#happy birthday you beautiful bastard and fuck you for living rent free in my head all this time :)

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Primrose, part Two

Rating: NSFW Length: 2124 Pairing: Male Orc x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

Primrose is there the next morning as promised, and all the mornings after that. He brings a packed breakfast from each morning onwards, each more extravagant than the last. I complain that my poor grandmother will have to roll me outside by the time she recovers; he laughs and tells me that he’d be happy to help. He comes out of his shell the longer that he spends time with me, but I’m the one that takes longer to emerge. I’ve been hurt before, and I’m not used to the earnestness of Primrose’s attentions—least of all from a man I’m also attracted to. He likes my biting tongue and doesn’t mind my skittish nature, and after the first hour of sitting in the shade watching me work, he grows restless enough to roll up his sleeves and join me.

He’s hopeless at weeding the garden. I squawk like a plucked hen when he pulls up one of my grandmother’s budding azaleas on the fourth morning, and he’s deeply apologetic for the rest of the day until we find that he’s incredibly talented at floral arrangement. It’s only a shame that we had to find out with the casualties of his “pruning”. He’s much better at working the soil, and I won’t lie and say I don’t enjoy watching his shirt come off before he pushes the plough through the dirt, trying his best to get even lines as his shoulders turn almost as pink as his hair in the sun.

It’s gratifying to watch him get dirt under his manicured fingernails, and I have to admit that I like his company. He’s a charming conversationalist and he never seems to run out of things to talk about, and I find myself drawn into conversation even when I’d been feeling reticent before. I learn that he’s the third child in a rich family—well enough off to do whatever he likes, and low enough in the pecking order to do what he pleases. I call him spoiled and he agrees with me, though that particular day he redoubles his efforts to learn how to tend to my grandmother’s flowers. I make him lunch and fresh lemonade every afternoon and we eat with our feet in the cool water of my grandmother’s fish pond, and every evening he packs himself into a carriage and heads home.

“Why do you keep coming?” I ask him after a few weeks of this charade, and I’m startled by the boisterous laughter that bursts out of the giant orc.

“You can’t really be that dense,” he says when he recovers, wiping tears from his sparkling eyes.

“I can be as dense as I like,” I reply with a touch of heat, though I suspect I know full well why the young orc is trying so hard. “Do you want to get into my pants? You won’t succeed.”

Primrose looks as though I’ve lashed him with a switch instead of my tongue. “Is that all you think I’m here for?” he asks, gesturing to our surroundings with a frown. “Why I’m learning how to garden?” He says my name in a chiding tone, and I can barely feel the condensation on my glass rolling down the top of my hand.

“Aren’t you?” I challenge, watching his face warily for any trace of malice or deception.

Instead, Primrose’s expression closes. “I think I’ll call my carriage now,” he says, and gets up to do so. I don’t stop him when he makes the call. I don’t stop him before he climbs into his carriage, and I don’t stop him after. He can go if he likes, I think. They all do, in the end.

The next few days, I find myself growing irritable. I’m upset with myself for letting him into my space, for letting him get under my skin, for thinking, for dreaming—but I stop myself before those thoughts can go far, growing all the more irritable for dwelling upon them, and then the cycle repeats. I find his ribbon when I’m emptying out pockets for laundry, and I have the irrational urge to burn it.

That’s when I know that I’m in deep.

That night, I decide to take a long soak in the bath, using salts and oils that I know have brought me peace in the past. This time is different; there’s a restlessness under my skin, an itch to touch and be touched, and I find that even the bathwater cannot calm me. I can hardly stand to be around myself, and so I pull on my bathrobe and march out of the house through the back door, intent on losing myself to the repetitive task of gardening.

“Whoa!” cries a voice when I throw open the door, and in the light I can see that I’ve slammed it right into Primrose’s face.

“Prim!” I cry, almost gasping around my words as I take in the position of his hands: one bearing a bouquet, the other cupped over his bloodied nose. “What the hell are you doing in my backyard? Get in here this instant! You’re bleeding all over the porch!”

“I was picking you flowers,” Primrose manages to say around his hand, following me into the kitchen and sitting down where I bid him to so that I can get a look at his nose.

“From my own damn garden? You’re lucky I didn’t break this,” I say, frowning and prodding gently at his nose; it will bruise, but it isn’t budging.

“They’re the prettiest flowers there are,” Primrose protests, lips bunching around his jewelled tusks—and that’s when I notice the way he’s dressed.

“Were you at a party?” I ask, incredulous, even as I wiggle a tissue up his nostril.

