wright: 3 Craig Boone: 2 Legate Lanius: 2 Parker Quinn: 2 Daniel (from Honest Hearts): 2 Jericho: 2 And the list with one vote: Antony, Mortimer, Three Dog, Princess, Dean Domino, Myron, Cait, Roger Maxson, Arthur Maxson, Justin Ayo, Colonel Autumn, Joshua Graham, Colin Moriarty, Aaron Kimball, Alistair Tenpenny, Ulysses and Robert Edwin House

Favourite faction

Followers of the Apocalypse: 30 (holy moly lol) New California Republic: 7 Minutemen: 6 Railroad: 5 The Kings: 4 Yes Man: 4 Brotherhood of Steel: 4 Caesar's Legion: 2 Enclave: 2 The Institute: 1 Great Khans: 1 Westside: 1 Megaton: 1 Ghoul settlements in general: 1

Favourite DLC

Old World Blues: 14 Dead Money: 12 Nuka World: 9 Far Harbor: 7 Lonesome Road: 6 Honest Hearts: 6 Point Lookout: 5 Broken Steel: 3 Operation Anchorage: 1 Mothership Zeta: 1 The Pitt: 1

When you think of a chem that removes addictions, which comes to mind first? 

When you think of Harold, which version of him do you picture? 

The fate of cats

New Plague symptoms

Does Duncan MacCready have the New Plague?

Are any characters secretly synths?

The synth-accused: Sole Survivor, Ulysses, Easy Pete, most birds, Travis Miles, Courier Six, Colter, Deacon, Mr House (’just for fun’), Piper, and many settlers in general

Also, @ respondent that I’m pretty sure was @hiscotti-biscotti​... 👀👀👀

Which New Vegas ending would you pick to be canon?

And finally, a handpicked selection of the gushing comments (got a bit long because there were so many I liked too much!)...

I wish they made the main quest harder to acces and finish, or to have more step to it... because once I played it one the experience wouldn't be the same. It so amazing discovering new location and being like 'I'm gonna explore that' so damn good.

The fallout franchise has one of the most beautiful heavy lore ridden world I've ever seen

I love the theme of change in the west coast trilogy and how strongly it contrasts the game's moto of "war never changes". I love how you can look at the changes to the NCR from shady sands to the republic but I also love how you can look at the Khans. People and factions do change, but waging war over petty dramas never does, you can escape it, but only if you admit you were wrong and change for the better.

I love the world and the characters. There is always some fucked up shit in the past that has a chance of snowballing into worse shit in the current time, like the  cazadores and the new plague. And when characters are written well, they have a chance of being the coolest part of the games, like with Nick Valentine/Hancock or any of the characters of New Vegas.

When things get creepy it's wonderful. More in the vein of Dead Money or the Glowing Sea please!

I love how in NV the apocalypse isn’t just the end of everything. There’s still culture! There’s towns! There’s just people vibing! It feels less like the apocalypse and more like a developed area that is experiencing a war. People moved on after 200 years. Because that’s what people do.

The hopefulness of rebuilding.

Hhhh LORE!!! Apocalypse aesthetic!!!!! HOPE AND LIGHT AND HEALING AND GOODNESS AND ALSO COOL WASTELAND SHIT AND DEATHCLAWS... fallout good.....

oh my god i love arcade gannon so much i dont know why but i am literally about to start studying latin at uni because of him.

Can I just say I love how fnv gave us LGBT characters without making the fact that they're lgbt their entire personality.

I can go through abandoned buildings without getting arrested.

I love that it's helped me make so many new friends and has reignited my creative drive.

Say what you will about robot fetishists but Fisto was the greatest thing to happen to the series. A true icon and reminder of wonderful writing and character design. They may say you can't make a flawless character, but I say "look at Fisto". Don't boo me, I'm right.

[socksual-innuendos]

New Vegas Companion Meme -- Contreras

Okay sure, he’s a canon NPC but I called dibs.

Link to the template here!

General

Name: Daniel Contreras

Location: Camp McCarran supply shack

How to obtain: Finished the quest Dealing With Contreras without turning him in to NCR.

Art by @yesjejunus​

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together: “Sure, just have me home before 9.” / “Yeah I think I got a lunch break comin’ up.”

Use Melee: “Are you serious right now?” / “I’d prefer not.”

Use Ranged: “Were you expecting me to use something else?” / “Yeah, that’s what I’m trained in.”

Open Inventory: “You still have to pay for that.” / “I ain’t a charity, kiddo, you’re not getting anything for free” 

Stay Close: “You’re not gonna hold my hand are you?” / (if the Courier is female) “You making a pass at me?”

Keep Distance: “Fine by me.” / “What, you don���t want to be seen with ol’ Contreras?”

Stealth: “Not exactly my specialty” / “You’re askin the wrong guy for this”

Back Up: “Yeah, I like my space too.” / “Oh-kay, damn. No need to be pushy.”

Be Passive: “No complaints here.” / “Good, you handle the fighting.” / “That’s all you, kid.”

Be Aggressive: “Yeah I’m gonna have to pass....no? Damnit!” 

Use Stimpack: “Aaah that’s good.” / “Shit you couldn’t have used that sooner??” / “Think I might need another one....or three.”

Wait Here: “I can’t just sit here all day. MPs seem me loitering alone they’re gonna start asking questions.” 

Follow Me: “Yeah, that was the plan.”

Send to the Lucky 38: “Alright, paid vacation!.” / “You know, an empty casino is actually pretty boring.”

Send Home: “Good idea, Boyd’s probably wondering where I’m at.” can be found in Camp McCarran’s supply shack

Injured: “Aaah SHIIIIIT!!” / “Fuck this, fuck that, and fuck you.” / “I told you I was a noncombatant damn it all!” / “This is outside my pay grade!” 

Death: “Goddamnit--” / “This wasn’t...part of the plan--” 

Aggression: not aggressive

Confidence: cautious

Assistance: helps friends and allies

Karma: neutral

Perks

Contreras has a starter perk that will be built upon depending on how the Courier handles his quest line.

Man About Town: Contreras has connections all over Vegas, taking him with you now allows you to access them! Some NPCs with shops will now allow you to access special items they do not usually sell, while some non-merchant NPCs now have an accessible shop.

Should the Courier convince him to be more careful and selective on who he does business with, Contreras will gain the Customer Loyalty perk.

Customer Loyalty: Regulars are the basis to any good business. Not only do you get special shops from certain NPCs, you now earn a loyal customer’s discount and can request that special items be ordered in bulk.

Should the Courier convince him that business is inherently risky, and that taking chances is just part of the job, Contreras will gain the Traveling Merchant perk.

Traveling Merchant: Barter checks are now easier to pass and earn better bonuses when Contreras is in your party. All vendor NPCs can be negotiated with, lowering their prices on items. 

Drops

Big Book of Science, or one copy each of La Fantoma and Grognak the Barbarian, or Programmer’s Digest

One 9mm bullet - a single 9mm bullet. Why does he have this? Why doesn’t he have more....(becomes a miscellaneous item when looted)

Half the amount of caps he had before recruitment 

Quests and Recruitment

To recruit Contreras, one must first complete his main quest Dealing With Contreras in a way that doesn’t get him arrested. After this, he trusts the Courier enough to take on larger jobs. Recruiting Contreras also starts his companion quest, as he will request to join the Courier on the strip. Because his quest is tied in with How Little We Know, the Courier must NOT have completed any of Troike’s quest line.

Note: To keep Contreras as a companion you must maintain some good reputation with the NCR. Anything too low and Contreras will say you are too controversial to be seen with.

Contreras can and will leave the party if his health drops below 50%. To re-recruit him, just go back his supply shack.

Risky Business

“It’s the worst kept secret that Daniel Contreras is dealing arms on the side, however no one really knows just how far his business goes. You’ve helped him in the past, and now he’s asking for your help again. Take Contreras to Gomorrah and talk with his contact.”

When the Courier talks to Contreras after completing Dealing with Contreras, he will ask them if they are interested in another, bigger, deal. If the Courier says no, they can accept the quest at a later time by choosing the “So about that job...” dialogue option when talking with him again.

If the Courier says yes, Contreras will tell them about his business in Gomorrah with the Omertas, and that his contact requested that he comes to talk with them regarding their last shipment. If the Courier has exceptionally good reputation with the NCR at this point, he will mention that being seen with them will make the operation look like a regular night around the strip. If the Courier has the Black Widow perk, they may flirt with him.

When the Courier agrees to help him, the quest Risky Business will be activated and Contreras will join your party. Upon entering Gomorrah, Contreras will stop the Courier to talk with them, telling them that they need to find Troike and where he can be found (he will be located in the Brimstone party rooms.) The Courier can ask about Troike, in which Contreras will reveal how Troike was blackmailed into being the shipment runner between Contreras’ operations and the Omertas. The Courier can question him further, or wait til they meet up with Troike, and learn that Contreras was recently contacted about their most recent shipment not coming in. 

Upon meeting up with Troike, Contreras will ask him what happened to their last shipment and that he doesn’t appreciate being contacted by clients with complaints. Troike will then explain that it wasn’t his fault, and that he’s been working on getting it back. He will explain what happened to the Courier, in which they can ask him more detailed questions about the Fiends responsible for the shipment loss. When the Courier exits dialogue with him, Contreras will then talk to them, asking if they can do him another favor, and that caps would be included for a job well done. The Courier can agree, in which How Little We Know will engage if it hasn’t been started previously, or they can disagree, prompting Contreras to get frustrated, or they can say that they will think about it. If the last option is chosen, the Courier can proceed with How Little We Know in any way they chose. Any option taken will prompt Contreras to leave your party and wait back in his shack.

If the Courier agrees to get the shipment back, the location of the shipment will be marked and they can retrieve it or destroy the shipment. If the shipment is retrieved, the Courier can return to Contreras and he will thank them for their help and give them a hefty amount of caps. If they destroy the shipment, they can lie and say that it was destroyed when they found it. Contreras will be angry upon hearing this, and say that Troike’s luck is running thinner with each deal. He thanks them regardless, and give a small amount of caps for the trouble.

Although the Courier can ask Contreras about his dealings with the Omertas after they deal with the shipment, the quest will not continue until the Courier learns that the Omertas are working with the Legion. They can then ask him if he knows this, to which he will reply that once the weapons are out of his hands, he doesn’t care where they end up, and that business is business. The Courier can either agree with him, saying that he is right to take any business opportunity he can get and he will reply positively, reassuring the Courier that even if he wasn’t giving them the guns they would still find a way to get them. If the Courier disagrees with him, saying that he needs to be selective about who he deals to and be more careful about where his supplies end up, he will get irritated with them saying that they’re the dumb muscle of this operation and not the guy in charge. If the Courier has completed I Put A Spell On You, they can use this as an example of why he shouldn’t be giving the Legion any advantages in the war. Contreras will hesitate before admitting he had sold explosive ingredients to Curtis a few weeks prior. The Courier can also cite Clanden’s plans in How Little We Know to convince him that he should be more cautious. Either option will make him reconsider his business practices. 

Depending on what the Courier chooses, Contreras will gain a new perk to add onto Man About Town. If the Courier tells him to play it safe, he will gain Customer Loyalty and will indirectly thank the Courier for helping him see his recklessness. If the Courier tells him that he should take business wherever it crops up, he will gain the Traveling Merchant perk and tell the Courier that he appreciates having an agreeable business partner. 

Ending Slides

Contreras’ ending slides are based not only on how his quest is completed and which route the Courier takes with Vegas, but also depends on how the Courier handled Clanden in How Little We Know.

If his personal quest is never completed…

He does not get an ending slide, however he will default to whatever the NCR does.

If Contreras is killed after his quest is completed

Contreras, feeling hopeful that he had found another reliable business partner was betrayed in the end. Though he had seen many people come and go through his business deals, he had only placed such confidence in few. The sergeant was found dead in his bunk, and investigations into his murder turned up his own betrayals. With no family to inform, Contreras was dumped outside Freeside, forgotten by his unit.

