falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

not op but,

<3

The fistfight was short and unmemorable, even when not measured against the Atomic Wrangler's impressive standards. Witnesses described an inhuman growl issuing from the man with a sour face and a fancy hat right before he crash-tackled the shabby-looking stranger over the bar and into Francine Garret's knees.

Whatever tiny jot of satisfied cheer Boone gained from grinding Vulpes Inculta's face into the grimy bar room tiles was comprehensively wiped away when, being manhandled out of the front door by a security guard who couldn't quite keep from sniggering at him, he glanced up towards FISTO's room - his room! their room! oh FISTO! - and saw a flash of blond hair and a smug expression.

Gannon.

I am hinting that this should be a meme mass crack short tagfill, by the way.

More! This is amazing!

Arcade always liked to tell himself that he'd spend his days off reading, or cleaning, or folding the laundry that seemed to accumulate overnight in the Lucky 38 before getting a good night's rest. Sure, it was hardly his idea of a good time, but someone had to do it. Almost inevitably, though, he would always end up at the Atomic Wrangler, just enough alcohol in his system to loosen him up to the idea of having sex with a robotic prostitute.

It wasn't a glamorous alternative to a warm, living body, and no, he wasn't proud of it, but at almost 4 in the morning he was tired and just wanted some sort of release. Even if that release came in the form of cold steel pincers that probably hadn't been washed in God knows how long wrapping around more delicate pieces of his anatomy.

Arcade's pale eyebrows shot up at the sight of one very familiar sniper being thrown out the doors just as he entered. Boone was too busy cussing at the security guard to notice him, though, and Arcade was in a big enough hurry that he didn't bother contemplating what stupid thing Boone had done this time. Instead he moved up the stairs and into the vacant room where he knew FISTO would be waiting-

He allowed himself the smallest of smug smiles, knowing that after a long week at least something was going right.

"We all trust Dr Craig," said Arcade soothingly. "I've taught him everything I know about Playing Doctor."

Gfjhnskjghksjgdhahahaha oh my god. Yes.

YES MY DREAM IS REALIZED OHMYGOD CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY.

A++, Noonie <3

tags: completed, Boone, Arcade, crack, microfill
Summary: Boone gets billed for child support.

“What the hell is this shit?”

The letters poured out of his mailbox. It looked like a god damn waterfall. Boone scowled as he snatched one from the pile.

“Fan mail?” Arcade asked as he checked his own mail box.

“Hardly,” Boone said.

As he suspected, the letter rambled on about his financial and legal responsibilites; for all the NCR's good points, when they screwed up, they screwed up big. This letter wanted to garnish his wages to support some kid named Craig Junior. He supposed it was a step up from little Manny Joshua or Carl Vulpes, but considering he wasn't the father, it didn't do much to comfort him.

Boone had never ever ever slept with a woman named Raven Evangelina. He'd never slept with anyone named Aeryna or Malcolm or Dawn or Serenity or Jade or Caitlyn or Rainbow Dancer---for fuck's sake, who were all these women (and men, yes, there were a couple of men in there too.) and why did they keep billing him? Someone must have told a whopper of a lie.

He briefly considered shredding the letter, but decided to add it to his files just incase. If he knew the NCR half as well as he thought he did, he was going to need a copy of every letter they sent him. Fucking pencil pushers. They were going to drain him dry before they realized they'd screwed up.

The one thing all those nutjobs had in common, besides claiming to have all birthed his children, was that they all thought they were Courier Six. That just wasn't possible. There was only one Courier Six, and at this point, Boone had been too afraid to ask what sex he/she was. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but after seeing him/her punch a hole through an Alpha Deathclaw's face, he sure as hell knew better than to risk the wrath of Six.

Beside him, Arcade let out a startled yelp. Letters poured out of his mailbox to pile at his feet; it looked like a god damn, beige waterfall.

“Fan mail?” Boone asked.

“Hardly,” Arcade said.

"I'm dying."

And now I am too. Laughing like all get out over here, a!a.

This is brilliant.

I don't like playing this clothed version of Play Doctor very often
"I've taught him everything I know about Playing Doctor."

Waaaaaaaaait a minute...

Tags: f!lone wanderer, Charon, Butch, completed, microfill, pregnancy
Summary: Lone Wanderer delivers her baby in a sewer with Charon's assistance.

