#courier 6:bullet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snail-eggs · 2 months

Note

KISSING DOWN THE GD BODY BOONESIX YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO 🔥🔥

pairing: Craig Boone/Courier 6 (F!OC)

warnings: smut. sex. they finally fuck. are you happy, Rags? you've created a monster. Seriously though, this is my first attempt at smut. That's a warning on its own.

divider by @/saradika

There’s something off about this. About the way Six looks as she’s counting their remaining bullets in the divot in her lap. She looks more alive than she has the past few days, despite the bags under her eyes growing worse and worse by the day.

The house around them is falling apart. Foundation groaning with every strong gust of wind. He taps his boot against the steel bed frame. Rust flakes off. He has no idea how it’ll carry his weight, let alone both of theirs. Boone’ll let her take it tonight, he thinks. She needs the sleep more than him, even if her pseudo-prophetic dreams keep her from getting any real rest.

What he doesn’t know, however, is that it isn’t just visions of tornadoes, swirling around the irradiated dirt and leaving nothing in their wake that’s haunting her. No, more recently, it's his hands. Six hasn’t been able to stop thinking about his hands. Looking at them. At the way they grip his rifle, pull the trigger just so. The way his hands clench, knuckles turning white when she’d asked one question too many.

She wonders how they’d feel in her own. If his white-knuckled grasp would really hurt. She doesn’t think so, though. Not so long as he’s holding her. When it really comes down to it, Six thinks, all she wants is to feel him. If it hurts, then it hurts. So be it.

Six looks up at him now from her spot on the floor. Bathed in the warm wasteland glow, he looks like something else entirely. Something not Boone—closer to the approximation of him that lives in her head and nowhere else. Lives deep in her chest too, she supposes. Close to her heart. And in her chest, her heart thumps hard against her ribs. Six can feel it in her throat. She swallows hard when he looks back; looks her right in the eyes in that precise, cutting way he always does. And maybe it's a trick of the light or the lack of sleep, but she sees something else there too. Something that softens the edge of his gaze. Her heart beats faster.

This adrenaline rush isn’t new. Odd, sure, but not new. Six can recall having felt it precisely once before. With Benny. At the Tops, on his bed after too many drinks, roughly fourteen months after he’d shot her in the head. But she wasn’t scared then, not at all. Guesses that means she isn’t scared now, either. Just nervous.

Boone has never made her nervous, though. Not back in Dinky’s mouth when he’d pointed his rifle right in between her eyes, not ever.

Except for now, in this rotting house, sitting at the foot of some disgusting bed. Staring.

Six has forgotten all about the bullets now. They lay scattered on the floor, less than a handful still resting in her palm. There’s a flash of concern in Boone’s face then. He leans his rifle against the wall. Drops down to his knees right in front of her and begins to pick up the bullets in between Six’s legs like it's nothing. Like he isn’t so close. Her jaw clenches.

“You need to sleep,” he’s tossing the bullets back into the box by the handful. His fingers brush against the ones in her palm. Hesitate for a moment before he grabs them up like all the others. “Look like you’re gonna keel over any second.”

Her hands move of their own accord, cup Boone’s face on either side and tilt his head up to face her head-on. He’s deathly still—every muscle in his body tensed. Six runs her thumb back and forth on the rough skin of his cheek. Boone isn’t breathing, she thinks. He’s staring at her apprehensively. Like at any second, she’ll draw a knife and stab him right in the gut. Her eyes flit from his wary green eyes down to his lips. They linger there, long enough for Boone to notice. He inhales deep, exhales loudly. Their eyes meet again.

Boone takes her by the back of the neck, faster than she can process. Pulls Six in and collides his mouth against hers .Its bruising—all wrong and still, neither of them break away. He can’t remember what it's like to kiss somebody—to really kiss somebody. Hasn’t so much as entertained the thought. Not after Carla. But now with Six’s lips pressed against his, it feels like second nature to have her so close. Feels like this is how it's supposed to be. He leans into her, the remaining bullets in his hand falling to the ground and he couldn’t care less about them.

Six is halfway to having her back pressed against the dirty, splintering hardwood when his fingers find themselves tangled in her short brown locks and she pulls away. “Boone,” it's breathless, the way she says it. Nearly quieter than a whisper. She studies him as best she can from so close. Hasn’t ever seen him like this—so desperate. Hungry for more. Boone presses his forehead against hers. Leans into her, wordlessly begging to continue this—whatever this is.

“Six.”

“Still want me to go to sleep now?”

And he chuckles earnestly before leaning in to kiss right under her jaw. Six’s breath hitches. She can feel Boone smile against her skin. He coaxes her back, tugs at her hair before he has her flush against the ground. It didn’t feel like this with Benny. Not even close. Six’s hands move down from his face to his chest; she clutches his shirt in a vice grip. Doesn’t think she ever wants to let go.

Her heart is beating out of her chest now, more so than before. She never imagined she’d have him this close, feeling the calluses on his hands run under her shirt; his fingertips digging into the skin of her waist like his life depends on it. Never thought she’d whimper at the pressure, only wanting more.

This is dangerous territory they’ve crossed into. Despite the arousal muddling her thoughts as Boone grazes her collar bone with his teeth, Six wonders what comes after this. Nothing good, surely. She stares up at the ceiling, half hyperventilating now. He tugs at her shirt. She lets him take it off. Whatever the consequences are, they’re not worth losing Boone. Losing what she has with him.

And yet.

She’s got her hands on his shoulders now, beckoning him down further. His hands are starting to mess with the button of her pants. Six gasps—no, whines as he presses a chaste kiss to her abdomen. Then he stops. With her pants unbuttoned, zipper down as far as it’ll go, Boone leans back onto his knees. Takes in the sight of her before him. Looks a little spooked, even, and the sight makes Six smile. A laugh escapes her throat unwillingly. Boone watches her fondly through his heavy-lidded gaze. Runs his hand up and down her still-clothed thigh. The sun’s rays bleed through the windows as it sets. Light’s waning and he can still see those intense bags under her eyes better than anything else. His cock stirs in his pants watching the heaving of her bare chest. He doesn’t understand the scope of this—doesn’t want to consider the consequences—all he knows is that he has never wanted anyone more than he wants Six right now and it's killing him. It's been killing him since their last night at the Tops when he’d watched her disappear with Benny into his room for what he’s sure was a piss-poor fuck. Really he would have been fine with anyone else but Benny—never really thought he’d be in this position anyway. Something about it made his skin crawl. The thought of Benny running his hands all over Six’s body after what he did to her. After he shot her in the head and left her to die in Goodsprings like a dog.

Boone might not be deserving of Six, but Benny is even less so.

If it has to be anyone, Boone sure as hell isn’t mad that it’s him. He’s fucking psyched about it actually—as psyched as Boone can realistically be about anything. He pulls his shirt over his head, unbuckles his belt with fervor and tosses it to the side.

Six arches a brow, looks him up and down. She’s amused and he’s not entirely sure why. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “You’re—you’re really pretty right now.”

“Pretty?”

“Handsome. Whatever. Cut me some slack, I don’t do this.”

“Six, we can stop if you—”

“Fuck off, I never said that.” Six reaches up, brings him in close and presses a gentle, languid kiss to his lips. Words catch in her throat when they pull apart. Words she can’t quite place. Only knows the tug she feels in her chest when they’re eye to eye. She’d stay like this forever if she could.

Tongues gliding against each other’s, Boone grinds his hips into Six’s. She’s half starved with the way she’s gripping at him in any way she can. These messy, open-mouthed kisses aren’t enough. Having his body pressed against hers isn’t enough. No, she’d need to be in his skin to be satisfied. Though she’ll settle for the next best thing.

She reaches down, palms his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Boone groans into her mouth. He’s breathless now, desperate.

When they fuck, its slow. He’s got one of her thighs held up against his hip as he drives himself into her at an agonizing pace. Being with Boone is nothing like how it was with Benny. There’s something fundamentally different about this, she thinks as she stifles her moan in the crook of his neck. Maybe Boone is just better at fucking—she doesn’t entirely doubt that—or maybe she’s just more present now that she’s not drunk off her ass.

Benny was fun. Quick, but fun. They’d fumbled and laughed and drank but god, it was nothing like this. She’s almost glad it wasn’t. Glad she’s feeling this way with Boone instead.

Her walls clench around him. The room’s completely dark now—Six has no clue how long they’ve been at this. She’s closer to the brink with every second that passes. Her breathing is becoming erratic—so are Boone’s thrusts. She comes loud and hard, nails digging crescent-shaped craters into his back. It doesn’t take long for him to follow. He pulls out, spills all over the inside of her thigh.

She gets as good a look at him as she can in the darkness. Stares him in those tired eyes, knowing hers must look leagues worse. Six opens her mouth to speak but the words are held hostage by some unseen force yet again. She kisses him on the forehead instead. Smiles and nods over to the bed right beside them.

“Sleep with me?”

Boone shakes his head at her. Cups her cheek with his hand. The way he’s looking at her scares her. She doesn’t know she’s looking at him the exact same way.

