#no love for megaton here sorry

[justafoxhound]

Falloutober: 10. Terminal

From @falloutober 's 2023 prompt list.

Part 2 of my little extra content where my LW Talia managed to hire Jericho to escort her to Tenpenny Tower.

~~~

“Fuckin’ Christ. He bled all over me!” Jericho swore over the body of the final raider who had tried to defend the supplies in the Super Duper Mart. “I’m goin’ to wash this off. I fuckin’ hate gettin’ up close. God damn blood, everywhere...”

Talia followed Jericho along the small corridor leading to what used to be the men’s bathroom. Instinctively she paused at the doorway, before remembering. She stepped in after him, cautiously. It was dingy, only one light in working order. The air stank of sweat and piss and god knew what else- it looked like people had been staying in there for long periods. There was a chair and table and even a mattress in the corner. The walls were damp and peeling, and stains of uncertain nature covered whatever an orange algae did not. Talia tried not to breathe more than necessary and made her body small, hoping to keep everything but the bottoms of her boots from making contact with anything.

“Missin’ your shiny vault, huh, princess?” Jericho flashed yellowed teeth at her from the sink, where he was already rinsing a slurry of blood off one arm.

Despite her outward discomfort, her heart was still racing, every colour and sound and smell was so intense. He wasn’t completely wrong, but all she could do was force out an awkward chuckle.

“Jesus Christ kid, relax. You ain’t gonna run on me already? I was just startin’ to enjoy myself.” His voice echoed harshly around the hard walls as he scrubbed water over his face. “I know that last cocksucker gave me some trouble but, that’s just it- this ain’t gonna be no picnic. You need to pull your weight too. You told me you killed people before, no?”

She started at his tone. “Uh, yeah. God- yeah, listen, I’m not lying--”

He cut her off. “Good. So don’t fuckin’ hesitate any more. You did good, just hurry it up next time, you got me?” He dried off on a rag that Talia didn’t study too closely. “Not that I need any help, but I ain’t here to do all the work. I could though. I still got it, yeah, I definitely still got it.” He chuckled to himself, voice rising again with, apparently, rediscovery of a great passion for violence.

“Oh, I believe it,” Talia assured him. “It’s just, this is… new to me. Seriously, Jericho- that was amazing.”

She meant that. She was amazed. Vault security was nothing compared to the ferocity of what just passed. But the way he threw himself into the fight completely, like he felt no fear whatsoever. Damn, she nearly turned and ran when he screamed in pure, bloodthirsty joy at first contact. His elation was terrifying. If Chief Hannon had been a bully just waiting for an excuse to use his baton, Jericho was the attack dog, loose- and possibly rabid. This was a man who lived for the action. When Talia was standing over the expired Overseer, she felt something, but on the downturn. All the rage had built up and burst and left her exhausted. This fight had completely rejuvenated the tired, if still intimidating old man she had hired back in Megaton.

“Yeah… I feel amazing!” Jericho exclaimed, startling Talia back to the present moment.

Then she remembered. “Shit- we came here for the pharmacy.”

He blinked in momentary realisation too. “Oh yeah, right. It’s probably at the back of the store. Come on.”

He led the way back to the main shop floor where they skirted the ends of the aisles, moving carefully between each in case anyone else was lying in wait. Talia watched their rear and tried not to feel too useless. They reached the dispensary and hopped the counter, beginning their search at opposite ends of the room.

“What am I lookin’ for again?” he called.

“There are a few compounds that work. If I hear the name or see them I’ll recognise them. I can’t remember off the top of my head, sorry.”

Jericho pulled a bottle out of a pile and peered at the label from an arm’s length away. “Clow-rah...fuxia...hi- Fuck it, I’ll just grab everything and you can read ‘em.”

“Sure... Whoa.” Talia stared into a cupboard clearly used as a stash for the raiders’ favourite things. She checked a few bottles for an unbroken seal and pulled out a whisky.

“Hey! I called that,” Jericho growled, motioning for the bottle and moving heavily toward her.

Talia stepped back and gestured at the stash. “Help yourself.”

His eyes lit up, and she breathed in relief not to be the object of his attention once more. She opened her bottle and sniffed it cautiously before deciding, after the day she’d had, she wasn’t so worried about the age of alcohol. She noticed her hands were shaking, though she didn’t feel particularly scared. More like: sharp.

“Hey, the vault asshole is drinkin’ from the dirt, look at that.” With a bottle under one arm Jericho lit a cigarette from one of the many packs he had lifted out of the stash.

Talia suppressed a grimace as she swallowed a generous gulp of spirit. “You know, you don’t have to call me an asshole,” she offered quietly, remaining several paces away.

Jericho fixed her with a frankly frightening look. “I can call you whatever I want. What are you gonna do about it?”

Nothing. She said nothing, but couldn’t keep the glare out of her eyes.

He broke into rough, brief laughter, setting Talia on edge given her already heightened nerves. “You’re not so bad, kid. For a vault asshole doctor’s kid, I mean.” He broke into a coughing fit, but persevered with his smoke, smothering a moment of visible discomfort with a fresh scowl.

She watched a few moments as he collected himself. “You can call him an asshole. Hey, I don’t think those are gonna make things any better.” She nodded at the cigarette in his hand.

“No shit,” he snorted. “You notice there’s a lot o’ things that might kill ya faster than a smoke?” He gestured to the world in general.

“...No shit,” Talia agreed. She turned back to the cupboard and fished out a pack of her own. (She may have been laughing with the guy but no way was she going to try asking him to give away one of his vices). “Could I, um, could I use your light?”

He cackled again, holding out his lighter. Just as her fingers were about to grasp it he pulled it away in a playful manner, chuckling at her startled, almost unnerved reaction. “Yeah, you’re alright, kid. Relax though, would ya?”

She lit up, keeping him in sight. “I just... I’m amped,” she explained, hoping it covered for how nervous he made her.

“Me too, kid. This is fuckin’ livin’. Damn I spent so long doin’ bullshit for that cocksucker Moriarty, in that fuckin’ hole soakin’ up all that radiation. It’s probably that shit that’s got me. If I’d stayed out here I bet I’d be fine. I mean look at me!” He growled his last words and almost danced over to the other side of the room, ignorant of what he’d just said.

Talia had offered her knowledge of what drugs could help a variety of nasty coughs in order to get him on side; to be useful; to keep him around long enough to make it to Tenpenny Tower alive. She’d seen her dad treat infections many times. Not complicated if the right stuff could be found. But other illnesses, more serious illnesses, even terminal- she didn’t know of anything that could be scavenged from a bombed out grocery store that would help someone in any way more meaningful than, say, finding a major stash of good booze and tobacco in the nuclear wasteland they called home.

She continued her search of the pharmacy and grouped together every medicinal drug she recognised. There was no telling what she might need in the near future, after all. “Jericho,” she called out, tossing him a bottle that ought to help someone with a persistent infection.

“Thanks kid. Regular vault angel ain’t ya?”

Somehow that was worse than being called an asshole. She didn’t want to appear soft. She didn’t want to know how he got his value from someone he deemed soft. “I just wanna make sure you can make it all the way to the tower, like I paid for. Or I’ll have my money back,” she shrugged.

He roared at that, succumbed to another coughing fit, though short. “Over my dead body,” he croaked. “No vault asshole is takin’ from me. Let’s go, then. Sooner we get there the sooner you can pay me- again.” He rustled her bag of caps tauntingly and cackled to himself, heading off to collect ammunition from the bodies.

Talia smoked every last speck of her cigarette. She wondered if he’d keep his eyes on the prize, or if he’d be distracted by every chance of a fight. Well, at least he could fight. And he got royally pissed if she did anything stupid, so if wasn’t like he had a death wish. If he was sick- really sick- maybe he just wanted one last adventure. Maybe he wanted to see Moriarty go up in flames from a proper town inhabited by the likes of Mr. Burke. She wondered if he would really want his second payment... Of course he will, dummy. She may have to watch him drink away every cap she was owed… But at least she would be watching from that same proper town. You just have to take it one ‘are you kidding me’ at a time, she thought.

She bagged up the meds and chose to roll with it. Her foreseeable future could be in worse hands.

[mydetheturk]

your requested reminder to post knives going nuclear on zazie when you can :)

ok so im going to be reblogging this to the body horrors week later cause. uh. well. knives. quite literally goes nuclear?

all of these screenshots are from the overhaul project cause i haven't managed to catch the dark horse digital editions on sale yet, though i'll provide the dark horse translations where i can because i have physical copies, and the dark horse translations are imo clearer here.

there are ids in all the alt texts for the photos, it's why this took several days longer than i'd originally planned -finger guns- alt texts might look a little weird in the first set btw - tumblr started eating the photoset and i had to spend an extra half an hour fixing it -finger guns-

the pages are volume 11, pages 90-92, and 114-17, because a lot of the pages in between are leadup pages and also have the zazie control worm. thing.

pages 90-2 are the distant explosion (you can click on the first image and see it in the photo viewer, if for some reason it will not view in dashboard mode. But it does exist!)

(on page 90, dark horse is a lot more specific, with "the northeast sky is glowing" instead of "the whole sky is glowing". the other two boxes with text read "what is--?!" and "oh my..!" respectfully as if they were cut off mid sentence.)

so uh.

knives went uh.

literal "nuclear bomb exploded just above a town"

because he kind of did. Unlike a true nuclear bomb, he did not form a mushroom cloud, but the metaphor is still there. that is a nuclear metaphor

per pages 114-117 (pages are from left to right, read the pages right to left. sorry)

(legato's speech bubbles on page 114 in the dark horse edition read: Survival of the fittest is the law of nature. What is about to happen now is a just a logical extension of that. Be very afraid. You are in his presence. Did you not notice, Leader of the Sand Worms?

It reads very differently, imo, more like Zazie was caught up in their own plots and schemes to realize the control worm didn't work. Legato is also telling Zazie that Zazie should be afraid of Knives. Okay? Not asking if Zazie is afraid. Telling Zazie to be afraid. Like some sort of reverse "Be Not Afraid" from the bible.

Zazie's thought bubbles on page 115 are translated as "the dark hole is swallowing the poison" which reads more like knives made a black hole. given the visuals? that sounds more likely. Black holes, as a real life thing that we know about and have tried to study, are often referred to as swallowing things that pass too close. knives made a mini black hole to eat the poison from the sand worm venom. knives has consumed the dependent plants.)

the fact is, as a metatextual read, plants are nuclear reactors. independent plants are walking nuclear bombs. Nightow did this on purpose. We're meant to read them as something nuclear.

This is, as i was saying to @needle-noggins the other night when i was working on it in an attempt to get more of the alt texts written, a casual display of power. Knives is throwing a hissy fit! Knives is throwing a multi-megaton display of power because Zazie tried to take him over with the control worm. Page 91 had needle-noggins and i speechless because on the low end that tower of debris from the explosion is (if we did the very, very rough math right) THIRTY MILES TALL. Twice as tall as the tallest mountain in the solar system, Olympus Mons! or roughly five and a half times as tall as Mount Everest. On the outside, because we figured its anywhere from 25-30 times taller than the cloud cover, it could be up to thirty seven miles

Over halfway to space on earth.