The Lone Wanderer blamed one moment of weakness for her current predicament. That, a bottle of Wasteland Tequila, and Butch's penis. She took another breath as she tried to keep the pain under control. One thing was damn certain, she was never falling for the whole “radiation makes you sterile” routine. It was a dirty, dirty lie told by assholes who only cared about getting off.

“I think this is when you're supposed to push,” Charon said.

“Fuck you! I'm not giving birth in a sewer!”

“It's not looking like you have much of a choice.”

Rivet City was too far away for her to waddle in her current state of misery. Even Charon wouldn't be able to guide them safely through the sea of raiders and super mutants until they found a Brotherhood caravan to escort them the rest of the way. They'd taken shelter in the sewer when the labor pains were too strong and too close together to ignore. If she hadn't been too mad at Butch, she wouldn't have been out here in the first place.

So really, this was all his fault.

Again.

She bit back another scream. Charon sort of awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. Who was she kidding? Butch hadn't told her to go scaving in the ruins; he didn't even know where she was. She'd been too eager to prove him wrong. At eight and a half months pregnant she was just as capable as she'd always been---sure she was a lot slower and she tired more easily, but that wasn't anything to worry about. Yeah right.

She could already hear his smug “What'd I tell you?” So what if he was right this one time. Everybody gets one once, even Butch.

“If I don't make it out of this alive, do me a big fucking favor,” she said, “Shoot Deloria's god damn face off!”

For the first time in well ever, he looked uncomfortable and uncertain. Give the man a shotgun and he can write you a symphony but go into labor miles and miles away from anyone you could even remotely pretend was a doctor and he turned to goo. And it was just her luck, her uterus wasn't about to give her a chance to take charge of the situation.

“You can shoot him yourself,” Charon said, “Ah hell. I think I see the head.”

She went cross eyed from the agony, but one push later and her spawn was squalling and wriggling in Charon's arms---looking every bit Butch Deloria's daughter.

Charon wrapped little Catherine in one of the scavenged vault suits before he deposited her almost clumsily into the Lone Wanderer's arms. It was uncanny. She had the same signature scowl Butch was going to have when he found out where she'd been born. In the meantime, she tried to catch her breath, expel the afterbirth, and recover enough to limp the rest of the way back to Rivet City.

This prompt really inspires me. I will keep the Mallory bit, but in terms of personality and devotion, I seriously can't get Harley Quinn out of my head. Would OP be okay with a slightly Harley Quinn-inspired-Courier?

I'm also hesitant to post this, only because I'm so busy with life, a couple huge WIPs, and possibly other things... COUGHSKYRIMCOUGH. So updates might not be regular? Should I still post this?

Ohh, yeah, I dig Ringo too! He is pretty cute, ahaha. I would love to see anything written for this prompt!

PFFFFT. Oh gods, that was funny.

Vulpes delicately dabbed his bleeding nose with the rag that the Garret woman had offered him. He could admit to himself that it was vanity alone that made him worry if his nose was broken. There was a practical point too: his looks were just one of the tools in his arsenal when dealing with profligates.

If he wanted to be further truthful with himself, he should have expected this far sooner; he'd seen the sniper trail up the stairs after the robot enough times to know there would be trouble. That mongrel of a man was mistaken if he thought he could claim what is probably the most intriguing offer the profligates had ever devised. Something he had to experience... for... Caesar's will. Yes.

Shaking old, nagging doubts that were creeping up him again, he turned back to the bar's proprietor.

"Now, about that... arraignment."

"FISTO-" she stopped when she noticed him whip his head around, worried someone heard, "You can use our 'facilities' for an hour."

"Very good," Vulpes stood.

"Hold on," the woman continued, "You can used them after the current customer."

"What?" Someone dared to get there before him? He stalked away from the bar, fuming. Vulpes Inculta was not going to be a robot's sloppy seconds.

She is going to be so screwed with Bitter Springs... doesn't Vulpes spawn there in-game? XD

asdfgkjlk yes! You have made my day, authoranon! Possibly my year! Your Benny slang is fantastic and I love how its peppered through the entire narrative. Oohh this first chapter has me on the edge of my seat already! Going to stalk this like crazy~

LOL. This is amazingly hilarious.