“I’ll sleep with you.”

For the first time in weeks, Six is not haunted by visions of tornadoes or of Boone’s hands. Instead she finds herself in a deep, dreamless sleep with Boone right by her side.

By her side where he belongs.

#snail mail #vide0-nasties #ship: boone x six #craig boone fanfic #boone x courier #fallout new vegas fanfic

31 notes · View notes

nukabrain · 29 days

Text

Confession Series, Benny

Benny Gecko x Courier 6

“If you get together with me, you’ll be the first person to shoot a person in the head, and then date them later, and bragging rights too! Not everyone can shoot me and get away with it.”

Hello, nukabrain here, I decided to start a series where I go a bit beyond the "hey I was hoping we can be more than friends." cause what the hell is that. I wanted more! Of course there will be special cases, like Benny from FNV and Nick Valentine (ofc). Requests from other Fallout characters that are not companions will be accepted, but will be put on the back of my list. I don't write a lot, so it will take some time (also sorry for bad writing, trying to get back into the grove again. NOT PROOFREADED I WAS IN RUSH OK-

“Ugh, this trip was exhausting. If it weren’t for you sweet-talking them out of a high price, we probably would've been gunned down.”

Benny gave me a weird look. “But you would win against them anyway, right? You’re just saying that so you have a reason to take me on your trips.”

“True, but it saves me bullets, y’know!” I huffed, crossing my arms in protest. “So you’re coming with me on the next trip.”

Benny went to unlock the suite doors to head to the bar, grabbing the first thing off the shelf and pouring himself a glass. “You know the caps they received aren’t yours?”

“Yup!” I plopped on the nearest stool.

He let out a sigh of defeat, “Still don’t know why you haven’t shot me yet.”

I gave it a good thought before opening my mouth.

“Why waste a bullet-” “Why waste a bullet- HEY! If you knew the answer, why did you ask me?” :C

“Baby, you’re so predictable. Maybe I actually blew your brains out and it's just a hollow hole up there,” Benny sighed, taking another gulp of liquor.

“It is NOT hollow up there. I mean, if it was, I wouldn’t love you.”

Benny stared at me blankly, took another shot of whiskey, and looked at me again.

“What in the goddamn? Are you right in the he- right you aren’t.”

“I mean what I said,” I laughed at his reaction. “If you get together with me, you’ll be the first person to shoot a person in the head, and then date them later, with bragging rights too! Not everyone can shoot me and get away with it.”

“You twisted fuck. I like women so I'm not sure what you're doing,” Benny shooed the courier away but snuck in a glace at the man before him

Benny took in the courier’s dirty hair, his lips looking very kissable, and his eyes looking straight at him-

Maybe it’s the liquor.

He shook his head.

“Not happening, kid.”

“You were thinking about it!” I leaned closer to him.

“Was not.”

“Was too!”

Benny turned around in protest.

“Fine, I was. Are you happy?”

Courier's face instantly sparkled, to the point Benny thought he was staring at a second sun.

“Try not to smile so wide, baby. You might break your mout-.”

He was suddenly cut off with a quick kiss on the lips.

“I’m very happy you thought about it,” the courier whispered, holding his face.

Benny stared at him blankly.

“Oh fuck, kiss me again.”

Courier did not need to be told twice as he kissed him deeper, holding his waist and neck. When they went for air, the courier instantly loosened Benny’s tie, leaving a trail of kisses down the neck, and sucking on the collarbone, leaving a dark mark.

The man let out a sharp sigh, as his skin felt like it was on fire.

Before they could go any further, someone knocked on the door. Benny instantly got up and fixed his tie.

“Y-Yes? What the fuck do you need? I’m a bit busy here.”

“Sorry, boss, but there’s something you should double-check downstairs.”

Benny grumbled some unsavory words before giving a reply.

“Fine. Give me a minute.”

As the footsteps faded away, Benny finger-combed his hair a bit before getting up.

“Hey, so that’s a yes, right?” I asked, smirking.

“Baby, of course, it’s a yes. Otherwise, you would’ve been shot in the head twice.”

I laughed and gave him a kiss, which Benny grumpily took in.

Bonus:

“Hey, boss, are you really dating the courier that you shot?”

“Yeah, wh- hey, how the fuck did you find out?”

The henchman just pointed to the courier skipping happily, saying, “Ben-ny is my boy-friend,” in a sing-songy voice.

“Goddamnit.”

FOR MY POOKIE @songsaa

#fnv #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #benny #benny gecko #amater writing #nukabrain #how do i write smut scenes #helpe me #rushed by little brother pestering

18 notes · View notes

ziracona · 7 months

Text

Playing OWB, I always knock out lobotomites because they're victims, instead of kill them. Which sucks, because I only have boxing tape on me. It ain't easy :'-) but I've had several weird what must be glitch encounters with ones that are marked hostile but quit attacking now, and my experiences got me thinking about story stuff in OWB, so a little piece from the POV of a lobotomite experiencing my Courier 6. Which is a very interesting and fragmented pov to write, but I liked doing something very different.

I see something leaving the big house.

They come one by one usually, the ones not like us. They hurt us. Always.

Everything here hurts.

So, we kill them. We stop them.

One of us makes a sound in his throat, nods towards the shape. We’re all alert with the sound, turn to look. Take out weapons.

I draw my gun. My fingers know the trigger. Know the barrel like it’s another finger. I aim at the shape. It walks towards us and pauses at the top of the stairs, sees us see it. Takes a step back.

Good. Maybe an easy fight for us then.

The man who pointed the figure out charges, drawing his spear. Another of us runs with him, saturnite fist ready. I stay back behind, and shoot.

I hit it. I see my bullet clip the shoulder. The thing cries out and falls back a step. Somehow, not hurt bad. Armor, I guess. We don’t have it. I have the dress they give at a hospital. I don’t remember what I had before.

It makes me angry, so I walk closer, keep shooting.

My companions reach it, and I see them fighting. I see the figure has a gun on their hip, a spear at their back. But, they don’t draw the gun. No bullets maybe? They hit, bare fists. Pound, pound, pound. Crack, crack, crack.

Cuts open up on them, along their face and body, their back, their hands. They jam something into their side and fall back a step, and I see cuts close like magic. They’re afraid though. Eyes big. Surely, just fists against us, we must win.

But we don’t. It fights fast, hard, and above all, with stamina. It won’t go down. Heals itself again and again somehow, and hits and hits until the leader goes down. I feel a pang of fear. The second goes down a few seconds later, a fast upper-cut from this things. Then it turns to me.

I feel real fear. But. Surely. I must win, against this? A human. Wrapped fists. Nothing else.

It meets my eyes, and I see determination. It rushes me.

Panic. I fire, I fire, I fire. I know I hit it. A bullet even grazes its head. But then it’s on me, and a fist finds my face.

Pain. Hurts, bad. I lose strength from it. I keep trying to shoot, and I hit it, even so close, but it hits me too. Crack, Crack, Crack.

I feel myself breaking down. It gets me in the head, and I’m gone.

I think ‘I have died?’

Fear.

Then I’m gone.

Only. I’m…not?

I…wake up.

Not sure when. …Later. It’s gone now.

I sit up, head aches, confused. Why? Must have thought I was dead, I guess. But, I reach for my gun. It’s gone. Stolen. But everything else is here. My cloth I wear, my head strap I can’t get off, the lighter I picked up. And…an apple?

Confused more, I feel it in the gown pocket, take it out.

Fresh. Fresh apple. Smells…good? I take a bite, because I am hungry. It tastes good too.

Amazing. Usually all I eat is meat from something killed, or maybe old spoils found. Stale chip, can of beans, or if very lucky, these cakes of falling apart breads with sugars in tiny boxes. This is fresh, like it’s not old at all. Pretty, bright red.

I eat it all. Around me, I see the other two get up too. Alive. One takes out a pear. Confused too. I think about fighting him for the pear, but I haven’t finished my apple, and he eats the pear by the time I do. The other has an apple too. We eat. We move on.

I see the human again, same day maybe. Later. Far away from the big dome now. It’s leaving one of the smaller houses, full of horrible things. I see it from a distance and don’t know it’s the same one. Just hear fighting. I’m with different members of the group, and they run off. I follow. We see the figure fighting off the snakedogs. It has a big fist, like a saturnite fist, but bigger. It’s punching off their heads. I don’t recognize it. Just the saturnite fist weapon, and that it isn’t one of us. I draw my gun, and start shooting. The other two rush in, hoping to get to it while some of the snakedogs are up, so it will be more overwhelmed.

It sees us coming. I watch its head snap up. See panic through the visor I can’t take off. It hurries to turn, punch a snakedog. The head comes off. Last one. Turns to face the others of my group as they reach it, and I see it let go of the fist. Drop the big, powerful thing on the ground, and swing an empty fist at the one of us with a flaming sword.

Then I recognize it. I think ‘So strange. Lost its good weapon?’ and I remember. I remember, from this morning, and I see it closer and see it has the same long blue coat on, red hat.