If the Courier sides with Legion and…

Convinces Contreras to be more careful about who he sells to...

and DOES kill or make Clanden leave

Contreras, falling back with the NCR, put in to be transferred further west. Although the eastern front of the NCR’s territory brought good opportunity in illegal trade, the threat of Legion outweighed any benefit. Knowing that he could keep up his work in California, Contreras continued to live comfortably as quartermaster. 

and does NOT do anything with Clanden 

The Omertas, working for Legion, had devised a plan to spread the NCR’s attention before the Dam battle. Contreras, getting one last look at Vegas, became one of the many casualties in an attack on the Strip. He suffocated in the streets, dying without ever knowing what role he played in losing the eastern front.

Agrees that Contreras should sell to anyone...

and DOES kill or make Clanden leave

Not letting the NCR’s defeat deter his work, Contreras continued to do business indiscriminately. With weapons now harder to smuggle, he focused his efforts on moving chem supplies to the fleeing Fiends. Not keeping their demands in check, he was killed in a raid by an upcoming gang, the Coyotes.

and does NOT do anything with Clanden

The Omertas, working for Legion, had devised a plan to spread the NCR’s attention before the Dam battle. Contreras, getting one last look at Vegas, became one of the many casualties in an attack on the Strip. He suffocated in the streets, dying without ever knowing what role he played in losing the eastern front.

If the Courier sides with NCR and…

Convinces Contreras to be more careful about who he sells to...

NCR’s annexing of Vegas and its surrounding territories created a new wave of clientele for Contreras. Although he sold contraband to many rioters and Fiends none proved to be too large a threat for the Republic, and in turn kept his side business moving. Contreras continued his work, earning enough caps to live more than comfortably. 

Agrees that Contreras should sell to anyone...

Following the Courier’s advice, Contreras continued to sell to clients indiscriminately. Eventually his recklessness had gotten him noticed, and due to selling NCR resources to their enemies he was charged with treason and executed via firing squad. 

If the Courier sides with House and…

Convinces Contreras to be more careful about who he sells to...

and DOES kill or make Clanden leave

Despite NCR’s loss of Vegas, Contreras’ business continued to thrive. Where weapons became harder to smuggle, chem movement was at an all time high. With Fiends and junkies no longer welcomed in the city, Contreras made his living off them, exploiting their addictions for a comfortable life. 

and does NOT do anything with Clanden

The Omertas, tired of living under House’s rule, had devised a plan to take back the Strip. Contreras, getting one last look at Vegas, became one of the many casualties in the attack. He suffocated in the streets, dying without ever knowing what role he played in their rebellion.

Agrees that Contreras should sell to anyone...

and DOES kill or make Clanden leave

Contreras continued his business in arms and chem peddling. Though he reaped the benefits of a larger clientele, they could not protect him from the consequences: over confident, he didn’t expect an assassin hired as a result of a deal gone wrong. Contreras was murdered in his bunk, and though his death caused alarm among the troops, he was quickly forgotten.

and does NOT do anything with Clanden

The Omertas, tired of living under House’s rule, had devised a plan to take back the Strip. Contreras, getting one last look at Vegas, became one of the many casualties in the attack. He suffocated in the streets, dying without ever knowing what role he played in their rebellion.

If the Courier makes New Vegas independent and…

Convinces Contreras to be more careful about who he sells to...

Contreras, falling back with the NCR, put in to be transferred further west. Although the eastern front of the NCR’s territory brought good opportunity in illegal trade, the loss of Vagas meant business opportunity was elsewhere. Knowing that he could keep up his work in California, Contreras continued to live comfortably as quartermaster.

Agrees that Contreras should sell to anyone...

Contreras continued his business in arms and chem peddling. Though he reaped the benefits of a larger clientele, they could not protect him from the consequences: over confident, he didn’t expect an assassin hired as a result of a deal gone wrong. Contreras was murdered in his bunk, and though his death caused alarm among the troops, he was quickly forgotten.

[gold-and-rubies]

I’m Not an Angel, Baby - Chapter 5

Bridget’s POV.

Bridget’s legs ached as they climbed up the hill to the Mojave Outpost. The things she would do for caps. At least she could claim she has never killed an innocent for some. She hoped. Her life before the grave was still nonexistent to her.

“I underestimated how hard courier work can be,” Veronica said. Most people did.

Bridget was starting to wonder why she started in the first place. Her endurance was horrible. It must have been for the caps.

She relaxed a bit as they passed the statues. Places like this were some of the safest in the wastes. As long as they were not an enemy of the NCR.

She blinked blearily as they stepped into the barracks. Boone took his sunglasses off for once. The sunlight was harsh, even when it was not blisteringly hot. She wished she did not know who exactly they were looking for. It would have been nice to rest there for a while.

She scanned the room, looking for the woman. Her eyes landed on the bar. She was sitting in the same exact place when Bridget had met her the first time.

“Miss Cassidy?”

Cass sighed, “You come around like a bad habit. What’s on your mind.”

��Crimson Caravans wants to buy Cassidy Caravans,” Bridget explained.

“They want to buy Cassidy Caravans?” she scoffed, “Don’t they know it’s burned to ash? No… even times being what they are, not sure I’m looking to sell, even for all the whiskey in Reno.”

“Why not? You told me about what happened. Hard to come back from that.”

She finally turned from her drink to look at them, “If someone came up to you and offered you a thousand caps for your name, would you take it? Actually, you know what? Fuck it, I don’t want to hear your answer anyway. Point is I made the Caravan. It’s mine.”

Bridget held up the paper, “You haven’t even looked at the terms. They seem pretty damn fair to me.”

“Alice McLafferty, eh? No, I see the zeroes… and I know she’s good for them. It’s not about the money. Dad’d spin like a twister if he ever heard I sold our name for anything,” she sighed again, “Look, I know you cam all this way, and that takes some drive, especially these days. Just don’t feel right. Trading history for a slip of paper….”

“I know that as much as you don’t want to sell, it seems like you want to leave this place more. Your caravan status is keeping you here. You really want to be stuck here forever?”

“Dammit… you’re right. Give me the paper before I change my mind. No sense trying to hold the past between your fingers when it’s nothing but dirt. Hey, Lacey, you got something to write with?”

Bridget placed the agreement in front of Cass.

“Wow, finally asking for something other than liquor?” Lacy joked as she handed over a pen.

Cass rolled her eyes at her. She signed the paper with a frown.

“There. It’s done. Caravan is yours. I actually feel a bit relieved….”

“What are you going to do now?” Bridget asked. She felt a bit bad, even though this was probably better for everyone.

“No idea. Maybe… head back West? Though the idea of heading back there with my tail between my legs isn’t appealing.”

She looked between Boone and Veronica. Veronica shrugged at her, and Boone gave her a confused look.

“You could come with us?” she suggested.

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s better to not travel alone, and if it means anything, once we have the caps We’ll be heading to New Vegas. There’s… someone I need to talk to.”

“New Vegas, huh? Well, it’s better than staying here. Let’s go.”

Bridget nodded, “Welcome to the team. This is Boone and Veronica.”

Boone nodded at her.

Veronica held out her hand for Cass to shake, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Cass shook it wordlessly. Bridget did not blame her.

She peered out of the window, studying the sky.

“We should have time to at least get to Novac,” she glanced at Boone, who just frowned at her, “Right, Primm’s not far either. They might have work too.”

“Sounds good to me,” Boone said. The others nodded in agreement.

“Let’s go then.”

They fell into a natural marching order as they walked to Primm. Veronica scouted ahead with her power fist. Bridget kept her fingers on the trigger of her revolver. Radier and Powder Ganger activity was high in the area. Even with her taking down some. Cass was a few paces behind her, with Boone bringing up the rear.

The walk was almost eerily peaceful. Other than some giant ants in the distance, there was nothing to cause concern.

Bridget took the lead when they arrived, and took them straight to the Mojave Express. Veronica groaned quietly behind her. Bridget guessed she was really not a fan of courier work.

They crowded into the small room. Johnson Nash was behind the counter, and greeted them without looking up.

“Johnson,” Bridget greeted.

He looked up, surprised, “Bridget O’ Donoghue, right? I thought you were tracking down those men. What are you doing here?”

“Turns out the guy who orchestrated everything is an important guy on the New Vegas strip. So, we need caps,” she explained.

“Ah, so you’re looking for work. I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you.”

“What’s with the eyebot?” Veronica asked.

Bridget shot her a confused look.

“Some courier brought it in for repairs. Thought I’d fix it up and use it for something, but it’s out of my skill set,” he explained.

“Maybe I could take a look at it. I’m pretty familiar with tech.”

He was quiet for a moment, mulling something over in his head. He said, “I’ll tell you what, if you can manage to fix that thing up, I’ll pay you fifty caps and it’s yours. It’s been taking up space for too long.”

“Deal,” she smiled.

“Hey, is the hotel open yet?” Bridget asked.

“Yes, it is. Thanks to you.”

“Alright. Veronica, we’re going to go rooms. Meet me in the lobby when you’re done?”

“Will do.”

They left Veronica, and stepped into the cool evening air. Bridget felt oddly confident. Though there was still plenty of work on the horizon, she felt like things were actually going her way. She hoped she was not cursing herself.

[bloody-fists-beating-hearts]

It’s a Fallout76/Bethesda rant

Bethesda just released Fallout 1st, a horseshit pay-to-win subscription system for their absolute cum-bubble of a game, and while it’s getting the flack it deserves there are people already putting on their kneepads so they can gobble down Todd Howards entire turgid cock, and as someone who likes rpg’s way too much this irked me, so have a massive and barely coherent rant i took off the discord because why not.

I want to start off with this:  Every good thing about current fallout comes from the fanbase. The stories people tell, the headcanons, the fanfics, the art, everything fans do for it is made with more love, and more thought, than anything Bethesda’s writing and games design team has done in the last 10 years

Now first of all, I haven’t bought or played 76. People are gonna stop me right there and go ”well you haven’t bought it how would you know its bad!!” yeah, I’ve never eaten dog shit either but I can pretty well guess that I ain’t gonna fucking like it.

I knew the second he said "there are no npcs" with actual enthusiasm that this game was gonna be shit. And if you give me 2 seconds to gloat, I never bought the game and I knew this was gonna happen and I was RIGHT so suck my fat hairy nuts all those fanboys who pre-order things mindlessly just because there's a brand name attached to it. If there is anything you take from this its DO NOT PREORDER. BRAND LOYALTY IS FOR BOOMERS AND BOOTLICKERS. FOR FUCKS SAKE BE SMART WITH YOUR MONEY.

Games like this are fucking 80-90 dollars or more in Australia so I actually have to think about whether this momentary distraction is worth almost an entire days paycheck, and I’m still looking for employment which means I actually haven’t bought shit in a while (side note, anyone wants to commission me for 10 dollars I’ll draw damn near anything. God I need to make rent)

Every executive at Bethesda seems to be playing catch-up to EA's monetisation scheme. Beth has abandoned their model of single-player rpg's in favour of a "games as a service" model. Fallout 76 seems to me like its a weird experiment for just how far they can stretch this and still make money. It actually makes me wonder if they are 

 a) just completely unaware of fanbase response [no idea HOW]

b) are running into financial problems and are doing this out of desperation

 c) todd howard is still mad that obsidian made a better fallout than he ever could and he's doing this out of spite 

  Games as a whole has become much like the movie industry where publishers will throw big buckets of cash around to development teams, and those teams have CEO's and higher ups that throw lavish meet n greets and have nice fancy suits and cars and then treat their development teams like shit, overworking them to the point of exhaustion, because the product has to be on time for release dates that are scheduled to be the most profitable (christmas is a notable one). 