Primrose grimaces. “Some party,” he grumbles. “My birthday. But I wanted to spend it with you.”

My heart flip-flops in my chest like the day’s catch. “You don’t mean that,” I tut, keeping my eyes averted from his honest blue gaze. “You’ve had too much to drink again.”

Primrose draws himself up. “I haven’t touched a drop since we met,” he declares, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “I haven’t needed it.”

“Needed it?”

“To feel good,” he explains, taking my blood-stained fingers in his and looking into my face. “Not since I met you. Let me court you.”

“Court me?” I feel like an idiot, parroting his words back at him like some nincompoop, but I can’t help but feel as though I’ve missed a step on my way down the stairs.

Primrose laughs, and I ache at how much I’ve missed that sound. “Yes, court you. I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first day we met, but I know now that I want to keep you, too. Let me keep you.”

“I’m not one to be ‘kept’,” I say, bristling at the word that I cling to in the maelstrom of things being said.

“Then keep me instead,” Primrose begs, sliding from the chair onto his knees in front of me.

“Primrose,” I gasp, aghast, but he doesn’t let me speak, instead thrusting the bouquet up at my face.

“Say the word and I’ll never bother you again,” he says, eyes as blue as the summer sky looking up at me from his large, flushed face. “One word and all that I can give you will be yours. Kill me or kiss me, right here, right now.”

So I kiss him. I kiss him, and I touch him, and I climb him like that damn tree I found him under all those weeks ago, and he groans like I’ve just righted all of the wrongs in his life. I smell crushed flowers as he turns and presses me against the dining table, my limbs moving of their own accord to wend and wind around him and pull him close. There’s the distant clatter of buttons hitting the wood of the table as Primrose yanks his overcoat over his head, then the sound of fabric tearing as his shirt follows suit.

I haven’t giggled in years, but I do now, giddy and exhilarated. “Those looked expensive, you buffoon,” I scold, moaning as he takes the opportunity to kiss along my throat and scrape his tusks along my jaw. “Gods.”

“No,” says Primrose, his voice deeper and more guttural than I’ve ever heard it, striking a chord in me that makes a thrill rocket up my spine. “None home at the moment. Come here, you delicious thing.”

In an instant, my arms are woefully empty, but Primrose’s mouth is gloriously occupied. I shout into the rafters when he gives his first hungry suckle, hands gravitating to his hair and grabbing fistfuls as he works me like I hold the answer to his prayers in my balls. “I didn’t dare think about this,” I whimper, gasping when Primrose throws my thighs over his shoulders and settles in for the long haul.

“I’ve thought of nothing but this,” he growls when he comes up for air, tongue delving between my cheeks and finding me still damp from my bath. “You taste like roses.”

“Oh, gods, shut up,” I groan, dragging my hands over my face in mortification—I hadn’t even realised that I’d chosen the rose oil to soak in until now. I whimper and moan as he works me open with his tongue, but I’m not inexperienced enough to think that a little spit will be enough for what I’ve spied tucked in his trousers when he hasn’t been looking. “Let me get oil, at least!”

Primrose laughs and carries me as though I weigh nothing more than a limp kitten, which I suppose I don’t, to a man so large. We grab the rose oil across the house and make it about as far as the bathroom vanity before he has his fingers in me, and I find myself riding them with a lusty abandon I didn’t know myself capable of. “Fuck, you look so sweet,” Primrose whispers, and I watch him watch me through the mirror. “You’ll look so much better on my cock.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Hurry up. I haven’t got all nigh—ai! Oh, fuck, my legs.”

“Mhm,” Primrose chuckles, fingers once again working along the most sensitive part of my insides. “I saw that. Do it again.”

“Fuck you,” I manage to choke out, even if my knees do, in fact, wobble again. He takes his time, driving me crazy in fits and starts until he finally pulls his hand away and replaces it with his dick. I’d sooner eat dirt than tell him, but it burns going in even with all the stretching and preparation—a burn I hadn’t felt since the first time I was stretched open and fucked—but I wasn’t going to feed into his ego any more than my body already had; he’d be insufferable. “Prim,” I gasp, reaching back to steady him and slow his onslaught. “Easy.”

“I’ve got you,” he says behind me, and I know that he does. I feel it in my gut, and in the ache of my chest, and in the way he strokes along my quivering back. It feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, and I almost laugh at the way we both heave deep sighs of relief. When he moves a minute later, it feels like he takes my whole body with him, so he stops and adds more oil as I recover a second time and tries again. The second time turns out to be the charm, then, as he moves in me like he’s always belonged inside me, and then the rest is a blur.

