nuclearspring

[nuclearspring]

might be a little absent for a few days but 🫡 see yall soon

#ooc. #might work on drafts sporadically we will see

[nuclearspring]

i do need to tackle what's currently in my inbox / drafts (mind you if we don't have anything going yet and you'd like to, i have some memes and a starter call up). but. but! i'm thinking about threads in which characters are just corresponding back and forth. wasteland letters. particularly like the idea of this being a complete accident - someone finds a letter and can't deliver it, so they write back to the sender, or else the correspondence begins on something completely impersonal but there's a note on, say, a supply order that has a character responding to it, and things go from there.

#ooc. #LIKE. i feel a lot of my muses could engage with this format even if some would not engage #with as much sincerity as others #sidenote even if we DO have something going already but you have an idea for an interaction ur welcome to send as many memes as you like ! #i don't always answer all of them but i love having a lot to work with and i do try to get to as many as possible slowly but surely

[nuclearspring]

hello again (time to tackle more drafts, hopefully)

#ooc. #had a coffee and then a nap. this is my brilliant insomniac strategy. #i may also just mill about scribbling thoughts on my muses tho

[nuclearspring]

[ STORM ] / @savorre. this must have been a fallout shelter once, if not a particularly good one. boris cheerfully relocates the three environmental storytelling skeletons that were its sole occupants before he and bledsoe joined them. once the bones are in the other room, further excavations are underway - the force of the storm provides a rocky whistling ambience as boris cracks open a crate of-

oh. nuka cola.

he'd really been hoping for supplies. or at least less tame refreshments. he casts a judgmental glance at the resident skeletons now in the other room. live a little, he thinks in their direction. for fuck's sake. "hmph." he slumps down dramatically on a centuries-old mattress. "no fucking taste."

#savorre #SIX. IC. #death / #in which boris is soooo mad at suburban american skeletons

[nuclearspring]

hand to god, i wasn't gonna say this, but you are broke. / @wandercr. "нет. uh, no. i have money in another account. accessible via teleportation." he reaches into his pocket for the transportalponder.

there is no transportalponder in his pocket.

"fuck," says the courier mildly. "misplaced it, maybe."

it's not in the other pocket.

he's a minute into a thorough search of his supply pack when rex comes bounding up, one very chewed up transportalponder fragment in his teeth.

"fuck," says the courier, now less mildly. "okay. yes. either i rebuild this from scratch, or." a frown. "i rob a casino, or." a sigh. "yes. broke."

#wandercr #SIX. IC. #boris like we're really in it now transportalponder fragment #honestly tho idt going to the big empty constantly to get his caps is good for him #i point in the general direction of various 'teleportation is doom' takes

[nuclearspring]

i'm the rising tide that raises all dinghies. / @savorre. her breathing is still a little shaky, but after another beat and one more rather slow exhale, lucy nods. "okay, i... do appreciate that." her voice comes out smaller than intended at first, but when she carries on, it's stronger: "i mean, i'm reassured. thank you."

it's certainly an interesting choice of metaphor given their rather dry surroundings. creative. lucy wonders if bledsoe has ever considered a career in writing, and then she recalls reality again and that train of thought trails away into nothing.

"should we keep going?" she pushes herself to her feet, brushes herself off, and then stops. frowns. "or... dinner? what time is it?"

#LUCY. IC. #savorre #family. im smiling at them

[nuclearspring]

"well, mark twain wrote that 'all generalizations are false, including this one!'" says lucy with the testy cheer of an overworked vault chaplain. she's on the fence regarding claudia. she'd like to say claudia seems like a nice kid, but the truth is that claudia's aura seems firmly rooted in the uncanny valley.

then again, lucy's understanding gleaned from cultural consensus is that a lot of teenagers are a little bit weird. which isn't to say that lucy herself is interested in generalizing - it's just that a world in which she doesn't allow people some harmless eccentricities doesn't seem a world worth living in. she remembers where that got her in vault 4.

"not everyone raised in a vault is the same," she continues, with a bit more measure. "my brother actually loves complaining."