And those products are consistently bland, shitty, shallow experiences. Narrative cum-dumpsters that are purposefully made to toe the line as safely as possible, to be open to as wide as an audience as possible so they can make the most money, and Bethesda is a huge offender. Skyrim was fun, sure, but it was watered down to fuck, it had shitty dialogue, it had bland one-note characters, it had a simplified skill system. It was impossible to lose. Seriously, try and fail a fucking quest in skyrim, other than one or two, it's a hand-holder of an rpg, but it has a huge community of fans that put in monumental effort, for free, because they like the Elder Scrolls, and they like the world bethesda made. 

  Then Bethesda goes "hey, that watered down thing we made got huge! lets release it about 12 more fucking times, with some of the SAME bugs, with the SAME content, with the SAME limitations and Yes, we absolutely expect you to pay for it, again. Then they release the remastered edition which, to their credit, is free to anyone who already bought the legendary edition (on PC), and does actually have updated 64bit capability and some graphical enhancements (that aren't anywhere near what some goober in his basement cooked up in his spare time, but whatever). Then, seeing that Skyrim was so popular, with kids especially, and made money, they turn their sights to fallout 4, a game that was so anticipated that someone made a fake countdown and caused a small meltdown on tumblr/social media when it was revealed to be fake (i was part of that fiasco, i remember the hype, i was there goddamnit)

So Fallout, a franchise that literally has its theme as its FUCKING TAGLINE, an ADULT game that is equal parts crude, gory and humorous. A game that satirises the cold war era of american my-country-tis-of-thee blind loyalty and openly mocks the way war was idealised, and shows that not even the literal end of the world could either stop humanity's lust for blood or its desire for conquest. Games that showed you the growth of the world - from shady sands to the NCR, from the vault dweller to arroyo, shit actually happened in the games, the world didn't just stop turning when the bombs dropped. A game where you you become a porn star for fucks sake, and it's funny. 

So Bethesda sees that, makes something like it (fallout 3) which is good, but a little rough around the edges when you look at it too hard. But the way they suck you into the vault, the way they build a relationship with your dad and your way of life is immersive as fuck, so when you leave the place you actually feel like you're leaving something important, not just finishing the tutorial

then they outsource a Fallout game to obsidian, because hey, we saved your franchise by buying it off you, but if you can make an entire game in one year and get a metacritic score of 85 we'll even throw in a bonus. And fuck me sideways and in the ear, if the obsidian devs didn't work themselves harder than a 4-armed hooker. And they made a game that on release was a clusterfuck of bugs, because they were given an unrealistic time limit and missed the metacritic score by ONE POINT so bethesda goes "nhey heh sucks to suck" and fucks them off the franchise forever. EXCEPT (and I admit I'm biased here) the game is good. The game is actually really good when you remove those bugs, and people start forming attachments to it, and mentioning how bad fallout 3's writing is by extension. 

  So Todd and Co. in his infinite wisdom, decide that the only thing a fallout rpg needs is 50s aesthetic and fuck all else, and he releases a game so watered down it can't even be called an rpg. And its not. There are no skills. There are barely any dialogue checks. Instead of dialogue, Nate/Nora is a flat, samrish individual that is either "yes sir right away sir may i have another", "yes but i'm gonna make an unfunny quip about it" "this option pretends to say no but its gonna give you the quest marker anyway". 

The game drops any pretence of difficulty by giving you a deathclaw, a minigun and some power armour in the first 10 minutes, allowing you to effectively reach late-game power levels with some minor scavenging for ammo or cores. Then the game ropes you into some inter-faction war that realistically you wouldn't give a shit about, because some spud in a cowboy hat fucking deputizes you into a military general because you shot like 4 raiders from a rooftop (with a minigun. in power armour. making you nigh-invulnerable to bullets). You're sad about your son about 3 times the whole game and then you're on your merry way to mowing down humans left right and center without a care in the world. God fallout 4's writing is so stupid it gives me an aneurysm.

 Remember the part about resources wars and america only having the veneer of a strong country while riots, inflation, and resource shortages tore it apart from within? Bethesda doesn't, have an eerily stepford pastel coloured glimpse at a world that was totally fine, nothing wrong here, shame it got nuked oh well moving on

Your spouse? yeah you love them, they're said 2 whole sentences to you then they died, be sad because you totally loved them and it is totally sad that they are dead. Your weird play-dough son shaun, you love him so much, you even tickled him on the chin once, okay he's gone off you go to chase him - woah now, don't chase him too hard we have all these side quests for you to do! What would be the narrative reasoning for a supposedly distraught parent to fuck around boston instead of finding their goddamn child? fuck knows! just go pick up some goddamn wood and get to base building sonny-jim! 

Companions? yeah, they're fun, we gave them a romance questline and it's thus: if you pick enough locks and pass a minor charisma check maccready will be ready and willing to tell you about his sick child, and then he'll ride you like a stallion. Talk to him like, 4 times, and he will be your bosom buddy for life in about 3-5 days if you just pick locks like a fucking madman, because character growth is hard and counting beans is easy.

 Also your son is a part of the faction we were talking about! something about synths, remember that one questline from rivet city that barely anyone actually remembers and was an interesting time waster at best? Well get ready to do that same quest but about! 15! more! times! because we could not think of anything else to write about synthetically produced humans that assume peoples identities other than having them as a hamfisted metaphor for slavery. Why do they take over people's identies? Well because the institute needs them to aasdkfjdh kshshshsh t9oe of course. 

Speaking of hamfisted metaphors, here's the underground railroad, named after the underground railroad that actually mattered, except this time its the same thing but synths. They are so top secret that the only way to find them is to follow the only bright red line in a street that is exclusively green-brown otherwise, and then enter their super secret password, which is "password"

They are then, like every other faction, absolutely willing to trust you, at face value, no questions asked, because have to actually do something or require a skill check might make this hard for people under the age of 12 to play. Then you go do whatever fuckin shit you do, I stopped playing at this point, and then you find out your son is actually 60, you guys have a tearful, 10 sentence reunion, then he diesthe whole reason you were out here in the first place dies, and you react appropriately, which is to say you say his name really sadly, and then go back to mowing down raiders with reckless abandon

And then 76 gets released, bethesda drops all pretense of fallout still being an rpg. You want a story? Fuck you, pay up. Its retro future and thats all that makes falloutSatirizing war mongering? You can nuke things in this game and its totally fine, its actually the goal, because fallout has nukes in it right? Pay us 10 dollars and you get army olive drab spraypaint because hurrgh war is fun and great, wasnt that the tagline from the first game?The more i rant the more angry i am because people put their heart and soul into writing this. The lore and dialogue is actual work that someone researched and loved and felt proud of and now  it's becoming a hilariously meta parody of itself. 

Honestly FUCK bethesda and and fuck todd howard for his pisspoor cash grab. Not even worth calling it a video game anymore

[ticktockthem]

I did that interview meme again but this time as if Cal was conducting the interview specifically because @undeadcourier hurt my feelings with their version of the interview and turnabout is fair play

What is your name? Charlie García-O’Meara, but you knew that, so don’t get that stupid face on your face about it!

How old are you? Twenty-seven, now, damn. To think- one day I’ll be thirty, that’s practically ancient.

What do you look like? (gestures to self) I’ll pose if you got time.

Where are you from? Where do you live now? From Texas. I guess I got a wanderin’ soul, though, ‘cause I can’t really say I live anywhere in particular. I like travelin’, I like ridin’ with the caravan, I like trailblazin’... I like living on the road with y’all, Callele.

What was your childhood like? Don’t worry, I’m not upset. I knew there were bound to be rough questions on here, Arcade warned me. Just write ‘bad’ and we’ll come back to that later. I guess… ‘stressful’ would be more accurate.

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions? Now when have you ever known me to get myself hitched to anyone but Keira? ...Nobody’s more important to me than my family, but after that… The Followers ain’t so bad. Couple others I might could stand.

Tell me about your best friend. That’s not even a question. Callinan, are you just using this as an excuse to get me to butter you up? Let me see that paper! Huh, who would’ve thunk, it actually is on there. 

He’s a bastard, but he ain’t so bad once you get used to him. He makes me laugh, and he’s loyal. He’s been through a lot... He gets all mixed up sometimes, but he’ll listen when you tell him that you think he’s wrong. Won't always agree, won't always change his mind, but he listens. He explains himself. He explains stuff to me, stuff that other people would skip over or say wasn't important. Doesn't give me ultimatums. Helps those who help themselves. Or others. 

Deep down, he's got a heart, even if he tries to act like he's too badass for all that. I think I might love him as much as he seems to love me, y’know? 

Don't you look at me like that, you asked.

Do you have a family? Tell me about them! My grandmas in Louisiana raised me to be able to survive on my own, to do no harm but take no shit. My dad, mom, and grandpa in the Stills taught me how to care about strangers. My brother… he taught me that I'm worth more than what others think of me. Took a while for the lesson to kick in, but it's here now, I think. They mean more than the world to me. More than anything.

What about a partner or partners? Yeah, okay, Keira… she… Callinan! I can't say nothin' good when you're lookin' at me like that! ...I love her, and she loves me back. Ain't that all there is to say?

Who are your enemies, and why? Anyone who tries to use old world solutions to problems caused by the old world. Ncr, legion, brotherhood, the list goes on. Vault-tec is pretty high up there.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them? Get 'em out of that powerarmor and they bleed like the rest. Did you know deathclaws were originally developed to combat troops in powerarmor? I always thought that was interesting.

What about The Enclave? There's a doozy. Fuck the pro-American propaganda, and fuck them for their inability to learn from the past. Even with them… gone, their way of thinking is still present, living on in all the other groups that emulate them accidentally or not. Seems like a waste, then, that so many died.

How do you feel about Super Mutants? As a victim of forced 'evolution' myself, I feel for them. I wish more of them would listen.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in? Remember that time you almost killed me? Yes you did, I almost died of fright. I forgive you. Maybe get me some nukacherry and we'll consider it even.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw? Only play fights and… well, once or twice when they wouldn't back down.

Do you like fighting? Not for real, not usually. The thrill of winning and living after, I like that part, but the actual fighting? Don't like that quite so much. I worry about Keira every time.

What’s your weapon of choice? Is it cheating if I say you, Callele? (laughs) I could aim you at something and know it'd die with more certainty than if I used my rifle, and I wouldn't even waste a bullet.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?) Never been the lucky type, but I learned to cope with that. I use every tool at my disposal, keep my options open. (S-6, P-10, E-6, C-7, I-7, A-10, L-2)

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them? I still don't like enclosed spaces. Isolation, either.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you? I don't really get radsick. Not at normal levels of radiation anyway. One of the perks of being a mutant freak. (laughs)

What’s your favorite wasteland critter? You? (laughs) Deathclaws, obviously. Those're my cousins!

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter? Also you! Okay but honestly, fuck those hell-boars.

How do you feel about robots? Not any particular way, I guess? They're just doin' what they're programmed to do. Ain’t their fault if they’re bein’ aggressive.

How many caps do you have on you right now? Is this a stick-up? I know you don’t need caps, Callele, you just steal what you can’t afford. I got like 6 caps in my pocket, won't get you very far. 

Oh, no, wait, you sly motherfucker! Well, you can keep ‘em. Fair’s fair. Thanks for the ammo, by the way.

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla? Sarsaparilla, unless it's a nukacherry. I prefer sweet tea, though, with honey and sugar. Honestly, that's harder to get.

Do you do chems? Yeah. I try to keep it reasonable, though. I'll let you know if I think it's a problem so long as you promise to do the same, yeah?

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world? I wonder, sometimes, if my life would have been worse. I know that's selfish- obviously if I could somehow rewrite it all, I wouldn't let all of this (gestures at the general state of affairs) happen, but… I don't think the pre-war folk were anywhere near as free as we are. If I'd lived back then, I'd still be stuck in the vault, in my head. That's a scary thought.