I remember pleasure. I remember pleasure and the pain of my hips digging into the vanity, and of my fingers clinging to the edge of the countertop for dear life. He fucks me until my legs give out and we end up on the floor, his big hands guiding my hips as I ride him like our lives depend on it. I don’t remember how many times I come, just that I come until my vision blacks out, and then I come again, fingers tearing at the tiles beneath me as I writhe like a man possessed.

When my consciousness swims back into focus, I find myself in my bed with a blanket made of orcflesh draped over me, Primrose’s legs tangled with mine as the early morning light seeps soft and grey through my curtains. I watch him for a moment, taking in his sleep-soft features and the way his hair falls into his face, and I decide that we could both deserve a little lie-in.

I can always scold him about being too warm to cuddle later.

#exophilia #mlm exophlia #exophilia fic #gay exophilia #orc boyfriend #monster romance #monster lemon #Primrose #happy birthday you beautiful bastard and fuck you for living rent free in my head all this time :) #My work

[chidoroki]

TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I’m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn emma #norman #ray #emma #chidoroki used chatter

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Kindness; Epilogue

Fandom: Fallout (3)

Pairing: Female Lone Wanderer/Charon

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thank you for enjoying!

Charon yawned, stretching with a low groan. Beside him, Spoon snuggled into his ribs. Spoon?! Charon started, half out of the bed before he recalled what had happened between them. A slow grin crept across his face. Holy shit, smoothskin. He relaxed back against her, noticing a tiny notebook clutched in her left hand. That's...

  Charon remembered the little book from when they had been mauled by super mutants. Before they were sneak-attacked by raiders. In the brief interlude when they had fought and then awkwardly flirted. She'd been reading it when he had left to go 'keep watch'. His grin faded. Something like that can't ever happen again. I won't let it. Charon carefully, carefully managed to tug the notebook free of Spoon's fingers. A little stump of lead tumbled out when he opened it, and Charon caught it absently with his other hand.

  'This book property of Eleanor Grace!' screamed the inside of the cover, the Vault-Tec insignia emblazoned over the neat, small handwriting. Charon closed the book a little harder than he intended, quickly putting it on the windowsill with the pencil as Spoon stirred.

  Eleanor . Her name is Eleanor. Charon's head spun. Eleanor Grace.

  “Y' can look at it if you want. Nothin' in there's secret.” Spoon slurred through a yawn. “Just my journey log.”

  Charon fought back an embarrassed wince at being caught so easily, shrugging in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. “It fell open. I wasn't actually looking at it.”

  “Mmhm.” Spoon hummed, her drowsy look no-nonsense as she took the notebook and pressed it into Charon's hands. “Study up. Test tomorrow.”

  “Smoothskin...” She was either pretending to sleep or had already passed back out. Charon huffed in exasperation, propping himself up against the metal piping that served as a headboard and gingerly opening the notebook again.

  'This book property of Eleanor Grace! Vault 101.'

  The first page had a picture glued to it. A man and a woman wearing white lab coats, smiling for the camera. He had to fight the urge to see them as something awful, used and over-used to distrusting scientists.

  'Always know that your mother and I love you very, very much, little one. Remember her verse, Rev. 21:6. You are our precious beautiful daughter. Happy birthday, Eleanor.'

  The ghoul's throat tightened and he cleared it angrily. She wanted me to read this, dammit. Charon leafed through the pages. The first of them were covered with clippings from different books and magazines...maybe even some scientific papers, scaring up a few uneasy echos of the Institute. An Overseer. Stasis pods. The safety and comfort of a Vault-Tec vault.

  There was a defined part where it became obvious that Spoon-- Eleanor had left the Vault. Heated, young-adult rants about tunnel snakes were traded for blood spattered across one of the pages, now old and brick red-brown against the beaten paper. On the other side was tiny, immaculate writing. Charon's heart clenched as he read the words of an obviously shaken young woman, a terrified girl baptized in the fire that was the Capital Wasteland.

  'Dad is gone. The air out here is poison. The light burns. But if I stay down there, they'll kill me. Butch's mom almost got eaten alive by the huge...bugs. They bit me and I don't feel good. My stomach hurts. My arm hurts. Butch gave me his jacket and promised me I'd see him again if I'd stop being such a pussy. I punched him for that. My legs are okay. I can walk. I should walk. Far far far away.

  Dad why did you leave me here?'