Not on my playthrough. The wiki says he spawns at camp.

Damn, my plan has been foiled.

It’s the first time she’s laughed in a while, even though she is busy getting pummeled with snowballs. Her laughter is infectious, and soon the whole group is laughing too.

She isn’t doing much better than she was, but she’s pushing through for the sake of the group. They all can see that, and don’t begrudge her it. They all tell her how well she’s doing, how healthy she looks, and even Arcade can’t help but join in with their false encouragements.

He may not have a high tolerance for bullshit, but sometimes life is too short.

She hits Cass in the back of the head with a snowball, and the caravaneer swears playfully. Cass tackles her into the snow, taking care to not slam into her too hard. Courier squeals with delight, wrestling away from her. Rex barks happily from the sidelines, and races over to the two women to lick their faces. Doc Henry had given the cyberdog some medicine for the pain, and in the morning they were going to head out to find him a new brain.

They were a lot like Dorothy and her ragtag bunch trying to find the wizard, only instead of a yellow brick road they were traversing a nuclear wasteland forgotten by time, Arcade muses.

Courier hits Arcade with a snowball, and he takes it with good grace. He even manages to laugh while brushing the freezing snow out of his hair. She shoots him a lopsided grin before holding a finger to her lips. She eyes Raul, who has his back turned to them and is talking to Boone. She sneaks over while Cass and Veronica pummel each other with snowballs and yell obscenities that cause Lily to scold the both of them, and do they kiss their mothers with those mouths? E-DE chirps along, happily playing something about letting it snow, and Arcade tries not to glare at the robot too much.

Boone raises an eyebrow when he sees Courier, but otherwise lets her dump snow over the ghoul’s head. He swears beautifully in Spanish while Boone and Courier laugh. Arcade sits on the porch next to a happy Rex, lighting up another cigarette. He always promised Daisy he would never take up smoking, but he always seems to smoke during times of crisis and cold weather.

Courier turns to Boone to throw snow at him, but he beats her to it. She spits the snow out of her mouth with a delighted expression, and tries to tackle him. He easily catches her arms, and holds her a little too close against him. She gives him a wary look, and he smiles. Arcade blows a puff of smoke out, watching the two through a haze. Boone picks Courier up, twirling her around before gently depositing her into a pile of snow. Arcade hears a muffled ‘Hey!’ before Courier sits up, pulling Boone in after her.

“Those two should just fuck and get it over with,” Cass grumbles, plopping down next to Arcade, the brim of her hat weighed down with snow.

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Arcade comments, handing her a cigarette. She lights it, and before she can bring it to her lips, Veronica plucks it out of her hand, E-DE buzzing around her head.

“These are bad for you, you know,” she says, taking a deep drag before handing it back to Cass.

“Stop bogarting my smokes, you dyke,” Cass teases. Veronica, in response, collapses into Cass’ lap.

“I’m obviously the femme of the two of us, you butch dyke,” Veronica says, kissing Cass’ cheek. Cass rolls her eyes, but Arcade can see the hint of a grin from underneath her hat. Raul is the last to join the group on the porch, grumbling about how bad the cold is for his bones while still grinning. They all watch Courier and Boone play in the snow, placing bets on when they’ll get tired (or in Cass and Raul’s case, bets on when they’ll finally give up the ghost and start a relationship).

Arcade stops paying attention after a while, instead focusing on the snow. The last time he saw snow was when he was a small child. It was just after his father died, and try as he might, he can’t remember much about his father other than his height. What he remembers is James, and Courier looks so much like him it hurts. He remembers James helping him build a snowman, and having a snowball fight with him because there weren’t any other kids around. He remembers a sadness and longing at his father’s passing, and he remembers those emotions reflected in James’ eyes.

Arcade is pulled from his reminiscing by a loud, persistent coughing. He turns to see Courier doubled over, wheezing, and Boone adamantly trying to lead her to the lodge. She’s shaking her head, but once she coughs hard enough to splatter blood in the snow, Boone picks her up to carry her inside. Arcade follows them inside, and the rest of the group is at his heels. Courier looks over Boone’s shoulder at the snow with a familiar sad look in her eyes, and Arcade fights to stay in the present, even while her gaze is pulling him into a past he’d rather forget.

“I hate being cooped up,” Israel grumbles, glaring at the rotting walls of the shack. James cooks dinner, smiling gently at him.

