Tumgik
crueltyofhope · 5 years
Text
The Return
It’s been a very long time, but I have returned. New insanity will follow.
2 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 5 years
Text
Yup. Still applies.
Desperation
For the love of GOD, someone throw me some RP. I’m no good with prompts, muse stuff or any of that, but my brain is going to dribble out my ears if I don’t get some of the creativity out. Marvel? Fallout? OC? Historical? Modern? Christ, just NAME it and let’s get a scene going before I lose what little sanity I have left.
3 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
Desperation
For the love of GOD, someone throw me some RP. I’m no good with prompts, muse stuff or any of that, but my brain is going to dribble out my ears if I don’t get some of the creativity out. Marvel? Fallout? OC? Historical? Modern? Christ, just NAME it and let’s get a scene going before I lose what little sanity I have left.
3 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
“Insomnia.”
Tumblr media
Lilah _____________________________________________
At least there were crickets. Granted, most of them were damned near the size of her hand, but they made for somewhat soothing background music as she stared at the way the water rippled around her toes. Oh she knew she'd have to pop some Rad-X again soon, but she was so desperate to have something that felt even remotely like Back Then. Just something she could do that would allow her mind to wander toward things that weren’t horrible.
Lilah watched the way the moon glinted off the burbling water at it left the purifier out-take valve, remembering how the river had looked similar back that one night Nate had taken her camping his Army buddies. She hadn't gotten much sleep that night, and it wasn't because of fun tent activities.
Nate's friends had been nice enough, brash in that sort of way warriors were. They faced life and death every day, so what was a mental filter to a man who'd seen another man's face blown off mere moments after talking to him about his middle kid's spelling test? They'd been kind enough to let the womenfolk do their own thing once the drinking and stories had started.
Their thing had included Lilah sitting at the fire with some salty bitches while she attempted to teach a girl half her age how to get marshmallow off the end of her obnoxiously long fingernail while the little shit complained about how bug spray wasn't good for her skin.
Nate had once said the best bug spray in Anchorage had been a bullet. God, how true that was now. She'd heard stories of something called a Cazadore that lived out west and had literally carried off small animals.
Damn. Her mind had yet again managed to return itself to the present, and she shivered a little as she dragged her pistol closer. It was so natural now never to go anywhere without it, even when going to take a shit.
She didn't hear the person approaching her until the loud snap of a twig jolted her from her morbid reverie.
She jumped a mile and had her gun halfway up Hancock's body by the time he put his hands up and announced himself with a throaty chuckle.
"Easy there, sister. Just 'cause I'm a ghoul don't mean I don't got plans for this thing," he teased, pointing to the barrel of the gun hovering right about at his crotch.
Lilah let her hand fall down and let her head roll back with annoyance. "Jesus fucking radroach-riding Christ, dude.. I would have done the world a favor." She turned her attention back to the stream as her friend sank down beside her with a graceless drop and a low grunt.
"I beg to differ. Dozens of extremely attractive people will throw themselves to their deaths from the top of the Statehouse if I lost that." Hancock settled in beside her and nudged her with an elbow, giving her a playful, lipless leer. "Speakin' of which, it's been too damned long since I got some quality ass. You sure you don't wanna get yourself a nice little pearl necklace?" Hairless brows waggled. "It glows when the light's just right."
She couldn't stop the grin even as she half-heartedly threatened his junk with her gun again. "Danse would literally kill you, and I'd pay good money to see you finally get your just desserts. Asshole," she grumbled affectionately as she leaned her head on the threadbare fabric overcoat he wore. Hancock's wrinkled skin smelled sharply acrid, somewhat earthy. "You flyin' again?"
"Like a bird, dollface," he said cheerfully, swanning a gnarled hand through the air to punctuate his point. "You oughta take me up on that offer, y'know. At least on the med-x. It'll go a long way to loosen you up and at least let you sleep at night." He slid an arm around her waist and squeezed.
Lilah shook her head and welcomed the embrace of her friend. It wasn't often they got to sit like this, as Danse was still leery (as were all logical beings) of Hancock and his intentions. He still scowled when he saw the mayor get 'too familiar' with his girl. "Danse dislikes that. Don't blame him, either. I know what's in it now." They both knew she'd be howling for it the next time a deathclaw bitchslapped her down a hill, but Hancock was tactful enough to say nothing about it.
"Well what you're doin' now ain't workin', sweetheart. Otherwise you'd be snoring alongside your Tin Man."
Danse had still been asleep when she'd woken from her nightmare, and she hadn't the heart to wake him. Neither of them slept well if at all, and if someone was finally going to get some sleep, she'd rather it be him.
"God," Lilah sighed. "We're a pair, aren't we? I love the hell out of him though, even with his stupid overprotective bullshit. The man's a pitbull in power armor." She lifted her foot a little to let the water trickle over her toes. They were starting to prune quite satisfyingly.
"Well, he's got good reason to worry about you. You're his entire world. Literally." Hancock offered with a lift of shoulder. "And there's the constant danger of my ridiculously good looks and charm stealing you away from him," he joked.