  Charon flipped ahead a little ways, his stomach twisting when he caught sight of scrawled, capital letters. Silent screaming trailed across the page, a girl's plea to her father who had abandoned her. 'THIS IS WHAT YOU LEFT ME TO YOU DAD I'M BLEEDING I SHOULD BE GRATEFUL THAT HE DIDN'T KILL ME BUT I WANT TO DIE I FEEL FILTHY WHAT DO I DO DAD WHAT DO I--'

  Charon shook his head, fighting the nausea that surged in the back of his throat as he hurriedly turned past those pages. What the hell kind of parent is this guy? Leaving his kid alone in a world like this...Christ. Next to him, Spoon groaned in her sleep. Charon pulled the blanket up over her, smoothing it across her shoulders.

  'I disarmed the bomb! I did it! I spent half the day chewing Mentats and reading all of Moira's old Duck and Cover issues. That, plus what I remembered from James's jabbering about nukes. Guess the old bastard had something to offer me after all. It's weird. For the first time since I was. Well. I felt surprisingly alive with my arms elbow deep in that bomb, clipping wires and listening to Simms hold his breath. Alive but at peace. Out here there seems to be this screaming insanity people mistake for living, the rushrushrush of survival. But today up to my armpits in nuke I realized that not much of it matters. I cut one wrong wire and I'm very very dead. Maybe it was the Mentats but I was alright with it. I just knew that I couldn't fail, that's all.'

  'I got drunk for the first time last night. Vodka burns but apparently it gives me the strength of an angry Brahmin. Jericho was nursing a busted nose come morning, and Gob high-fived me when Moriarty wasn't looking. Poor Nova was tired out from the festivities though, and I 'rented' her for the day so she could get some sleep. It's getting a little more difficult to keep up this male ruse, especially with my hair being how it is, so technically getting Nova's room was a strategic move. I'm still flattered that Nova seems to think I'm a goddamn gentleman either way. But even if I was a guy I don't think I'd do that to Gob. Poor bastard.'

  'The wasteland is so much bigger than I am. The vault was tiny compared to this world I have now. Moira says I'm suffering from depression, but she doesn't understand. I know what depression is. Depression is being trapped in a sunless hellhole, with no one around who actually cares about you. Depression is being used, being left battered and broken in a ditch somewhere. Moira has some jobs for me to 'get me out of the house' and I'll do my best to complete them. She's worried about me. I hate that. She shouldn't worry. I'm fine.'

  Charon's brow furrowed and he looked down. Spoon was soundly sleeping against his side. He stroked her hair absently as he continued to read.

  'People wonder why I'm Spoon. Not anything special, honestly. I'm not Eleanor anymore, so I picked a different name. One that lets me fit in a little better out here. And yeah, Spoon doesn't have the same impact as 'Murder' when you introduce yourself, but spoons are useful. I'd rather be useful than scary. Also it's unassuming. Who expects a person named Spoon to murder them in their sleep?'

  'James if you're still out there, I'll find you. I want answers, you fuck. Why did you leave me in the vault? I'm so lost. Like you always said, I'm too cocky and sloppy for my own good. Is that why you left me behind? Because I'm messy? Or because I was just in the way of your favorite kid, your goddamn Project Purity? I'm punching you in the face when I find you, you selfish prick.'

  Charon cocked his head. Project Purity?

  'Set out from Megaton today to go to...

  I met the Brotherhood of Steel! And I killed a...

  Underworld is so strange! Ghouls everywhere. Winthrop asked me...'

  Water had obviously gotten onto the pages at some point, a few of them dried together or smeared. He couldn't hold back his chuckle when he came across the entries involving him.

  'I'm finding myself a companion, little book. I've decided that it's lonely as hell out here and extra protection from something terrible happening again wouldn't be so bad. One I've got my sights set on for sure. His name is Charon, like the ferryman of the Styx. He's a big, big ghoul, and he's bored to tears. I don't know why he sticks around The Ninth Circle really. I would ask him but he appears to be under some strict fucking orders. I wonder what Ahzrukhal did to him to have a huge guy like that so pliant. I hope he isn't abusing him. I thought ghouls didn't abuse one another? Out of some kind of mutual understanding that they already have it bad enough? Maybe I've got it all wrong.'

  'Sometimes I catch him looking at me. Out of the corner of my eye. Maybe he thinks I'm trouble. Maybe I irritate him by not being so scared of him. Shit, maybe he just flat-out doesn't like me. It's probably my funny hat. Or how I talk. I wonder if he would try to kill me if I was able to hire him. He's obviously not a giant fan of 'smoothskins'. No one down here really seems to be but I guess I'm tolerable enough.'