I am not mad by the armor this time. I am confused. Curious. Still nervous too. Have to kill it before it kills us. I shoot, watching, to see how it heals. See if it can walk off bullets more. See if it keeps hitting.

It does. Keeps taking out little white…things. Like scissors. Some of me thinks ‘that’s a heal’ but what that means? I don’t know. It is a heal though. Makes flaming knife cuts go away. Good for it, because it takes punishment I couldn’t believe. Hits back with little wrapped fists. Crack, crack, crack. Hit, hit, hit. I hear, I see. I watch my people go down.

I hesitate as it turns, bloody, and rushes me again, breathing hard. I remember to keep firing. It knocks the gun out of my hand and I look down in surprise. Blink. It hits me. I hit back. Panic now. Remember it will kill me. Hit, hit, hit, but it hits harder. I go out.

I think, ‘I died.’

But, I wake up. Again. Before me, the other two are already up. Starting to stand, and looking for weapons gone now. I look for my new gun, sad. Know the thing took it again. It did. But there’s an apple. Fresh. My pocket, again. Pink apple this time. I hold it and smell it. Think ‘where it gets the apples?’ And eat it.

So good. Even better than red apple.

The others have things too. The knife companion takes out a drink. Fights a while before biting off the cap, and drinks it. I am very jealous. Almost jump him for it. Too busy thinking. Other has apple too.

I think hard.

Wonder.

I see it again, going to find a new gun. On my way out, I hear guns, and I follow, careful. Haven’t got new gun for me yet. Very hard like that to stay alive.

But, there it is. Blue coat, bright red hat. Tall. I see it shooting snake dogs again. Shooting the skeletons in the suits that help us sometimes. A dog with robot legs jumps it, and it punches that one. Interesting. I am curious.

Once it leaves, I sneak up, look at the dog.

No apples…

I keep following.

I see some of us attack it soon. Another group. I think about helping, but, I want apples. I don’t want to get hit again, though. So, this is my idea.

It hits them, like it hit me. It gets hurt, bad, doing it. But keeps healing. Keeps hitting. And, it wins.

After, it breathes hard. I hear it talking to itself. Sounds like a woman, maybe. Not close enough to hear it well. It spotted me once, so I’m careful now. Still no new gun, you know? Got to be careful.

I sneak little closer though. Watch.

It puts its big saturnite but bigger fist back on, wipes blood off forehead. Walks over to the unconscious bodies it fought, and I see it take their guns, their spears. Leaves bugglegum, leaves a drink, leaves a pear. An apple.

After trading food for gun or knife, it goes on. Once it’s gone on enough, I sneak over. I pick up the stuff it left. I take the gum and put it in my gown pocket. I eat the pear. I open the drink and it hurts my teeth, but it’s worth it. So good! A part of me tastes it, and I want to..cry?

Confused, I stop walking. Look down at it. Drink a little more.

I think ‘sarsaparilla,’ but, I don’t know what sarsaparilla is. Something in me very desperate asks me to know, but I don’t remember. It’s a brown word, and a sweet word. Spicy. A tree? I try, but I know I am wrong. I sit, hold the drink. Drink it slow between two rocks, hidden safe in a shadow. Hold sarsaparilla. There is a word on the bottle. Can’t read it, but I trace it with finger. Think. Girl on the bottle—picture. I almost remember something, but…

It hurts too much. Can’t. Put head in hands, breathe. Pain goes away. I keep drinking. In head, I see a picture of a tree that isn’t there. I sit beneath it in my head. I drink this in my head too, but a different one. It’s a good feeling, but, sad.

I don’t understand why.

Tree smells. Like…sarsaparilla? Brain says ‘pine.’ Not sarsaparilla. But I can’t remember ‘pine.’ Good word. Green word.

I get up.

I keep the apple. I hold it in pocket, and take out to smell. But don’t eat. Saving it. Save the bottle too, to smell. Smells like sarsaparilla and thinking about green pine words.

I chew the gun thoughtful, and try to find blue coat again.

I find her pretty slow this time. So fast! Unbelievable. All the way across the empty, she is sneaking. I run into her—almost for real. See her slide against a wall and hold breath when I almost step on her. I don’t want punched unconscious again. Too much hurt, even for apple. Besides. I have apple. If she sees it, what if she doesn’t leave new one too? So I pretend not to see. Keep walking.

Mutter, like she did alone.

She buys it.

Very proud, I walk around a ways, then sneak back.

Hah!

Worked. Very, very well. She is sneaking off towards the big robots. NO clue I sneak after!

Hmmm…Big robots…

I am nervous. Those will shoot me. I got new gun off a box, but not great gun. Big robots sometimes shoot missiles. Besides, she won’t leave apple on big robots, so nothing to get.

Still, I follow. Too interested now.

I see her checking out already dead robot, poking at stuff. Hm. Closer, I see her wipe forehead, and past bangs, she has head marks almost like mine. But, not one of us… We would be able to tell. Can always tell. And, she doesn’t act like…? Must be wrong?

Hm.

Some of us hear her poking around. I pull back, and watch her fight in fascination. Some of the big robots hear the commotion as she hits my people off her, and they come running too. Uh-oh, I think, because they will shoot right through us. To surprise, I see her panic too. She looks ‘uh-oh’ at them, and shoves one of us off her. She snags gun off her shoulder, big, long rifle, and shoots a robot. It falls, but two more come. I see one of us take bullets from it and stumble back. She sees too, runs towards the shot man, and moves between him and robot. I see her get shot. She takes it like she does, and shoots the robot twice. It falls. One left. But she pauses, to look back at the man. He’s alive. Confused. And hitting her with his saturnite fist. She grimaces, falls forward, misses a shot at robot, and ignores him. Shoots robot. All three of my kind attacking her are still up, and one shoots her, knocks off aim.

Uh-oh, I think, more worry in the uh-oh. She is not doing as well.

Still, she ignores the man shooting her. Takes shot at robot, using free hand to block a hit from the spear the last member of their group has. Robot goes down this time.

Bloody and relieved, she turns, frantically starts hitting them. Amazed, I watch. She takes down all three.

Bloody, barely able to stand, she huffs. Grabs a chunk of broken concrete, and slides to ground against it. Sits there, tilts head back.

“This is the worst,” she says mournful.

Tired, she raises her wrist. What I thought was another, broken saturnite fist is on her left arm. She raises it. Taps it. I hear sound come out of it. Songing.

I remember…this sound.

Been…I think a long time.

Woman’s voice, but not her, plays from the arm. Says words my ears don’t know anymore. But, says not many words. I like that. Same words keep being said. ‘Night.’ ‘Your.’ ‘We.’ ‘Where.’ ‘When.’ ‘Begin.’

I don’t remember ‘night.’ Don’t remember ‘begin.’ Don’t remember…’when, where.’ I remember ‘we.’ We is…me, plus someone else. Me and someone.

I am proud; I remember.

I never remember.

But I know ‘We.’

She has no we though, unless it is the woman with song in her wrist. Many of us, just one of her.

I listen to the song too. She sings with it, quiet, just a few words. Just the last words, holding the last one long, much longer than the song. She turns off the thing on her wrist, but holds the song word. Then sighs, lets it go.

Stands alone, looks at the bodies.

Odd expression on her face. I wonder with a strange chest feeling, from where I hide in shadows, if she will get angry and crush them under her feet.

She does not.

Takes their weapons, slower than before, wincing as she stoops. Leaves a drink, leaves a cake box, leaves an apple.

I follow her for the next two days.

Sometimes, I lose her. She will go in a building, and I will not do that. Too many monsters. She maybe can be shot 400 times. I die if shot 400 times. I do not want a plant to eat me. I do not want to be explosion’d by robot.

Sometimes, she is just so fast, I lose her.

But, she is very loud. Thankful for that. Never lose her for too long.

I eat a lot of delicious apples.

Always keep one on me, too, to look at. To smell.

If I find the drink that smells like green word ‘pine’ and the brown word thought ‘sarsaparilla,’ I drink it, and keep the bottle to smell, replace the last with it.

She does the same thing, always. Will kill snakedogs. Kill robots, kill suits with skeletons, kill scorpions, kill bugs. Kills robot dog if scared. Never kills us.

Don’t know why. Won’t, though. Always takes weapons, always knocks out with wrapped fists, always leaves a little gift.

I don’t know if the gift is trade, or maybe, I think, ‘sorry’? Can’t remember what it means, but it makes sense. It thinks in my head like ‘backing off’ a little maybe. It seems right?

I don’t know for sure. I keep following. Sometimes, if she thinks she is alone, she turns on the song. It is not always that song, but that song she hears the most. It’s the best, because the others are too fast with too much words. That one is slow, very few words, very short, and a word I know. I like to hear it.

A couple times, she spots me, and I have to run away. She doesn’t chase if I do, though, so no more punching. Good, because head still hurts a little from before. Girl punches hard…

Day two, late, she sees me and I run and she calls out. I keep running till I’m far, and check to see if she is watching. She is. Standing still, staring at me. I pause. She crouches, puts out her hands, palms to me. No weapon. I know her fists are weapons though. Very painful.