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently? Leaving Reid behind was the most difficult, painful thing that's ever happened to me. But I think it had to be done. I couldn't have stayed, and he wouldn’t leave.

What’s your biggest achievement? Helping you. Helping my family. Helping.

What do you hope to achieve? I wanna feed the Mojave and protect my family. I want to grow old surrounded by people who love me and whom I love. I'm gettin’ there.

What do you want for the future? A little more empathy, generally.

For yourself? I want to be proud of who I am, what I've done.

Your friends? Everything.

The world? Some damn peace and quiet, for once.

[dragonie]

OC Questionnaire

Sort-tagged-but-not-really by @couriers-mile​! Sorta-tagging anyone else interested lmao

What is your name? Jane. Jane Finn. And that’s all you’re gettin’, ‘less you know me real well.

How old are you? Gone on 29 now.

What do you look like? Heck, well, I’m kinda tall an’ gangly-like. Dark hair; keep it long in a braid outta… sentiment, let’s say. Dark eyes, too. Don’t dress too fancy; boots and hat and duster for the trail.

Where are you from? Where do you live now? I’m from out Colorado way, near Mesa Verde. Right now? “No fixed abode”, I guess you’d say. I live on the trail mostly.

What was your childhood like? Ha! I was a wild thing, always runnin’ off from chores to go explore the valleys while Mama tended the animals. We were a tight-knit bunch, though… it was good times.

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions? NCR likes me ‘cause I kill Legion, and so long as they keep on doin’ the same we’ll be square. I get on with the Sorrows, they… remind me of some folks I knew, in a way. Get along fine with the Khans since they turned off of Caesar; like the Boomers well enough, too.

Tell me about your best friend. Hm. I ‘spose other than Ulysses, my best friends are a cute lil’ robot named ED-E, and Boone. An’ outta them, ED-E’s the conversationalist. Ha, Boone’s all right, though. He gets some things most don’t, and the silences ain’t uncomfortable.

Do you have a family? Tell me about them! I did. That’s all I feel like sayin’.

What about a partner or partners? Well, Ulysses an’ I got somethin’ goin’ on, I reckon. Hard to define at this point, but… well. Nice to have someone who gets what I’m talkin’ about.

Who are your enemies, and why? Legion. And have you met them? Do I need a reason? They done a lot of hurt, in their time. ‘Sides them, Omertas are same shit on a different day. An’ White Legs can’t wait to grovel at Caesar’s feet, so they can rot with him.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them? Not much after the way they treated Ronnie and Christine, if I’m bein’ honest. They’re an obsessed stick-up-the-ass bunch with a lot of heavy firepower.

What about The Enclave? Heard bad things ‘bout them from some o’ the older caravaneers. Arcade an’ his folks are alright mostly, ‘spose you can’t help where you’re born, but I gotta think whoever took ‘em out all-in-all did us a favor.

How do you feel about Super Mutants? They’re folks just like everyone else, far as I can see. Got some good ones, some bad ones, some real kooky ones.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in? Craziest? Hoover Dam’s probably the craziest. I’m a courier, not a general; spent the whole damn time with soldiers at my back an’ a vertibird flyin’ overhead wondering’ when I was gonna wake up.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw? Trick is to take ‘em out from long range. Really, really long range.

Do you like fighting? Like it? No, I do it ‘cause the alternative is bein’ gutted by a buncha raiders over a handful of caps. Likin’ it’s crazy…then again, I have gotta admit to a nice warm feeling’ inside when I pull the trigger on some Legion bastard ‘fore he’s even noticed me, so maybe I ain’t the sanest myself.

What’s your weapon of choice? Hunting rifle, scoped. Get them before they get to you.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?) Well, I’m fast, I got good aim, and I ain’t a fool. Can be good with my words, if it comes to it. Never needed to rely on brute force before.

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them? Yeah, unfortunately. Can’t think how folks managed to live their entire lives in one of ‘em things; don’t feel right, not bein’ able to feel the sky above you. And that ain’t even gettin’ into whatever experiments them fuckers was runnin’ down there. ‘Course, there was also the nursery vault, but... that ain’t a story I much feel like tellin’.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you? Stay out of it, as much as possible; keep to fresh runnin’ water and keep Rad-X an’ Rad-Away on hand. Think it’s been working…’less I got a third arm growing outta my back that I ain’t noticed yet.

What’s your favorite wasteland critter? Ooh, hard one. Toss-up between coyotes and nightstalkers, I reckon. So many people are scared of ‘em but they’re lambs if you know what you’re doin’. Bighorners are a close third.

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter? Tunnelers. Little bastards pop outta nowhere an’ got poisons too.

How do you feel about robots? I like ‘em plenty, some more’n most people. Like lil ED-E here, or didja see that Primm Slim fella down in Primm? Hilarious!

How many caps do you have on you right now? Friend, that’s the sorta question that gets you mistaken for a bandit. And not a subtle one, neither.

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla? Partial to both, myself. I’ll drink what’s available, I ain’t picky.

Do you do chems? Only Stimpaks an’ Rad-X an’ such when I got to. Rest is just flirtin’ with trouble.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world? Only how they managed to fuck it up so badly. Ulysses’s got a bee in his bonnet about ‘em, though. Personally, I don’t see the appeal.

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently? Wouldn’t’ve delivered that package to the Divide, if I’d known. Woulda been a bit more careful about what I carry.

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve? I killed Caesar, an’ I killed Lanius, an’ I’m gonna live to see the Legion choke an’ die an’ my people live again, is what.

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world? What do I want? I want the Twin Mothers back, an’ the Twisted Hairs for Ulysses, an’ the Legion gone, and if it won’t happen on its own, I’ll goddamn make it happen!

[didsomeonesaybioshock]

Purpose

Craig Boone x Female Courier

I have no idea what the fuck this is...... I haven’t written in, like, a year, so here’s some bullshit. Also, this is completely unedited (but I promise no spelling errors -- perks of being a journalist!)

“This is the place.”

Red dust floated from the soles of her boots as she looked around -- more than a dozen refugees met her gaze. Grimy tents scattered without a rhyme or reason. One larger tent higher on the ridge. An NCR flag fluttering proudly above it.

“We got sent from Camp Golf, looking for some Khans who’d been making trouble with one of our settlements.” Boone continued. She turned around to face him. “I guess one of the settlers was connected, because we got sent with everything we had.”

Claire turned her head once more to survey the camp. A young child giggled with another over a weak camp fire. A mother nursed an infant against the weak walls of a tent. Even from so far away, Claire could see a long scar across the full length of her chest. The mother met her stare.

“We figured this was a gang hideout, but… they’d led us to their home.”

She could almost see how it had once been. A thriving, average settlement nestled into the mountains. Settlers traveling in and out as the days wore on. Traders meeting with shopkeepers near the initial opening. Gaggles of children running free, laughing and playing under their parents’ watchful eye. But it wasn’t enough. Hadn’t been enough. They didn’t stand a chance against a wave of trained NCR snipers.

Claire knew there was nothing she could say. So, she merely nodded.

“There’s a ridge called Coyote Tail on the south side.” Boone said. “That’s where we set up.”

The walk towards the ridge was silent -- the only sound being their boots against the dirt and the soft hum of her Pip Boy. They walked side-by-side, their rifles slung on their backs, their eyes trained forward. That was the funny thing about them -- they always looked the same direction. Never toward the ground, never behind them -- but forward. As if they didn’t care if someone attacked from behind.

And maybe they didn’t care. They had seen so much -- both together and apart. Had both trekked hundreds and thousands of miles across the Nevada Wasteland -- had both lost so much. She could still hear Boone’s words echo in her head from a few weeks back. I just had my rifle with me. Just me, against all of them, so… I took the shot.

Boone climbed the ridge first -- small red pebbles trickling down the rocks as his boots found small footholds. He extended a hand for Claire. She took it, his hands like a slab of rough and coarse leather. But despite their weathered feel, they were a small comfort. He pulled her gently until her feet hit the peak and they faced the opening of Bitter Springs.

A small blast of wind blew whisps of hair from her face. She pulled a rogue strand from the dried crack on her lip. This heat had completely wiped her skin out. It’d been more than a week since her last bath. Damn, she couldn’t wait to get home.

They were supposed to get back to Goodsprings a few days back -- right after the little “incident” at Nelson. But then Boone started talking, and… well, to be frank, when Boone talked -- Claire listened. Mainly because he didn’t say jack shit to begin with. But when he did, it meant something.

She could drag him to hell and back without a single fucking complaint from him. So, when Boone wanted to go somewhere… you better damn well believe they went.

“Canyon 37. That’s what the NCR calls the pass down there.”

Claire ran her hands over the leather strap of her rifle, snug across her chest. “The one leading out of Bitter Springs?”

She took his silence as a yes.

“It was the Khan’s only escape, so we set up here to guard it while the main force attacked from the front.” Boone paused. “Standing orders were to shoot on sight.”

Claire snuck a side-glance at Boone. The sun was beginning to set, and the colors danced across his face. That cursed, stone-walled face -- there was a time when she could see nothing past those stupid sunglasses. Emotionless. Not a smile, or a chuckle, or a single hint of break in his voice. But they’d been traveling for months now. She knew him. And even in this moment, she could see a hint of something. The crease in his forehead, hidden slightly behind those glasses. But not hidden enough.

“What happened?” Claire asked.

“Main force got spotted too soon. We heard shooting. Then Khans started coming through Canyon 37 in bunches.” He shifted his feet and cleared his throat. There it was. That emotion. “But it was all wrong. Women, kids, elderly. Wounded started coming through, too.”

Claire could see it playing out before her -- could hear the screams of terror, the sobs of children and mothers. Sons practically yanking their grandparents down the hill, the smell of fear in the air. And she could see Boone, his wide eyes hidden from behind his sniper scope, his finger still on the trigger. Her eyes began to sting.

“We radioed to confirm our orders but command didn’t get what we were seeing. They told us to shoot until we were out of ammo.” Boone sighed quietly. “So that’s what we did.”

“You did what you were supposed to do as a soldier.” Claire said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a soldier anymore. Those rules don’t seem like much of an excuse now.”

Claire had never been a soldier. Hated taking orders -- never played by the rules, even as a kid. Courier life suited her just fine, wandering the world, never needing to settle at one place. She remembered watching her older brother wave goodbye with a single pack slung over his shoulder and a pistol in his waistband -- the night he’d left for the NCR. He’d been so excited to serve. To pave the way for a better life. For his family. For humanity. To this day, Claire wondered if it had been worth it for him -- even when he took his final breath at Hoover Dam. Did he feel the same regret as Boone?

“Anyway, I don’t know why we’re here.” Boone said. “Thought maybe it’d help me see things better.”

“I mean, we are standing on a ridge.” Claire said. “Can’t beat the view up here.”

In her peripheral vision, she caught a small smirk. Good. “I’d like to stay here for the night. Think some things over.”

Claire shrugged. “We could do that.”

“All right.” Boone said. “We won’t stay for long.”

The sun was completely hidden behind the red mountains by the time they had unrolled their bedding. It was hot as hell tonight -- no need for a campfire. They sat in the growing twillight as they ate their dinner. Claire handed him leftover Brahmin Steak from the night before and they ate quietly -- just as they always did. They shared a container of Purified Water and were layed out on their mats when the moon began to rise. In the distance, Claire heard a cricket chirp. A strange comfort.

“Claire.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you… do you have any regrets?”

In all their months of traveling, Boone had never asked a question. He always answered -- short, few word sentences. Sometimes no answer, if possible. Claire knew almost everything about Boone. And in that moment, she realized, Boone knew next to nothing about her.

“Plenty. I wish I was never born.”

Boone scoffed. “Seriously.”

Claire chuckled. “I mean, come on, am I wrong? This world is a fucking nightmare.”