Lilah grinned a little. "Not in another two hundred years, grandpa." Hancock chuckled, the low sound like someone pouring rocks down a garbage disposal. "That's my girl." He squeezed her lightly and gave her temple a light kiss. His skin was sandpapery against hers, and it was still slightly creepy. "But the problem ain't goin' away. You gotta get some sleep somehow or I'm chasin' you around Sanctuary with a fistful of chems. You're gonna fall over, darlin'. Yesterday was all about taking out synths and this afternoon was a nest of mirelurks. You're gonna run yourself into the grave either by lack of sleep or getting eaten by something because you're too tired to see it creeping up on you." He shifted his hips at her obscenely to let her know not all monsters that wanted to eat her were bipedal. She laughed. (TO BE CONTINUED)
2 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
She sighed, sort of like how Tony sighed when someone said 'just get a new one' every time something broke around him. "You boys and your running about on helicopters type behaviors.." She tweaked his ear, his reward for being a smartass. "You know, not everyone is a super hero." She grinned a little and squeezed his shoulder lightly, one more tug of the lateral muscle to make sure everything stayed nice and loose. "Just keep in mind that being a good guy isn't easy on the body."
Alessa was sinking back down onto her seat, rubbing the remains of the lotion into her own hands. "As for speeding up the process, not running missions for a week or two would do you the world of good." She held up a finger to stop him when he'd undoubtedly start to protest. God, so much like Steve. Two peas in a pod, those boys. It wasn't hard to imagine why they'd been such good friends for so long. "And before you go wasting your breath trying to tell me you need to keep throwing things off tall buildings, just remember a soldier is a weapon and a weapon can't function at peak efficiency when it's not maintaining itself prope-" Her face went slack once she realized what she was saying. "Oh my God. Oh Christ. James, I didn't mean it like that. I'm so sorry." She leaned forward and took his hands again, squeezing tight so he'd be grounded to something physical despite whatever he may be feeling. "I'm so used to having to use Steve's own logic against him that I sort of.. went into Captain Mode. I'm so sorry if that brought back some bad shit." Notice she didn't say 'memories,' which would have just made things so much worse.
"All I can do is advise you not to be so damned hard on yourself. You're just a man, after all." She smiled and released his hands in case he felt smothered. Alessa leaned back in her chair and dared to flash him a wink. "Not to shabby for an old man, either. Can't say I ever met a hundred year old guy with a head of hair like that." And the pecs of a Greek god. Jesus, Alessa... get your mind out of the gutter. "My creepy flirting aside, if you're absolutely determined to get out and fling yourself around like a rag doll, keep it below the fifth floor, ok?" She paused a moment. "Or.. you could.. y'know... accidentally destroy the ladies room in the R&D Bio building so they might actually replace that fucking leaky pipe in the ceiling."
She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and set her hands down on her knees with a quiet clap, straightening. "Right. Well, a nice hot shower and a nap would be my suggestion for the rest of the afternoon. Try to stay flat on your back but a little elevated so the muscles don't tighten up again. Motrin ought to help with the aches, but if you ask Bruce very nicely, he might give you some of that good shit he uses when he gets headaches." Tony had some stashed somewhere, she was sure.
She studied him quietly for a moment, wondering just how much sleep she was going to lose tonight because of the bone-headed thing she'd said. "Call me, ok?" Her tone was quieter, fingertips worrying subconsciously at the fabric of her lab coat's cuff. "Any time. Even if it's just something dumb about what time Vikings is on. Deal?”
Friend in Arms || James and Alessa
7 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
"My duties as a Paladin don't allow much time for other things." That much was true. Danse was always being trotted off to some distant shithole so he could bring back some interestingly shiny gadget. It got old after a while. 
"Relationships aren't banned on the battlefield, but they're quietly discouraged. I've seen too often what happens when one or the other falls in combat." He pressed his lips into a firm line. "Usually it's just mandatory medical leave and reassignment. Sometimes.. it's the business end of a pulse rifle between the teeth."
But then Zach had struck a chord. His knack for reading people and re-rearranging his own thought process to mimic the other person's was masterful. Halfway. Like the servos. For some reason, things suddenly made sense to Danse.
Comprehension also meant horrified realizations. The flush spread beneath his collar. "Oh." But then all those times- "Oh."
He groaned at his own stupidity. "That explains the look on Knight Quinn's face." He shook his head slowly. "I used to come back from extended recon or clearing out buildings of filthy ghouls absolutely covered in gore. Knight Quinn would always come running to the barracks as soon as I was done with debrief and tell me how awful I looked. One night he said he'd be glad to help clean me up and take a load off my mind. Told me to meet him in the showers." He rubbed slowly at his face. "So I did. With my laundry. He got the strangest look on his face, then started laughing. He took the clothes, patted my cheek and told me to wash behind my ears." Strangely, Quinn had continued doing his laundry even when Danse had informed him it wasn't necessary.
And now he'd have to wait for Zach to stop laughing. He stared at the younger man as patiently as a saint. Watched him and quietly enjoyed the levity. After all, it WAS pretty funny.
He reminded Danse of those greying and broken statues he'd seen in the ruins of a museum they'd camped in on their way up the coast. Just statues of people. Limbs were missing, faces shattered or covered with graffiti. Danse had enjoyed just looking at them. Rhys had enjoyed looking at them because most of them were naked, but Danse had been lost in the smooth lines and gentle curves of the human form.