@nuclearspring : no one can predict the weather in this place. ft. lucy

it's no good to be caught out like this -- without the sun on her skin, without fresh blood in her veins, claudia is weak, and to be weak in this world is as good as dead. she'd be more concerned if she wasn't sharing a campfire with the most naive little vault dweller known to man. doe-eyed lucy, who couldn't hurt a fly, whose heart beats so prettily in her rib cage. claudia's never tasted vault dweller before. she wonders if it's like the canned peaches of human blood.

but for once, she's appreciative of someone to watch her back. so as the moonless night drapes itself around them like a cloak, claudia curls a little closer to the fire -- cold, bloodless, she's always so cold.

"that almost sounded like a complaint," a slow curl of her mouth, an imitation of amusement. "i thought you vaulties were too good for all that."

#LUCY. IC. #claudevil #blood / #lucy 'this is fine' maclean

[nuclearspring]

"well..." says lucy, who is not thinking 'run.' lucy's thoughts run more along the lines of: is it not possible that we could negotiate safe passage with these people? if not, why? what historical schism put the urge to run in eliana's head? "i don't know. i mean!" she flashes eliana a rueful smile. "don't get me wrong, i do understand that people can be... unnecessarily hostile, in certain parts of the wasteland, which! i can understand how they might have come to the conclusion that said hostility might be necessary, even if i don't agree with it. and i certainly don't want to take risks that aren't justified. but at the same time... aren't we being a little bit hasty? i get why you might want to find another way around. i mean, that settlement does look heavily fortified, and i don't think we're in such a hurry that we can't justify a different route, but." she crosses her arms over her chest. "i just wanted to be clear - that was not what i was thinking."

@nuclearspring asked: ❛ are you thinking what i'm thinking? ❜ / from lucy (also hi !)

eliana's stomach sinks as the super mutant encampment comes into sight. part of her wants to shove lucy behind her, but infantilizing the girl won't do her any good. even if she goes back to her vault, the wasteland is part of her now, too deeply ingrained to scrub off.

" if what you're thinking is run, then we're completely on the same page, " she whispers. 15 years ago, she would have charged into the encampment alone, seeking the thrill of bullets ricocheting off scrap metal and the feeling of accomplishment that came with ridding the wasteland of cruelty.

today, though, she has lucy to think about.

" we'll find a way around, okay? " she says, gently grabbing the younger woman's wrist to lead her back the way they came. " believe me, you don't want to tangle with them. "

#LUCY. IC. #wandercr #lucy like um. UM. #guns /

[nuclearspring]

"hm. let me think... why don't you go down to the medical clinic to drop off some supplies?" post deadpan he stands, navigating around the rickety old chair on which he's perched for the past... ah. judging by the position of the sun, an hour longer than expected. it doesn't strike him as his fault that no work strolled in to rouse him from his studies, though, ellison notwithstanding. "there are other injurious fish in the sea," he informs the ellison in question. sarcasm, continued. "not everything needs to be a bullet wound."

he peers outside the tent. peace and quiet within the walls of the fort. arcade sighs. "i don't suppose a lecture on pre war socioeconomic policies would satiate your desire for entertainment? because barring that, i've got nothing that isn't a certifiably bad idea. i won't be divulging the bad ideas, for the record."

a wide smile grows on their face, tongue poking through the gap in her front teeth. arcade is one of the few that tolerates them. well, the entire followers camp tolerates them, but rarely is it genuine. perhaps that's why they find it so fun whenever they get something out of him, aside from him generally being boring and talking about old books. ellison's expression quickly sours at his suggestion, slinking down in the seat into a position that is far from comfortable. ❛ as long as it's not going to the medical clinic to drop off supplies. ❜ usanagi always seems mad when they show up. they blow out air between pursed lips, the tiny breeze flicking up the bangs of her wig. ❛ sometimes i wish that people would get shot more often. then i'd have something to do. ❜ someone in the legion was always getting stabbed or shot or cracking their head open because they tripped over a rock while marching. they're pretty sure that thought might make them a bad person. / @nuclearspring, cont.

#wasteland stim toy business when #wastedlands #ARCADE. IC. #injury mention / #gun mention /

[nuclearspring]

he stands half blown away by the story these remnants tell and half - this would be the half winning out; this is an approximate divide, latter portion of arcade's psyche getting away with an extra percent (or two, or several) - more interested in self preservation, weapon trained on the portal to the hallway lest any flowering zombies interrupt stark's inspection.

"weird?" arcade hums. "given what i've heard about the vault-tec corporation, as well as..." he gives their surroundings a pointed look. "...certain surrounding archaeological evidence, no. i don't know that 'weird' is the word i'd use. 'unethical,' on the other hand, does seem to apply. mind you, information on vault-tec is... limited, and i'll acknowledge many sources are biased, but-"

a pause in which arcade kills a mantis nymph.