I watch still, interested. Look back. She calls again, soft. Motions towards herself.

I think she is trying to lure me back.

Too smart, I don’t do that. I keep running, hide.

Sneak back after a few minutes, from a side. Still, she is watching where I went, head tilted.

Strange look on her face. Sad and not sad at same time.

I think about that.

Third day.

I see her fight many things.

Robot scorpions (10), many of us (many), big robots (4), different kind of big robot (2), skeleton suits (forgot to count), green plant monster (2, very bad), snakedog (18 maybe).

Good day for me. Lots of food. Found a glowing drink. Maybe saw god after drinking it. Was funny again for a minute too.

Felt very happy.

I like following her. Very interesting to do. Different. I forgot about different. Different is not very safe, but is other things. Like full of food.

She is doing better. Avoids places with big robots mostly now. Sneaks more. Walks on the big pipes a lot, which makes harder to follow her because if I do, she sees me and have to hide. Still, I am better at following now too. Getting pretty skilled.

And then, she gets too close to us.

I don’t realize, because I watch her, not where she goes. But we get close to the cave. To home cave.

I don’t realize, until one of us runs past and sees me, and calls to me a sound I know. ‘Again!’ A call to fight. One of the words we remember.

I stand up automatic at the sound, then blink, see more and more of us. Not just from by me, from past too. Maybe eleven, twelve? So many. She was looking at a box, but hears us coming. Looks up and sees. Tries to run.

She can’t get past. Too many come in from the left side of the big rocks now, and there is nowhere up on the rocks to go. She doesn’t see how many are on my side yet. Starts trying to fight. We push her into a corner. I don’t realize I’ve followed until I’m at the edge of the group, watching up close as she punches one of us unconscious like before.

I am waiting for her to win and waiting for her to die. Different parts of memory both sure of outcome.

I feel nothing.

Just far far away.

Then I am shoved forward. I am close to her, watching. Right on her.

She is scared. Hits me. I fall back, surprised. Two jump her from behind with knives.

I see her heal herself, but too many of us from too many angles at once. We are winning for once.

She tries to push through and run.

Almost makes it, but one of us catches her on fire. Loses sight in the fire, loses footing. Falls. Snaps an ankle when she hits rock below. We go after her like a wave.

I think ‘she is going to die now,’ without anything beyond thought. Then I think ‘I can take all the apples off her if she dies.’

But. I don’t want them that way.

I am sure they will not taste so good if I take them off her pockets.

I am suddenly very frustrated.

If they kill her, the apples won’t be the same at all.

I push forward, push past.

They don’t fight me. We are all fighting her.

I see her struggling. Made it up to one foot. I see the gun at her hip. I see the bigger than a saturnite fist on her belt. I see the spear on her back. Still, she hits with fists. She got some of us, unconscious. But we are still five, and she is trying to heal as I get close. Jams the little white thing into her side as I reach her. One of the others hits her so hard, he knocks it out of her side, and she cries out. Not a sound like the song. I realize she is about to go down.

She sees me.

I hit her.

She falls, covered in blood from guns and knives and bruises from fists.

I go down on top of her.

The others make sounds. Want to see what she has too. I growl at them and snap, and they back off. They are all hurt from her punches, but she only hit me once. I have my gun.

I look back down at her as they back away, lose their interest.

I try to remember death and unconscious, the way to tell. Heart tells. Heartbeat.

I pick her up from shoulders, put my ear to chest, listen. There is a sound. Brain doesn’t think heartbeat sound, but what other sound in chest is there? Doesn’t matter, I think, because sound is alive. Dead is quiet.

That seems sure to me, so, relieved, I pick up the blue coat woman, and put her over a shoulder.

We are by my home, so I turn. The others ignore me now. I claimed the body, it’s mine. We bring meat home. We bring findings. We bring anything we want.

I pass into the cave, past the graves we put outside, past some of the things we keep. Past a few of the others inside, with their own beds and memories, and special things like my apple and my bottle, but not as good.

Keep walking, far in. Find my little bed. Raised bed, like a table, but soft. I think it was for hospital once, like my cloth I wear. I tap the dolls I hung from the post by the bed. It’s nice to be home.

Set her body on the bed table. Put ear to the chest again to be sure, but it makes its not quite heartbeat sound.

Good, I think, You are alive.

That’s alright then. She will get back up and leave apples. We keep going like before. All will be good.

I felt nervous, but now I feel okay.

Still, after a few minutes, she is still quiet. I listen several times. Chest sound is going. The blood from cuts stopped, but she is not waking up fast.

With time, I get curious. Poke around a little. Don’t go through pockets, because I don’t want to know how many apples. But I remember the marks I saw once, and I push back her hair.

I am right. There are cuts around her head too. I feel for my own. Mine still hurt. She has them, like all of us, and I am excited, then confused. If…she is one of us, why can’t we tell? Why we kill her? Why she fights us? I’m not remembering. We can just tell, with each other, if they are us. She is not. Not sure how I know. But I don’t know why now.

She has our marks though, I think, confused again. Marks, but not us. Strange.

Maybe she is broken.

I can’t remember where we got marks. I try, and shudder. My head says ‘don’t look.’ It scares me. Like the answer will kill me if I look behind the corner to see it. I quit looking.

Instead, I trace the marks on her head.

She makes a sound of pain, and scrunches her face. Her eyes open. She blinks, squints, finds me above her. I tilt my head, forget to be scared of punches. Relieved it didn’t take so long to not be dead.

Behind me, I hear an angry hiss.

I turn, and to surprise, there is one of the others. He gets close, trying to look past me. Sees the girl, and snaps at me. Anger, alarm. Pushes past.

I realize to surprise he is going to grab her.

“No!” I hiss back. Grab his arm, drag him hard to the side and shove back.

He falls, and drags himself up, angry. Others hear, come towards us. See her, start to hiss and shout. Start to try to get her too. I swing at the first who comes, and hit hard with body of my gun.

“Stop you!” I warn in a growl.

She is MINE! Why are they -?!

They do not stop. They come again, try to get at her. Hiss, growl, call out. I shove one, hit another.

“Stop you!” I shout louder. Behind me, I hear the girl move. Look, and see her trying to sit up.

I worry she will hit me too.

A gun crack. I turn, see one of us with a rifle. Look back, worried, as I hear her cry. She is holding an arm. New, fresh blood. No, no, no! She was so close to dead. More hits, she dies! No more anything!

Enraged, I raise my own gun. She will not kill us. I will. I shoot him.

I hit.

The others attack me then.

I shoot, I hit, and I don’t remember. Something gets me, hard, in the head, then another.

I go down.

I think very angry, very sad, it is not fair. Can’t remember why this is cruel. It is not right though. It’s…it’s….

Gone then.

I am sure I am dead this time.

But, I wake.

I think, fuzzy, ‘maybe a new apple.’ Feel relief.

Everything hurt.

But, something is good too. …The ground is good. I used to know it. It feels familiar. Like I could sleep here forever maybe.

I try and open my eyes, because that seems okay.

It’s harder than I think. Eyes feel heavy, tired. Head is wrong…er, than usual. Not sure why. Everything is fuzzying, like I am dying from no water, but in a way that feels warm and good. Like dying, if I liked it.

There is light, and as eyes start to work, I see blue coat looking down at me.

I am not so worried, because I know she will just hit me and leave an apple if she notices I am not dead.

I decide that is okay. Watch, stunted, as she moves. She sees me see her then. Stops fiddling with this thing above me, and turns to face.

“Hey,” her voice is soft, like water when I am hot in the sun, cools me, “You’re okay. Just hold still, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I don’t know the words. I think ‘you’ maybe is me. But not the rest. It feels familiar though. She doesn’t talk like she will bite. I am too fuzzy to care. Just blink eyes heavy, watch her. Something is stuck in my arm I notice, and I wonder if that will hurt me, but it’s hard to feel worried. Hard to feel anything but fuzzy.

“Can’t you do anything?” she asks something behind her.

I don’t know those words. I thought ‘you’ was me. But, she is not looking now.

“Not without a brain,” comes a new voice.

I do feel panic then. She will hit and leave an apple. Anything else kills me.

I struggle to sit up so I can fight or run away.

So hard to do, and that scares me more.

“No no!” she calls, and I know that word. Not a good one. “Hey, easy,” she says, catching me with her hands and trying to push me back down, “Just calm down.”

Her voice is soft, but I am very scared. I struggle back, trying to see the other voice. I see no one, and that is bad. Could be anywhere.

The blue coat lets go with one hand and taps the thing stuck in my arm quickly. I suddenly feel calmer, almost like I might throw up, but so fuzzy I want to shut my eyes. I try to struggle, but I forget why as the fuzziness gets heavier. After a few seconds, the blue coat’s hand lifts carefully off my chest. I can’t remember why I was getting up before, so I lay still. It seems better there.