Zach could have been perched on a dusty metal box, reaching toward the sky with one slightly extended finger and a look of curious optimism.
He listened to the explanations and couldn't think of a reason not to play the game right back. This was a form of training, right? Danse was almost unhealthily addicted to training exercises. He wasn't Zach's superior officer, so decorum meant nothing. Also.... a big part of his ego wanted to sit smug with the knowledge he'd flirted with the Vaultie.
Ahh hell. Why not?
"Alright, then. I'm not very good with euphemisms,  but I'll give it a try." Danse drew a knee up and turned so he could face Zach completely, kneeling beside him with a callused palm pressed to the wall beside his head.
Dark eyes pinned Zach to that wall as he leaned in, his tone a low rumble. "I'm going to strip you into the sum of your parts, piece by piece, then clean and polish every inch of you inside and out until you're glistening. Then I'm going to pour over every single piece of your being before I put you back together in a way you've never been before but you'll find out is how you were always meant to be maintained."
He went quiet, waiting for Zach's reaction. Had he done it right?
[Previous replies here.]
[Continued for @crueltyofhope]
Zachariah had spent all day scouring the area around the graveyard that once was this residential neighborhood. Nothing but the odd feral here and there to give him trouble, but the Paladin was right, there was a Super Mutant encampment not too far off. Zach had figured he was well enough away to hold for a night, but the Brotherhood always did like to play it safe. 
“Yeah, the sparks don’t do much for the muties, but ol’ Dogmeat here can smell ‘em coming a mile away, can’t ya boy?” Zach turned to where the dog had been a moment before, but now the dog had vanished. As had the Salisbury steak Zach had set on the table in front of the (mostly in-tact) couch had he been resting on. Loud chewing sounds from the adjacent room gave a slight hint as to who the culprit might be. “Treachery,” Zach muttered under his breath, defeated.
The blond turned back towards the Paladin in time to see the man removing the bucket from his head. Zach’s eyebrows perked up at the sight. Dark hair, strong brow, and piercing eyes? The man could’ve walked out of a poster for Brotherhood recruitment. Well, it certainly would’ve recruited Zach if he was fresh out of the Vault. 
“Lookie there, the man behind the machine,” he commented smugly. “Name’s Zach. Nice to meet you, Paladin, but I think it’s a bit late to be taking strays in, don’ t you?” Zach turned toward the large opening to the adjacent room, whose large bay windows faced toward the East. Toward the Super Mutant camp. “Muties get antsy when the sun goes down.” Zach looked down at his Pip-Boy to check the time. He usually preferred not to call attention to the device around people, but he figured the Paladin wouldn’t try to disarm him for it. Or, de-arm him for it, as it was. “I appreciate the offer, Paladin, but I think it’s me who should be offering shelter to you. If the rest of your squad if safe where they are. The upstairs is sheltered from all sides.” True, the downstairs had the open doorway, but it was rigged. Plus, they always had Dogmeat (when he wasn’t stealing food off of tables). 
“Don’t get me wrong, I can handle myself in a fight, but why fight if you don’t have to, right?” If nothing else, Zach’s self-preservation instinct was stronger than his cockiness. There was no real telling which direction the Mutants would fan out in the night, and at least Zach had cover in the house rather than being out in the open.
8 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
This is a PSA from your friendly neighborhood lunatic:
Due to the fact that life continues to shovel shitty situations on me one after another combined with being called in to work on a whim, I'm woefully behind on my posts.
Rest assured, friends, that I have NOT lost interest in our writings.
I'm just a hot mess.
I SHALL BE POSTING AS SOON AS I GET TEN MINUTES TO BREATHE! Man, I need to get the creativity flowing again. Building up in here like a volcano.
If I don't vent soon, I might erupt in a full-on sass fest and do awful things to my chars.
Zachmun, you will get your Tin Man. I promise.
0 notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
She returned his smile, patting his hand. He really was an attractive man when he chose to smile. "Alright then. Let's start with the obvious. I'm going to try and work out those muscles so they aren't yanking on everything else. Unfortunately, I need some lotion or it'll feel like I'm dragging sandpaper all over you." She stood and moved away from the desk, moving behind him.
As soon as she was sure she was out of his peripheral vision, she allowed herself a moment of pure Girlyness. OhGodohGodohGod. She was going to get to play with his arm! Gloved hands were fanning herself rapidly as she tried to calm herself, hovering over her bag and trying hard to resume her previously calm demeanor.
Get a hold of yourself, girl. Handsome man with an arm she'd like to lick that star off of? Technology both Soviet AND retro? This just.. couldn't get any better.
She rummaged around in her purse before she finally found her little bottle of hand lotion. "All I have is my lotion here, and I'm afraid you'll have to smell like peppermint for a while." She was tugging off the gloves as she returned to her seat, tossing them away.
"So," Alessa was already tapping a blob of sweet smelling lotion into her palms and rubbing them briskly. "How exactly did you manage to wreck your rotator cuff, hmm? Jumping off buildings and all the other insane stuff Steve tells he does." She started a slow push and pull along the top of his shoulder, stretching the muscle. "Steve likes to tease me by saying it's 'need to know.'" And she'd confound him by responding with 'Yes, and I need to know.'