like.

I know we love the independent plants and all. But Holy Shit. just.

holy shit

[vault-kid]

Literally what haven’t you answered… hmmmm these may be repeats but 65, 66, 62, 60, 59?

goodness me i am so sorry for responding to these NOW </3 59. Do they idolize anything / anyone?

I don't think Luna idolizes anyone, really. She does look up to a couple of people, though.

Sarah Lyons. Luna really wishes she could be like Sarah; to be as strong and badass as she is. While working together, Sarah took notice of Luna and Butch's weird dynamic and asked her about it so Luna told her their history and eventually ended up asking for (love) advice. Not like Sarah really had much to say on the matter, but...

Agatha! Like, she also wants to be an old lady living alone in the middle of nowhere, secluded and unbothered by the shits of the Wasteland.

The AntAgonizer... no, i'm not going to elaborate.

60. Are they religious? Spiritual?

Apologies for the long ass replyyyy. This topic is just interesting to me and I love talking about it so thank u for asking teehee giggle

I went on a tangent once about this hehe (and i guess ill be going on another one now) but essentially, I definitely feel like Luna would've grown up being religious. With the obvious religious references and all that, I kind of headcanon James incorporating religion (not forceful or to an extreme) into their day to day life in the Vault, plus the whole Vault propaganda like you once mentioned.

Yes, she did grow up religious and believing, like praying every so and then at the dinner table with James, talking about Heaven (and talking about Catherine being a guardian angel, or something of the sort), obviously talking about the Revelations verse and the Bible, among other (i'd say almost subtle) ways. Maybe to James it meant a bit more, so to Luna it was just a normal thing, so she followed it too. James didn't use it to reprimand anyone, but more so to teach morals or values tied to it, and connect Luna with Catherine, or to connect all of them together (if that makes sense). James also always spoke to Luna about seeing it as something to find comfort or guidance in, if she needed it (Which she does, but she doesn't really express it, it's a way more internal thing!). After leaving the Vault, she did use it for guidance, praying to find James, and praying to Catherine to help her find him, too. It seemed a bit desperate, but who can blame her. But, her faith slowly went down the shitter after seeing how fucked up the outside world was, how people often just used her, and how nothing/nobody was going to save or help her out here. It really affected how she felt about believing. She felt abandoned, by everyone, by God. At one brief point, even by Catherine (Mommy issuueeesss) And like I mentioned in my other post, she just completely stopped being religious, and has this sort of resentment towards it after James died.

Luna did use her beliefs and morals for the good of the Wasteland, even after she stopped believing. She will never try to be anything but good. I know being a good person and having good morals isn't inherently tied with religion or God or anything, but in this case, it's just how she's always seen it. She also still has some sort of spirituality, though. Maybe mom and dad are looking out for her from somewhere, somehow?

Yet at this point, it's just a burden to her to think that way. But she still wants to be good, she has to be good, for the good of the Wasteland, for James and Catherine. And I feel like the sacrificial lamb metaphor and symbolism matches her perfectly.

62. Do they have any weaknesses or struggle with any vices?

Not sure if this counts, but she definitely struggles with taking care of herself, in a lot of aspects. She tends to put people's needs above hers. I guess a vice is she holds grudges for a looong time, lols.

65. Describe their living space. (How do they decorate it? Does it have running water and/or electricity? Etc.)

Luna lives in the Megaton shack! Gonna be honest here, she spends way more caps on her house than anything else. Might as well make it look nice and homey, yeah? She saved up to buy the Pre-War theme, a juke-box, the Nuka-Cola machine and some other stuff. One of her rooms (the only one with a door), is filled with old stuff from her childhood (and she usually keeps that door closed), like her baseball cap and bat, her old BB gun with their pellets, etc.

Before Butch started tagging along (side eye), she did decorate the house with the collected teddy bears. I like to think that at one point, despite being originally frustrated at the fact, Wadsworth also started posing them or moving them around to humor her. She usually keeps her house tidy and organized, but once Butch started staying... That wasn't her reality anymore, even with Wadsworth's attempts at tidying up the place LOL

66. Describe their eyes.

Ahhh Luna's eyes. Really depends on who she's looking at hehe, but... They're a striking shade of icy blue. Clear and sharp, yet they have a sort of tenderness to them. I think the best way to describe them is just melancholic but gentle. (as @/maysettingmoon says: her sad wet swag)

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

I love your Butch drabbles! Do you think you could do one where Lone first returns from the Wastes for Trouble on the Homefront?

Hello I'm sorry I definitely saw this message when you first sent it but then forgot about it for several months. Thank you for the prompt. Here it is:

Trouble on the Homefront (Butch Deloria First Kiss Drabble)

Word Count: 1527

The Lone Wanderer hadn’t exactly been expecting a warm welcome home, but this was even worse than she’d expected.

The vault was in shambles. Thankfully, it was Officer Gomez who was guarding the door, and not one of the more zealous or violent types. She hated Stevie Mack, but putting a bullet in his brain was still an unappealing thought. It wouldn’t help her, and it certainly wouldn’t help Amata.

Still, she wouldn’t let herself be turned away. The vault may have turned its back on her, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see it burn to the ground.

According to Gomez, Amata and the rest of her rebels were in the clinic. The thought of Amata doing anything that could be considered rebellious almost made her snort. The Overseer’s daughter had always been a goody two shoes, but James leaving had evidently turned the whole vault upside down.

Gomez led her as far as the stairs up to the clinic, not that she needed the direction. This had been her home for 19 years.

It had been nice to have the company, though. She’d left Dogmeat in Megaton with Charon, knowing that this was a mess she needed to sort out by herself.

The corridor to the clinic was guarded, which wasn’t unexpected. What was unexpected was who Amata had chosen as a guard. Standing in the corridor, his stupid little switchblade drawn, was Butch Deloria.

“Damn, look who’s come waltzing back into the vault,” he said, smirking. She could help but exhale in relief. She never thought that her childhood bully would be a welcome sight, but that was another thing that had turned topsy-turvy in her absence. “It takes some real balls coming back here after everything you and your dad screwed up.”

Her stomach turned. She really didn’t want to think about her dad right now.

Butch didn’t seem to notice. He always had been pretty oblivious.

He continued, blithely unaware of the way his words were like a punch to the gut, “But if you’ve gotta be back, might as well make yourself useful. You’ve gotta help us.”

She let out a dry laugh. This was starting to sound familiar. Everywhere she went, someone needed her help, and they were rarely grateful when she gave it.

“Is that right?” she asked.

His expression faltered. For a moment, she saw through his cocky façade. Then the mask was back in place.

“Come on, man, you don’t think I wanna be stuck down in this hellhole forever? You got free, now it’s my turn.”

“I didn’t choose ‘freedom’,” she said.

“Bullshit. If you’d really wanted to stay, you could’ve found a way to make it work. I know you. You’ve never settled for getting less than what you want.”

Maybe he had a point. Maybe if she’d thrown herself on the Overseer’s mercy back on the night her father ran away, then she would’ve been allowed to stay. Maybe she could’ve manipulated or blackmailed or persuaded. She’d certainly done that since. But at the time, it hadn’t even occurred to her. She’d just needed to find her father.

Or maybe the Overseer would’ve shot her dead. She’d never know now.

“If you really want freedom so bad, then why don’t you just leave? You could go right now. You have a gun. I doubt Gomez would stop you.”

Butch’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not that simple,” she agreed. “So why don’t you tell me what you need my help with?”

The reunion with Amata was bittersweet. They had been best friends for their entire lives, but somehow now, in a few short weeks, they had never felt more different.

Amata was growing into herself. She would be Overseer sooner rather than later, Lone was sure of it.

Lone, on the other hand, was a shell of herself. Grief had robbed the colour from her cheeks. She was on autopilot now. But if she could save the vault, she would.

She was on the way to see the Overseer when Butch cornered her again. “Can we talk?” he asked. She shrugged, and let him lead her into an empty room.

“I know Amata wants you to convince Almadovar to open the vault. But there’s another way.” He put a hand on her shoulder. She barely heard him as he explained the issue with the reactor and the air filtration system. All she could feel was the weight of his hand on her shoulder.

“Butch,” she said as soon as he was finished speaking. She sounded incredibly tired.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “After the way these people have treated you, don’t you want to get your revenge? Don’t you want to put the Overseer through what he’s put you through?”

The thought was, admittedly, tempting. She couldn’t believe that there was some small part of her that was considering this.

But there was a problem. It wouldn’t just be Almadovar, or the Macks, or Butch that would be exiled. Destroying the reactor meant turfing the entire vault out and watching the people she’d grown up alongside starve or die to radiation or be rounded up by slavers. She thought of her classmates. She thought of Amata. They didn’t deserve that.

“You’re a real asshole, Butch,” she said.

“Just think about it, alright?”

She didn’t destroy the vault. Of course she didn’t. She wasn’t a monster. And maybe Butch would be disappointed, but he hadn’t seen the wasteland the way she had. He didn’t know what fate he would’ve been dooming the vault denizens to.

Almadovar proved easier to talk down than she’d expected. She suspected, like herself, that he was tired of the fighting and the lying and the deaths. He stepped down with surprising grace, allowing Amata to take over.

And her first act as Overseer, after everything the Lone Wanderer had done to install her in her position of power, was to banish her to the wasteland forever.

Lone didn’t argue. She didn’t fight. As Amata called her a hero and told her she couldn’t ever come back, her shoulders dropped.

“I’m sorry,” said Amata, and Lone hardly heard her. Since her father’s death, the grief had come in waves, and another one was hitting her right now. She had lost her father, and now she could never go home again. The only direction she could move was forward. There was no comforting safety net of ‘back’.

“Goodbye, Amata,” she said, almost robotically. With that, she turned and walked away.

She could feel many pairs of eyes on her. She refused to look at them. All she wanted to do was get back to Megaton and crawl into bed with Dogmeat.

She was on the other side of the vault door when Butch caught up with her. He called her name,  but she ignored him. He grabbed her wrist, and she spun around to face him, fist raised.

“Woah, hey,” he said, catching her other wrist. “I just came to check on you. I can’t believe that Amata did that to you.”

“I suppose I’m an easy person to let go of,” she said. “Nobody ever seems to want me to stick around.”

“That’s not true.” Butch’s voice was soft. She looked up at him. He swallowed, his expression nervous. “I always thought the same about me, you know? My mom probably wouldn’t even notice if I died. And everyone else would be glad to be rid of me. But you… you help people. I heard on the radio about all the things you’ve done and all the people you’ve saved. Amata and all these other empty headed vault idiots don’t deserve you. They’re stupid to let you go. You don’t need them.”

She was blinking back tears. On any other day, she would be mortified to cry in front of Butch, but he was holding her hand now, stroking soothingly over her bare skin with his thumb, and it was nice. She had never expected to be comforted by Butch of all people.

His free hand came up to cup her chin, turning her face towards him so that she was looking him in the eye.

“They don’t deserve you,” he repeated. “And for what it’s worth, the vault was a whole lot better when you were around.”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she threw her arms around his neck. She wasn’t sure who initiated it, but then they were kissing, her hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

His hand was in her hair, the other on her lower back, pressing them closer together. She just held onto him, letting him anchor her in position.