"look," he says, abandoning his previous train of thought, "i appreciate that our time down here isn't entirely purposeless, but i'm concerned about potential exposure to environmental toxins, so. if you're done autopsying the previously autopsied, i'd love to get a move on. though if you happen to note any pre-war ppe..."

@nuclearspring - arcade / [ 22 ] / misc fallout prompts

Update: Dr. Peters is dead. His vitals flatlined ten minutes before he entered surgery. I decided to perform an autopsy immediately, and discovered his lungs were filled with some sort of fungal infection. Strangely, the fungus still shows evidence of growth despite the death of its host. I'll consult with one of the mycologists on the fifth level and see if they can identify it.

"I have seen some astoundlngly shitty ways to go, but death by lung fungus might actually be the worst." The next time he gets the brilliant idea to go in places that have signs that say things like Keep Out! The Plants Kill!, he'd, you know, appreciate someone having a more level head than he clearly has. He is deeply starting to regret what he clearly erroneously believes is a rakish curiosity that's urged him to ignore what has been a blatant warning to stand here, in the flickering lights of a vault clinic.

"You know, I know this place is-" He waves a distracted hand in a vague look around you gesture, as if that can encompass this place looking like and overcrowded window flower box, if an overcrowded window flower box were filled with man-eating venus flytraps or whatever. "So, there's that, and I know they had a mini pandemic or whatever happening, but you don't think it's weird this guy was, like...Super gung-ho about slicing patient zero open? No?"

He thinks it's weird. It's obviously way too late to do anything now, but it's a little weird, even given the surrounding circumstances. He's helped with quote-unquote dangerous autopsies in the distant past, sure, and he's no medical doctor or biologist, but he can't think of a single thing anyone other than a bio chemist would be champing at the bit to jump into an autopsy over immediately after someone's croaked. No bio organism expires that fast.

"I mean, before he was even dead. Who does surgery on a suspected pneumonia patient unless you're draining fluid."

#overclocks #ARCADE. IC. #oh it's fine he's fine #is arcade fine? he would allege not but he's. yeah. it's fine. #arcade like let's please get some masks tho PLEASE #arcade would like a hazmat suit and hazard pay #illness / #body horror / #pathogens / #ask to tag

[nuclearspring]

benny raises an eyebrow. he takes issue less with the theism and more with the implication that he is in any way shape or form kind. he just wants to see the gomorrah taken to task by a baby vaultie, sue him. not that he really thinks they was gonna pull that shit off - he just figures everyone deserves a chance, when it's no skin off his back. "god ain't got nothing to do with it, pally."

he has observed their nerves, just as he observes the raider from afar seconds later. benny understands this as not really his problem - the sanctity of the strip going to hell in a hand basket is almost a pleasant thought, given all the bones he has to pick with upper management. ain't got anything against vault dwellers in particular, though, and he's not of the opinion that this one's substantial enough to handle much. he's not run into all too many vaulties that weren't from numero twenty-one - they're a plucky people, but all that pluck doesn't necessarily translate to wasteland survival.

then again, he's pretty fuckin' sure the boomers came from a vault. so maybe that's a hasty judgment. "you packing, vaultie?"

Another one of your kind. Maybe not one of the flock, but another Vault dweller... That's good. Maybe she'll understand them a little more than these outsiders do.

Fliss's gaze flickers around as he speaks, mapping out the locations he's mentioned. Cards? No. A hotel that deals in chems and flesh? Definitely no. If anyone back home ever found out--

"I think I'll just head to the Vault 21," they say, smiling nervously. They give a polite little nod. "God bless you. You're very..."

They trail off. There's that--that man again, in the raider garb with the long scar down his jaw. He's loitering outside The Gomorrah with his thumb tucked into his belt, staring a hole straight through their face. They swallow audibly.

"You're, ah, very kind."