Alessa made sure to keep her touches light around the scar tissue that marred his flesh. "I always get him back by saying something scandalous so his ears turn red." She smirked impishly glanced up to James's eyes. "I'm horrible, I know."
The minististratons were slowly starting to loosen the muscles of his shoulder, so she stood and moved around to position herself behind him. She slid her hands up beneath his ears and pulled downward along the back of his neck on either side of the C7 vertebrae. "Feeling looser yet? A bit of heat and ice will help. Consider it a sports injury. Well, if running around on top of trucks is a sport," lightly teasing.
God, the man had a hell of a nice head of hair, and she was itching to card her fingers through it. Steve was in mortal danger if she heard James was even on the same block as a barber.
"I think you'd benefit from some physical therapy as well. How's three times a week?" Really, he could get away with two, but she couldn't resist. "Once your muscular issues are resolved, we can start figuring out what's rattling around in that arm of yours." That deliciously gleaming, exotic metal arm.
Friend in Arms || James and Alessa
7 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
“I’m Not The Only Winter Soldier”
Kysenia Tabula Rasa
Tumblr media
________________________________________________________
“Kysenia.”
She heard the man’s voice, but it was muffled, as if her head was wrapped in cotton.
“Kysenia. You will respond.”
She waited for Kysenia to respond. Jesus Christ, the girl ought to just speak up and get it over with. Besides, her head was aching, her scalp on fire. Every bone in her body ached. She could feel the sheen of  sweat all over her body starting to cool, and it made her shiver. She tried to curl in on herself to seek some warmth.
“Kysenia, you will respond.” The voice’s owner was becoming annoyed, his voice taking on a sharper tone. That couldn’t be good. Kysenia was going to be in so much trouble. After all, she should comply. It was her duty to comply.
“I don’t think it worked, Sir. Maybe we ought to wipe her again and start over. We’ve made considerable progress since the last time, so we might get lucky and-”
“Absolutely not!” The angry voice barked. “We’re running out of time. We’ve put too much time and energy into this to give up when we’re so close. We won’t have the resources to begin again.”
She let herself drift in the fog of agony, not fighting the urge to sink into the blackness that called to her. If it meant she could sleep for just a few more minutes, she wouldn’t fight.
The sharp backhand to her face shattered all thoughts of peace, her head forcibly jerked to the left, her cheekbone colliding with something hard and spots danced behind her eyelids. A chair. She was in some sort of chair. The salty taste of blood filled her mouth, and she sputtered on it. She could feel it dribbling down her chin.
“Kysenia, you will comply! You are happy to comply!” A big hand gripped her jaw, crushing her lips into her teeth and forcing her head to return to its previous position. The movement wrenched her sore neck, and she cringed. Another blow came, white agony exploded across her face. She could feel something warm trickling over her top lip.
Oh. She must be Kysenia. They wouldn’t be trying to wake her otherwise. She must have really been out of it if they were forced to such extremes to wake her, but she was so tired!
Dark eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first, unable to stay on one object. Her head lolled, but the grip on her jaw kept her chin from meeting her chest.
“Good,” the man’s tone melted from angry to something more encouraging. The change was welcome. “There we go. Open your eyes, Kysenia. Look at me.”
She didn’t know where she was. She blinked rapidly until her eyes could finally focus despite the spinning of the room. A brief panic took her, and she tried to sit up.
The first thing she noticed were the restraints around her wrists, cold metal cutting into her skin. She tugged at them harder, trying to slide her wrists through the loops. Kysenia tried to use her feet for leverage, but found they were similarly bound. Christ, there was even a band around her waist!
She tugged harder, the table jumping at the first jerk. She sputtered some wordless cry, hauling hard at the chair. Something creaked and she felt the entire contraption shimmy a few inches.
“Kysenia! Enough!” It was the man again, but his barker order was followed by the sounds of clicking. Lots of clicking. “You’re alright, solnishka. You’re safe.”
She looked down, horrified at the sight of her bare ankles clamped securely to the very state of the art technology contraption. Her bare legs. Holy shit, she was naked! She made a confused noise and turned her attention back to the man standing before her.
He was an older man, hair that had once been blonde now streaked with gray at the temples. There were lines around his eyes and mouth, lines that were deeply worn from years of scowling. He wore a suit, a very nicely tailored suit that was open at the throat, but he wore no tie. Wait, hadn’t he always worn a tie? How did she know this?
“Kysenia,” he said. He was the owner of the voice. “You’re safe.” He took her face in his big, callused hands and gave her a smile that settled her nerves.
The Man smoothed dark hair from her sweat soaked forehead. “Kysenia.”
She blinked slowly, letting her attention drift over his shoulder to the group of men- of soldiers behind him. There had to be about a dozen of them, all similarly dressed in black combat gear with some red symbol stitched to their left shoulders. Every single one of them was pointing his rifle at her with a look in their eye that spoke of barely restrained fear. They were afraid of her.
She froze, looking back to the Man. “... yes?”
The Man smiled almost fondly, stroking her hair again. She’d done something right! He wouldn’t hurt her if she’d done something right. She sagged with relief and let his hands take the weight of her. “That’s my girl,” he murmured quietly.