When they finally pulled apart, he was looking at her almost sheepishly. She just grinned at him, feeling a lightness that she hadn’t felt since she’d left the vault for the first time.

All of her pain was still there, bubbling just below the surface, but now, there was some hope too. Maybe the future wasn’t all dire.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” she said. “You coming?”

“Hell yeah, I’m coming.” There was nothing left for him in the vault anyhow.

Masterlists.

Taglist info.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Big big fan of your work!!

🦀 👑 for Gob with mutual pining f!lone please!

"Hold still. This might sting a little."

Ahh thank you! And omg, yesssssss.

I love Gob, we love Gob, everybody loves Gob, let's do this thing.

I hope you like it!

"Enough. Moriarty." His name left you as a snarl. "Let go of him."

Your eyes stayed glued to the Irishman's as his brows stayed furrowed, as he sneered.

"What'd I tell ya about brining guns into me bar, lad/lass?"

You made a show taking the safety off as you pointed your pistol to Colin's head.

"I wasn't asking."

A dull thud sounded as Moriarty's balled fist released him, and Gob slid down to the hardwood floor.

"Are you alright?" You dared to let your eyes leave Moriarty as you glanced down to Gob's crumpled form, as he made slow moves up into a seated position.

His hands were shaking as he grabbed onto the side of the bar to hold himself steady, but he nodded.

"Come on, then." You held out an arm, and Gob hesitated, looking tentatively up at his boss's furious expression.

"Gob."

Your voice snapped his attention back to you.

"Let's go."

"Fine. Go on, then. You can go ahead and take him, but I expect ya ne're to set foot back in this bar again. And you," blue-grey eyes narrowed as he threw his fury Gob's way. "I expect to see ya back here in the mornin'. Still got a debt to me, you know."

The ghoul swallowed, but your arm quickly took his, and with your pistol still trained on the Irishman, you exited the bar with Gob at your side.

--

"Sorry you had to see that." Gob's voice was quiet from the sofa of your Megaton house.

"I'm sorry too." You voiced as you grabbed the supplies you needed from the kitchen area. "One of these days, I'm really gonna make that asshole pay for the way he's treated you all this time."

You stepped back into the living room and sat down beside him, setting a tub of the cleanest water you could find, some rubbing alcohol, and a rag between you.

"No. N-no, I'm not gonna make you deal with that. Moriarty, he's... he'll get back at you. No matter what you do, he'll do worse."

"Not if he's dead." You spoke almost without thinking, fury still pulsing through your veins at the way you'd seen him. Standing over Gob, bloodied knuckles raised high as he laid into the ghoul again and again and again.

Gob's face had gotten the worst of it, and now his left eye was so swollen over, you could hardly see it. If he'd still had a nose, it surely would've been broken in at least three places.

"Lone, you don't mean that..." He rasped out, his good eye wide with surprise at your bluntness.

You sighed, wetting the washcloth in the small basin before holding it up to his cracked, bloodied cheek. He winced as you dragged it over his wound, holding his breath as you washed the crusting blood away.

"Sorry." You said at his reaction, "It's just... He deserves it. I don't know if I could really be the one to pull the trigger, but after everything he's done, someone oughta do it."

You wrung out the cloth and loaded it with water again, taking more care this time as you brushed it lightly over his eye.

"After today though... I tell you, I was close, Gob."

He flinched nearly the whole time, at every brush you made over him, but in the end, you could see the details of his face again, even below the quickly-forming bruises.

"Lone...?" He asked quietly, not daring to look you in the eye as you washed the cloth in the water below.

"Hm?" You grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and dipped the cloth into it.

"Why do you care so much?"

Your hands paused, the cloth becoming almost too saturated, enough so that it began to drip down onto the couch. Until you blinked and set the bottle down on the coffee table beside you.

"I... Gob, why wouldn't I care? What he was doing... Anyone would have come to help."

The ghoul shook his head firmly, his good eye wide with disbelief.

"No one ever has. All the years I've been with him... No one's ever tried to stop it."

He swallowed hard, looking away.

"I'm not worth it."

Your chest ached at the words, at the definitive way he spoke them.

"Well... You're worth it to me."

You heard Gob's breath catch in his throat, and when he turned back to face you, his good eye glistened with emotion.

You smiled at him sadly

"Now, hold still, okay? This one might sting a little." You brushed your fingers over one cheek, to keep him in place as the other raised the cloth to his wounds, to where Moriarty's blows had separated his already marred skin.

"Lone?" He spoke quietly as you worked, being as gentle as possible with the cloth as your fingers so lightly caressed his other cheek.

"Yes, Gob?"

"Thank you."

[anneapocalypse]

I like your post about gray morality in video games! On the other hand I wanted to add that the gray decision-making you're talking about can have its own pitfalls (distinct from the pitfalls of centrist/apolitical "both sides are bad" apathy). I'm thinking of gritty action heroes who are presented as morally gray because they're pragmatic enough to torture and kill in the name of Truth, Justice, and the 'Murican Way, or just in the name of a macho revenge fantasy. To be clear, this isn't an indictment of gray morality, which I love when done well. Hell, the stories I'm complaining about tend not to be THAT gray in practice, as the bad guys are often SO exaggeratedly bad that there's not a real question of whether the hero is willing to Do What It Takes in the end. My point is more just that that's what people often mean when they condemn "gray morality."

Hi! Sorry this has been sitting my ask box for a while, I got busy and didn't want to just dash off a response.

(We're talking about this post, for those who haven't seen it. RIP my notifications.)

Anyway I'll just say here for the record that yeah, gray morality in fiction can be done poorly! While the line for "done poorly" is going to be different for everyone, I can certainly think of examples I've disliked.

(This got long, sorry in advance. 😩 Also, spoilers for Fallout 3 and all the Dragon Age games, if anyone cares!)

My go-to example of one I think is a real stinker is the Fallout 3 DLC "The Pitt" where the critical decision is... whether to free a bunch of people from being enslaved in horrible conditions! But! in order to free them, you have to kidnap a baby from... the enslaver. Because something something the baby's genetics are the key to curing the illness that afflict the slaves from their horrible working conditions... you don't actually have to hurt the baby, though, she'll be fine. She'll just be taken away from her parents. Who are, again, slavers. I promise I'm not making it sound any stupider than it sounds in the game itself. :P Like the whole concept of putting an infant in your video game inventory and making a break for it is just a little too wacky for me to take seriously, but it feels like you're meant to take it seriously, and apart from trying to inject some ambiguity into the decision, I'm not sure why the whole baby plot would even be there. Honestly, Fallout 3 isn't a game about moral ambiguity. (I think both New Vegas and even Fallout 4 do that kind of thing better.) Most of its major decisions boil down to "Do you want to do the Good Person Thing or the Evil Bastard thing?" That's the game. No one is trying to inject moral ambiguity into blowing up Megaton. It's just a thing you can do if you want to roleplay an Evil Character. I love Fallout 3, I'm just saying, that's what it is. And I think "The Pitt" would have been both more thematically appropriate and less stupid if it had just skipped the whole baby plot and been like "Hey! Do you want to be the Good Person who frees the slaves, or the Evil Bastard who allies with the slaver?" It's morally simple, but the thing is the baby didn't actually make that story or the decision any more interesting to me, so it might as well not have been there at all.

But Fallout 3 isn't the kind of thing I was thinking of when I made that post. I was thinking a lot more about things like the decisions in the Dragon Age games, which don't usually fall neatly into The Good Option and The Evil Option, and are more likely to ask the player to make their own judgments. And a common criticism I see of those games is that they're "centrist" and try to "both sides" in-universe issues because the game doesn't explicitly tell you which choice is The Good One, or it doesn't explicitly reward one choice and punish the other, and that's... not really an interpretation that I generally agree with? But that's a much more involved discussion, honestly. At some point, I'd like to write a post about how I feel Inquisition presents the mage rebellion, because it's such a big topic and big game (and by "I'd like to" I mean... I already have a draft started, whoops). That's just more than I have time to get into today!

But I will say this: I find the plot decisions where you're given an obvious "best option" to be the least interesting choices in the Dragon Age games. The Redcliffe decision in Origins is the most obvious one to me, where I think the option to save Connor from possession should at least have been much harder to find, because in the lore, the fact that mages even can be saved from possession and not just killed is widely unknown because it goes against the templar party line, and the fact that Ferelden's First Enchanter is just like, "Oh yeah, sure, we can totally do that, pack up the lyrium boys" just doesn't really mesh with everything else we're told about the Circles and conventional wisdom on magic. Plus, the fact that there's no consequences for leaving Redcliffe for days with Connor possessed just... makes the decision too easy, for me, because in-universe it feels like it shouldn't be that easy. There's also the werewolf decision, wherein the Lady of the Forest just tells you straight out that Zathrian can break the curse with his own death, presenting you with a "best option" that it feels both stupid and sort of comically evil to disregard (like, from a purely pragmatic standpoint why would you fight the entire pack of werewolves or an entire clan of elves when you can just make Zathrian solve the problem here and now).

The ending decision of DA2 is an example that I feel has a really stark moral contrast to it (which I've discussed before), and one that I think does place certain constraints on role-playing, but in that case I think it's appropriate to the themes of the game, so I don't mind it.

But my favorite plot decisions in Dragon Age are things like the Landsmeet, the Winter Palace, and even the Orzammar quest line. Not just because I love fantasy politics, but because you have to work with what you're given in a way that feels realistic to the setting and the story. No matter how much of a hero you are, you can't waltz into Orzammar or Denerim or Halamshiral and brute-force a perfect solution. Unless you're a dwarf yourself, you're an outsider who doesn't know anything about dwarven politics and no one is particularly forthcoming about the situation because everyone has an agenda! and yet you have to solve this conflict in order to get aid against the Blight. You have to make a decision based on very little information and almost none of it concrete. At the Landsmeet, you may want justice, but it's your word against Loghain's with no proof of what really happened at Ostagar, and if you want to win you need provable charges, you need to show the nobles that you support their interests and not just your own, and no matter which butt you put on the throne, you're faced with the very real possibility of another succession crisis a few decades on so congratulations, you've just kicked the can down the road.

And oh, the Winter Palace, my beloved. You cannot make Briala the Empress, no matter how much you might want to! You cannot abolish the monarchy. You cannot force Orlais to relinquish the Dales and re-establish the Elven state. Your options are: keep the empress whose reign overall has been sympathetic to elves and commoners and relatively diplomatic toward her neighbors, but who also may have just done a good old fashioned massacre to crush a rebellion and maintain her power; let her be killed and put the militant expansionist on the throne; get Briala and Celene back together (maybe with the hope that Briala will continue to influence her); help Briala do a blackmail which surely will work out totally fine and not backfire in anyway; or force them all to shut up and play ball for now, basically just kicking the can down the road. None of these options are perfect by any means! There are interesting and believable in-character reasons you might choose to role-play any of them. And every one has the possibility of unforeseen consequences later on, positive or negative.