Boone groaned. “The one time I ask you a question…”

“Alright, alright,” Claire said. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t chosen to be a Courier. Stayed with my folks a while longer, back in California,” Claire paused. “I wish I would have enlisted with my brother. Maybe saved his miserable ass.”

“Ricardo?”

Claire nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “I wish I didn’t hate the world as much as I do. I wish I hadn’t walked through the Divide with that stupid fucking package.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” Ulysses flashed between the constellations in the sky. She hoped he was doing alright. “I wish I had known.”

Silence fell again. Her next words came out before she could stop them. “I wish I had met you sooner.”

She could almost feel him tense up, regardless of the space and dirt between them. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“Claire --”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about how you have bad things coming to you,” Claire turned in her cot to face in his direction. Even in the darkness, she could see he was facing her. Could see those deep eyes staring back at her -- the stars twinkling in the pool of green. “Before you, all I did was wander. I was restless. I was empty inside. Couldn’t settle.” That sting in her eyes was back. God damn it. “Yeah, sure, I was a Courier. Comes with the job. But even with all of that, I didn’t have any- “

“Purpose.” Boone finished.

The silence was different this time. Different than it had ever been. More tense. Claire realized she was holding her breath. Literally.

Boone moved -- she could hear it more than see it -- heard the rustling of his cot. Heard it dragging against the dirt. Then she felt his heat before her. Felt him toss his cot carelessly beside her and flop onto it. He was facing her. She felt his breath on her face. Goosebumps covered every inch of her skin.

Claire was still holding her breath. Her lungs were begging for air. Her heart was damn near exploding from her chest. She granted her body another breath.

“We don’t have to wander anymore, Craig,” Claire whispered. “Because even after all of my regrets, I’m grateful for the road that led me here.”

Claire had never felt at “home” before. No matter where she found herself -- the Divide, Goodsprings, New Vegas. It didn’t matter. She’d been a hundred places and never felt more out of place. But suddenly, Claire knew what “home” was when Boone’s lips met her own. That sweet comfort; a warmth that burned brighter than any flame. Their mouths moved in harmony like they’d done it a million times before -- a beautiful waltz that she had quietly rehearsed in her head every night beside him. In the darkness, Claire could suddenly see every part of him -- the pain, the anguish, the emptiness. The loneliness. It radiated onto her like a second moon.

In a heartbeat, Boone had rolled on top of her -- his lips at her cheek and a hand tangled in her hair. Claire’s hand slipped under his shirt and felt his skin, and she cherished the gasp from his lips. Her finger traced a raised scar across his abdomen. She wondered what story came with it.

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me,” A final warning. Classic Boone. His hand left her hair and traced down the curve of her neck.

Claire lifted his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the dirt. “So show me,” she whispered.

And for just a moment, their world was at peace.

[nonopiimagines]

Fandom: Fallout: New Vegas: New California Pairing: Ben Kurtz x f!Star Player/f!Courier Warnings: n/a Word Count: 2360 Author Notes: This mod makes replaying New Vegas almost a completely new experience.

part v.

Fort Daggerpoint. You would have easily dismissed the rumors about it being haunted, full of demons, or the epitome of all evil if your worldview hadn’t been so suddenly shattered just a few weeks prior. Talking about what existed outside of the vault felt like a dream, some fantasy made up by you and the other kids. You all knew you were born out there, but as you grew up, that might’ve all been a dream as well. Something unreal, unreachable. You were sure you were going to live and die in that metal tomb. It was almost unbelievable that you fell asleep in that dream and woke up in a burning hell hole, the bodies of your siblings scattered around you. And you had to crawl out of it into another hellish landscape that you never expected to have to fully realize and operate within.

So even though it would’ve have been easier to dismiss everyone’s claims about Fort Daggerpoint--including Ben’s-- you didn’t. It only took one earth shattering moment to teach you that everything was real at some point and though the words may have been twisted over time, their meanings still lay within.

---

It hurt like hell. You were afraid it was going to end just as it started: with your busted leg. It was just barely returning to normal and now you were paying the price without a full recovery. But you couldn’t let it end here. Your ears were ringing, your sweaty hair stuck to your face, tears pricked at your eyes, but your head felt clear in its objective: get the fuck out. Run. You have to tell someone.

Everyone was back in the Fort. You had to make it there. There were at least twenty super mutants standing between you and them. You didn’t even have your armor. You grabbed whatever weapon you could find and you just ran, ignoring the furious cries of your captors calling behind you.

It was the dam that made you the most nervous. You had to weave your way between the super mutants and dodge whatever weapons they were swinging or firing and you had to do it all with your hurt leg. You kept telling yourself that they needed you. If you didn't come back, they would fade into the dunes of The Pass and you could not allow that to happen, they deserved better. You deserved better.

So you were quiet. You gritted your teeth, held your breath, and hobbled along. It was easier than you had imagined, using the vehicles as cover, crawling underneath them when you felt too vulnerable.

You were clawing through the door of the fort, urging your legs to carry you farther and farther, just a little bit longer, up the vehicle ramp. You didn't realize how good it could feel to see the familiar faces of your friends and the relief of knowing that you had done so well. Coming back for them. They had been waiting for you.

It was easy to collapse into Jamie's arms, unable to speak as the stress finally caught up to you in the form of uncontrolled tears streaming down your face. They all looked at you, in your vault-issued underwear, your pistol still gripped tightly in your hand. You saw faces of confusion and concern but Jameson's face betrayed the horror he felt inside. He had sent you to your death but you survived. Maybe he thought he was seeing a ghost or the living dead, his guess wouldn't be that far off.

Ben followed your gaze and saw the same look you did before Jameson quickly regained his composure. It looked almost as though Ben was going to demand answers then and there, but after a moment of hesitation, he knelt beside you. In a moment of tenderness you didn't expect, especially in front of others, he pushed your sweat-soaked hair off your forehead and bore into you with his steely eyes. “y/n, what happened?”

You could not explain the rush of feelings overcame you when you heard his voice. It brought feelings of safety but also encouragement. This was not over. You still had to evacuate the Fort. You had to lead them to safety. So you took a deep breath and wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. “I was captured by super mutants but I managed to escape. We've got to get out of here though, they're looking for me and there's only one way I could've gone.” You spared a moment to glance at the ramp you were stumbling up just minutes before. “I need a stimpak--”

“Way ahead of ya.” Eric was bent over his backpack, rooting around for a moment before finding what he was looking for and tossing it to Ben. A super stimpak.

Before you could oppose, Ben ripped open the packaging and stabbed it into your naked leg, the audible release of the medicine signaling it was too late to protest. You stared at him as he discarded the used needle and tubing, his face more relaxed than it was a few moments ago.

“I grabbed this from an empty house in Union City,” Kira said quietly as she deposited a pre-war dress into your lap. “It's not much, but I want it back!” You gave her a brief smile, appreciating the way she always tried to lighten the mood, intentionally or not.

Already feeling the effects of the super stimpak, you sat up, shooing away Ben and Jamie. The dress fit you well enough, though you knew it would do a whole lot of nothing against bullets and grenades. But it was better than running around in your underwear. Grabbing your pistol, you turned to everyone and nodded. “I'm ready. We better get moving.”

---

“Are you going to tell me what really happened?”

You were sharing a bed again, up in the loft of Dr. Marius’ house. Kira's snores could be heard from a cot on the ground level. Jamie and Eric went into town for a drink. It was just the two of you.

Sleep had consumed you for a few days after you arrived back at Union City. You had dreams of returning to Fort Daggerpoint, wandering the large, cavernous rooms but this time it was empty. No super mutants, no ghouls, none of your companions. It was just you, walking in complete silence, following your footsteps until you reached the door to Father’s chambers. You would never enter, you weren’t ready to face what was behind that door.

As you dreamed, your leg had healed itself fully. You weren’t sure it it was just a combination of the stimpaks and rest or if the parasite inside you was restoring your leg to near perfect condition. When you awoke that morning, you were able to walk back into town without any pain or hobbling. Everyone told you it was a miraculous recovery, but you hesitated to call it a miracle.

You slowly rolled over to face Ben. He lay on his back, chest exposed, with one arm behind his head resting on the pillow. You saw the faint outline of his scar peak over his shoulder and you wondered if he even remembered when it happened. His memories seemed incomplete at times and though he wasn’t afraid to admit it, you knew what it felt like to have a part of you that was foreign. Something you knew nothing about, but was there to remind you every day that your brain was imperfect and you were part of something beyond yourself, whether you wanted to be or not.

You continue to study him, your eyes dragging over his angular features, cascading down his chest and out to his toned arms. He was becoming an extremely adept spear thrower for someone who was kicked off the vaultball team. It was becoming harder and harder to bring to mind Vault 18, trying to imagine yourself and Ben sitting a table in the diner in the atrium or remembering the faces of your siblings when they were playing card games or recalling the way you felt when you showed Dr. Rossman a terminal you hacked. That wasn’t your reality anymore. The dry San Bernardino dunes, the uncanny red ferns in Black Bear Forest, the war between the raiders, the Enclave, the super mutants, and the NCR--those were your reality now. This was your reality. Sharing your bed with this man who you trusted without a doubt, who believed in you when you didn’t, who was ready to follow you into the sunset without a word. You both had seen and lived though unspeakable horrors but to share a moment like this--vulnerable, exposed, uncertain--was comforting and human. It was something to keep you going.

Ben deserved the truth.

“The super mutants wanted me. That’s why we went to Fort Daggerpoint. The NCR knowingly hand-delivered me to them.”

“Jameson?”

You nodded.

He just closed his eyes, his breathing was slow and steady, but the clenched fist behind his head betrayed his anger.

“Why?”

This was your only uncertainty. Ben had expressed to you his feelings about super mutants or demons, as he called them. Repressing his memories for so long only made the pain of remembering his childhood escape from the super mutants that much more potent. They killed his friends and family, they took away his home, his freedom. He was lucky to escape with his life. You were afraid to tell him that you were a super mutant. This parasite made you one of them and it was something you couldn’t deny anymore.

You could feel it in your throat first. The burn of the tears as they welled up out of your eyes and silently slid down your face. It was difficult to go back there. You were already there every time you went to sleep, aimlessly wandering. But you didn’t want to remember how it felt when you woke up inside the glass chamber, how cold the metal was under feet as you were beckoned into the vat of FEV, the lidless stares of the super mutants as they watched you, so proud of what you were about to become. You wanted to throw up, to crumple to the ground and wail until you awoke from this nightmare. But you had to keep going. To tell dumb jokes with Kira again, to discuss alcoholic beverages of the Wasteland with Eric again, to shop for guns with Jamie again, to be near Ben again, to hear his voice, to be close to him, to share everything with him.

What scared you even more than remembering the Fissure of Sorrow, was upsetting Ben, losing his trust, becoming strangers.

“I…” You sniffled, your nose accommodating the wetness of your eyes.

Ben’s hand that wasn’t behind his head slid underneath the blankets until it found your hand, enclosing it within an iron grip. “Don’t cry.” It wasn’t an order. He never demanded anything from you. It was a reassurance. You didn’t need to cry because everything was okay. Everything will always be okay.

Relief rushed over you, forcing a small laugh out of your mouth. Even just small gestures like holding your hand eased your worries. You didn’t feel like everything was closing in on you. It grounded you to the present, the unyielding now. It gave you the strength and confidence to continue.

“The super mutants in Fort Daggerpoint, they’re in a cult. The Father wanted me because I have a parasite inside me. If I come into contact with FEV, I will become the perfect super mutant, capable of becoming the progenitor of new generation of super mutants. I escaped before their plans were fully realized.” You felt years pass, the words slowly coming out of your mouth, your whispers permeating the air. But you felt lighter.

The silence stretched on for a while, your hand clutching Ben’s as hard as he was clutching yours. “They will have to go through us if they want you.”

