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falloutkinkmeme_backup ([personal profile] falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm

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

Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.

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Turn Wounds into Wisdom 7b/?

(Anonymous) 2014-09-16 10:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Dylan fell silent for a while and finally extinguished his butt end in the ashtray. “Okay then.” He looked at Arcade and took his hand. “See ya as soon as I’m back.” With that he placed a hasty kiss onto Arcade’s knuckles and was out of his chair and through the door faster than Arcade could think of something to reply. He stared after him and with a sorrowful shake of his head, clutched his cup of coffee so no one entering could see how much his hands were shaking.

How long he’d sat there he wasn’t sure, but when he heard someone enter he wished they’d go away and leave him in peace. It was Julie, however, and she sat down beside him, placing a new cup in front of him, filled with fresh, steaming coffee.
“Was that Dylan I just saw walk out?”, she inquired cautiously.
“Yes, why?”
“Because... of the... thing we talked about. Are you... are you all right?”
Arcade finally dared to look up. It was Julie, after all, his best and oldest friend. The one person in the world who knew and understood him best.
“Julie”, he said slowly. “I’m in trouble.”
Julie chuckled softly and took his hand, closing her fingers around his. “No. You’re in love.”
Arcade gave her an unhappy look. “Same thing really.”

x-x-x-x-x-x


>>>Kingman, October 25, 2282<<<

“So this is the mighty Courier, the Whore Queen of New Vegas? Commander of an army of robots, leader of a city of slaves, whores, addicts, dissolute and other scum?” The centurion looked with such distaste upon Tara kneeling before him that she wouldn’t have been surprised had he spat into her face. He didn’t, but the disdain in his voice was audible, his facial expression a match. “She doesn’t look so great now, nor victorious, does she? And she smells.”
Having been alternately carried by one of the legionaries who had captured her or forced to walk in what was almost a run, with hardly any water and no food, Tara could well imagine that she looked a mess after the last few days. She kept her mouth shut, however, a part of her still waiting to wake up from a nightmare and another one furiously trying to think of a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into.

“And rather overconfident, as well”, the centurion went on. “You didn’t think the Legion wouldn’t be keeping an eye on you, whore of Vegas, for a chance of revenge?”
Tara chose not to answer, but her silence infuriated the centurion and earned her a slap on the cheek.
“Answer me, useless bitch!”
Swallowing, Tara stared at her shackled hands. “No.”
“Huh.” His boots were dusty and scraped, and Tara was focussing with all her power on the scrapes to keep her eyes somewhere safe. “Tiberius is going to be disappointed by that one.”

Tiberius. Something cold crept down her spine as she suddenly realised where she had heard that name before: Vincent had talked about him. The son of Caesar. The man whose father she had slain, together with all his army.
“Lock her away”, the centurion now said to the men who had brought her here. “I’ll deal with her later.”

Rough hands grabbed her and hauled her to her feet, and again Tara followed one of the men while the other two pointed guns at her head. They brought her to what to Tara seemed to be an old power way station, a small building with a corrugated sheet roof, the plaster crumbling but the walls still solid. The windowless building wasn’t larger than a hut and completely empty inside but for a small bucket and a solid wooden post in the middle. One of her capturers now unlocked her shackles and the other two cocked their guns, pressing two muzzles against her temples as the third man knelt down and shackled her right ankle to the post. Then they left her, locking the door behind her, and Tara was left in the murky darkness, the only light coming from a few cracks between the somewhat skewed, ancient steel plates of the roof.

Turn Wounds into Wisdom 7c/?

(Anonymous) 2014-09-16 10:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Everything had happened so fast she hadn’t even had a chance to think about it; had hardly been able to keep up. One moment she had been walking along the ring wall surrounding Vegas, talking with Cobra who had advised her not to walk alone without her guard, the next moment Cobra had fallen down with a spear in his chest and five men were attacking her with ropes. She had just about managed to tear off the platinum chip and drop it before she had been hit over the head, and she could only hope that whoever would find Cobra, they would find him in time, and that they would also find the chip and keep it safe.

Yes, most likely, Cobra had been right and she should not have gone alone. But all she had wanted was a moment of breathing space, just a small space to be alone with her thoughts after the big celebration in her honour. And now... now she was a captive of the Legion because she hadn’t listened to Vincent.
Tara couldn’t suppress a shudder. He would blame himself, she knew he would, for not having kept her safe. And yet it had been her fault alone. With that she realised that no one had any clue where she was and if Cobra hadn’t been found in time, no one ever would. If she couldn’t find a way out of here, she was done for; due to her carelessness in walking off alone, she now was alone. Completely alone, and in the enemies’ hands.
This time, even Vincent couldn’t save her.

And thinking about what her disappearance would do to the man who had sworn to protect her she lost her nerves and began to tear at the chain that bound her until her leg hurt so much as if it was on fire. But neither post nor shackles gave in to her desperation, not even the slightest, and in the end Tara had only succeeded in wasting what little strength she had left after the ordeal of the last six days. And with a cold churning of fear rippling through her body Tara rolled up into a ball and couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
She had never felt so vulnerable and alone, but in the end, her exhaustion became greater than her fears and anxieties and she drifted off into oblivion.

Turn Wounds into Wisdom 7d/?

(Anonymous) 2014-09-16 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)

>>>The Strip, October 26, 2282<<<

When Vincent returned back to the Lucky 38 from his usual early morning jog, he was intercepted by Andrew who bore a stack of papers and a worried expression.
“Vincent! A word?”
Vincent nodded and walked over to the entrance of the scribe’s little office.
“Tara’s illness...” Andrew began and put the papers down on his desk. “I mean... I’ve got a few things here I’d need to run through with her...”
“I’m afraid it will have to wait”, Vincent gave back. “The illness in itself is nothing serious; that at least is what Dr. Gannon has told to me. Yet she suffers from bouts of fever in varying degrees and is neither strong nor clear-minded enough to take up any discussions regarding important numbers or issues.”
“I see.” Andrew pressed his lips together. “It’s just... well, you can imagine. People out in Freeside are getting worried.”
“I understand. But I am sure these people are aware she is only a human and valley fever is a very common disease.”
Andrew nodded absentmindedly and leaved through some pages of his notes.

“Well”, he said after a while. “We’re doing well in any case. The only thing I’d need her go-ahead for is that Isaac from the Gun Runners has approached me and would like to re-open the Silver Rush, also requesting a few workers to help refurbish the place.”
Vincent thought this over for a moment. “Go ahead with that”, he then said. “Knowing Tara and where we stand with the Gun Runners, I am positive she would say the same.”
Andrew nodded hesitatingly, and Vincent continued: “I stand surety for this decision. It will be on my head, not yours, if I made a misjudgement.”
Nodding again, Andrew scribbled down onto a piece of paper. “Maybe her men are as good in running this place as hers while she is... incapacitated”, he said and smiled as if to some private joke.
“I fail to see something funny in this situation”, Vincent replied slowly.
“Oh, I wasn’t making jokes about Tara’s illness”, Andrew hurried to say. “I was just thinking...” He hesitated. “I was thinking that the only two people living under the same roof with her are men, but these men are both castrates. Kind of odd, isn’t it?”
“Now that you mention it”, Vincent replied slowly, but the thought was rather unpleasant.

He then excused himself and made his way back upstairs, but for the rest of the day, Andrew’s last remark clung to his mind and refused to let go.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Re: Turn Wounds into Wisdom 7d/?

(Anonymous) 2014-09-18 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
Yayayayay more story!

Oh, Arcade. <3

-Fish!Anon