I made the original post, in part, in response to condemnations of the kind of decisions I enjoy in these games. And at the end of the day, it's okay not to like those decisions, to prefer more unambiguous choices or more room to indulge in the fantasy of fixing everything. But that's not always the kind of story a game is trying to tell, and I think that's fine, and personally I enjoy the complicated decisions more. And I feel like sometimes those complicated or ambiguous choices are read as if they're either presenting all options as morally equivalent when they're not, or that they're "punishing" the player for a choice if it has any kind of negative outcome, and I don't think that's the case! I think it's fine and good in fiction to explore the ways in which trying to change things for the better can be difficult and how a choice with some negative consequences may still be the best one available, and so on and so forth.

Anyway, I hope I didn't get too far afield here, and thanks if you read this far!

[the--last-great-american-dynasty]

omg you are literally so cool and so cute!!!!

here *throws like a megaton of love at you*

we have so many interests in common but i am deathly scared of interaction with new people so this is all you've got for now lol sorry

but I'm rooting for you!! a lot!!! take care of yourself pls and take naps when you can bcs they're so so good and drink water ily!

remember you are the best!!!

stop this so sweet, thank you so much 😭

i don’t have any friends outside of tumblr that shares my fandom interests so i love you guys so much <33333

[libertybri]

I’m in dire need of some Butch and Deacon content. Can I get their first kisses with a female lone/sole 🙏

Yes yes yes! I live for these guys! I also didn’t know which direction I wanted to take these, so I kind of made them into little blurbs because I had ideas for each of them that I loved so much, so I hope others love them as well lol.

BUTCH X F!LONE

Butch and Lone’s first kiss would be a heat of the moment type of thing. The two would be at each other’s throats as they miserably trek through the heat of the Wasteland, bickering at almost anything the other did that got on their nerves (which could just be limited down to just breathing too loud). It would come to a stand still once the two finally made it back to her home in Megaton, each taking a seat on the couch and having a cool drink of much deserved water. That would be when the clumsy greaser spills his water on her sofa by complete accident, he was tired after such a long day after all. But Lone would be annoyed with him and immediately start the shouting matches up again. “Good water is in short supply these days, we don’t really need you wasting the bit that we have!” She would shout at him, but he’s had enough by then. He would do anything to shut her up. She stands up and grabs a towel with a huff, shoving him from the couch as she wipes down the fabric. “It’s jus’ water, nosebleed. Ain’t like it’s gonna stain your precious furniture.” He mocks, taking the towel from her furious hands and tossing it across the room. “Can you not make an ass of yourself for one minute? I mean, I’m just trying to clean up your mess, might I remind you, and here you are taking the towel from me and-“ That’s when he finally seals her lips with his, moving his hand to the back of her head and entangling his fingers with her locks. Lone finds herself entranced by this simple movement to shut her up, kissing him back with urgency. When they finally pull away from each other, she’s left speechless and staring up to his curious blue eyes. “Sorry, I just- I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Seemed like a good time just then.” Butch admits sheepishly. Luckily for him, Lone smiles. She hesitantly moves her hand to cup his cheek and pull him back to her. With his lips barely grazing hers, she musters out an apology herself. “It’s been a long day, I don’t mean to be so irritable right now. It’s a good thing you’re cute, y’know that?” Butch chuckles and pecks her lips once more, feeling so accustomed to the action already. “Yeah, yeah. Now how about some dinner on the town?”

DEACON X F!SOLE

Deacon and Sole’s first kiss would be the event that seals their undying feelings towards each other. Of course as time went by with Deacon as her partner, the two began a series of playful flirting and gentle touches that could easily be mistaken for compassionate friendship. Though the two knew deep down it was more than that, and they both wanted to act on these feelings but fear would hold them back. The fear of losing someone they love so much, having them torn away from them as it’s happened once before. That pain was so unbearable and it took them both time to overcome it, but upon helping each other through these heart aches, newfound feelings were born between them. The love was so deserving but neither could see that until the very day the two decided to lounge up in Sole’s old Sanctuary home, going through her things that weren’t completely in ruins. Deacon listened intently to every story she told, watching as her expression held nothing but glee from reminiscing on the past. As more things were strewn out of a box, the two scooted closer and closer to each other until their knees finally touched, neither caring or even noticing. Deacon reaches into the box and pulls out a silver chain with a locket on it. Sole’s eyes light up at just the mere image of it in his hands. “You want to see where I get my dashing good looks from?” She chuckles, gently opening the locket in his palm and showing him the images of her mother and father. Deacon wolf whistles at the sight, definitely agreeing with her about where those good looks came from. “No kidding? Your old man was a looker, Sole.” He teases, holding up the chain to her chest. “Do you want me to put it on you?” Deacon offers kindly. Sole grins and moves her hair as he moves the chain around her neck. Deacon locks the necklace in place and allows his hands to linger on her skin, slowly guiding one hand down her back. She turns around to face him as his other hand slides to her jaw, delicately lifting her chin up to him. Time feels as if it’s stopped as he begins to lean into her and she feels herself doing the same until their lips finally touch. She lightly sighs into the kiss, placing both of her soft hands on the sides of his face and deepening the kiss. When the two pull apart, Sole lifts his sunglasses above his head and looks into his eyes, reading him so intently. “This is happening?” She asks him, though it comes out more of a statement in his mind. He smiles and nods, “Yeah. Yes it is.”

[nightingaelic]

could you do Fallout New Vegas companion’s reactions to a Courier Six who is also the Lone Wanderer telling their stories from their time in DC? (bonus points for Arcade’s reaction to them hating the enclave, and if that would make him decide to keep his past hidden even longer, or if he would still tell them?)

The logistics and implications of this make my head spin. This is also super long, honestly I should just quit writing reacts and start writing fics OH WAIT

Getting the courier talking was a tough thing to do, but on nights where the moon was full and the coyotes' howls were miles away or at least behind some stout walls, on nights where they were a few beers in and they hadn't seen another living soul in a few days, that Mojave Express deliverer started to reminisce. That wasn't really the surprising part, though. No, the surprising part was what they would remember, fondly or not-so-fondly: A world apart from the desert, a continent away on another coast, and stories of life in a vault, a missing father, pure water and a Brotherhood divided.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade didn't mind these moods, at least when they first cropped up. He nodded along as the courier talked about living in their father's shadow, about feeling cornered by their own family's legacy. He hung on their words about living in the cradle of America's history, about Project Purity, all of the gritty details of modifying a GECK to bring water to a devastated wasteland.

Eventually though, the courier's memories soured, with the arrival of Enclave remnants in their life. Arcade folded into himself with every harsh word, every jolt of plasma that had disrupted his friend's world relived in horrific detail. They gestured angrily as they described their newfound purpose, their battle for power with the fractured Brotherhood of Steel at their back, and their smug satisfaction at the moments they were able to crack open Raven Rock and the Enclave's mobile base crawler and lay waste to their tormentors.

It took a few rounds of these stories before the courier noticed he shrank and grew quiet whenever they neared the end of their story about breaking into another vault to find the GECK. They stopped abruptly one night. "What's up with you?"

"Um..." Arcade scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Nothing. Nothing, I just... have some personal experience with the Enclave, myself."

The courier sighed. "Yeah, there's a few people walking around the West Coast that have similar stories to mine. Arroyo's full of them, for one. Is it something like that?"

Arcade took a deep breath. "I feel... well, it's a lot closer to home, for me. Close enough to raise questions, so I don't talk about it much."

"Close enough to..." The courier twisted their face up in confusion for a moment, before realization set in and their eyes grew large. "You were... your... oh."

"Mmm-hm."

"Well, fuck me." The courier smiled and popped a cap off of another beer. "I've been doing all the talking, haven't I? Let's hear your story about working with the guys in power armor who ruined my life, right after dad did."

Craig Boone: Whenever the courier started up like this, Boone couldn't help but notice a familiar twinge of regret and self-doubt in their voice. It shone through most clearly when they spoke about their time with the Brotherhood of Steel, the men and women they'd fought alongside and lost during their struggle against the remnants of the Enclave. It was there, too, in their story about returning to the vault they grew up in, setting the chaos that had arisen in their wake to rest, but not being able to go back to the way things were.

Boone didn't pry. He knew that feeling well. Instead, he cracked open bottles of beer, liquor, soda, whatever they had on hand during their nights in the desert, and just listened. He'd done the same for Carla, when they were younger and new to each other and he couldn't get enough of her voice and how it flowed endlessly, easily, the way his never could. He absorbed it all now as he did then: The joy, the pain, the loss, the fear, the triumphs and falls and abandoned dreams that filled the courier up and drove them to travel west, beyond anything they had ever known.

That last part stumped Boone a bit, though. "Why didn't you stay?" he finally asked one night.

They looked surprised. "Stay? Stay where? I didn't have a home anymore."

Boone shook his head. "With the Brotherhood. Or some other settlement."

"Like Megaton?" The courier sighed. "I thought about it. Close to the vault, friendly people, easy work... I guess I just didn't want to wind up... stuck."

They flushed red and looked away from him. Boone knew why they were embarrassed, but he also knew the truth in their words.

Sometimes the courier cried after they had finished, though they did their best to hide it. Boone pretended not to notice. He was pretty sure they knew he was pretending, but he was also pretty sure that pointing it out would be worse than just letting it be an open secret between them. The silence between them endured, but something grew inside it and flourished. Some kind of deeper understanding.

Lily Bowen: The more the courier spoke, the more Lily made connections in her muddled mind. Of course they knew the basic layout of most vaults, they had grown up in one. Of course they were extra-sensitive to the Mojave heat, they had come to the desert from the cooler of the two coasts. Of course they'd been extra-wary around the super mutants or nightkin of Jacobstown, they had only known angry super mutants looking to grow their own numbers through any means necessary.

Their shared experience of growing up inside a vault reminded Lily of happier days, and she often asked questions about Vault 101 during the courier's stories. "Were you sweet on anyone inside your old home?" she asked, with a big smile befitting a proud grandma.

The courier blushed. "That's not very polite, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie."

"No, no it's okay." The courier smiled. "There was a boy who picked on me a lot, but I never figured out whether he did it because he hated me or liked me. His name was Butch. And there was Amata, my childhood friend. She was the daughter of the Overseer."

"Daughter of the Overseer?" Lily grinned. "I'm sure she was a lovely young woman."

The courier looked a little misty. "Yeah. She was. Probably still is."

Lily pulled a handkerchief that used to be a small tablecloth from inside her overalls and handed it over. "Maybe we can go back there together, pumpkin," she offered. "I always wanted to travel to the capital. We can visit your friends, see the sights."

"Yeah, maybe someday." The courier accepted the gift and blew their nose. "I've got some things I need to finish up here before I even think about wandering back east, though."

"Then let's make a list and do our chores," Lily said happily. "Number one?"

"Ohhhh, man." The courier smiled up at her. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul got a faint smile on his face whenever the courier started up like this, as if their memories reminded him of another place he had come from, another time. While they couldn't have more different backgrounds, pasts- hell, he had several hundred years on the courier, even if they shared the same road today- there was something in the description of the other roads they had walked that made him feel warm on a cold night.

"What's on your mind?" The courier asked him one night, when Raul's smile grew larger than usual.