---

Continuing to support the NCR felt like the worst decision you had ever made. They tried to sell you out to prevent the super mutant uprising in the valley, but here you were and nobody could leave Union City without running into a patrol of super mutants and bellringers. They couldn’t ignore it anymore but above everyone else living in this valley, they were the only ones who could possibly stop the threat.

So you nodded in silence as General Silverman blabbered on about killing the raider king, wondering if he was really any better than that slave-loving bastard. Wondering if he would make the same mistake twice.

---

You all snuck in together with the help of Wilco Wilson. But you were the one who slipped into the mines, found Juan Maxon-Elsdragon, and let your plasma pistol do the talking. You didn’t let him say anything, you didn’t let anyone around him say anything. It was get in, get out. No heroic speeches about comeuppance, about getting what he deserved for all the people he tortured. As the life left his eyes, as you cradled a bullet wound on your arm from one of his bodyguards, you wondered briefly if it would really end here. His daughter would have something to say about her father’s death. But your thoughts stopped there. The NCR could deal with the fallout of their actions.

As you jumped back into Wilco’s wagon, you sat next to Jamie. You stared in front of you, letting her look at your wound, asking Eric for a bandage or a stimpak, Kira waving her hand in front of your face, asking how it went. You just nodded, a fake smile trying to work its way onto your face. “It went fine.”

Your eyes flashed over to Ben who stared openly at you, a mixture of concern and frustration flashing through his eyes.

[believerindaydreams]

Will I *ever* get these kids out of the Mojave I retain hope but they gotta go through the mortification of being known before I can inflict DC on them

Into the fire take 4

Four customers in Cliff's small shop is almost too many; but they have a lot to buy, more to sell, and a discount that only applies to the snipers.

Arcade pokes through the small Nuka-Cola fridge, wondering how many he can justify buying. Half a dozen? And a Quantum he can't help eyeing.

"We certainly will miss you," Cliff says. "Ranger Andy can't keep it up forever, and now that Miss Daisy's gone too...who knows who'll keep a lookout. It's not the money, is it? I'd put up a little out of my own pocket, seems a shame to turn out a pregnant woman.

"That's very kind of you," Carla says. "But silly Boone here had a death bounty put on his head, and we wouldn't want to endanger Novac by hanging around. Would we, dear?"

Boone nods expressionlessly.

"That so? Uh...well, I'm sorry about that...Carla, do you want to see the cloths? Had in some new flaxes from NCR..."

Arcade quietly smothers a laugh, before turning his attention to the weapons bin. Laser pistol, that gun which he doubts anyone will ever buy, a pile of varmint rifles. As abysmal a character as Elijah had been, there's no complaining with the holorifle; it's a better weapon than he's ever owned or likely to get.

Doesn't stand up for melee, though. "Here we go!"

"You sure you can work that?" Manny says dubiously, eyeing the ripper. "They're pretty heavy, it's not easy."

"He can work it," Boone says flatly. "Don't ask."

"Whoa. Okay. Let's get the equipment for a couple of weapons kits to tune it up, then."

"Sounds good to me," Arcade says mildly. He's not here to scare the senses out of friendly shop owners, after all.

"And all the empty bottles you have. I know they're everywhere, but yours are clean," Carla's saying. "Doesn't matter what sort."

"That's what you're paying for! Now, I got a fine deal on Sunsets, if you're looking..."

It's dawning on Arcade that they really have no idea where Christine is going to take them- do they even have Sarsaparilla where they're going? He doesn't know.

A wave of nostalgia for the Mojave hits him- for all its flaws, its cruelty and unkindness, he's slept safely under these beautiful skies, there's clean water and a certain rule of law. A frontier that combines freedom for people like him with some kind of sanity is a delicate thing in this world.

He doesn't really want to go.

It's Manny who sees him tearing up, Manny who claps him reassuringly on the shoulder and says "It'll be all right. We'll get through."

Arcade nods, his throat tight, and tentatively reaches out for Manny's hand.

Feels good against his own.

*****

Don't think I ever felt so comfortable in Novac, honestly. Figures that's just as we're leaving.

Never saw Manny and Carla this easy around each other before. They put up with each other, but for my sake- Carla knew that I needed my partner, Manny understood I loved my wife, but we had separate places for a reason. Three-ways weren't the same as talking.

Now, though? They're relaxed together. He touches her freely, she whispers in his ear same way she used to only do with me. They look more like the married couple laughing together, than I ever did with her.

Don't think I'm jealous. Aware, though. If I'd never come back, they would have carried on without me and not missed a beat.

Same as Arcade and me, I guess.

God. If anything's in favor of this crazy arrangement, the more guns we have the better. No one's taking Carla away again.

Time to quit thinking about that. It's a funny selection we're buying, turning in good ammo for ribbons, but the truth is Manny and I have stockpiled more of the stuff than we can hope to carry. And NCR money won't be worth anything where we're going, might as well spend it now.

Besides..."You still have that arrangement with the McBride's for pack Brahmin? We could use one."

Cliff shakes his head. "Not since something started killing his cattle. That's something you might clear up before you go, it's a sheer mystery. Nobody sees it come or go."

Considering what I saw down at Repconn, I have a notion what it could be. "All right, we'll check that out. Thanks for the tip."

"No problem," Cliff says, handing Arcade a last icy bottle. We're all kind of overladen now, barring Carla. "And say, listen. Any time you're back this way, you're still good for a discount. For old time's sake."

He hands Carla a dino toy. "And this is for the baby. No charge."

She grins and curtsies.

***

So it's me and Manny in the McBride paddock, with Arcade looking after Carla at the room. Both of us are a little afraid of this, I know; that's why we agreed to do it.

Because you don't switch partners. That's why Betsy is still patient with her idiot of a partner, and Bitter-Root is working with a man who should have been retired long since. They never told us what would happen. Whether it fucks with your head. If you can ever come back from going too far.

I know I didn't expect to be alive long enough for this to be an issue. And Manny probably counted on the same...

"Stick or twist?" he asks.

"How much practice have you had lately? Truth is, Arcade's been covering me since we quit the Legion."

"I've had more than that...okay, no problem. You surprise me, though. Way I remember it, you were keen enough on getting your share in."

"...it worked out better this way. He lost his glasses for a while, he was no good half blind."

Manny whistles. "Boone. Did you tell this Follower First Recon's deepest darkest secret just to make him feel better?"

"Yeah. I did. Just two of us against more ghouls than you've ever seen, it made sense."

"Hey. Hey, since you're here, it obviously worked. I just want your honest opinion on this...how much use will he be in a fight?"

"Plenty. Better than either of us at short range."

"No kidding?"

"No."

"...I do trust you," Manny says, face stretched into his trademark grin. Couldn't believe it when I got to first call that mine. "I'm just gonna want to see him in action before I agree I'm outmatched by a Follower."

"Yeah. Well, good odds you'll see it sooner or later."

There's silence for a while, just us and the Brahmin in the dark. Hope my spotting works out for him. Dunno what I'll do if it doesn't.

"You sure about leaving the Mojave? I mean...no Khans where we're going."

"Boone. If I was going to go back, I would have cut and run when you took off. You mattered more than that. You mattered so much-" his normally mellow voice is tight and controlled now- "that I dragged your wife out of hell because she seemed like all I'd have left of you. Sweet rads, man, don't ever do that to me again. Just about killed me the first time."

Words aren't my thing.

Action is, though-

and I'm channelling it, whatever the hell it is, not quite hearing or seeing or sensing- something there that's violent. Just the one.

Manny's hunting rifle can't take it out before another Brahmin goes down, but the cow gets avenged. Nightkins turn visible when they die.

"Did it work for you?"

Manny lets out a long breath, kneels down to strip the corpse. "Yeah. Same as always, Boone, you're fine."

Feels like a weight I haven't even noticed dropping off my pack. "Manny...that's good."

He grins again, tosses me a holotape. "I know. All square between us?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Come on, we've got a reward to claim."

[catboyrights]

i just... need to add more but have tuffy at the ultra-luxe section 2 edited

He’s faced up towards the bar still, playin’ like he isn't angling for only one thing. Make it casual--like he ain’t already thinking of what the bastard looks like stark nude--and worm his way in. Real mensch behaviour. Keeps catching the way the fella’s scowling from the corner of his eye though, and Tartuffe briefly wonders if the housewife would have been an easier pick. Too late t'try now that he's already started on that tired old song and dance here. Just gotta find a way to break through that tension and he'll buckle real quick. Lay on that good ol’ cowboy charm thick enough and anybody would.

“So, what kind of problem got a handsome fella like yerself all up in a tizzy? Don't worry y’can kvetch all ya’ want,  I ain't got nobody ‘round here ta go and gossip to, obviously.” He motions towards himself with a forced chuckle, still never quite moving his gaze from the bottles behind the bar--good selection if he was made’a caps. Anything to make things easy on him. Doesn't reckon he’ll answer straight away, and if he does ain't like Tartuffe’s gonna listen. Don't hurt none to float it out there.

“Listen baby, I deal in distractions and I could be yers.” He tacks on a thick wink his way, nodding to the man behind the bar as he grabs for his drink. Starting to get too close to gentle hands of sobriety and he couldn't have that with all the brahminshit he was slinging. Ain't gonna be stuck in this classy shitheap unless he was well under the table.

So he sits, drink never straying far from sipping distance, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Out of his element, but playing that it's all old hat. The room around him is a droning blur, the sounds of hoity-toity folk searching for a thrill their asses ain't deserved. Just a country mouse on a goddamn visit to the city like always, and he fucking hated it. Just wants to move on from here anyway he can, avoid the flop sweat fear making itself known. Always forgot just how much he hated this damn place until he was too deep in to bail.

He breaks the facade, turns towards his mark--Christ, he was gonna have to get a name off him. Cain’t say he was gonna reciprocate of course, but fuck if it would make shit easier on ‘im, won’t even play at hiding the fact. Guy’s not really what he went after, not that he’d find that here the more he thinks on it, but it'll do if the poor bastard ever breaks. Shit, even bends just a little. Ain’t asking for much here, an in and out so he could get on the same way. Didn't mind a little hard to get, made it better when they were got, but he’s all stiff and disillusioned like Daddy jus’ threatened to cut ‘im off and he cain't live with it.

Probably got the poor fucker pegged just like that, suits it well enough. Some rich NCR kid playin' the struggling alcoholic all ‘cause they think it makes ‘em different from their folks. Pathetic, but what does it matter if he fancied himself something Tartuffe could say was an absolute professional at. Let him think he was the liquor, like he done earned the right. Won't change the fact he could probably drink the guy under the table without trying, and at least that's the one thing Tartuffe’s probably got on all these smarmy ass cocksuckers. Better be a damn good lay to be worth it.

That's the problem with a novelty screw, only fun once it got good. Forget how big of a pain in the ass it was going through the motions of interest. Tartuffe slouches into some semblance of relaxation, a helluva feat the way he’s feeling, takes a hard pull and finishes the whiskey in hand. Burns well enough, something going as planned tonight at least.

“Name’s Bridger Tallman sug’,” he sighs, rests his head on his hand, let's the other brush just barely against an elbow, finally turning to look him head on. “What you callin’ yerself?” He slides to the unoccupied seat between them casually ignoring all signs it's a bad bet. Thank God he ain't a betting man.

[badcowboy69]

Ammo For Anger

@zoey-and-dakota gave me a story prompt from a meme a little bit ago and this is the result.  Never thought I’d be writing Travis being so angry, but I did.  Shows he’s a regular guy after all and will suffer from bouts of rages.  They’re super rare, thankfully.  Anyway…enjoy this one and enjoy seeing a very rare side of Travis.  Under the cut for length, but this is way short compared to everything else I’ve wrote.  Hope y’all enjoy it and I’d love to know what y’all think.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” the very loud and highly agitated southern drawl of Travis Blackfox rang through the hallway of the NCR base of Camp McCarran.  A few of the workers and soldiers milling about the area were startled from the shouts and stared towards the door of the armory.  They waited for more shouting, but since none came they continued on with their work.

