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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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Re: Since When, 1b/3

(Anonymous) 2012-06-18 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"One more big newsflash before I send you back to sweet, sweet music. Speaking of teeny tiny terrors taking down tyrants, I have an update on our very own Lone Wanderer from Vault 101. You remember my report - provided courtesy of Sentinel Lyons -- that the Saviour of the Wastes had taken leave from the endless influx of work from the Brotherhood to investigate a distress signal coming from the northern stretches of the Capital Wasteland. While we still have no idea where or what she got up to, we do know yet another garbage heap of dead slavers marked her exit off our radar, so it had to be something juicy, right? Well, my eyes and ears tell me she's back and badder than ever, recently spotted passing by Arefu on her way down to Megaton with a pep in her step and a rotating axe on her back, dripping with righteousness and no small amount of blood. Welcome back, kiddo! The Wastes were drearier than ever without you. When you get a chance, stop into GNR and make sure to give ol' Three Dog the scoop on just what kind of justice they needed our one and only for up north. Knowing you, it's a hell of a story."

In short order, the reams upon reams of reports are stacked up again, and he taps the pile on edge against the desk's surface to tuck it together in some semblance of neatness. "That's it, children! I know you're always hungry for more, and you know Papa Three Dog will provide, but for now why don't we cleanse those needy palettes with some Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters?" In a few button presses, he's leaning back with a ragged sigh in his chair, the speakers filling every nook and cranny of the studio to brimming with the light tap of cymbals and the bright crowing of trumpets.

Three Dog looks again at the report on 101's return, smiling fondly to himself as he slips another cigarette between his lips and flicks it to life with a worn and scratched Zippo. It's the best news he's gotten all week. He was a little sore, no doubt about it, when he heard his favorite little freedom fighter had taken off to -- for all he knew -- far greener pastures. Maybe it's selfish to want to keep good things like a selfless hero to himself, but this wasteland is a dump that could stand a lot of improving before the Last, Best Hope moves on to fix the other wastes.

Keeping her to himself. Ha! It's not like he even sees that crazy kid much with her even crazier schedule of humanity-saving shenanigans...

Okay, truth to tell he hasn't seen her at all but once or twice after she fixed the relay. She came back for conversation a couple of times, especially right after the Enclave raided Project Purity - never talking about the specifics, struggling to even say James' name without a break in her voice -- much to his relief. He'd started to fear that first meeting, when she'd come in scraped, bruised, and beaming 10000 watts worth of hero worship up the stairs at him, would be the last. He'd meant to give her the run-around that first time just to make sure she had to hang out a while, hopefully give him a subjective perspective on the unbelievable tales of her solo heroics. Even fed her a line or two about how she had to contribute to the Good Fight, a total farce if he was being honest, because by the time she'd dragged her weary bones across his doorstep she'd already done more to advance that cause in a handful of weeks spent topside (still ruddy-faced, squinting, and peeling fit to pass for a ghoul after years of terminally drab fluorescence giving way to the bright awful glare of Post-Apocalyptia's daylight) than he's managed in an entire lifetime trying to make something out of this shitstain of a world.

And that's a lifetime nearly twice as long as hers.

Acting like she hadn't already paid a fair sum for what she was asking -- and Christ, after all the work she'd done all the payment she'd wanted in the whole world was her dad, or the next best thing, a point in the right direction -- was, in hindsight, a bit sleazy of him.

Since When, 1c/3

(Anonymous) 2012-06-18 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Forgot to take the "Re:" out of the title line for 1b. Blah.

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No, 'a bit sleazy' isn't right. In fact, after she'd left he'd felt like just about the biggest ass in the Capital, and the little Behemoth ambush in the plaza down below had shown him just how big the wasteland could grow its asses for comparison's sake. Not that it matters much, because he'd only got halfway into his little show of playing hard to get when she'd sweet-talked him into forking over the info anyway. And then she'd still gone out to fix his relay, coming back before she'd even headed to Rivet City to check his story and continue her search. More holes in her than he'd remembered and still with stars in her eyes like he was the greatest thing since Johnny Cash (still doesn't make sense to him, Cash of all people being her favorite; a kid that bright and sunny getting her musical kicks from the solitary man in black is a novelty all its own). She'd marched - okay, limped, and he winces guiltily at the memory - right in to tell him she'd finished his insane errand with this hopeful look like she needed his approval.

"It was my pleasure," she says, managing a distinct blush even under the aching sunburn, "I mean, now I can hear you at my house in Megaton!"

If he were in her position, just about the last thing he'd have wanted on his down-time licking his wounds would be the ramblings of the very man who'd sent him out to get pummeled and shot at, but a girl who walks into Paradise Falls with just a shotgun, a dog, and a big, dour ghoul is obviously crazy. Crazy in an effective way, as evidenced by the stampede of freed slaves and the eerie silence she left behind, but still crazy.

Crazy in a way that suits him just fine.

Sometimes he curses James for not telling him what she's like, somewhere in the midst of shooting the shit together over a bottle of scotch. Just in case she ever did climb out of that hole, he could have warned Three Dog. Kindness, generosity, courage, and justice incarnate -- he's always just been doomed to fall head-over-heels for a girl like that, a girl who embodies all of the values he's been trying to hammer into his fellow wastelanders' heads for the past half a decade.

Realizing that and doing something about it are obviously two very different things, when it comes down to it. For one thing, although a single (admittedly long) conversation with James does not exactly his best friend make, the good doctor was still a respectable man who did have a lot of heartfelt reminiscing to do during that chat about how beautiful and intelligent his daughter is. Wanting her and acting on it feels like it'd be a betrayal. Then there's the age difference, which granted doesn't count for shit to most people in the wastes and, granted, even if they were still going by Old World rules she's legal, but she's still so young.

He's not even halfway through his thirties yet but he still feels like a dirty old pervert.

He tries looking at her like a goddaughter or something instead, but honesty has always been his only policy, and the way his heart broke when she left and leapt when he heard she'd come back definitely wasn't very familial in nature.

With any luck, she won't acquiesce to his request for a visit. Remove temptation from his path. She's a busy girl.

Doesn't really stop him hoping she'll show anyway.

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Attempting to re-post this segment so I can remove the one where I accidentally un-anon'd.