“Look,” she says, glancing behind her again, “I will GET you a brain—the right one! But there has to be something in the meantime. He’s not brain dead! He doesn’t act routine. His pockets are full of stuff I’ve left behind. He’s been following me. They all keep keepsakes around. They’re not brain dead, not totally. The connection must at least be marginally existent for them!”

“I can’t help you without his brain,” says the same man voice before. Still, I see nobody. That seems worrying still, but not enough to move for now.

“What about you?” asks the blue coat in frustration, turning in another direction, “Switch—lights!” she adds, sounding excited, “Smart lights!”

“Oh, good idea sweetie!” comes another girl voice. Not the wrist voice, and not blue coat.

Lights switch on around me then, bright, blinding, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

And feel.

Oh my god.

Despair, and horror, revulsion, and agony, hate, terror. I am filled. I can’t speak. I can barely think and stay alive.

I remember. Things I can’t usually understand.

There was a robot. Arms and knives, whirring saws. I was held down, screaming. I remember the vices, the grips. I remember the scoop, ripping out my brain. Metal pieces screwed into my skull.

No, I think. Praying for the understanding to go away.

It stays. It plays and replays. I see other lobotomized people, I see memories of killing. Eating raw meat. Animal. Not a person anymore. Not anything.

I am shaking. I can almost remember. Half remember words, half remember feelings and thoughts. Half remember people. I know I loved them, but I can’t remember what they were, I can’t remember their faces. I see them, then forget them immediately.

I can’t remember my face. I can’t remember my name.

I remember the snapping of greymatter as my brain went out.

I remember things…I remember pieces of things.

I remember the pine tree and pine is a word, not the color green, but I can’t remember what it looked like anymore. Why I loved it.

I don’t know who I am.

“I…I’m already dead,” I whisper. I find words again, and those are them. I feel myself remember how to cry, and I do, because I feel too much despair and terror to keep inside. I have to get it out. I would eject it any way I can.

This is a person, above me. I know that now.

I see her. Try to ask for her to help me, but I don’t know how to fix me. I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know how to explain.

I try, to find the words. ‘My brain,’ I think, ‘please.’

But I can’t. I can’t find the words I think, not as words I can remember to speak. I know what happened, but human words are gone.

I’m dead. I’m a corpse.

“It’s okay,” says the blue coat woman. I see worry in her face. Her hand touches my shoulder.

I spasm with my shaking.

Terror in me, I realize the clarity I have can go away.

I lose my sanity completely.

Terrified, I find motor control and reach a hand to her and grab her arm. “Help me.”

I find words. “Help me help me help me!” I beg. Find the arm with my other hand, cling to her. Try to drag myself up to her and hold on tighter, afraid now she will leave me to be dead again. That she will turn off whatever she turned on to raise me from my grave. “Please please please! Please help me! Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me, please, please, please help me! Please help! Help me!”

I am sobbing. She is answering me, but I don’t hear it past my wails for several tries.

“I’ll help you, it’s okay! I’m going to fix you—I’ll fix you! I’ll help you,” she calls back, and I don’t know the words.

I can only think ‘Help me’—don’t forget don’t forget the words oh please please don’t forget don’t lose them they’re the only words I know to save me. I keep using them. ‘Help me help me help me.’ I am trying to climb up her arms and dig my fingers into her spine so she can’t be rid of me. So I won’t die in the cracks of the ground I’ve been living in. Terrified like I can breathe fear and it is me.

Her arms go around me and she goes down onto the bed with me, wraps her legs and arms around me, buries my head against her chest. Lays her head on top of mine. Holds tight. I cling back. Shaking. Trying to grab more and more and more, until I realize I have grabbed her finally as solidly as I can. My hands still fidget. I plead and plead and plead until I lose my unused voice. I can only hear choked, awful whispers from my throat, but still I try. Finally, past my own dying begs, I hear her making sound back.

I begin to hear it slowly, very slowly, when I can’t hear me anymore.

She clings to me, holding strong, but not crushing. She is saying, “It’s okay.” She says. “You’re going to be okay. I will fix you. I will heal you. You aren’t dead. You’ll be alive again. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

‘Alive again.’

I hear that.

I think ‘again, that’s in the song.’

‘Begin again,’ I know the words now. The meaning.

I feel some kind of clarity. Comfort. Like the song was a promise too. Like the right words.

“Alive again,” I start trying to repeat. I can’t hear myself beyond a hiss anymore, but I try. I try, I try, I try.

She must hear it somehow. She says, “Yes, alive again. I’ll fix you. I promise. It’s okay. Calm down, okay? I can heal you.”

Heal.

I think of the little white…stimpacks, I almost remember. ‘Heal.’

I think of closed cuts.

Heal.

I try to shut my eyes. Try to not cry anymore.

So tired. Maybe I will die from the crying. I worry sincerely then that I might.

“There you go,” she whispers, and her grip loosens, “It’s okay.”

I panic. “No,” I beg, opening my eyes, shaking again, trying to find her face and pull her closer to me, “No don’t go Apple don’t go please!”

I am crying again. I see her face, surprised. Pain. She must be hurt too.

“Don’t put me back please,” I weep, “Don’t make me like I was please please! Do anything! Anything! Don’t break me again, please! Please don’t!”

I think she will cry.

“I won’t.” Her voice shakes.

I am too scared to believe her.

Trembling all along my body, I tug my head against her chest again and try to hold tight to make it hard for her to go. I can’t breathe slowly, and I can’t get enough breath in my lungs. It scares me too. I am afraid it means I am already dying again. So soon.

“No please,” I whimper, “Please Apple. Please. Don’t hurt me anymore. Don’t break me again. I’m sorry. Please. Don’t break me. Don’t kill me again. Please, I want to be a person. Don’t take me away. Don’t. Please don’t. Help me. Please, please. Please. Help.”

“Okay,” she promises, not moving anymore, “Okay.”

She stays a long time. I beg, and cry, and plead. She says words I remember and words I don’t and words I half know, voice soft like the bed, and sad, worried. Kind.

She holds on to me.

I am so exhausted from begging and crying and being a corpse, I lose consciousness finally, after hours.

I’m already dead.

I was the whole time. I just didn’t know it.

When I wake up again, I feel heavy. Stiffness like a corpse. I am sure that is what I am now. I am afraid to open my eyes and see it. I know she will be gone. Everything is gone.

But, I open my eyes.

She is still there.

I am curled up on her, clinging. She is quiet, watching me. Awake, and still there. She did not leave me.

“Hey,” she says softly. I stare. “How are you doing?”

I try hard to remember what that means. Makes my head ache to try.

But.

…’am I okay’. I turn the sound into words into meaning. Try to go the other way and turn meaning into words into sound.

“I am alive?” I check worriedly.

She nods. “Yes.”

I think. My voice cracks. “I can stay alive?”

“You will,” says Apple, “I promise.”

I cry again. Pull myself closer to her, worried. “You help me?” I ask when I can make words.

“Yes,” she promises, arms wrapping gently around me, “I’ll help. Don’t worry. We’ll fix you up. Like new. I’m really good at medicine; I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

I try to express gratefulness, but all the words I can think of are ‘We.’ That she called us ‘we’. Me, plus somebody else. Her, and me. Not alone now. Not alone.

“We?” I manage.

“Yes, we,” she agrees, “We’re together now. You’re not alone.”

I try to believe it. Try to calm down. “Two of us?” I suggest.

“Two of us,” she agrees, and there’s something important in her face.

#Fallout New Vegas #Old World Blues #Fallout New Vegas fic #Minka Pripo #Courier 6 #fallout fic #labotomites #The people she's talking to are the Auto Doc and Light Switch AI in the Sink (hence the smart lights being activated to up intelligence in #humanoids in the area). sorry you all had to find out I kill the robo dogs if I get scared this way I'm sorry #but I was afraid they'd kill Roxie :'-] her health so so bad #labotomite oc #I gotta name the man uhhhhhhhh. Well he doesn't remember his name. So. What would /she/ call him. or he call himself?#me writing

31 notes · View notes

the-bad-art-blog · 7 days

Text

"With Luck like yours I'm surprised them bullets didn't just turn right around and climb back into the gun." -Doc. Mitchell, Fallout New Vegas

Meet Holly "Lucky #6" Maxwell, the courier whose actions you will decide. The first decision poll will be up today.