However, Riley White, Travis’ boyfriend wasn’t continuing with what he was doing.  He was patiently waiting on a ragged red couch in the hallway quietly reading a weapons magazine.  Once he heard his partner shouting, Riley halted in his reading to listen wondering if he needed to intervene.  Now that a strange silence filled the area, he put the magazine down, stood and went to investigate what was upsetting his partner so much.  Truth be told he was shocked hearing Travis’ voice at such a level anger.  It wasn’t typical at all for Travis to yell let alone with such ire in his tone.  There truly had to be something incredibly wrong for him to behave in such a manner and Riley had to find out what and hopefully defuse the problem.

Not too long ago on the drive up to the base Travis was laughing and being goofy as he generally is, but his mood had unexpectedly taken a change for the worst.  Stepping into the armory, Riley saw Travis standing at the counter, his body posture indicating his obvious ire.  His shoulders were bunched and his hands were balled into fists at his side.  While wondering what could have caused this, Riley noticed the soldier behind the counter was a ghoul.  Could this be the reason for Travis’ anger?   A while back something drastically shifted with the courier’s attitude towards ghouls for the worst.  When asked what the apparent change was about, Travis always grunted and waved it off, refusing to discuss it.  Although he was still polite and respectful towards ghouls, it was evident Travis was wary and tense in their presence.  Riley stopped about five feet away from his partner, cleared his throat and carefully asked.  “Is everything alright, Travis?”

Turning on his heel, Travis faced him and Riley was taken aback by what he saw.  Instead of the crooked grin Travis generally wore, his face was screwed up in anger.  His pale blue eyes were narrowed and his lip was curled in a sneer. He was livid without a doubt.  

“Ain’t got my ammo!” he barked before pointing an accusing finger at the ghoul behind the counter.  “This here idjit claims they ain’t never got my order and refuses to sell me what he’s got ‘cause of that missing order!”

“P-please, Mister Blackfox,” the ghoul pleaded in a shaky voice.  “You have to understand protocol and I’m simply following orders from my superiors.  I can’t hand out ammo to anyone without an order ticket.  This isn’t like the pre-war eateries where someone can walk up to the counter and simply put in a request and walk away with the goods.”

“I ain’t just any greenhorn waltzing in for a fucking burger!”  Travis bellowed, whirling around back to the ghoul and slamming his hands down hard on the wooden counter top.  “You DO know who I am right?  If it weren’t for me all y’all would be up to your asses in Legion fucks.  And…if it still weren’t for me y’all would have been packed up and kicked outta the Mojave after the Battle!  House wanted all NCR out of his territory, but thanks to me I explained it’d be bad for business and other things.  I think after all that I deserve to get my ammo, order ticket present or not!”

Riley frowned as he’s never seen Travis this unreasonable before.  He’s seen him upset and cranky, but this level of being irate was simply unheard of with the courier.  Glancing at the clock on the wall he saw it was well past lunch and assumed that the trip, the heat, and the hunger were all factors and this ammunition order mishap only added to it.  The fact that the person behind the counter was also a ghoul surely heightened it all as well.  

Still, regardless of Travis’ reasons, screaming at someone, especially someone simply trying to do their job, was no way to behave.  Setting his hand on his partner’s shoulder, Riley again tried to get him to calm down.  “He’s just trying to do his job, babe.  Let’s find out if there’s a way to remedy this peacefully.  Maybe we can fill out another ticket now?”  He gave a gentle smile and noticed the fires settle in his partner’s eyes at the suggestion.  Arching his eyebrows hopefully, Riley turned towards the ghoul and asked.  “Would that be fine?  Can he file and order now?”

The ghoul dolefully shook his head.  “It’ll still take at least a week before I can get clearance,” he said apologetically.  “All orders for ammo, armor, or arms has to go through the office.  Once I get the ticket I can then proceed in preparing the order.  No ticket, no ammo.”

Hearing this new denial sent Travis off into his bout of anger once again.  “Do you even realize how long of a trip this was for me to take?  I don’t exactly live down the street you know!  It’s hot as fuck outside and travel ain’t no better just ‘cause I got me a car to get me here.  All the wasted time gettin’ here coulda been used for other things!  And now I gotta go back empty handed?  Bullshit!”

Giving his partner a light tug on his arm, Riley attempted once more to get Travis’ attention away from the poor ghoul and hopefully focus on a more positive to defuse the issue.  “Travis, how about we go get a beer and a burger in the mess hall?  You must be starved and I know I sure could use a beer.  Afterwards we can head to Gun Runners on the way home and see if they have any ammo for your rifle.  Or how about Mick and Ralph’s?  How does that sound?”

However, Travis’ rages seemed to have consumed all common sense and he wasn’t willing to listen to reason.  “Ain’t the same!” he barked, turning back to Riley with malice burning in his crystal blue eyes.  “We traveled a helluva long way to get told fuck off.  I ain’t leaving here without my order.  This ain’t like the Commonwealth where people have a right good excuse for being dumb.  They ain’t got enough ammo there ‘cause they cain’t figure out how to make it properly.  Hell, all those east coast idjits would rather use brahmin shit for bullets instead of something that’d actually do real damage or defense.  Reckon they all got brahmin shit for brains there I tell ya what.”

Giving an exasperated sigh, Riley took a step back from his partner while shaking his head in disappointment.  “Travis, you know what, I’m out of here.  I had enough of your unreasonableness.  I’ll see you at home when you decide you’re done screaming…provided you wish to come home to a Commonwealth idjit.”  Riley gestured dismissively and stomped out of the armory leaving Travis alone to rant.  

The red-head strode quickly down the hall, the heels of his shoes clicking loudly on the tiled floor.  With each step he took he concentrated on the clicking to try and calm himself down.  He never saw Travis so incensed and he wasn’t about to deal with it.  Temporary separation might be the best idea now even though it pained him to do it.

Once outside he headed towards their car and reached for the handle.  He hesitated at first, biting at his lower lip, wondering if it was right to leave Travis here or not.  However, the remark about those in the Commonwealth having brahmin shit for brains came back to sting him.  Cursing under his breath, Riley flung open the door and in one fluid motion he climbed inside and started it.  Still, he waited for a moment to see if Travis was going to appear, but the doors of the building never opened.  Hoping he won’t regret what he was about to do, Riley put the car in gear and drove out of the base and headed back home to the Lucky 38.

Meanwhile, Travis’ ire only became more heated now that his partner left and he continued to rant at the poor ghoul clerk.  It wasn’t until a few of the NCR military police came into the armory that Travis finally settled down some.  He was angry, but he wasn’t stupid.  The police pointed to the exit and the larger of the two told him calmly that he needs to leave immediately and not to return until he has learned to control his temper.  If this behavior continues he’ll not only be put under arrest, but all ties and communications with him and Mister House will be null and void.  

Throwing his hands up dismissively, Travis stormed out in a huff muttering oaths under his breath.  As he got into the hall he glanced towards the couch where Riley originally was seated and saw it to be empty.  Figuring Riley went out to get away from the yelling and have himself a smoke, Travis loped down the hall and to the exit.  Shoving the doors open so hard they banged against the outside wall, Travis stepped out into the sunlight and felt his heart just about stop.  The car was gone!  Narrowing his eyes he scanned the base in search of the baby blue Chryslus Corvega, but it was evident that Riley took the car and left.

He blinked a few times in disbelief then felt his blood begin to boil once again.  Travis yanked the black cowboy hat off his head and slammed it down against the asphalt.  He began kicking the dust and cursing loudly, but this time it was aimed at himself for not calming down when his partner asked him to.  Snatching his hat back up he shoved it on his head and stormed towards the monorail station knowing that was his only way to get back home.

Fortunately the train was still there and only had moments to go before it departed.  Taking a seat in the far back corner, Travis crossed his arms against his chest and glared out the window.  His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and he wasn’t sure what was even going to happen when he got home.  When the whistle blew indicating the monorail was departing the station, Travis felt a shudder go through him almost as if the anger inside him knew it was time to stop.  Enough was enough.  Leaning his brow against the cool glass, Travis stared out at the passing desert and longed for Riley to be at his side.  The trip to the New Vegas strip would take almost half an hour and during that time Travis had plenty of time to cool down and reflect on what he had done.  

When the monorail finally arrived in the station, Travis’ need for sustenance was strong and he knew he had to eat something lest he passes out.  Heading to the snack bar, Travis handed the clerk there a few caps which earned him a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla and a candy bar.  He would have much prefered to get a burger, but was more interested in getting home as quickly as he could.  Making his way down the stairs and to the Strip, Travis drank the last mouthful of soda and tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin.  He tilted his head up and stared at the tall spire of his casino and watched the blinking red lights for a moment before he began his lonely hike to home.

It wasn’t long until he was finally back in the coolness of the Lucky 38 and in the elevator whisking him up to the Presidential Suite.  The elevator doors slid open and to his surprise he wasn’t greeted by his cyberdog, eyebot… or boyfriend.  Riley was no doubt very upset with him and in turn that reflected on how his robotic companions reacted.  Frowning deeply, Travis made his way to the kitchen to get himself a beer before he sought out his partner.  As he reached for the handle, something caught his eye on the counter.  As turned to look at it, his shoulders slumped and his moustache drooped into a deep frown.

Three boxes of .45-70 ammo, the very ammo he was seeking at McCarran’s, were stacked on the counter.  A handful of  jalapeno peppers were next to the boxes and a bottle of wine with a red ribbon tied around its neck was set near two goblets.  Travis bit his lower lip and stared at the gifts knowing he certainly didn’t deserve any of this after how he behaved.

“I stopped by Gun Runners on the way home,” Riley said softly while he leaned against the doorframe.

Travis turned from the counter and stared in disbelief at his lover instead. Shame filled him and he dropped his gaze to the floor while toeing at the carpet with his boot.  Riley mustered up a gentle smile and went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving an affectionate squeeze.  He next ran his fingers along Travis’ neck and into his black hair earning a hum of contentment in response.

“I would have bought more boxes, but this was all they had,” Riley continued as his fingers toyed with the ends of Travis’ hair.  “I guess I can see why you got upset about the misplaced order ticket as these are apparently quite the rarity, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Travis interrupted and looked up, holding Riley’s gaze with his own.  “Ain’t no reason to have gone off like that, especially to you.”

“Want to talk about it?”  Riley asked.  Travis tiredly shook his head no and Riley pulled him into an embrace instead.  “That’s fine, but you know I’ll be glad to listen if you change your mind.”

The courier held him tightly and nuzzled against the freckled skin of Riley’s neck. “Much obliged.  I…I just wanna eat something, take a bath and work on emptying this bottle of wine in bed with you.  All that fussin’ and fightin’ done wore me out. You didn’t deserve any of that.  I was a right awful asshole and I need to make it all up to you.”

Riley smiled to himself as he rubbed his lanky lover’s back and kept their bodies pressed close.   “Sounds like a perfect plan to me.”

The end~

[shorelineshelter]

King of This Hologram: Fallout 3

(Warning: Graphic description of past torture, sexual slavery, and other various nasty things.)

They’d been traveling together for two years. Charon had started to shake the years of experience telling him to just stay silent. To just be there to look mean. He found himself more than a little interested in his boss’s past. He’s all too aware that every scar has a story. Especially for folks with histories like they both did.

Rivet City wasn’t one of their standard stopping points, but it was the closest (and softest) bed KG had access to. Said human was gradually winning over the town. At first they wrote him off like everyone else in his life had done before. KG was intent on changing their minds.

In all honesty, KG could charm the mutated birds out of the trees if the put his mind to it. Even Charon himself was captivated (not that he would admit it.) with him. He perked up when he heard some half-hearted shouting, relaxing when he caught sight of KG trotting over to where he was waiting. The smoothskin waved, just being sure to catch his attention.