"Nada, boss," he reassured them. "You're just a good reminder that I can change my mind about the future anytime I'd like. Tell me the one about that radio DJ again."

"Again?" The courier rolled their eyes. "Why? I could tell you a million stories about Underworld and all the ghouls that lived there, but all you want to hear about is Three Dog. You'd probably have more in common with the Underworld folks, honestly."

Raul nodded noncommittally. "Sí, but my favorite stories are about people who had to rise above bad situations and become someone uncommon. Anyone who's able to do that is either fighting for something great or running from something terrible. Sometimes both."

The courier shot him a skeptical look. "Three Dog's holed up in his radio station 24/7, he's not running from anything or out fighting for anything. All that stuff about 'the good fight' is a load of bull."

"Now, now, Six," Raul chastised. "Just because he looks like your average pendejo doesn't mean he isn't doing his part. You even told me his radio show is inspirational for the Capital Wasteland folks."

The courier held their hands up in the air and bobbled them, as if balancing an invisible scale. "The duality of man. Being an average pendejo, or convincing everyone around you that you aren't actually an average pendejo and can pull off miracles."

Raul laughed. "And which one are you, boss?"

"Eh, I'm still figuring it out."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was never one for fixating on her own past, but she couldn't help but sympathize with the courier whenever they deigned to add onto their unbelievable story. It was hard enough for her to navigate her own damn life: She couldn't imagine being called upon to steer an entire area's destiny.

After another night of recalling their life inside a vault with their dad, then their unexpected loss of him right after being reunited on the surface, the courier stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry," they said.

Cass paused her swig of precious whiskey. "What?"

"I keep going on and on about my dad, and here you are not knowing what happened to yours."

"Eh." Cass took her drink and waved her hand around until the burning swallow made its way down. "S'loads of people in the wasteland without a clue what happened to their pops. I'm not special. In fact, I'd say it probably hurts a bit more, what happened with yours."

"Well, all the same." The courier sank deeper into their seat and examined their own bottle of spirits. "I feel like an open book, tonight. Anything you want to know about where I came from that I haven't already spilled?"

Cass thought for a moment. "Tribals."

"What about them?"

"Does the East Coast have them? You're not the first traveler I've met from there, but none of you have so much as mentioned any tribals out east."

"Mmm." The courier looked thoughtful. "I guess we do have them, though maybe not in the traditional sense. There's a mess of them in Point Lookout for sure, and at least one tribal group in the Capital Wasteland outright, but beyond that things are more... loose. Fewer intact families, fewer intact homes."

"Huh." Cass took another drink. "Maybe that's where my dad went."

She let the courier stew in the awkward silence for a bit before she grinned and reached out to smack them. "Just kidding. Keep going. I want to hear about that giant robot again."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica usually sat and listened, spellbound, picturing a chapter of her order that had realized the very thing she kept trying to tell the Elders and made the ultimate sacrifice to follow their hearts anyway.

Well, maybe Elder Owyn Lyons hadn't come to the same realization as her, but he had had a change of heart that split his company and cut them off from almost everyone they had ever known. It had been five years since the High Elders had instituted radio silence toward their East Coast chapter, and so far there had been no attempts to re-establish contact.

Veronica prodded the courier for any info she could get about the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. The courier let slip pretty early in their friendship that Elder Owyn Lyons had passed away, which wasn't unexpected. The man was 76 years old, after all. She learned on one particularly emotional night that his daughter, Elder Sarah Lyons, was also dead, something she wasn't sure even the Western Elders were aware of. That memory was clearly painful for the courier though, so Veronica didn't press for details.

"And the Enclave?" the Scribe asked one night, arms wrapped around her knees. "Are they completely gone?"

The courier grew cold. "Yes. I made sure of it."

"Right." Veronica nodded. "So the Brotherhood took over the air force base they were at. It must have been chock-full of tech and resources, if it was the Enclave's last stand."

"It was." The courier sighed and shifted in their seat. "And it woke up some of our brothers and sisters to their original mission in the Capital Wasteland. I thought maybe that selfishness had died with Liberty Prime, but... well, I didn't like it, so I left."

"Mmm, yeah." Veronica nodded again, sympathetically this time. "I know how you feel. Felt."

"Feel," the courier agreed. "I just wish there was more I could've done. Maybe there wasn't anything else, short of seizing power."

"You'd definitely get pushback for that in the Brotherhood," Veronica agreed. "But you might get that chance out here in the broader Mojave."

ED-E: At first, ED-E enjoyed the stories, trumpeting and cooing various beeps at the appropriate moments for emphasis. The one time the courier began badmouthing the Enclave, however, the eyebot waited until they had finished before playing back the first tape that Dr. Whitley had recorded before its trip.

The courier listened to the scientist's words from years ago, deflating slightly as it played out. When the tape had finished, they stood up and checked the eyebot over. "He sent you toward Navarro, huh?"

ED-E beeped affirmation, and the courier sighed. "But Navarro was already gone. I'm sorry. I guess I'm... well, me and the Brotherhood of Steel back east are responsible for your previous master's decision to send you away. Might be responsible for more, too."

ED-E beeped sadly. The courier pressed their forehead against the eyebot's metal dome in apology.

Rex: Well, surprising for most. Rex was not most. As soon as the courier got really into their recollections, Rex usually yawned and went to sleep. He stirred when he felt their hand reach down to scratch the ruff of his neck, or pat the glass dome that held his brain.

"Good dog," the courier said, through the veil of sleep. "You remind me of another pup that used to follow me around."

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

     You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on. 

     As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

     Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up. 

     The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could. 

     Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room. 

     But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse. 

     He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life. 

     You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together. 

     About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation. 

     Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday. 

     “Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

     MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?” 

     You roll your eyes playfully.

     “I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.” 

     “It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

     “Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-”     “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off. 

     “Who is this guest?” 

     “Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man. 

     “Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

     “Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

     The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

     “Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching. 

     Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

     “And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

     “How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

     The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in. 

     “New York.” 

     He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays. 

     “Washington D.C”

     A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following. 

     “Sokovia.” 

     The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land. 

     “Lagos.” 

     “That’s enough,” Steve interrupts. 

     Ross nods in response and begins his speech again. 

     “For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

     He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking. 

     “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.” 

     “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

     “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

     At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

     “So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states. 

     “Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.” 

     Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

     “Then you retire.” 

     The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

     As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you. 

     “Can I help you?” 

     “You’re a little young to be an intern.” 

     “You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder. 

     Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

     You look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

     “You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.” 

     Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you. 

     “Don’t touch me,” 

     Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

     “Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have. 

     “So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

     “117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.” 

     “I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator. 

     “Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters. 

     “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

     “Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap. 

     Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

     “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.” 

     “Boom,” Rhodey says.                             

     You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere. 

     “Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

     “It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained. 

     “Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

     Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man. 

     “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

     He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

     “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

     “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

     “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

     “Who said we’re giving up?” 

     “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

     “I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

      “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”   

      “That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.  

     “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

     “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

     Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

     “We would protect you,” Vision promised. 

     “Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

     “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts. 

     “I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back. 

     “Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

     “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

     “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.” 

     From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly. 

     You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team. 

     “Someone’s upset,” you hum. 

     You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle. 

     “Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.” 

     Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair. 

     “I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.” 

     You open the bottle and take a sip. 

     “What are you doing down here kid--”

     “Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

     “Just answer the question,” Tony snaps. 

     “I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.” 

     An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water. 

     “Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?” 

     “Not you too,” your father mutters. 

      You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely. 

      “Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks. 

      “Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

     “Look,” Tony attempts. 

     “I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

     “I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down. 

     “I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

     You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed. 

-

     It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read. 

     “You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

     You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands. 

     “Hey,” she quietly protests. 

     “Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

     MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

     She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more. 

     Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours. 

     This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

     You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. 

     “We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled. 

     Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side. 

     “Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47. 

     “Guess I’m spending the night then.” 

     “I have no problem with that.”

-

     The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video. 

     “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

     Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear. 

      “Nat what the fuck is going on?”

     You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone.     “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

     “Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

     “(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

     There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle. 

     “Okay, whatever. Bye.”

     “(Y/n) c’mo--”

     You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk.     “You sound stressed.” 

     Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her. 

     “I am.”

     You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly. 

     “There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging. 

     MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close. 

     “They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.” 

     There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up. 

     “C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face. 

     Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen. 

     She turned around and grabbed your shoulders. 

     “We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

     You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work. 

-

     It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back. 

     When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it. 

     Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw. 

     “What the hell happened?”

     The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers. 

     Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs. 

     “You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?” 

     Both men looked away and avoided your gaze. 

     “You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

     “Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

     “Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!” 

     You turned to your father with pleading eyes. 

     “Where are they, Tony?”

     “Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

     “Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?” 

     You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them. 

     Just when things were alright.

-

     “(Y/n)?” 

     “What M.I.A?”

     You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

     “There’s a package for you.” 

     Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room. 

     Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone. 

     Hey sweetheart.

     It was Natasha’s handwriting.

     I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now. 

     I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me. 

     I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart. 

     But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will. 

     I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call. 

     You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand. 

     You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

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[lesvegas]

oblivion anon here, or i guess i'm fallout 3 anon now? nah that sucks i'm still oblivion anon. anyway i've only been playing it a little bit so far, got out the vault, killed some raiders, got a sniper and a flamer early, visited megaton and started a quest for a lady in a cool shop that involved going to an old supermarket that still had stuff in it somehow so let's discuss the lore i've come up with so far:

1. the game is actually a retelling of the real events of fallout 3, it's a bunch of people who encountered the lone wanderer and all shared stories about them and tried to fill in the blanks between what they've done

2. copying my own lore here, all raiders are part of one massive disorganised group, because i feel like that makes a little bit more sense than "tons of people just LOVE random killing and violence for no reason" the raiders are a nomadic group that sweeps through lands and raids as they go

3. the capital wasteland is... weird... no one is quite so sure how long it's been since the great war, or if it even was a war that ended the world. superstition and belief in the supernatural is commonplace. the sky is always green and there's a thick mist that surrounds the wasteland, nobody has ever heard from anyone that went into it.

4. people are kinda scared of the lone wanderer, i play on easy so for all they know a strange man always wearing something to cover their face just strolled out from underground and can tank bullets like a deathclaw and sometimes hit shots quicker than people can blink, they seem nice when you talk to them and they help a lot of folks out but something about them always feels off, they way they hold their gun, or the thing on their left arm, maybe it's just because they're from a vault but still, there's something weird about them...

that's all so far, be ready for me to expand on these a lot as i play more, and sorry if this thing was too long i just looked at how much i typed oh god grtiughriuthgirt

youre insane. can we kiss

[ultrastimpaks]

oc companion meme

based on this post!