#build my character #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #fallout #fallout courier #fallout character #Holly Maxwell (Fallout oc)

9 notes · View notes

staydandy · 1 year

Text

Black Knight (2023) - 택배기사 - Whump List

List by StayDandy Synopsis : One legendary Knight called 5-8, meets a young Refugee named Sa Wol who dreams of becoming a Knight. 5-8 trains and mentors Sa Wol, helping him achieve his dream in a dangerous and harsh world. In 2071, toxic air pollution had devastated the world, leaving only 1% of the population alive. People rarely leave their homes and depend on respirator masks to breathe. A strict social stratification has been established in the deserted lands of the Korean Peninsula. Citizens, who have access to housing & amenities; delivery drivers known as Knights, who protect & deliver packages of the precious source of Oxygen; and Refugees who are left on the outskirts to struggle & fight to survive. (MDL) AKA : Courier | Delivery Knight | Delivery Driver

Whumpee : Yoon Sa Wol played by Kang Yoo Seok (left) • 5-8 played by Kim Woo Bin (right)

Country : 🇰🇷 South Korea Genres : Action, Adventure, Sci-Fi

Notes : This is a Full Whump List • Adapted from the webcomic "Taekbaegisa” by Lee Yoon Kyun • It really gives off Mad Max Fury Road vibes (in a good way) • There's a fair number of personal thoughts in the list below, but I think it just goes to show how much I liked the drama • I actually went though the trouble (& possibly causing my old af laptop to crash) of making a gif for a part 😆

Episodes on List : 6 Total Episodes : 6

*Spoilers below*

01 : (@ 1:22, ok, but it'd woulda been cool if this was a live qr code) … Yoon Sa Wol removes his mask & fights a gang alone (wins) … sparring … made to stand on his head as punishment, kicked over, something thrown at him, nosebleed … pushed out a moving truck (comedic) … shot in the head

02 : … continued from previous ep. ... Found, transported … bandaged, wakes, head pain (how TF is he even still alive?!), panicked, held down, knocked out with a shot of drugs (@ 7:12, I'm sorry, the bullet was stopped by his skull??!! how hard headed is he?! - is this kid Wolverine or an android?) … (@ 8:53 you'd think with O2 being scarce they wouldn't use an O2 eater like fire so much) … goes out looking for a fight, beat up with pipes & bats.. hits in the back of the head, collapses, passes out … comatose … pushed off a roof (accidentally - comedic) (@ 36:32 he's a Mutant! X-man! Wolverine for the win!)

03 : [flashback] 5-8 is knocked over by explosions.. in a fight.. shot … (@ 16:54 #O.O# oh my! lol *gif 👀) … [present] 5-8 & Sa Wol spar (Sa Wol gets his ass handed to him) (@ 17:39 he just likes slapping that doesn't he 😆) … Sa Wol is hit with baseballs from a pitching machine … [switching back & forth quickly between various training & competition scenes:] sparring in a boxing ring, in a O2 deprivation room fighting, & dodging baseballs.. [in O2 dep. rm:] heavily bruised, unsteady, O2 at 5%, head pain, ear ringing, traumatic flashbacks, chokehold … car crash

04 : Kickboxing match; bleeding, cut on his forehead

05 : Bruised, head pain, traumatic flashbacks, nosebleed

06 : Hit with the butt of a gun & knocked out … tries to fight, pinned down, knocked out with a shot of drugs … blood drawn … rescued, carried

More Whump Lists for this show: love-me-a-lotta-whump

47 notes · View notes

ballroomfitz · 11 days

Text

Build Me Up Buttercup- A Fallout New Vegas One-Shot

Dr. Alex Richards/Male Courier 6

On a quiet night at Camp Forlorn Hope, Dean joins Dr. Alex Richards for a cigarette

Camp Forlorn Hope was quiet for once that night (or as quiet as anywhere in the Mojave could get) and Dean couldn’t sleep. Boone was sleeping for once, and Dean couldn’t shake the paranoia that came without at least one of them having their guard up. He could stand to be more trusting, he supposed, but then again, the last time he relied on the kindness of strangers, it got him a bullet in the brain.

He wandered lethargically through the camp, whistling a song from long before the war he’d caught on some morning radio show or another.

“What’re you doing up so late, handsome?”

Dean turned around. Dr. Richards was sitting on a rough wooden plank, his face lit only by a lit cigarette. Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Tell me about it.”

Dean sat down. “Spare a cig?”

Richards handed Dean a cigarette. “C’mere.” He carefully leaned in, with a lit cigarette in his mouth, and touched the tip of his cigarette to Dean’s. Dean closed his eyes, trying to take a moment

Richards pulled back and laughed. “Chrisssakes, are you wearing cologne?”

Dean laughed, a little embarrassed. “Found some herbs growing by the highway on my way from Primm. Keep ‘em in my coat pocket.”

“Unbelievable,” Richards shook his head with a smile. “Well, just wait it out. Believe me, you spend enough time out here, vanity goes out the window fast.”

“Guess so,” said Dean. “But I gotta hold on to the little things, just so I don’t lose myself.”

Richards looked out at the sky, thick with smog. “I used to wear cologne. Real stuff, from the bottle. I used to get my suits tailored. Used to go out dancing, even.”

“You still dance?”

“Maybe when the war’s over, honey.”

“I’ve heard Cali’s good for that,” said Dean. “Dancing.”

Richards smirked. “God, has the cruising dried up around here. No pun intended.”

“Do you have anyone waiting for you back home?” said Dean.

Richards smiled bitterly. “I did. He used to write every week. Silly little love notes I’d hide in my cot to look at when I got lonely. After a few months, though, they dried up,” Richards flicked some ash off his cigarette. “I like to think he’s moved on, for his sake. How about you, handsome?”

“I could never hold on to anyone for long,” said Dean. “Boyfriends, girlfriends- somehow we always seemed to drift apart once the novelty wore off,” Dean paused. “But it gets lonely out here, don’t it?”

“You have no idea,” sighed Richards.

“Heard through the grapevine the NCR isn’t the most accommodating,” said Dean. “For boys like us.”

“You heard right, more or less. Though it depends where they stick you. Out here? Not a chance.”

“Don’t your superiors mind?” said Dean. “Let’s call a spade a spade, you’re not exactly discreet.”

“What are they going to do?” said Richards. “Discharge their only halfway competent medic? Maybe if I stop being useful.”

“You ever wish you’d stay behind?”

Richards stopped and blew out a puff of smoke. “I won’t put on some kind of show of self-sacrifice for you,” said Richards. “Every goddamn day. I thought I was here to serve my country. To defend glorious democracy. What a joke, what a sick fucking joke. But if it wasn’t me, it’d have to be someone else. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Richards took a drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes. “But I try not to dwell on it. Sounds awful, but they all melt together at a certain point. But God, some things . . . Two years ago, I had to amputate the leg of this kid, Christ, he couldn’t’ve been a day older than nineteen. I had to use the last of the morphine to knock him out, he wouldn’t stop bawling,” Richards sighed. “And they posted him up in the watchtower, figured he was still good for something if he could hold a gun. I told them they’d be crazy not to send him home, they said he wasn’t on the front lines so he’d be fine,” Richards kept his gunpowder green eyes fixed on the horizon. “They killed him, they killed that kid. They told his girlfriend and his parents that he’d died in combat, they let them imagine he’d gone down in some big heroic stand. Kid died for nothing, he got shot by a Legion sniper before he even had the chance to see him,” Richards rubbed his temples. “God. Yeah, I do, I do wish I’d stayed behind.”

Dean leaned over to touch Richards’ hand. Richards looked at him and took a long drag of what was left of his cigarette, before he flicked the butt on the ground. Richards grabbed the back of Dean’s head and pulled him in hard for a kiss. Dean leaned forward hungrily, feeling his rough, stubbly chin, keeping an iron grip on the neck of Richards’ shirt. Richards slowly pulled away and gently ran his calloused thumb along Dean’s cheek. “In another life, buttercup. In another life.”

#my stuff #my writing #fanfic #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout fanfic #fnv courier #fnv #fnv fanfic #Alex richards #fnv Alex richards #fnv dr richards

8 notes · View notes

a-pink-lilypad · 8 months

Text

Saw this being done and posted here so...

1. Courier 6, Fallout New Vegas - New Vegas and the Courier has a high influence on my character's development, and many traits were picked through my playthrough.

2. Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist - Look at the picture, look at Edward. See the similarities? I inspired a lot from his combat style, her metal arm, her shortness and temper, but also from his level of maturity and kindness. Though in her case, her kindness is very deeply buried.

3. Melissa Rory, Cyberpunk 2077 - You see her as a Max-Tac officer in the game; but you might recognize her from the trailer released years ago; with Bullets by Archive playing in the background. She went cyberpsycho because of her mantis blade implants. Lily also have a similar design for her mantis blade, and used to be a Civil Corps officer.

4. Jack, Mass Effect - Appears in 2 and 3; much of her hand-to-hand combat style and roughhousing tendencies. I didn't particularly like the character, she looks like a trapper or like a detention desk in school, but I liked incorporating those traits into Lily.

5. Shizuo Heiwajima, Durarara!! - One of the few anime I like; and the whole 'angry guy that just wants to live in peace and quiet' is a trope that I love and built Lily on. Lily is also angry, and while she has a different career path, she does want to have a peaceful life at some point.

6. Kinzie Kensington, Saints Row - Man, I was obsessed with Saints Row. She appears in the third game, former FBI agent that joins your crew, and possesses lots of technical and computer skills. Yeah; she was a heavy inspiration for Lily's set of technical abilities. She's just more of a brute to make her to be strictly a scientist, or strictly an engineer. Regardless of her background, she's a survivor first and foremost.

