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falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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Turn Wounds into Wisdom 5b/?
(Anonymous) 2014-09-03 06:07 am (UTC)(link)“Nah.” Dylan carefully flexed his fingers. “I’ve been clocked out, yeah, but I’m not there ‘cause I need the money.”
“Good.” Arcade was rubbing disinfectant onto his own hands. “And be more careful around boiling pots in the future.”
“Will do, doc.” Dylan smiled up at him. “Must admit you’ve got a good touch. That hardly hurt.”
Arcade narrowed his eyes. “I know what Vincent told me, and you as well, I gather, but I have to ask you to refrain from training your… frumentarii skills on your doctor.”
Dylan swallowed a remark and shook his head, then got off the stretcher. “Anyway”, he said slowly. “Be seeing you.”
Arcade watched him go with a deep sigh. He didn’t even dare to allow himself to think about if things might get worse in fear of summoning the devil.
x-x-x-x-x-x
When Arcade started his next shift around noon the next day, he was still mulling over his conversation with Dylan when even as he sat there brooding over it with his coffee, the object of his musing appeared in the doorway of his office.
“Hello there”, Dylan said brightly. “Coming to have my arm checked!”
Arcade silently put down his coffee, gestured for Dylan to come in and closed the door behind them.
As he was repeating the procedure from the day before, Arcade finally cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for last night”, he said slowly.
“Well, I wasn’t really subtle either”, Dylan gave back without looking at him. “But… well. When do you quit tonight? We could have a drink or two together.”
“Not wasting any time, huh?”, Arcade now chuckled as well.
“It’s not as if we had all the time in the world with what we’re really trying to achieve.”
“Right you are.” Arcade frowned again. “Just one more thing though before we leave this room.”
Dylan stopped grinning and looked up at Arcade earnestly.
“I’ve talked to the traders here in Freeside, and the two caravaneers that came in this morning. Neither of them had any Legion armour, but one of them mentioned that they had a few bits and pieces in the museum in Primm.”
“Get it”, Dylan replied. “I’d best get over there tomorrow morning, then. Until then that arm here should’ve give me no more trouble than I can handle.”
“I could give you a stim pack”, Arcade replied and was already reaching for his trolley but Dylan shook his head.
“Nah, Doc, leave those for people who really need them.”
Arcade nodded with a certain kind of respect. Few men could resist the offer of a stimpack when in pain.
“So when do I pick you up?”
“Uh… about eight...ish.”
“Eightish?”
Arcade shrugged with a lopsided smile. “You never know with these doctors, if I get an emergency in at seven thirty I might not make it out until eight.”
“Got it. I’ll be here about eightish, then.” Dylan grinned, displaying two fine rows of surprisingly well kept teeth. “See ya tonight, Doc.”
“See you then.” With that, Arcade saw Dylan out of the door and had a look at the people sitting on the benches, waiting for their treatment.
Casting a last look at Dylan leaving the Fort he then asked himself what he was getting himself into, or rather, what he had gotten himself into, and if he was going to be able to get out of this without damage to his mental health. He strongly doubted it. Then he took a deep breath, trying to focus on his tasks ahead.
“Next, please!”
x-x-x-x-x-x
Turn Wounds into Wisdom 5c/?
(Anonymous) 2014-09-03 06:08 am (UTC)(link)Dylan was waiting for him outside the gates. “Hey Doc! Ready for some entertainment?”
Arcade wished he was more of a smart-mouth. “I guess so. Where do you want to go?”
“The Wrangler is dirty and the booze is watered, the Luxe too uppity.” Dylan lit himself a smoke as they headed for the gate towards the Strip. “Tops is boring.”
“That doesn’t leave much choice then”, Arcade gave back.
Dylan grinned at him. “Been told they have a few great acts on their stages”, he said with a wink.
“Been told?”
“Never been in there myself.” Dylan tapped the ash of his cigarette. And in a lowered voice, he continued: “Just so you won’t have to worry, expenses are covered courtesy of Mr V.”
“Well that’s something”, Arcade said, patting his pockets and realising that he had forgotten his own cigarettes. And while he wasn’t a nicotine junkie, he very much liked to have the occasional smoke to relax.
Dylan offered Arcade his pack. “Smoke, Doc?”
“Thanks. Although…” Arcade paused as he leaned over the offered lighter. “Although I’d prefer if you’d use my name.”