“See? All it takes is a little tough love.” The Man spoke, but he wasn’t speaking to her. His eyes remained locked on her face, but he seemed to be speaking to someone over his shoulder. A small smile drifted over features that had once been handsome. His hands fell away from her cheeks, and her head flopped forward.
“Get her down from there and clean her up. I want verification of the commands before the end of the day.” The Man was staring hard at a pair of men she hadn’t noticed before. Men in lab coats. “I don’t need to tell you how badly failure could reflect on you, Hopkins.” How could she not notice something that bright? That was bad. She needed to be more perceptive. Had they gotten her into this damned chair because she’d been oblivious of her surroundings?
She swore to herself she’d never, ever let her back in that fucking chair. She’d keep her head on a  swivel from here on out. God, her head ached!
“Uh.... yes sir. She’ll be ready,” one of the- doctors? Yes, doctors. They must have come to make sure she was alright after her ordeal. Who had done this to her, though?
She couldn’t remember anything! Every time she tried to think of something other than the too-bright room in which she’d been strapped into that chair, her head ached worse than before. She groaned quietly.
Two of the guards stepped forward and disengaged her restraints, gloved hands closing around her biceps tight enough to make her wince as they hauled her out of the chair. Kysenia’s legs were rubber, stabbing pins and needles shot from the soles of her feet right up through her knees and into her hips. She cried out and fell forward, only the iron grip of the two men keeping her from the floor.
Her toes dragged across the cold concrete as the men hauled her forward.
“Have the Asset keep an eye on her. If she misbehaves, I want to make sure someone’s there capable of keeping her in line,” the Man spoke as the guards dragged her past him, meeting her gaze.
“Wait,” she murmured, trying to move her aching legs. “Wait, no..” They were taking her away. Would they hurt her more? “No!” She pulled her arm hard, making the guard holding her elbow stumble harshly and go sliding across the floor where he impacted a wall of metal lockers with a mighty crash. “I don’t want to!”
The guards moved forward, lifting their rifles to their shoulders, ready to- shoot her? They were going to shoot her!
“Kysenia!” The Man barked. When he spoke again, his tone was quiet. “Do it,” he ordered.
Something sharp buried itself into her right side, and she yelped more with shock than pain. “What the fuck?!” She screeched indignantly before her head started to spin and she felt sick.
The last thing she heard before she pitched forward was the Man laughing with amusement.
0 notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Photo
Tumblr media
reblog this post if you are one of the following: a.  a canon fallout character rp blog b.  a canon fallout protagonist (lone wanderer, courier six, sole survivor, etc) c.  a character rp blog from another fandom with fallout verses and include in the tags what game and character, and in the case of verses, where your character is originally from, to be added to the masterlist.
118 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
‘At Least He’s Doing It Right’
Tumblr media
_________________________________________________
Cait hadn’t moved for the last.. forty-five minutes. Oh hell no, this was too good. She leaned back in the creaking metal patio chair she’d dragged into the shade of the car port and took another sip of her beer. It was almost gone and lukewarm by now, but she didn’t want to risk missing anything good by getting up to fetch another.
She heard footsteps approaching, and she lifted her beer in toast to Preston, who was passing by on his seemingly perpetual patrol of Sanctuary’s street. “Mornin’, sunshine. How many more helpless settlements be needin’ the lovin’ hand of the General today? Six? Seven?” Garvey glowered at her. “The settlements are becoming self-sufficient thanks to the General’s hard work. Taffington is already repelling raiders and ‘lurks. The only ones needing help are those who haven’t gotten their defenses built yet but they’ll be fine on their own soon enough.” She barked a laugh and set her beer down, but didn’t pull her feet down from the tabletop on which she’d rested them. “That’s a buncha shite and y’know it. Everyone’s been needin’ Vaultie’s help and the poor creature’s been running about like a headless molerat for the past six months an’ needs a bloody vacation from the helpless.”
Preston’s expression didn’t lighten much, but it did change once the shouting across the street started up. He turned to look at the house their leader had made into a ramshackle HQ. It was across the street from the empty hole Preston had discovered had once been the General’s home before the bombs fell. It had been empty since Sanctuary had started up. Too many memories.
“Jesus. What’s going on over there?” He turned and let his rifle dip a bit, trying to see through the boarded up doors and windows, but not having much luck. “Everything ok?”
Cait grinned and folded her arms. “Oh aye, they’ve been havin’ Capital W ‘Words’ for a time now. Can’t pay for this kind o’entertainment nowadays. S’gettin’ good. Our goodie two-shoes has been reamin’ Danse for the past half hour.” Preston turned back to Cait with a lifted brow.  “About what?”
She answered his question with a silent, deadpan expression.
“Oh..”
“Mmhmm. He’s still bein’ a stubborn ass about t’whole thing. Lairdy, them Brotherhood cunts really fucked ‘is head up. And here I thought I had it bad with all the Psycho.” Cait shook her head slowly.
“That doesn’t mean jack monkey shit and you know it!” It was the General, roaring over the subtle, baritone murmur of Danse’s steady tone. No doubt the ex-Paladin was doing his best to defuse the situation, keeping a cool head as he always did. Cait didn’t remember ever seeing him lose his temper in the months she’d known him.