companions: ☢️ Helena Pierce

OC: ROBERT CRAIG

THE BASICS

>> which game would they be from?

fallout 3

>> where would you find them?

You can find Bobby at Gary’s Galley in Rivet City. His character stands out among all the metal and dull colors; Bobby is wearing a heavily modified Vault 101 suit, a red cap and strapped to his back is Betsie, his plasma rifle

>> how do you recruit them?

Starting a conversation with him will make him introduce himself to you and tell you a little about his past in Vault 101. Bobby will also ask you about the current in-game situation of the Capital Wasteland, and if you give him good karma answers, you will be able to try passing a 50 speech check to ask him to travel with you.

Bobby will join you as a companion if you have good karma.

>> do they have a specialized task?

Bobby will hack terminals of any level if asked to.

>> do they give the player items? if yes, which items?

“You should hold on to this… You never know when you’re gonna need a stimpak.”

If you start a conversation with Bobby from time to time, he will give you a stimpak.

>> do they have a personal quest? if yes, what would it be?

Bobby doesn’t have a personal quest. However, he will give you misc quests to take down bad guys around the Wasteland. Complete enough quests for him and he will award you a perk, as long as you have him next to you.

>> can you romance them?

No.

>> what perk would they give the player?

It’s Plasma, Baby! - You do 10% more damage and your critical chance increases while using plasma weapons.

>> what are their SPECIAL stats?

S - 6, P - 9+, E - 5, C - 8, I - 7, A - 5, L - 7

AFFINITY

>> loves

hacking - “ah, the sweet sound of a terminal well hacked”

Doing good deeds/receiving good karma - “The world would be a better place with more people like you.”

Helping the Little Lamplight children escape Paradise Falls - “No one should treat children like that… never!”

>> likes

If you side with Roy Phillips and pursue the non-violent ending for the Tenpenny Tower quest - “If you ask me, Roy deserves this tower more than that old Alistair fu- oh shit, sorry for the language.”

If you become a vampire during the Blood Ties quest - “Do we need to find a coffin for ya? *laughs* C’mon, don’t be mad! You have superpowers now!”

>> neutral

Siding with the Brotherhood - “Next thing you know you’re as uptight as those guys. Booooooring.”

>> dislikes

Pickpocketing - “We’re supposed to be the good guys here! Give that shit back or I’m gonna-”

Lock picking doors and safes set to owned - “Cut that shit out!”

Drinking alcohol - “I’m not carrying you back to your place.”

Killing brahmin - What did they even do to you? Save your bullets for actual threats.”

Entering vaults - “Did you know there is a high as fuck chance of this Vault being another sick experiment? And you want us to go in there?”

>> hates

If you decide to keep Harold alive during the Oasis quest - “That guys has been alive for centuries! And you decide to keep him suffering just to please those weirdos? Someone should teach you a thing or two about mercy.”

If you accept Mr. Burke’s offer and blow up Megaton - “You- I can’t believe- Ugh! Fuck off, I don’t wanna see you again!” (Bobby will permanently leave you if you blow up Megaton. He will take you aside and try talking you out of it throughout the quest.)

VOICE LINES

>> “use melee”

“Grognak has taught me a thing or two about that”

>> “use ranged”

“They won’t see it coming until its *makes weird plasma noises and fake screams*”

>> “stay close”

“Did you know Betsie emits a small dose of radiation? Hehe don’t worry though.”

>> “keep distance”

"Yeah, I can do that! Just like on Silver Shroud issue 36 when-”

>> “back up”

“You’re aware I have feelings, right?”

>> “be passive”

“Don’t mind if I fall asleep.”

>> “be aggressive”

“Pew pew pew! Time to catch some bad guys!”

>> “wait here”

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

>> “follow me”

“Let’s spice things up.”

>> when healed

“Are you… are you an angel? Am I in heaven?”

>> when killed (general)

“No no no-!”

>> when killed (by player)

“You traitor!”

>> when talking

“... So I’m sitting at my dad’s clinic, plasma goo on my shirt-”

“Have you ever tried mirelurk cake? Hey- no, don’t make that face! It tastes really good… for a dish made out of a giant mutant crab.”

*When near Rivet City* “Can we stop by the Muddy Rudder? Pretty please?”

“Nothing beats the blue sky and the warmth of the sun. I can never get enough of it.”

>> when trading (neutral)

“I can’t do much if I’m carrying all of that.”

>> when trading (happy)

“Are there any comics for me?”

“Aw, is that for me?”

>> when dismissed

“But we were having so much fun together…”

[vault-kid]

2/2 follow up question… Luna and Wadsworth ♥️ tell me more.

Luna and Wadsworth!

Writing it under the cut! Sorry in advance for a bunch of text >_<

Luna was very surprised that her little shit-hole in Megaton came with a Mister Handy in the first place. Or at least, a fully functional one— Who the hell knows how long he's been in there or why he was there? In all honesty, she thought he'd be defective or something, kinda like Andy. So when he first introduced himself, Luna didn't really take anything he said seriously. In fact, she really just saw him and his charging station as a waste of space 😭 But, he quickly proved her wrong.

At first, their relationship was very neutral. Wadsworth always muttered under his breath when assisting her or even speaking to her, like he does in-game. He's only programmed to be her butler, and she just didn't know what to do with him. Like, she's capable enough to keep her OWN house tidy, but whatever... They felt like odd roommates, really.

The more time Luna spent out in the Wasteland, the more stuff she back with. Filling her home with a few knickknacks, her childhood stuff, new weapons, etc, etc. That only meant more stuff for him to clean, dust, or tidy, so of course he was delighted (muttering under his robot-breath). Luna thought it was kind of funny, though, but she was always kind to him. Of course, here comes the teddy bear collection bit.

Luna gradually began collecting those random teddy bears she found in the Wasteland and placing them around her house. On the common room shelves, near the stairs, on her desk, in the lockers, on top of the fridge... On top of his charging station... Literally everywhere, and posing them too. Maybe two of them were holding hands, maybe one was upside down. Wadsworth honestly disliked her doing this, mostly because he knew he couldn't really move them, so he had to be careful to not topple them over. Once he asked her about why she did that, all she had to say was "I dunno. It's funny." He certainly didn't think the same.

They slowly grew closer the more she came back home. There were good days and bad days, though. In those good days, she'd ask him about the joke feature, and just had little conversations, telling him about her day or about her quests and stuff she'd see out. On bad days though, she'd just close herself up in her room, and stay there, sometimes for hours, or even a day. Wadsworth found it odd, but being a psychologist wasn't in his programming, so not much he could do. Although, he did worry for her a lot of the times when she came home injured, and insisted she got the in-house infirmary set up (which she did thanks to him).

Luna would shut herself out a lot, wanting to be alone in her room, so Wadsworth didn't really ask if she was okay, or if she needed assistance other than around the house. A lot more bad days than good days later, he tried attempting to humor her in any way he could with his jokes. They sometimes worked.

Regardless, Luna loved coming home every time she had the chance, and felt happy that she had someone (or something?) to come home to, even if it was a Mister Handy. She didn't feel so alone there. Once she got the jukebox installed, she'd leave it on tuned in to GNR so Wadsworth could fill her in about whatever Three Dog said about her, and so he could enjoy some of the music too (he didn't)

Their relationship did grow more after the death of James, too. But that also meant Wadsworth grew more worried of her. After the Enclave took over P.P at the Jefferson Memorial, Luna needed a mental break from like... everything and that meant staying in, and rotting. She was depressed, upset, confused, lost. She'd just stay there inside all day, and Wadsworth would at least remind her to drink water or something. She didn't speak much about James' death or anything, at least not at first, but he could definitely see that something had happened. If she ever left, she'd often times come home injured, and he always insisted she healed herself immediately. He did grow to care for her a lot, and vice versa.

Luna also stopped posing the bears around the house, and he could tell she was not okay. Realizing how much of a hard time she was having, he wanted to do something for her other than, well, assist her around the house. Wadsworth started moving the teddy bears around too, posing them differently, or maybe adding more from her collection around the shack, hoping she'd notice (She did!) Eventually, Luna did start opening up to him and all that, about her life at the Vault, about James, etc. She appreciated his attempts to cheer her up too. Wadsworth began being someone Luna really appreciated and loved, like family, in a weird way. They have such a nice dynamic, and if he wasn't programmed to just be a Mister Handy, she would've definitely asked him to travel with her.

Things around the shack changed after Dogmeat and Butch came along, but their dynamic still stayed the same. That's a story for another time tho :3

[scrapbookonthemantle]

OC Companion Meme

i got tagged by @ultrastimpaks​ !! thanks gio love u 

rules: pick out a fallout oc and fill out the prompts!

tagging uh. @sleights-of-hand​ @rocket-69​ and @rotarydials​​ !!

THE BASICS

>> which game would they be from?

Fallout 3

>> where would you find them?

A random encounter in the subways!

>> how do you recruit them?

"Just put it down! I didn't do anything to you!" Oppy shouts at the pair while holding her hands in the air.

"Aw, you really think I care, don't you?" The raider throws Oppy's backpack to another, who begins to dig through its contents.

"Never said that. Just give it back and I'll be on my--"

(I wrote it out as a dialogue tree scenario! Read the rest here!)

After rescuing Oppy from the raiders, you have the option to recruit her as a traveling companion.

>> do they have a specialized task?

If you give her dirty water, she’ll eventually hand back purified water!

(First time picking up dirty water with Oppy traveling with you) “Oooh! My mom taught me how to boil all the dirt and stuff out of water ages ago. I can clean those up for you if you want! Much healthier too, don’t want you getting sick on me!”

(Giving her dirty water) “Oh yuck! Will get this back to you as soon as I can!”

(Handing back purified water) “Bye dirt! You belong with the plants, not in my drinking water, thank you very much!”

>> do they give the player items? if yes, which items?

Oppy will occasionally pick up miscellaneous items on your journey with her. Sometimes they’ll even be useful! She will occasionally share them with the player. The things she picks up can range from an old pre-war phone to a stray stimpak she nabbed.

>> do they have a personal quest? if yes, what would it be?

Oppy doesn’t have a personal quest, but she’ll occasionally bring up smaller quests to go to different places around the DC area for research purposes. The player will likely need to take down low-level enemies from these locations before Oppy is able to complete her research.

If enough quests are completed, the player is granted the ‘In the Know!’ perk. This will grant special dialogue options while Oppy is by your side. 

(For example, during the Stealing Independence quest if you have Oppy by your side you can ask Abraham to tell you more about the location you’re going to.)

>> can you romance them?

No.

(If flirted with) “Oh! Well, I’m flattered, but I’m not really looking for romance right now. I’d rather just go on more adventures with you! Where to next?”

>> what perk would they give the player?

Walking on Sunshine: Well-rested will always be granted after sleeping in a bed - being around Opportunity just seems to put you in a good mood! You also receive bonus EXP for any non-combat related actions.

>> what are their SPECIAL stats?