“At least we know you’re feeling better,” he says. “Yesterday, you didn’t have the energy to complain.

“I’m well enough to travel, and you know it,” Israel says, even though he isn’t, and they both know that. James just shakes his head, handing Israel a plate of food.

“You’ll need to eat if you’re going to be good for anything,” he says gently. Israel grumbles about eating ‘wasteland crap’, but puts the spoon to his mouth anyway. He doesn’t tell James that he loves his cooking, instead opting for grumpy silence.

“We’ve probably missed her, if she went back to Vegas,” Israel says between mouthfuls of food. James nods absently, fingering the pages of his Bible.

“That’s fine. She’s not keeping a low profile. We’ll be able to catch her again.”

“What are you going to do if it isn’t her?” Israel asks, swallowing.

“I don’t really know,” James admits. “Apologize for the trouble? I’ll probably keep traveling with you until one of us dies.” Israel coughs, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. That might be sooner than we think, he should say.

“Pfft. When you die, you mean. I’m fucking immortal,” he says instead, before succumbing to a coughing fit. “This damn Mojave weather. Too much goddamned dust,” he wheezes. James is at his side instantly, patting his back gently.

“You need to take it easy,” James chides, and Israel scoffs, but still lets the other man lean him back.

“I’ll take it easy when I’m dead,” he grumbles. James laughs, moving the dishes aside.

“I’m here to make sure you take care of yourself before that happens.”

“You sound just like Mona did, you know that? No wonder you two got along so well. Sometimes I feel like she should’ve married you instead of me,” Israel says, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“You two were perfect together,” James answers, his voice strangely quiet. Israel doesn’t comment, only motions towards James’ Bible.

“Read me a story out of that thing, would you?” he says. “I’m bored out of my damned mind.” James picks up the book, and obliges him.

“Then went Samson to Gaza, and saw there a harlot, and went in unto her,” James begins.

“A harlot, huh? Sounds like my kind of story,” Israel says, and James tries to hide his smile.

“Hush, you old pervert.” Israel makes a face at him, and motions for him to continue reading. He fades in and out of consciousness, listening to James’ voice more than James’ words. He used to make him and Mona read to the group while they were traveling. They had great fun with it, even taking turns and acting out the stories they read. They all adored the stories, even Orion, who often grumbled about literature being a woman’s domain. James would affect silly voices, and Mona would read her lines with a dramatic flourish.

Israel would sit enraptured with the both of them, watching their faces and bodies more than listening to the stories they would tell. Whenever Arcade would cry, the two of them would improvise the stories, telling them from memory. James and Mona had read many of the same things, and would finish each other’s stories while Israel bounced Arcade on his knee.

There weren’t any more stories after they were summoned to Navarro. Israel was told to serve the Enclave until his final breath, or face the consequences.

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Re: The Way We Swing (1/?)

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: F!Courier + Companions -- The Mojave's A Free Bitch, Baby [2b/?]

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill OP

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: Everyone - Child Support Microfill: Craig Jr. 1/1

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: Keep Your Composure 12/?

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Microfill: Blame it on Butch 1/1

Potential A!A

Re: Ringo/M!Courier

Re: Microfill: So Much For That.

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: Torch Songs 11/?

OP is in love!

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: Torch Songs 11/?

Re: M!Courier/Waking Cloud - Comfort This is OP

Keep Your Composure 13/?

Keep Your Composure 13a/?

Keep Your Composure 14/?

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Re: The Way We Swing (1/?)

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: F!Courier + Companions -- The Mojave's A Free Bitch, Baby [2b/?]

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill OP

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: Everyone - Child Support Microfill: Craig Jr. 1/1

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: Keep Your Composure 12/?

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Microfill: Blame it on Butch 1/1

Potential A!A

Re: Ringo/M!Courier

Re: Microfill: So Much For That.

Re: A Spark of Luv, microfill

Re: Torch Songs 11/?

OP is in love!

Re: I'm Dying (microfill/comment misfire)

Re: Torch Songs 11/?

Re: M!Courier/Waking Cloud - Comfort *This is OP*

Keep Your Composure 13/?

Keep Your Composure 13a/?

Keep Your Composure 14/?

Re: M!Courier/Waking Cloud - Comfort This is OP