And this is it. This was fun lmao.

#mtas #mtas oc #my time at sandrock #mtas builder #mtap #my time at portia #lily's time at sandrock #mtas lily #six characters that inspired my oc

23 notes · View notes

swooning-skulls · 18 days

Text

--- character list

blue - currently interested | red - not taking requests | green - no romance | pink - yandere allowed

i will occasionally write characters not on this list, that doesn't mean they will be requestable.

{...live action...}

BULLET TRAIN: Lemon, Tangerine, The Father, The Wolf

COMMUNITY: Jeff Winger, Britta Perry, Annie Edison, Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes, Shirley Bennett, Ben Chang, Dean Craig Pelton

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS: ---coming soon

YOU: Joe Goldberg, Peach Salinger, Guinevere Beck, Candace Stone, Love Quinn, Forty Quinn, Delilah Alves

YELLOWJACKETS: ---coming soon

FALLOUT: Lucy MacLean, Norman MacLean, Chet, Maximus, Thaddeus, Cooper Howard, Lee Moldaver, Bud Askins, Henry "Hank" McLean, Betty Pearson

{...animation...}

A.N.) depending on the continuity, i may decline romantic requests for scooby-doo characters since they're not adults in all continuities.

SCOOBY-DOO (all except hbo velma): Norville "Shaggy" Rogers, Scoobert "Scooby-Doo" Doobert, Fred Jones, Velma Dinkley, Daphne Blake, Thorn, Luna, Dusk, Vincent van Ghoul

G1 MONSTER HIGH: Frankie Stein, Clawdeen Wolf, Draculaura, Lagoona Blue, Cleo de Nile, Ghoulia Yelps, Deuce Gorgon, Clawd Wolf, Toralei Stripe, Scarah Screams, Abbey Bominable, Spectra Vondergeist, Operetta, Venus McFlytrap, C.A. Cupid, Nefera de Nile, Mr. D'eath, G. Reaper, Ms. Kindergrubber, Mr. Rotter, Mr. Where

G3 MONSTER HIGH: ---coming soon

SONIC BOOM: ---coming soon

LOVE, DEATH & ROBOTS: ---coming soon

{...video games...}

MARIO FRANCHISE: Mario, Luigi, Pauline, Princess Peach, Princess Daisy, Princess Rosalina, Yoshi, Bridette, Bowser, King Boo, Wario, Waluigi, Vivian, Goombella, Madame Flurrie, Lady Bow

CLASSIC SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

MODERN SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

FALLOUT NEW VEGAS: Courier 6, Arcade Gannon, Craig Boone, Lily Bowen, Raul Tejada, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, Veronica Santangelo, ED-E, Rex, Christine Royce, Dean Domino, Joshua Graham, Benny 'Gecko', Legate Lanius, Robert House, Ulysses (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 3: The Lone Wanderer, Butch Deloria, Charon, Clover, Cross, Dogmeat, Fawkes, Jericho, RL-3 (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 4: Nate, Nora, Codsworth, Cait, Curie, Danse, Deacon, Dogmeat, John Handcock, Nick Valentine, Piper Wright, Preston Garvey, Old Longfellow, Porter Gage (MORE COMING SOON)

COD: COLD WAR: Bell, Russell Adler, Lawrence Sims, Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Dimitri Belikov, Perseus, Vikhor "Stich" Kuzmin

RAINBOW SIX SIEGE: ---coming soon

APEX LEGENDS: ---coming soon

OVERWATCH: Soldier 76, Reinhardt, Sojourn, Mercy, Winston, Tracer, Genji, Mei, Brigitte, Echo, Lucio, Pharah, Zarya, D.Va, Baptiste, Bastion, Doomfist, Moria, Reaper, Widowmaker, Sombra, Sigma, Ramattra, Junker Queen, Roadhog, Junkrat, Wrecking Ball, Hanzo, Ashe, B.O.B., Symmetra, Lifeweaver, Zenyatta, Orisa, Illari , Venture

{...miscellaneous...}

---NA:

#character list #bullet train x reader #fallout tv x reader #fallout amazon x reader #scooby doo x reader #monster high x reader #mario x reader #fallout new vegas x reader #fallout 3 x reader #fallout 4 x reader

7 notes · View notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year

Note

I'm a fairly new follower and I'm so glad to have found your blog. Congratulations!!

I'm curious what you will come up with this:

☠️🦖 "I would never have hurt you like you hurt me" for Benny!

Hey there! Welcome, welcome! The more the merrier!

And this is great, my goodness, this quote is so apt for this man and everything he puts the poor courier through.

(Also, just a heads up, this one is a teensy bit suggestive, but nothing explicitly NSFW happens at all. )

I hope you like it! 😁

The courier sat up slowly in bed, their tired eyes going instantly to an indistinct movement in the darkened corner of the hotel room. A dim morning glow brought their attention to their partner as the light played subtly over the white in his checkered jacket.

"You're leaving?" They voiced hoarsely.

Benny's gaze snapped to them as he finished donning his coat, his dark eyes glinting in the near-darkness, and then creasing over with a furrowed brow in a poor imitation of a genuine apology.

"Aw, you know how it is, baby. All good things gotta come to an end. Even our sweet song's gotta make room for the others on the radio."

Six rubbed at their eyes sleepily as their brain slowly moved to process his words.

"Ain't nothing to do with you though," He continued hastily as he approached their once shared bed. "No way, no how. 'S just the way things need to be, is all. Was real good seein' you again though."

Benny sat down beside them on the bed, his feet still on the floor, still prepared to leave, but he twisted his body to look Six's way as he spoke, reaching out one hand to brush softly over their thigh, where it rested beneath the thin bed sheet.

"Real good, sweetie-pie. Wouldn't trade last night's bit o' hey hey for the world..." Subtly and slowly, as he spoke, Six noticed the way Benny's free hand reached for the platinum chip on the bedside table, pulling it deftly into the safety of his palm. "Just New Vegas, is all."

"So this is it, then?" Six pulled their thigh away from his touch brisquely. "This is what you do?"

Hurt plastered to his face at their movement away from him, his eyebrows creasing together tightly, wrinkling his brow as he fixed them with sad eyes.

"Not catchin' your meaning there, doll. You can be sure as a mirage shimmers that I ain't done somethin' like this with any of the regulars of mine."

He said it as though that'd make them feel better.

Six's glare only hardened.

"Nah, babe, you're no dime-a-dozen." His hand reached out to them again, more firmly this time as he placed it back on their leg, giving it a squeeze he'd likely imagined would be reassuring. "You're platinum, just like I said last night."

Six's glare softened at the reminder of their shared evening, the sweet nothings, the gentle touches, the soft praise... but still, they shook their head at him.

"If I meant half as much as that chip does to you, you would stay here with me. We could figure this out together. Like we talked about."

"It's just not the way things are out here, lovebird." His hand moved over them again, stroking up and down their thigh as his voice took on a thinly concealed condescending tone. "It's the way a man's gotta be in the Mojave. A broad too. Any of us go gettin' too familiar, the risk only goes sky high, just like your old man's tower, ya dig? This is what's safest, trust me."

Six recoiled again, pulling away from his hand's stroking over them until they reached clear to the other side of the bed.

"Safest?" They hissed the word. "You're kidding me, right? If you gave two shits about my safety, I'd still know my own goddamn name. I wouldn't have these scars, Benny." One hand motioned to the bullet wounds he'd gifted them. Right on their face for the world to see. For them to remind him.

Benny flinched visibly at their gesture.

"If you gave a single damn about me, I wouldn't have had to be dragged out from 6 feet under by 'my old man's' protectron."

"Baby, that's just how we make it out here." Meekly, he scooted closer to them on the bed, his feet leaving the ground as the mattress bared his whole weight. "It was nothing personal, sweetheart. If you was in my position--"

"I never would have hurt you the way you hurt me, Benny. Never. It's not who I am."

They stood up, escaping any final attempt he made at reaching out to them, and wrapping their naked form securely in the bedsheets as they stepped away.

"You can go on trying to convince everyone that they're just as shitty as you are," They continued, malice dripping from their words, a mixture of anger and disappointment clouding their eyes. "That they're just as self-centered and cruel, but no matter how you tried to sweet talk me, no matter how many cute names you called me, no matter how softly you took me into your bed, you'll never again be able to convince me that you're anything more than a self-serving coward. A small, weak man whose greatest weapon is his own piss-poor excuses."

Benny's anger didn't boil over the way their's did, he didn't snap back at them, or try to defend himself, his eyes didn't harden and his brows didn't furrow. The chairman only sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe you're right, baby."

He stood up from the bed, one hand going to carefully place the platinum chip into the inside pocket of his chessboard blazer.

"May just be you're right about the ole Ben-Man, but... Thing is, I'm still here, doll. Not many cats I've met can say the same, ya dig?"

He ran his hands over himself, smoothing down any wrinkles in his clothes as he stepped to the vanity near the door. Pulling a comb from its drawers, Benny moved to fix his greased and curled hair before setting the comb back down carefully and turning to leave.