S - 6, P - 4, E - 6, C - 9, I - 8, A - 7, L - 7

AFFINITY

>> loves

- Using a cooking station. “I love cooking! Do you need any help? I know what I’m doing, believe it or not.”

- Helping others, doing good deeds. “Good work! Some people are just down on their luck.”

- Taking down Paradise Falls. “No one deserves to be treated like that. No one.”

- Choosing the non-violent option in quests. “You handled that well! Sometimes words work better than bullets.”

>> likes

- Helping Moira with the Wasteland Survival Guide. “I know it’s tough, but it’s going to help a lot of people! No, really! ...What do you mean I sound just like her, shut up!”

- Siding with Roy Phillips and doing the non-violent route of the Tenpenny Tower quest. “You did the right thing, that Alistair guy is an asshole. ...Excuse my language.”

>> neutral

- Entering vaults. “The so-called height of the pre-war era... Did you know they were experimenting on people even before the bombs dropped? Cruel. We should get out of here as soon as we can.”

>> dislikes

- Drinking alcohol or using chems. “Hey! Being intoxicated isn’t going to help us get anywhere!”

- Pickpocketing/Stealing. “What are you doing?! Put that back!”

- Attempting to unlock owned doors or objects. “Stop it! How would you like it if I blatantly ignored your privacy? Those are locked for a reason!”

- Killing brahmin. “If you wanted to be a butcher you could have just said so, but this isn’t the time or place. What did they do to you?”

>> hates

- Leaving Harold alive during the Oasis quest. “I want plants back just as much as anyone else, but this isn’t the way to do it. He’s suffering at the hands of these people... Maybe you should have rethought that.” (Oppy will pull you aside to try talking you out of it multiple times during the quest.)

- Blowing up Megaton. “Why... would you.... I don’t understand your- What? You know what? No. I can’t stand to look at your face. Don’t try explaining yourself, I’m leaving. Don’t come running after me, either.” (Oppy will permanently leave you if you blow up Megaton. She will pull you aside to try talking you out of it multiple times throughout the quest.)

- Siding with the Brotherhood. “I’m afraid I don’t get why you would do that... They’re only out to help themselves. Have you seen the way they treat anyone different from their own?”

VOICE LINES

>> “use melee”

"Oh! Okay, I got my bat ready! I’ll try my best!”

>> “use ranged”

"I’m not sure that’s the best decision, I always seem to lose my ammo...”

>> “stay close”

“Right behind you! I’ll try not to trip you up.”

>> “keep distance”

“Got it! They’ll never see us- Er... Me, coming!” 

>> “back up”

“Oh sorry, was I too close?”

>> “be passive”

“Great! That’s my specialty.”

>> “be aggressive”

“Why would you want me to do that?”

>> “wait here”

“No problem! Do you want me to set up a camp while I wait?”

>> “follow me”

“Off we go!”

>> when healed

“Ow ow ow- Oh, thanks! You sure we don’t have to amputate?”

>> when killed (general)

“This wasn’t... how I planned this going...”

>> when killed (by player)

“I trusted you!”

>> when talking

“Back home my granmama would always make these tato cakes- they were the BEST. You’d love ‘em. Maybe I could make them for you sometime!”

“There’s a lot more to learn about our history than you’d think. Doesn’t do any good to just ignore it when it’s all repeating itself again.”

“One time my cousins and I were out playing in a nearby creek when we were young and Matty got his leg stuck in the mud.. We were out there for HOURS until my dad and my uncle came out to rescue us. Hey, at least we got snacks afterward!”

“Don’t you find feral ghouls fascinating? I mean, basically losing your mind and who you are as a person.. Only hanging onto what little threads of memory you can hang onto. Must be hard.”

“I think the Capitol Preseveration Society is doing good work, even if most people don’t appreciate it. History has to be remembered somehow!”

“Back home we didn’t have a lot of plants, but we at least had more than there are here.. Sometimes I get tired of all the concrete and rubble.”

“You know... As much as I enjoy looking back at history and all, I don’t want you to think I want to go back to it. Pre-war wasn’t good, I mean, hell, it ended up with a nuclear war that brought us to where we are now.”

“I’ve always thought people should make more of their own music. My family was always singing and drumming against things... I rarely see any of that around here. It’s kinda gloomy, really!”

“I’m not a fan of that Brotherhood of Steel group... They say they’re preserving old technology, but they’re not really helping anybody or teaching anyone outside of their crew, are they?”

>> when trading (neutral)

“Shoot... Which pocket did I put this in again?”

“Hold on, I think I lost... Nope, there it is.”

>> when trading (happy)

“Oh good! Do you have snacks?”

“I assure you I’ll handle your things with the UTMOST care and attention. I even have a dust rag around here somewhere!”

>> when dismissed

“Oh, okay... I’ll be in Rivet City if you need me!”

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you do the anxious tics prompt with fo3 and new vegas companions? sorry, i think i’ve asked you to add characters a lot but i just really love your writing ^^”

FO3 and FONV Romanced! Companions react to Lone's/Six's Anxiety Tics

Here you are, my love. Please never feel bad about requesting more people! It's honestly what I live for, and I loooooove making content for the FO3 and NV folks, since I feel like there's a lot less written about them in general 😊

So thank you so much for the ask!

Here is the prompt with FO4 Companions!

FO3

Butch:

     The flash of large red-framed letters had caught Butch’s attention as the pair stood waiting to speak to Doc Church outside his clinic in Megaton. “Whatcha got there, babe?” he had asked, before realizing that it was, in fact, exactly what he had thought. Lone blushed as they looked up at him, hiding behind the pages of their comic book. “You really kept that? After all these years?” They had nodded to him, explaining that it was a sort of security blanket for them, that they could always count on reading the same story, seeing the same happy ending each time they looked between the pages, each time they felt uncertainty or stress, they could count on Grognak to see them through it. He grinned whenever he saw them with it, often curling up beside them, or leaning his head on their shoulder to try and read along with them. In these cases, Lone had to read the pages slower than they normally would, reading the same comic book over and over for the last 10 years means you can skim through it pretty quickly, but they don’t really seem to mind. Now they get to watch as this person that they care so much for enjoys the comic book they relied on and adored for so long.

Charon:

     The ghoul was curious about Lone’s tendency to nap directly after dealing with stressful situations, but he decided not to voice any inquiries. His companion would explain themself if they wanted him to know more. One day, they did. Lone had thanked him for always looking after them while they rested off their anxiety, and mentioned that it was something they couldn’t help. Charon had nodded at them, acknowledging their gratitude, before his blue eyes had narrowed in his effort to process the rest of what they had said. It seemed strange to him, sleeping off nerves... Wouldn’t that make it more difficult to sleep? He decided that the logic of it didn’t really matter, whatever it was that caused it, he would look after his partner as they took the time to rest. Soon enough, they would beckon for him to join them, leaning against his shoulder or laying their head in his lap as he kept watch over them. A scarred hand would come to run softly through their hair, or graze lightly over their arm as they dreamed away their anxieties alongside their watchful partner.  

Clover:

     Lone wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed to them that Clover was always so handsy whenever they became anxious. They had to admit, they didn't necessarily mind it, but she always seemed to get frisky at the most inopportune times. Meanwhile, Clover just can't seem to figure out why Lone is always casting hints her way in the middle of stressful situations. She gets it, she totally is picking up what Lone is putting down every time they draw their bottom lip between their teeth and gnaw away so suggestively, but do they really have to do that right now?! Once Clover finds out it's just Lone's way of coping with their anxiety, she feels sort of foolish… but that doesn't stop her from getting a little turned on whenever Lone does it, even though the timing is usually inconvenient for both of them. But after the trouble and stress has passed, Lone will certainly need to blow off some steam, right? If that’s the case, Clover is more than ready for it. 

Cross:  

     Cross often noticed when Lone had trouble focusing, she tends not to miss a thing, especially when it comes to her Lone. When she sees her partner struggling to keep their attention trained on the person speaking to them, she usually will step in and ask if the person can speak to her companion again at a later time. Her direct and clear way of speaking is a relief for Lone when they are experiencing tension, as their listening becomes almost ineffective when they are being spoken to during times of high stress or anxiety. Paladin Cross understands this, and pays particular attention to speak slowly and with great care in these times. Due to her affinity for speaking this way normally, she and Lone tend to never have issues with communication; which evidently, tends to keep Lone from becoming anxious when they’re around their partner.

Fawkes:  

     Within his first couple weeks of traveling alongside Lone, the mutant noticed their need to constantly snack. When he decided to inquire about it, and they hesitantly explained their habit to stress eat, he wasn’t sure he understood it, but he knew that he had his own ways of dealing with his nerves, which came in the form of wringing his hands whenever he became anxious. So, if this is how Lone deals with it, he will accept it without question. It wasn’t until one fateful day, when Lone had realized they were completely out of snacking material and they were on the brink of a breakdown, that they realized Fawkes had taken their words to heart, as he reached out a large hand, filled to the brim with an assortment of their favorite snacks from one of his pockets. All this time they thought he only kept ammunition in there, turns out, their partner always had a well-stocked stash of their anxiety-repellent hidden away for cases just like these. They smiled coyly as they took a box of snack cakes, and a tin of crisps, settling down beside Fawkes as he lightly ran his hand up and down their back as they leaned into him, their breathing already beginning to return to normal with each passing moment.

Jericho:

     The ex-raider always thought it was a little annoying, the way his companion would stutter at him every time something got dicey, or when they had to deal with some sort of verbal confrontation. It was painful to watch, and when he brought it up to them, and they stuttered back an embarrassed response, he realized it was well out of their control. It would still bug him, and he might make an off-handed comment about it every once in a while, but the more he saw that those comments weren’t funny to his partner, the more they glared at him as he laughed at his own rude jokes, he decided he should refrain from such talk. Lone hadn’t developed a thick skin like most wastelanders he was used to, and certainly not like most raiders; and he would have to constantly remind himself of that. After his realization, he wouldn’t say a word about their stutter again, and God help anyone who did. You mention his partner’s stutter, you’ll probably have one too by the time he’s done with you. If you still even have a tongue, that is.  

FONV:

Arcade: 

     The doctor almost flinched at the feeling of Six’s fingers wrapping around his thumb the first time they did it, but he managed to keep his composure and simply utter a sarcastic comment in response to their sudden action. But when their stress passed, and they explained that it was a tic of theirs that they had trouble controlling, he immediately understood. Not only was he a doctor (so you know, he has pretty extensive knowledge regarding things of this nature) but he’s also had his own lovely tangles with anxiety in the past, and can’t really blame Six for their habit (despite the fact that he has absolutely no tics of his own to deal with). However, his understanding of it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make some sort of humorous comment on the action whenever it occurs. At Six’s annoyed expression he says that he is simply trying to lighten the mood a bit, maybe distract them with his humorous musings. Six thinks he must not have a clue that he exercises his own coping mechanism (ahem, sarcasm) whenever their gesture makes him uncomfortable, so they end up trying to keep themself from grasping onto his thumb to the best of their abilities. But, to be honest, they’re relieved when Arcade begins reaching over his hand to them in times of stress, his eyes avoiding theirs, and his comments going unuttered, but his thumb extending outward to allow easy access nonetheless. This gesture usually results in a kiss on the cheek for the doctor when his partner has gotten through their bout of stress.