Preston winced at the sound. “Someone ought to go see if they’re ok.”
“Ah fuck no. They’ve been needin’ this row for weeks. S’good they’re finally havin’ it. You know how that clompin’ clout keeps skirtin’ the issue.”
“Because the only opinion that matters is mine, Goddammit!” Something shattered against a wall as the General blasted Danse with another wave of fury.
Cait silently nudged out the other chair from beneath the rusted table, and Preston wordlessly sank into it, resting his rifle on the uneven surface.
They both listened, able to pick out only a few words when the wind was just right.
“... no difference now...”
“... let ... explain before... explode...”
“... still a man...”
They couldn’t make out what was said next, but oh boy did they see the reply.
“STOP CALLING YOURSELF THAT!” Something burst through the rickety boards that served to cover a window, clattering to the spotty lawn and rolling to a stop beside the faded red dog house Sturges had made for Dogmeat during one of his brief moments of down-time. It was the remains of a battered jerry can. The way it sloshed indicated it was at least half-full.
“Oh, Oh, it’s gettin’ good. Fifty caps says they end up fuckin’ like rad-rabbits.” Cait tipped her chin toward Preston, who promptly went bright red.
“Cait! That’s our leader you’re talking about! The General would never-”
She cut him off by lifting a finger, tutting over Preston until he was forced to stop talking. “Oh come now. The way they’ve been eye-fuckin’ each other for weeks hasn’t been clue enough? Laird above, y’men are all feckin’ twits..”
The shattering sounds intensified. Something heavy hit a wall, and concrete dust pluffed from the wall to the left of the front door. It was followed immediately by the shattering of glass.
All sounds of conversation in the house had stopped, replaced with the racket of an all out rampage. Wood shattered, someone grunted and something heavy hit the floor. Furniture scraped over the ruined linoleum. Another thud and the crash of pots and pans caused several settlers to look up from their duties of caring for the crops and turn to stare at their leader’s home.
A pot lid bounced off the floor, giving a ‘ling-ing-ing-ing’ sound as is slowly came to a rest. Cait just grinned, but Preston was wearing a weary expression.
For a long time, there was silence in the place. The settlers lost interest and returned to their plots, tilling the soil for new crops of mutfruit. The General had asked them to double the number of plants because it was a key ingredient for adhesive. They went through a lot of adhesive getting Sanctuary secure from the outside.
Cait was beginning to lose hope as the silence stretched on. She started to scowl, pointedly ignoring the childishly smug look Preston was failing to keep off his face. “You stop that or I’ll stuff that stupid feckin’ hat up yer arse,” she growled.
Not long after, a soft cry drifted to them, a sound that didn’t contain any pain or agony. Just emotion. Caits eyes went wide and she shot forward in her chair, straining her ears to listen excitedly. Another, deeper sound followed it. It was abruptly cut short, and Cait was beaming.
Across the street, the violence had seemingly ended. She couldn’t begin to imagine the carnage that was now that house’s living room, but she was sure Sturges was going to be busy for days attempting to fix things.
“Oh.. Oh! Mnh.. Oh God..” The voice sounded desperate, breathy and not at all angry. It was interrupted by a low rumble, a shushing tone.
Cait slooooowly turned her head toward Preston as her grin grew from amused, to smug and then flat out shit-eating. She settled back in her chair and returned her attention to the house across the street, tipping her palm toward the Minuteman expectantly.
Preston grumbled and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out the little leather pouch he kept all his caps in. He may be a lot of things, but he wasn’t a deadbeat. “Don’t gloat. It’s unbecoming.”
“More! Right there. Oh. Oh fuck.. Don’t stop, Danse!”
The Irish brawler plucked the bag smartly from Preston’s hand and stuffed it down the front of her corset, securely patting it. “At least he’s doin’ it right,” she mused, leaning over to pick up her beer once more. She toasted the couple across the street. “And it’s a long feckin’ time comin’. Was startin’ to get bloody sick of the way them two were moonin’ after each other like Goddamned teenagers.”
Preston couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. The General deserved to be happy. Danse may have been as wound up as a spring, but his intentions were noble. They were a good match. Hellfire, maybe Danse would loosen the fuck up a little with some encouragement. God knows that if anyone could pull that stick out of his ass, it was the Vaultie.
“I-.. I’m gone. This is above my pay grade,” he complained with hands lifted to the sky in a gesture of defeat. He stood, pulling his rifle from the table and continuing his patrol with a slightly more hurried pace in order to put as much distance between his virgin ears and the sounds of ecstasy coming from that house.
Cait finished her sip of beer with a loud smack of her lips, setting the bottle aside and folding her arms behind her head with a glow of satisfaction radiating from every pore.
Something told her than in a while, she wouldn’t be the only one.
30 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Link
Me too!
Welcome to Wasteland Roleplay Guide! We’re a hub for the Fallout rpers of tumblr, here to help connect you to other blogs.
21 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
“You Call THIS Junk?!”