Charon stands, nodding to the man. Together they made their way back to the hotel. KG was already unfastening the gun holster Charon had insisted he buy. Just because he was a poor shot didn’t mean KG could do without any firearm. It falls onto the covers with a muffled thump.

Charon finishes securing the door, then turns to see KG undoing the buttons on his sweat soaked shirt, shrugging out of it. The ghoul bites his tongue, ignoring the warmth setting under his tough hide. KG was just comfortable with him and not to mention, it was totally against his few remaining morals to get into anything less than a professional relationship. So what if they shared a bed sometimes (most of the time), and a bath once (or twice)? There were still those last few lines he hadn’t, that he wouldn’t cross.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to ask him things. He wanted to know about this and it provided a solid distraction from the dangerously romantic thoughts that had been plaguing him recently.

“Tell me about the scars, boss.” Nailed it. Perfect boner killing material.

“Which one?” the man replied as he flopped onto the bed.

“All of them?”

“Pick a place to start then.” his voice is masked by the bedclothes, but he’s watching Charon for his reaction out of the corner of his eye. There’s an unsaid, ‘finish what you started.’ in that gaze.

Instead of trusting his steadiness of his voice, Charon steps over and hesitates for a moment before brushing his knuckles over the largest of the scars on KG’s back. It arches over his left shoulder blade, wider than his admittedly massive palm.

KG turns his face so he’s not speaking through a mouthful of sheets. “That one was probably the last major one from my first trainer. He was showing me off to Starr, publicly mind you, so I decided to...embarrass him a little. Well…” he scratches at his arm, “A lot. I bucked him off and threw him onto his back, then walked off whistling some jingle I used to hear all the time out west.”

Charon blinks for a moment, “You’re not from the Capital?”

“Naw.” he hums, fiddling with a loose thread on the covers. “I was from a vault out in the NCR. Was only here for two weeks when I got snatched. Said I looked exotic.” he flourishes a little, voice tinging bitterly. “It’s why you couldn’t figure out how I’d never dealt with mirelurks before. Kinda like how I’m sure you’ve never had to tangle with geckos.”

“I’ve been to the NCR before. Shot plenty of them.”

“Oh shit, really?” KG perks up, excited for a moment before realizing something, sobering. “I guess the contract can travel easily, huh…”

Charon nods, shrugging a little. “But we’re getting off track.”

The man looks sheepish, and chuckles. “Sorry. Anyway, dude was out of his mind pissed. He’d always had a gift for knives, so he took this wicked looking one and skinned me like I was a damn molerat or something. They kept it clean, thank fuck, but Starr was livid that he’d done so much damage to me. I’d only been there for two months so it was like he was still trying to keep me nice. After that, he stopped caring about them leaving marks on me.”

Charon’s hands clenched, but curiosity compelled him to delve deeper. Thick fingers tapped another scar above it. It was only a fourth of the size, but looked much deeper. The center was puckered in, as if it hadn’t healed as smoothly as the larger one. Small round blemishes were peppered around this, and many of the others. Cigarettes, maybe heated rebar? Call it an educated guess on his part.

“Third trainer.” the detached manner in which he spoke made it clear Charon wasn’t the first to wonder. Why had people asked about it? Were they actually concerned, or just bored clients between rounds?

“She’s who gave me most of them. Mean old dame liked leaving marks, and Starr was happy to let her at this point. I was starting to piss him off, but it made him want to break me all the more.” KG rolled onto his side, back still to Charon. From this angle, he could better make out the curving scar on his hip, but they’d get to that one later. “I...heh, I sucker punched her.”

“You hit your trainer?”

“Fuck yeah I did! Gotta make it clear I’m not some mutt to be tamed.The center, where it’s deepest was a filleting knife. She drove it in about half way and it snapped off. She used what was left of it to strip the skin around it. It took weeks for me to recover the use of that arm.” KG drawled, his western territory accent creeping in at the edges of his voice.

Charon knew this wouldn’t be pleasant, but he pushed down the wave of nausea and said, “The little one, other shoulder?” Fuck, his voice was uneven with that restrained disgust. Not at KG. Never at KG. At all the trainers that flayed him open like he was a hunk of meat. That had burned him, probably for nothing. That had forced him to his knees, giving him a crash course on servicing clients. At those clients, bending him over filthy tables, chairs, beds, anything in reach and fucking him until he bled.

And if he was being honest, at himself for those late nights where he found himself in the same bed, struggling to control his urges to loom over the man who’d found the humanity he’d thought he lost and brought it out from wherever he’d locked it away. To not give in to the traitorous voice demanding he capture KG’s mouth, licking his way into it. To pull the human into his arms before- oh. KG had been talking, hadn’t he? Charon chided himself for getting lost in his own head, again.

“I, uh...didn’t catch that.” he admits.

The man gives him an all too knowing smile, “I figured as much. It’s just from a bad gecko bite when I was little.”

It was such an innocent explanation. Much more run of the mill than he’d been anticipating. Charon can’t contain a small snort from how out of place it seemed.

He can hear the grin in KG’s voice, “Yeah, they can’t all be horror stories from the sex trade.”

“Just most of them.”

“Pretty much, Char’. Where to next?”

They continued like this for some time. KG hadn’t exaggerated when he’d haid the third trainer was the worst. Only a small knot of scars under the gecko bite wasn’t credited to her, so far. (‘First trainer, thought it was easy to hide it there.’) All of the burns were her doing. The long, neatly placed slashes to his lower back. Dozens of thin marks, almost like tallies that he hadn’t seen until he’d looked closer.

“So, what about your second trainer?” Charon asked at some point.

“Oh, yeah. He was the first ghoul I met. He didn’t leave a mark on me...not one that lasted anyway. He didn’t believe in scarring his ‘projects’. He carried his tools with him at all times. A crop and a club.”

Charon’s blood ran cold. “Ivan Popov.”

KG suddenly looked over his shoulder at Charon. “Yeah, how-” the words die in his throat as he sees the tension in his companion’s shoulders.

There had always been a gap keeping their histories, their experiences with training apart. Charon was trained for war, KG was trained for sex. With one name, now there was a bridge linking them together, and it was terrifying to realize a man like Popov had also survived the bombs. Had carried on offering his skill set to slavers instead of generals. Had kept using his favored tools.

“He...designed the training protocol for my unit. Gave me my designation.” was all the ghoul could admit.

KG was watching him carefully for any tiny scrap of expression to give him a hint of how to approach this. Then he offered, “I know it’s not going to make the hurt magically go away but…” a momentary hesitation, “He’s dead now. I laced his canteen with poison.”

The breath he’d held rushed out of his lungs so quickly it hurt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of h-”

“You had no way of knowing.” there was a sharp edge of pain he couldn’t mask in his voice. “You still have more scars to tell me about.” he settles his warm hand over the scar curving over KG’s hip. “This one seems the most recent.”

KG shifts underneath his palm, stumbling for his words. “O-Oh, yeah. You’re right, it’s the last one I got in the trade. A month and a half before I met you.”

Charon boldly (foolishly?) decided to leave his hand where it was, giving in to his need for contact slightly. He’d never admit how touch-starved he really was.

“I made a break for it when we were going through an overgrown farm plot, looking for any food that hadn’t been taken before we got there. Starr saw me and caught me as I shot by him...with a sickle.”

Charon flinched hard. “You’re lucky you can still tell that story.”

“That’s not the closest call I’ve had.” KG says, quiet enough that Charon almost thinks he imagined it. Then the man rolled onto his back, displaying those three long, ragged slices that tore from his left armpit to his right hip. They looked old, but Charon had a good idea what caused them.

“Deathclaw.”

“Mhmm.” KG nods. “I was 14 when what was left of my vault decided to leave home, looking for more sustainable food sources. I got spooked by a herd of bighorner, and wasn’t paying attention. I got separated from the group and the ‘claw found me first.”

Charon waits, hands still resting near his hip, displaced from the man turning over.

“I killed it. There was a ruined old fence, the kind with metal poles and they were all jagged on the ends so I made a trap, sorta. I lured it into a corner and when it lunged it used it’s weight to drive the pole into it’s brain. The group heard me screaming bloody murder and found me before I could bleed out. The doc’ said I was an inch away from being disemboweled.”

Charon’s voice was surprisingly emotional when he spoke, “You’re not even 24 yet.”

KG must’ve been startled by his display, watching him warily. “Yeah? What about it?”

“You shouldn’t have this many stories to tell. This many scars. You should be with your family.”

“My family is dead.” the man states, dryly.

“Exactly. You shouldn’t have lost them so early. You should be somewhere safe. How many times have you been on death’s door?” the ghoul’s hands are restless, plucking at the blankets. “More than me, when I was your age.”

“The world wasn’t on fire when you were my age.”

“But it was at war. I was being conditioned by Popov, and I still didn’t have the pain you have to carry.”

The human sat up, expression full of shifting emotion, unable to pin down. “We’re both fucked up, Char’. Just in different ways.”

That struck Charon deeply. That was the truth, plain and simple. He couldn’t argue it if he tried. He found himself longing to hold KG again. To pull him tightly against his chest, and never let him go. It made him feel weak.

“Char’...can I ask you something personal?”

A nod is all he can manage.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while...do you think there’s a way for me to ask that we be more than companions...more than friends, without you being honor bound to say yes?”

Oh. Well damn.

He must’ve been hallucinating. Things like this didn’t happen to people like Charon. Shockingly pretty smoothskins like KG didn’t want nasty old ghouls like him. Good things didn’t happen to people like him. As he struggled for an answer, Charon could see his boss grow nervous, thumbs beginning to twiddle. Impulsively, he takes one of those tiny gloved hands. He stares at how KG’s fingers curl over his own, heart stuttering at the sight.

He didn’t so much step over that line, so much as leap.

“If...if you’d permit me, I’d like to answer that with my own question.”

KG gives one of those odd lopsided grins Charon has grown to like. “You can always ask me questions.”

“I am-” the ghoul’s voice cracks, causing him to clear his throat. “-not the type to have flings. If I say yes, I need to know you’re in it for me, and not just some experiment on what it’s like to be with a ghoul.” he drags a thumb over the back of KG’s glove. “Tell me, will you change your mind when you’re bored of waking up next to me?”

KG looked like he’d been slapped. “I don’t do flings Char’. It’s against my character.” he threads his fingers through Charon’s. “It’s been two years. Hell, I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you at this point. I’ve just been afraid that you would be forced to go along with it because of that piece of paper.”

“...you could have anyone you wanted.” Charon is careful not to sound too bitter about that.

“Yeah, and anyone includes you.” the look in KG’s eyes makes Charon feel like he’s going to melt or something sappy like that. “You actually listen to me. You didn’t check out the second you saw the collar.” he holds up a hand to stop Charon from butting in. “You’ve been through many similar things to me. I mean, we shared a trainer! You’re different from when we first met. You’re becoming whoever you were before you were Charon.”

“Not really. I was a hooligan.”

That earns him a poorly contained giggle. “Let me rephrase. You’re becoming you, Char’. And I’m in really deep for you.”

There was a beat of quiet where Charon considered verbally replying, but he went against that in favor of leaning in to press his lips to KG’s. His training was faintly rebelling over the fact that he didn’t ask for permission, but when an arm looped around the back of his neck, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Charon broke the kiss, and KG was grinning brightly at him.

“You kiss like a fucking prince in those old picture books.” There’s warm laughter in his words.

“What would that make you?” Charon huffs, glad it was hard for smoothies to tell when ghouls were blushing because he could feel it creeping up to his ears practically.

“Probably a dragon. I gobble up cute princes like you for breakfast. I’ve been told I kiss well enough to make folks reevaluate their lives.”

“Bullshit.”

KG just looks at him. “You just want me to prove it, I know that for a fact.”

“So?”

It was KG’s turn to blush, before he set himself to the task of proving to his partner just how true the claim actually was. Charon swore he could get addicted to this man.