“Arcade, huh?” Dylan flashed him a good-natured smile and Arcade shook his head.
“You know, for a powder ganger you’re actually quite likeable”, he said.
The smile on Dylan’s face died.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Great, Arcade thought to himself. The evening hadn’t even started and he had already ruined Dylan’s mood.
“It’s all right.” Dylan sighed and shrugged. “I mean... it’s not as if I hadn’t had a choice.”
Arcade was silent and tried to think of something conciliatory to say. He finally settled for: “Yes.” And when Dylan looked up sharply, he continued. “And then you made the choice to leave that behind and I’ve got no right to rub those mistakes of your past further in. My sincere apologies. I’ll not be using that word again.”
A hesitating smile crept onto the dark man’s face and he shrugged. “Shouldn’t be so sensitive about it, but maybe you’re right.”
The situation thus saved, Arcade allowed himself to relax a little and they entered the Gomorrah in a much lighter mood. They found themselves a table in the Brimstone Bar, made themselves comfortable with a few drinks and watched the show: dancers, strippers, singers. They chatted amicably through the evening, although Arcade took great care of avoiding Dylan’s past, and thus he talked a lot about himself since his own past was less dangerous territory.
x-x-x-x-x-x
Turn Wounds into Wisdom 5d/?
(Anonymous) 2014-09-03 06:10 am (UTC)(link)Staring at himself in the mirror after having shaved his head he asked himself if he really would be able to impersonate a Legion warrior again. There were so many things he had gotten used to over the time that he was afraid some of these could give him away at some point. But failure was not an option.
For Tara’s sake he had to succeed; he had been the best frumentarius of Caesar’s whole Legion, and for his queen and her people he would resume that role again, only this time he would be working for the other side.
He was aware of the dangers of this scheme of his, and had no illusions about what would happen to him if he would fail, if he would be found out. Death would be the least of his problems then. He hadn’t seen Tiberius in a few years, not since he had been a young, misbehaved cub and he somewhat doubted that his behaviour had much improved with age. He had been a spoiled brat, doted on by his father, used to getting his will at each and every moment. That, together with his unhealthy tendency to cruelty, was what had had many people in doubt if he really was a good choice for being Caesar’s successor, but he was his only son, so no one said this aloud.
And now this spoiled boy had come into power, and thinking about Tara being his hands made Vincent’s blood run cold. He would have gone after her the day he found out, but he knew his chances were zero if he just ran off like that. But the thought about Tara being a captive of the Legion ate him alive. Never in his life had he been as worried about someone else’s life as he was right now.
His reflection in the mirror looked back at him with tight lips and deep lines around narrowed eyes, one eye an empty socket, and the other giving him a deeply worried and tired look.
“I will find her and bring her back, or die trying”, he said to the man in the mirror who seemed to sneer back after a moment’s thought. “And if you die trying, what will then become of her? Dying is not an option, it will mean you failed.”
With a shake of his head, Vincent turned away from his reflection and went to the bedroom where he sat down onto the bed, staring at the wall.
He had never much cherished the company of others.
But as he sat there in the bedroom of the Lucky38, where the smell of Tara’s hair still lingered in the sheets, he had never felt so lonely in his entire life. Or as afraid.
x-x-x-x-x-x
Somewhere south of Lake Mead, beside the band of tarmac that was once the I 93, Tara sat hunched over, her face buried in her arms that were locked around her drawn-up knees, her legs weary from marching and her arms heavy from the shackles. The endless wind and cold desert night were indifferent to her fate, as indifferent at the six men who had captured her, sitting at their fire and not giving her a single look.
Fear draped over her like a blanket. She should never have left Vincent’s side.
x-x-x-x-x-x
Re: Turn Wounds into Wisdom 5d/?
(Anonymous) 2014-09-03 09:23 am (UTC)(link)Also I see that another anon has joined the party and that Art!Anon is back. Yay! (also I'm glad I'm not the only one lusting after Tiberius; Thirsty!Anon feels the struggle too, haha...)
Re: Turn Wounds into Wisdom 5d/?
(Anonymous) 2014-09-04 04:32 am (UTC)(link)It must really be a switch for Arcade, having his past be the LESS dangerous conversation option.
-Fish!Anon, already greedily eyeing the top of the tank for more story goodness