His hand set upon the doorknob, and just as the door opened towards him, Benny looked back over his shoulder.

"Might just give you something to think about."

#1.5k celebration #1.5k event #fallout #fallout companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #fallout new vegas npcs #benny gecko #fallout benny #benny fonv #deathclaw

37 notes · View notes

tobiasdrake · 7 months

Text

The fateful moment: To join or not to join?

I mean. Obviously I joined the Resistance immediately. Was there ever any doubt?

Is it that simple? The moment a detective retires from mystery-solving, Shinigami gets bored and the contract ends? What would that even entail?

Shinigami clearly has pre-existing relationships with Number One and possibly Makoto that she doesn't want to talk about. But that doesn't mean she bonded with them in the past; She may have bonded with someone else, and know them through her experiences with that other person.

In Death Note, the most well-known piece of media to feature shinigami, a shinigami may end their arrangement with a mortal at any time by. Uh. Killing the mortal. Those were the terms: "I'm with you until I get bored and then you fucking die."

If those same rules apply, then it's unlikely that anyone presently alive is an ex-partner for Shinigami.

But Shinigami seems to be going the noncommittal passive-aggression route, which answers nothing. There may or may not be a way to break contract.

It also remains unclear what happens if someone tries to form a contract with Shinigami while she's bound to another person. Do they get their own Shinigami? Do they get snubbed because she's with us? Or do they get ours and we get screwed?

So many question marks still to answer about the nature of this contract.

"I would love to join the Resistance but unfortunately my imaginary friend won't let me."

...is simultaneously a ridiculous and entirely effective line of reasoning. Because anyone who would present that as an argument is probably not old enough to participate in an armed revolt.

I don't understand how that's substantively any different. Presumably, as a member of the Resistance, my detective skills would have been what I brought to the organization.

I see little distinction between "Resistance Detective" and "Detective Working For Resistance".

(Also, it's weird to give you a choice to stop being a Detective and then immediately railroad you away from the "Stop being a Detective" option in a chapter titled "No Longer a Detective".)

Not unexpected. Yuma is, as we say in the business, "in too deep" at this point.

Icardi raises a valid concern. Yuma has extremely loose lips. "Too much honesty" is his main character flaw. There's a non-zero chance that he will extensively reveal every aspect about this place to the next Peacekeeper he sees because he inexplicably thinks they'll be chill about it.

Is it bad if I want her to? Halara was saying that Yuma's Forte might have something to do with immortality. I want to see if his face grows back after Iruka puts a bullet through it.

But I also don't, because of... obvious reasons....

But Shachi's being the voice of reason so okay, Yuma. I guess you can go unperforated. This time.

*pout* Can't even handle one measly gunshot to the face. With that attitude, you'll never be half the person that Courier 6 was!

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

9 notes · View notes

macbeth-n-cheese · 2 years

Text

A Brief Commentary on Ghouls

By (not yet) Professor (almost) Doctor Mac (that's me)

But in all seriousness, the effects of radiation are something I find extremely interesting (as seen by my obsession with all things rad), and while I'm glad this isn't something you deal with everyday in a hospital, it would be a cool field to focus a career on. But I digress.

Ghouls, the radioactive zombies of the wasteland.

For once the vagueness of the lore was a positive thing! It left enough space for hyperfocusing nerds like yours truly to hypothesize about them. After screaming about how absurd wrong mostly everything on the wiki is, of course. Onwards!

Gorgeous Looks

Our friends the ghouls were strongly based on real-life victims of nuclear disasters (don't look it up, it's worse than what we see in the games), on the later stages of radiation sickness.

There are different types of waves emitted by nuclear material, but our focus will be on the ionising radiation, the variety capable of altering or even destroying DNA molecules, and possibly killing the cells. Think of it as a fire: the closer you get to it, the warmer you'll feel, but in this case 'fire' is 'nuclear material' and 'warmth' is 'your superficial cells slowly dying from the outside and in as radiation penetrates the layers of you.'

(I will not get into much detail on the ghoulification process now, because I believe it deserves its own, more elaborate post. But hey, Chernobyl from HBO did a fantastic job in portraying radiation sickness. It's definitely not for the faint of heart, but a must watch if you're interested in this type of stuff.)

As the outer skin (epidermis) dies out, it begins to necrose, and slides away like it would in a severe burn case, with excruciating amounts of pain and enough suffering to drive someone insane (more on it later). Hair, nose, ears, most of the lips, they eventually peel off of the body in the more extreme cases, and the survival rates aren't good if you reach this stage.

This would be a decisive point in a pre-ghoul's life, where he will either die of the many ailments that could afflict someone who's lost their outer layer of skin (infections, dehydration, hypothermia, shock, etc etc), or live to see Courier 6 put a bullet through Benny's head, with the help of his newly developed Mutation™.

If he survives, gets away from the direct source of ionising radiation, and develops the mutation I'll talk about in a while, the skin will slowly begin to regenerate, forming a thick, sturdy and leathery scar tissue over most of his body. Hair and lost cartilage will not grow back, and previous injuries like chronic conditions or bone deformation from fractures will not be fixed as well, but hey, immortality.

So, ghouls aren't walking corpses, they're literally living, breathing people, who "just" suffered severe rad burns and mutations on their DNA. Nothing at all like zombies.

Immortality?!

From the wiki: "The unnaturally long lifespan of a ghoul is also due to a mutation within the autonomic nervous system (...) The mutation in response to gamma radiation that produces ghouls disrupts the normal process of decay in the neurotransmitters along the spinal cord," and while the effort was great on their part, this is still a big genetic nope. Allow me a drop of pedantism (a very small one because human genetics is a seven-headed beast):

The process of ageing in humans is essentially due to the natural degradation of the extremities of our chromosomes (bundles of genetic material inside the cells' nucleus), parts known as telomers, that basically don't express DNA and act as a protective layer for the segments that do. A good analogy for them is when you burn the tip of a nylon rope to keep it from fraying. Every time a cell replicates itself, be it for growth, tissue repair or etc, the chromosomes can get a tiny bit shorter, sacrificing part of the telomer to preserve the rest of the DNA, even though some of it is rebuilt by the enzyme telomerase. However, seeing as the only two infinite things in life are the universe and human stupidity (and cancer, keep tuned), the telomer will eventually get smaller and smaller until the cell's capacity of replication is significantly crippled, and it eventually gets destroyed by the organism (apoptosis). The first obvious sign of this is wrinkles on the skin, because the renewal of its cells is diminished, and what follows is the typical old-personhood.

In most cancer cells, there's a ridiculously high expression of telomerase, rendering the tumor immortal, both for the quick reconstruction of the telomer, and for tricking the body into seeing its cells as brand new ones. Now, what causes cancer? Among other things, exposure to extreme levels of radiation, because ionising radiation (the dangerous kind of radiation) can damage the DNA structure.

There's a lot of deep genetics in between this and the apparent immortality of a ghoul, but I can say for sure that it was a massive lucky strike for them to develop a mutation like this. Most of their cells must've had technically become cancerous to reach results like those, but they don't replicate wildly like a regular malignant tumor. They behave almost normally, and just don't die! So I assume the mutation affected something in the telomer/telomerase activity and/or in the process of apoptosis (natural destruction of cells due to old age/factory damage). It would've had to be a very, very specific kind of mutation, and if we were to throw some realism into fallout, the incidence of ghouls would be drastically smaller.

Summing it up, the mutation they suffered affected the individuals on a cellular level, from the outside in, seeing as the deeper layers are the last to be penetrated by radiation.

Regular Ferals

The behaviour of a feral ghoul is... very strange. They're extremely aggressive and canibalistic, but not to one another. They pay little mind to physical injuries and are incapable of rational thoughts. They growl, drool, and overall behave like rabid animals, which could mean that the "outer" layers of their brains (like the frontal lobe, which is responsible for most of what makes us rational) have suffered significant, irreparable damage. Ground zero ghouls, who survived being subjected to higher doses of radiation, would most definitely become Ferals.

Regarding pain, it's important to mention that the brain itself naturally feels no pain, it only interprets and processes pain signals coming from the rest of the body, and the center of distribution for those signals is the thalamus (but I could be wrong), a very inner part of the encephalus. If something between the thalamus and the spinal chord or the rest of the brain is damaged, the notion of pain would be lost on the individual. Mutations could also have something to do with their perception of pain and tolerance towards it, but I couldn't say.

On our next episode, I'll try to focus on the physiology of a ghoul and the health challenges they may face, and if I have enough sanity left, speculate on glowing ones and other special types of ghoulies. (Also shout-out to Raoul, Kent, Arlen, Edward, John, Billy and Charon for being my fav irradiated babies)

P.S.: If you guys want to hear me babble about something specific, hmu! Those things really help me study lol

#fallout headcanons #fallout ghoul #john hancock fo4 #fallout 4 #fallout #radiation sickness #my weird rambling

84 notes · View notes