Lilah Mulligan Sole Survivor of Vault 111
Tumblr media
__________________________________________________
Lilah watched the remnants of the ancient school desk be consumed by the fire in the metal waste paper basket and folded her legs to settle back into a comfortable slouch. She tipped her head to the side and thought back to all the times when she was a kid, wanting to set fire to every single book in her backpack. Ahh, simpler times. “The way you’re smiling at that fire worries me, Soldier.”
She rolled her head a little to the left, focusing her attention on the massive man who sat beside her, one knee folded, the other flat against the ground. The man who had followed her to hell and back on several occasions, the man who had taught her to survive in a harsh, new world.
Danse forked a brow at her as he brought his arm up to rest his elbow on his knee, studying her face and forking a brow in a way that stretched the scar above his eye ever so slightly. “First you’re hoarding garbage, now this.” He turned his own gaze back to the fire, working on slowly shredding the remnants of a copy of the Bugle. They already had plenty of scraps to keep the fire going, but he had an annoying tendency to fidget if he wasn’t in combat. Lilah was sure this was why the man was always so busily working on Righteous Authority or scouring his power armor for rust.
Her grin only grew. “Sorry, I was just thinking back to before. God, every kid on the planet dreamed of burning their homework at one time or another. Never thought I’d actually get the chance. I mean,” she swept a hand to indicate the dilapidated school room in which they’d made camp for the night. “- setting fire to anything indoors was rather frowned upon by polite society, so of COURSE every maladjusted little punk desired to break the rules.”
Danse frowned thoughtfully, still staring into the dancing flames. They glowed a mild green, likely something to do with the radiation having settled in for two hundred years. “Actually, I think you’ve adjusted quite well considering the circumstances. You’ve learned to survive. You’ve learned how to fire a rifle without jamming it a least.” His tone was even, but there was a sparkle in his eye that Lilah only just managed to catch.
“Are- did you just call me a punk?” She squinted blue eyes at him and rocked forward to peer at the ex-Paladin. “Holy shit, did you just make a joke?” She gasped dramatically and scrambled to her hands and knees, crawling to the man’s side and pressing a dusty hand to his forehead. Her fingers left a smear of dirt across his skin. “Oh God, I think you’re ill. Are you dizzy? Do you need a stimpack?”
Danse tipped his head down, small smile creeping over stubble dusted jaw. “Oh stop. You’re worse than Haylen,” he chuckled, but made no move to remove her hand.
Lilah gasped, taking his face in both her hands, smoothing the pads of her thumbs over his high cheekbones. The man really had no idea how handsome he was in that dark, rugged sort of mountain man way. “Jesus jumped up Christ, I think your face is broken. It has to be because I think I saw a smile.” She leaned down and peered into his eyes, squinting. “Might have to take you out back and ‘Old Yeller’ you.”
Brown met blue and held. Lilah smiled fondly as she let her fingers slide across his jaw and settle on his neck, stroking with her thumbs one last time before she reached up and smoothed back a cowlick of dark hair. Just because she could, she carded her fingers across his scalp and enjoyed the moment.
The fire crackled behind them, and Danse searched her face, his small smile having faded into something more thoughtful. He was quiet for a long time, just letting her smooth his hair and make feeble attempts to clean the dust of the Wasteland from his cheeks.
Lilah scooted herself closer and looped her arms over his shoulders, letting her wrists cross behind his head and fingers dangle. Danse didn’t flinch this time, which sent a thrill of hope up her spine. Maybe he was finally starting to get used to this- the closeness and personal nature of her touch. Any touch. She smiled and let her eyes close, tipping her forehead to rest against his. She could feel his big hands abandon the scrap of paper and settle on her hips, still light and somewhat unsure, but there.
This. This was what kept her going. The tragically brief moments of peace they could share where the world didn’t exist outside their own personal bubble. She felt safe like this. She could have been in the farthest room of Vault 81 behind three solid metal doors, five armed Minutemen and an overly-protective dog at the foot of her bed and she still wouldn’t feel as at peace as she did in these moments.
She gave a small, contented sigh and tilted her chin so their noses touched. All she’d have to do was move her head a scant inch, and she’d finally have what she’d been secretly dreaming of for months. Hell, she’d lost count of the number of times Danse had studied her lips when they were close. Not even like this, but crouched behind some wrecked corpse of a Chrysalus waiting for raiders to walk past.
I know decorum prohibits it, but.. I feel like being close to you right now.
She wasn’t going to push him, though. He’d been through a lot in the past three weeks. They both had. Both their worlds had been turned upside down, everything they knew to be right and honest an outright lie. She could be patient. She WOULD be patient.
He let his eyes close as well, and they both sat there beside the fire in the middle of a bombed out schoolhouse somewhere near the Slog, taking in each other’s breath. Danse’s lips parted ever so slightly, and he pulled back from their embrace to meet her eyes.
Her stomach fluttered. Oh God, this was it. Please let this be it. She let her eyes drift closed, leaning herself ever so slightly forward.
“Is that an old world combat term? If it is, I’d like you to teach me. It would be beyond helpful to learn something the enemy couldn’t anticipate,” he murmured quietly.
Lilah missed, her lips smearing over the collar of the leather bomber jacket he wore. She couldn’t help herself and burst into laughter, burying her face in his shoulder.
She could feel Danse frown against her hair, tipping to look down at the snickering woman damned near in his lap. “What? What are you giggling at? It’s a tactically sound idea,” he grumped, somewhat sheepish.