Boone: 

     He had noticed it when he first met the courier, the way they couldn't look him in the eye. Boone hadn't been sure if it was just him, considering his constant need to wear sunglasses and his somewhat stoic demeanor, or if it was the way they were with everyone, but either way, he didn’t mind in the slightest. When he found that it was a result of their anxiety, he simply nodded to them in understanding, and the pair went on their way. The sniper honestly wasn’t big on direct eye contact himself, another boon of wearing sunglasses was being able to keep your eyes trained wherever you liked, and so people tended not to notice his own habit of avoiding eye contact with them. He threw the idea out to Six one night, and soon enough the pair wore matching sunglasses nearly all the time. And though, as he said, he didn’t mind Six’s habit one bit, the knowledge that they only looked people in the eye when they felt completely comfortable and at ease with them made it all the more special when they did decide to look into his eyes when the pair was talking, or sharing a tender moment. In those little instances, Boone liked to study the details of his partner’s eyes, committing their warm and vibrant glow to memory, paying distinct attention to their unique shape, and the way their pupils dilated as they gazed back at him. He only wondered if they noticed his eyes doing the same in return as he took in the details of the one he loved.

Cass:  

     The caravaner always tends to offer some form of alcohol to Six whenever she sees their leg shaking in such a way. Cass is familiar with the side effects of withdrawal when she sees them, and she'll try to help her partner to the nearest drink as soon as she can. When Six finally asks her about why it is that she offers alcohol to them when they’re feeling stressed, mentioning that it maaaaaay not be the most healthy coping mechanism for anxiety, she is a bit confused. They were anxious!? Strange, she only tends to shake like that when she hasn't had a drink in a while. With the knowledge that it’s a nervous tic of theirs, Cass uses it to her advantage to better tell when her partner needs to take a load off, or blow off some steam. At the sight of their leg thrumming away, she’ll give their thigh a pat to get their attention, and then ask if there’s anything she can do to help them. As luck would have it, a stiff drink does tend to give Six the time to calm their nerves, so that trend isn’t completely abandoned once Cass has found out the truth about Six’s habit.

Raul:

     "What's the matter, boss? Can’t find the right word? Lo siento, mi corazón, English isn't my best language, but I can try and help if you want." Raul is… confused at first. Whenever Six snaps their fingers, he can't seem to figure out if they're trying to find the right word to say, or if they happen to be looking for something, maybe they're trying to keep time, or make a beat? Maybe they’re counting something, trying to remember a phrase? Once they tell him it’s just a nervous tic they have, Raul looks a little embarrassed at the fact that he didn’t assume this earlier on. The ghoul tries not to pay much attention to his partner’s habit, since he knows it must make them a little self conscious when people point it out, but sometimes he can't help but snap along, trying to make a little song to go along with their own improvised rhythm. When Six does finally notice his contribution, Raul just likes to wink at them in response, flashing a playful little smile as they blush in embarrassment at the fact that he caught them doing their nervous tic.

Veronica:

     When Veronica noticed that her partner had pierced ears, she was ecstatic. Ecstatic, and jealous. She always wanted to pierce her ears, to find or make her own pretty little earrings to decorate herself with, but alas, ear piercings were certainly not within the limits of Brotherhood dress and decorum. Given her interest in them, it’s no surprise that she noticed the way Six twisted the backs between their fingers, twiddling the bits of jewelry absent-mindedly whenever they became stressed or nervous. Often times, Veronica would reach a hand out to gently pry their fingers from their earring, pulling their hand to her lips so she could give it a small kiss before bringing it to settle somewhere else, to keep them from damaging the little bits of jewelry in their ears that she envied so much. 

[believerindaydreams]

me: oh I guess I'm doing that Survival fanfic I always wanted to do

Me: sweet

Meat's soft. Soft, with blood in.

Others don't think that's strange, they're hungry so they're eating. I'm hungry, but this seems wrong.

She pushes me towards the body, cuts into the flank. Strips come away soft amd juicy, my mouth waters.

We had a hard fight downing this one. He had to shoot, he doesn't do that so much now. Doesn't need to with blood-sight. We can take things other ways now.

Sun's hot. Gets in my eyes funny, with these glasses.

Glass. Yes.

That seems funny, they'll just block my blood-sight. I shake my head, trying to get them off.

It's hard, until I lie down and catch them on a rib spur; then they come away and I feel light, the sun's brighter than ever.

He doesn't like it, though. He bites them in his teeth, pokes them at my face. I move away; he growls in his throat.

She nuzzles him, takes the things- she's clever in ways we aren't, always poking and prodding with her hands. Now she knocks over sour drink on the glass, licks them clean.

Everything is much clearer when she puts them back on me.

He grunts, presses happily against me. He's warm and protective, makes sure we're safe. Loved.

But the meat, there's still something wrong there. I whimper, push it away.

She doesn't understand, tries to encourage me by eating herself; but he can see there's no moving me. He coughs a few times.

"You're gonna have to say what's wrong."

"I'm not eating human flesh!"

He squeals in his throat, drags her away from the meat. She looks puzzled at him, a tender bit dangling from her mouth.

Words don't seem to matter so much now I've said them. I find a dog steak in a pouch and settle down to gnaw it.

*****

Silly boys. Silly, silly boys, making a fuss about nothing.

They aren't tired and dead-looking any more, they're healthy and sleep soundly. Long still favors one arm, Short is healing from the fight I had with him, but I can see them recovering every day.

We'll fight anything that fights back, the blood-sight likes it. I think it knows we need it; and it needs us, to catch for it. We eat the meat, it takes the deaths.

It doesn't like the words, though. The words are like the ice on the water, you have to keep running or you'll find out what's underneath. I want it to stay cold, always.

The silly boys, they want to find out. I guess they will. When they find a scent, they track it home.

But I can try to help them be strong enough to survive it.

*****

Christine

There really isn't anything worth staying for, at this point.

What's left of Rivet City isn't worth speaking of, and Nacochtank had been flattened comprehensively even before a giant robot collapsed on top of it. The survivors- there had been more than she'd expected, mostly due to a good evacuation program having been carried out at the first sign of Liberty Prime- have scattered, mostly to the Temple of the Union. There's a Followers tent there now, according to Three Dog, and that one she suspects won't be going anywhere.

Some of the others went to Megaton, a few hardy survivors to Point Lookout. They took what they could with them; the site has been looted bare down to scrap metal.

She's moved into a subway car in the Anacostia station, ready to bring her to the Pacific Flyer whenever she's ready.

She isn't ready. For the first time in her life she is directionless, weightless; and the course of the conflict so eagerly reported on radio is one in which she takes only academic interest. They'll find her if they want her.

Perhaps she'll kill them if they do, and move on; waiting here forever, a ghost haunting its own corpse.

She shakes the thought away, and leaves the car's tranquil safety for one more midnight patrol. Just to be on the safe side.

It's good she does. The trio she finds curled up near the old Mutant camp are cold, shivering miserably in the ocean winds.

"Gannon? Arcade Gannon?"

He twitches at his name, then tries to bite her. She leaps back, startled.

"You remember me. Christine Royce. I know you, I know Boone. We're friends."

She keeps her tone even, unhurried, as though she's talking to an animal. He seems to respond to that, moving towards her in the cautious crouch-sneak that any Mojave fighter could do in their sleep, but now unpleasantly reminds her of a creature from the Divide. They hadn't seemed human any longer either.

"I have a fire at my camp. Clean water, food. Would you follow me, do you know how?"

He pauses. Shakes the others awake, with hands instead of teeth; so he looks nearly normal doing it.

Christine repeats her offer, patiently and slowly. To her surprise, it's Boone who replies.

"Okay. They're gonna need help."

"What kind of help?"

"Got deeper into the blood-sight than I did. Gonna take time for them to come out."

He fumbles in a pocket, pulls out a cracked and badly abused pair of sunglasses. She doesn't ask why he wants them at night.

Veronica would have asked.

They get back to the subway car, more quickly than she would have expected- they're in good shape, whatever else is happening to them- and she arranges a nest of subway cushions for them. At least it's warm down here.

They're all three unexpectedly thirsty, and make inroads on her purified water that won't be easy to replace, but never mind. Food's accepted too. Boone whacks Arcade with a spoon when the latter tries eating mirelurk cake with his fingers; he looks confused for a moment, then accepts and uses the utensil.

"You better all remember that shitting is an outdoor sport," Christine mutters.

Carla makes an indignant sound. "I'm from a vault."

If not for certain prior experiences, she would have no patience with this whatsoever; but seeing as she has, the knowledge that they retain some language makes her change her mindset, looking for communication instead of threats. By that metric, what she's witnessing is almost unsettling; there are significant looks, grimaces, no end of small touches. If she hadn't regained her voice, had been forced to interact with Veronica in other ways, it might have turned out like this.

Terrific. Boone's apparently figured out how to spread his morose lack of speech; she can only hope it isn't contagious.

"You three going to be all right there for the night?"

Nobody says anything.

"Okay. I'm going to sleep now."

The situation probably should keep her awake, but she's too old a campaigner for that.

***

When she wakes up again, it's later than she would normally have slept, and Arcade has stolen her best frying pan for mutfruit pancakes.

"Good morning. I'm sorry if we're dipping into your supplies too much, but we had a look around and you seemed to be the only source of supply."

"You'd be correct about that. Also- using words now, I see?"

Arcade flips a pancake onto a plate, starts oiling the pan for another. "Coming out of- call it a fugue state. We'd all been through a bit too much, too many nightmares piled on too fast. Something had to give for a bit, at least temporarily."

"Doesn't seem to have affected you much."

He cracks a smile. "I was getting to miss linguistics. Not that there's much need or opportunity for it while travelling through a barren hellscape whose main feature of interest is roving Deathclaws."

There's a knock on the door; it turns out to be Carla, with an armful of sack.

"We're in luck. Nobody did touch the safe I buried, score one for me distrusting tents as storage- here, catch. It's your doctoral thesis."

Arcade fumbles it, but picks up the book and hugs it affectionately. "You're a marvel, Carla."

"And Boone's beret- not the one I made, just the generic one the NCR gave him. Happily-" she pulls something heavy out of the sack. "I can make a new one with my sewing machine, if I can get some decent material. And we have some caps."

"I hope it's a lot of them," Christine says, feeling slightly odd that she's delivering good news for once. "Manny and your daughter are at Point Outlook, you can still get there by riverboat."

Carla screams ecstatically and runs out.

"Ah. Okay."

"Boone's trying to salvage what happened to his guns after a lot of shooting but forgetting to repair them. Hearing Daisy's alive may be the only piece of news capable of clearing that funk- do you want your pancakes crispy or plump?"

"Make it half and half."

It hadn't occurred to her that she might be as broken in her own way, as they had been in theirs; but when Arcade casually asks that afternoon if she'd care to accompany them to Point Lookout, she says yes.

Veronica, she thinks, would want her to carry on.

And look after this terribly accident-prone Follower.