#conflict works ! #BENNY. IC. #vault119s #ask to tag

[nuclearspring]

good evening! was replaying new vegas today but i've actually got some sleep and i'm hoping replies may be incoming

#ooc. #arcade continues to be the funniest motherfucker alive #'why r u so resistant to talking abt urself?' #'only to obfuscate my past association with a fascist paramilitary organization. JUST KIDDING <3'

[nuclearspring]

sleepless enough that i doubt i'll be getting much of anything done today but i'll be somewhat around

#ooc. #and playing new vegas and thinking about benny

[nuclearspring]

[ FAKE ] / @savorre benny goes for it. in for a penny, in for a pound, whatever the fuck a pound is. some bullshit old world currency, he's pretty sure. definitely entirely fucking irrelevant - he's never seen a pound in his life and he does not give a shit if that ever gets righted (or wronged, he supposes).

anyway, point is he doesn't do half measures, thank you very much. is it the best kiss ever? is he gonna write swank about it? no. thing is the two of 'em can't pass as an old married couple, so benny's going for the newlyweds angle.

not that he's looking to overdo it - he and fox still gotta work together, after all.

huh. actually, they don't. not technically. but benny would prefer they do, he realizes.

been doing a lot of realizing lately.

benny emerges from the kiss feeling like he's done some stellar undercover work. winks at fox as he draws back. his arms are still draped on fox's shoulders, and benny doesn't bother removing them.

for the bit. for the con. for the love of the game. this is professionalism.

(it's nice, though).

out of the corner of his mouth like some ventriloquist stranded without his dummy, he murmurs: "is the coast clear?"

#BENNY. IC. #savorre #hehehehe

[nuclearspring]

benny muse is so awake

#ooc. #i am also working on other replies i swear #but benny is a little quicker and easier at the moment

[nuclearspring]

he wrinkles his nose and ashes his cigarette. "i wouldn't worry about it." he nods in the general direction of the vault 21 hotel. "head down that way - you'll find another of your kind. little blonde broad, real friendly. she sells those suits - figure that means she's gotta buy 'em."

although...

"on the other hand," he continues, "if you're any good at cards. could use the suit to... manage expectations, if you catch my drift. avoid the tops - they're a little sharper." they're not necessarily, not all across the board, but he ain't looking to sabotage his own joint. "head to the gomorrah. ultra-luxe is-" he makes a little so-so motion paired with a grimace. "i wouldn't." does he care if vaultie gets eaten? not particularly. that said, he's not about to usher that process along.

New Vegas, for what appears to be a writhing den of sin, is a blessing. There’s food here, and water, and shelter, and, most importantly, people. People who can keep an eye out for the weirdo who’s been tailing them for the better part of three miles.

Felicity wanders, dazzled by the lights and sounds—and then there’s someone speaking to them. They blink. A guy in a checkered suit; not obviously armed (they’d learned to start checking for weapons about a week ago), a cigarette in hand. They glance down at their suit.

“Oh, this?” God, it’s been almost two weeks since they’ve actually used their voice to speak to another human being. They sound like a creaky door hinge. “It’s—yeah, it’s mine. Er, genuine.” They come a little closer, wary, but thankful for human contact. “Why does everyone ask that?”

#cannibalism mention cw #nice !!! #BENNY. IC. #vault119s

[nuclearspring]

arcade looks at the cat's little face. it is little, and it is a face. asymmetrically whiskered, swimming in a field of inflammatory cat residue, and - arcade will admit, if only internally - sort of cute. arcade wouldn't mind its presence at all were it not for the biological warfare currently being waged on sheila.

he steps back as she sneezes. the cat lands on its feet when relinquished and slinks away. arcade doesn't watch it go - the sense that it slinks rather than marches away is based on stereotyping, not observation.

"a tragedy," says arcade, who is wondering if any research on the subject might have survived. he's not of the opinion he'll be able to locate said research if so. "though i think our priority should realistically be the management of symptoms at this point. or - and again, you'll want a mad scientist for this, which i'd like to reiterate i am not - the engineering of a hairless cat."

her nose has started to run now, signaled by the loud, wet sniffles she makes while searching her pockets for a handkerchief, still holding the cat in one arm.

" i know, i know! but he's so cute, look at his little face- " another sneeze, this one followed by three or four more in quick succession. finally, mercifully, sheila relinquishes the cat and places it gently on the ground. the cat, seemingly now satisfied with the chaos, brushed against sheila's leg once, then arcade's, before disappearing into the rubble of a nearby building.

" i can't believe they never figured out a way to cure allergies, " she mumbles, voice now very nasally given her dripping nose. " before the war, i mean. i mean, they figured out so much other junk! "

#ARCADE. IC. #mojavc #i want hairless wasteland cats tbh