Lilah couldn’t stop laughing even as she straightened herself, once again taking his face in her hands so she could lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. “Oh honey, you’re so cute. Where would I be without you? You’re such a dork.”
He continued to look bewildered as she arranged herself so she could settle back against his chest, pulling big arms around herself and resting her head against his shoulder. “That’s for later. Right now we’re just going to decompress and stare into the fire like grinning maniacs.”
Danse tensed ever so slightly, and she wondered if she’d pushed the boundaries too far too soon, but she thrilled when she felt him relax behind her. He adjusted his legs so she wasn’t crushing his kneecap and let his chin rest on the top of her head, strands of cornsilk catching in his beard. “You are a maniac,” he rumbled. “You take out rooms full of mole rats just for one derelict toaster.”
“Hey, that power armor doesn’t repair itself you know,” she looked up at his warm brown eyes and smiled. “So my hoarding is justified.” She gave the broad, scarred hand pressed over her ribs a playfully chastising swat. “Less talk. More cuddling.”
Danse snorted quietly, but joined her in the comfortable silence as the fire charred memories of old worlds past.
2 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
What Am I Looking For? This! (Seeking partners for the following RP!)
Tumblr media
- Marvel (Any char, but love me some Barnes) - Fallout 4 (Danse) - Flexible with timelines regarding all scenarios/genres - More will be added as the fancy strikes me
3 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
Obligatory Rules: Just a few things to keep in mind
Tumblr media
* I’m new to tumblr, but I’ve had experience with RP on AOL since... God, 2.0. I lost contact with most of my RP partners since the servers were shut down, so I’m eager to make new contacts.
* Mun is 35 and has a job with (mostly) no consistent hours, so I’m not ignoring you if it takes me a few hours to get back to you. However, I seem to be doing mostly nights as of late. I’m in EST. * I play both male and female characters, all of them CIS. * Some chars are canon, others aren’t. Many are of my own creation and can be tweaked accordingly to fit certain scenarios. * Yes, I do play NSFW stuff, but nothing EXCEPT smut really strains the creative relationship. Plot, dude! PLOT! * OK with F/M, M/M, M/F, but for some reason I can’t get into F/F. Sorry.
* Please, for the love of God, don’t send me requests for some weird foot fetish or other such nonsense. I. Don’t. Care.
* I will freely admit that I want to lick that star off Bucky Barnes’s arm. Hng.. Always had a thing for the underdog.
* On a Marvel kick as of late, but feel free to approach me with anything. I’m flexible. Creating something new is half the fun of RP!
* I’m working on getting bios up for some of my already established chars, but it might take a while. Bear with me.
3 notes · View notes
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
‘So... I’m not fired?’
Alessa Wilson Chief of Bioengineering/Biomechanical Staff at Stark Industries
Tumblr media
_________________________________________________________
Tony Stark’s office was a shrine to all that was shiny and complicated. Alessa sat in one of the overly plush chairs lined up in front of a very nice, very.. glass looking desk with all sorts of interesting knick-knacks lined up. The foremost of these was a little Iron Man bobblehead that held a sleek metal pen in its outstretched arms.
Alessa stared at it, still somewhat bewildered. It had only been a scant hour and a handful of minutes since she’d broken a chair across the back of an Asgardian god in the middle of the cafeteria, but here she was sitting in Tony Stark’s office. By herself. Still covered in concrete dust and her hair half falling out of her french twist and assured that she wasn’t fired.
The silence of the place was deafening, almost thrumming in her ears. The adrenaline rush from The Bagel Incident was slowly seeping from her body, leaving her exhausted and somewhat cold. She shivered a little and folded her arms over her thoroughly ruined silk blouse in a vain attempt to conserve some body heat. This was NOT what she’d anticipated when she’d woken up this morning and dressed for work. You’re my two o’clock. Come up to my office and give me all the details about what his face looked like when you whacked him with the chair, Tony had said, grinning at her through the face plate of his iconic armor before he’d drifted away to... wherever billionaire geniuses went in state of the art suits of armor. God knew what was happening down there now that the maintenance people had blocked off the massive hole in the wall that Thor had made during his ‘grand entrance’ earlier that day.
”Miss Wilson, would you like a cup of tea? Your body temperature has dropped and my sensors have indicated you have started to shiver. Perhaps a nice cup of tea will help calm your nerves until Boss gets here. He’s asked me relay a message regretting his tardiness, and I apologize for the language, but I was instructed to repeat the message as said. ‘Tell blondie I’ll be up as soon as I deal with this dumb son-of-a-bitch and his Goddamned disregard for personal space.’“
Alessa looked up as the faintly Irish accented voice of a woman issued from somewhere- no, everywhere. She remembered hearing it in the cafeteria before Stark had left to continue his trail of mayhem.
1 note · View note
crueltyofhope · 6 years
Text
OOC Revelation:
So after some poking and scrolling, I have discovered what a ‘starter’ is. I like that idea, but I also like the idea of being able to work out a scene with someone if they’ve got something specific in mind with a certain character. Perhaps I’ll toss a few out there to see what happens, but please feel free to message me if you’d like to work something out.
2 notes · View notes