  'Wow was I nervous talking business with Ahzrukhal! That ghoul is a goddamn snakey motherfucker. He wants so many caps for that precious contract. I'm going to have to go clear to Rivet to get that amount for the crap that I scavenge. And that's on top of keeping all the scrap metal so I can trade it to Winthrop. This bleeding heart stuff is exhausting sometimes. Still no new leads on James. Fuck it. I hope this is all worth it. I told Charon I'd be back soon. I saw his arms flex, so I know he's at least interested!'

  'The way Ahzrukhal stressed the word “employee” has me colored nineteen shades of curious. Maybe suspicious would be a better word. I feel like there's a lot more going on there than he's letting on. Did he get Charon from slavers? Raiders? Watching Charon hoist Patches like he weighed nothing was a little terrifying. I think I surprised him though. He turned around to head back to The Ninth Circle and his eyes got all kinds of spooked when he saw me there. Touching him definitely used up most of my very limited courage store. He radiates heat like a furnace. It was odd. Are all ghouls that hot? Have to ask Gob. That must be awful.'

  'He's six-ten if he's an inch. The hair he has left is a rusty red color. I think his eyes were blue at one point. Hard to tell with the ghoul film over them. I wish there was more research done on ghouls! I'm so curious about why it happens only to certain people...it's strange. The only weapon I've seen him with is an old combat shotgun. Drum mag-fed, back holster. I've never actually seen him use it though. Normally he just hefts ghouls up bodily to toss them out.'

  Charon rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little overwhelmed. His smoothskin didn't miss a trick. “Observant little fuck, aren't you.” He grunted. “I did think you were up to no good. You'd nurse your fucking vodka and just watch everyone in the place. And the weird way people would talk to you and ask for help like you guys were old friends confused me.” The ghoul stroked her hair again, carefully separating out the seven braids. “I think I understand a little better now.”

  'Talon Mercs. How on earth did I attract them? Took a damned hunk out of my hip too. Good thing I'm not queasy about blood, otherwise I'd be screwed. I've patched myself up as best as I can with what I've got, but it might be a little trickier than I thought getting back to Underworld. Especially with all the stuff in my pack I couldn't pawn off on Flak or Shrapnel. Butch laughed at me for saving up to buy Charon's contract, saying that I was such a pussy. Why didn't I just shoot Ahzrukhal? Even after I explained to him that I was at least slightly trusted in Underworld and I didn't want to ruin it with murder, he didn't understand. I wasn't really all that surprised. He said I was pretty after that though. That surprised me. He didn't try to do anything about it though, except wink at me and add, “For a little nosebleed like yourself”. Also surprising. The Bitch Butch I grew up with would have jumped at a chance to coerce a decent looking girl to grease his genitals. Maybe since he got out of the vault, he's had more options and it's evened him out? ...oh no, what if he's grown up?'

  'Willow is a goddamn lifesaver! I'd been out of ammo for a little while and my knifework wasn't cutting it (forgive the pun). I was sure I was a goner and then that red-lipped beauty popped the last Talon square in the head. I gave her a pack of cigs for that, and I promised her another before I left. She just rumpled my hair and told me I was the worst tourist she'd ever seen. I went straight to the Chop Shop. In fact, that's where I am right now. Doc Barrows told me Ethyl and Meat can't see through the glass of their prison, but I'm pretty sure they can. I don't mind them though, they seem okay. Glowing ones out in the Wasteland I'd pump full of lead for sure, and I guess a lot of other ghouls would do the same.'

  Charon suppressed a shudder. Glowing ones gave him the creeps, and he was pretty sure Barrows keeping them around was a bad move for everyone in Underworld. The pull that they had over the ferals was a little too much like mind control for Charon to be comfortable around them. The few times he had seen them they did look oddly docile, even bored. Not exactly the blood-thirsty, pack-leading 'Pulsers' he was used to.

  'Barrows says I lost a lot of blood and my hip is missing a chunk of bone about the size of a golf ball. A Stim would've reset the bone if it was still there. Ah well. I told him not to worry about it, it just 'added character'. He swore at me for that, but he laughed afterward so I think I did good. I've got to get over to The Ninth Circle soon though. I want to make sure Charon knows I'm back before I go trade the rest of my bits and pieces. I want Ahzrukhal to shake in his greasy boots with the knowledge that I'm coming to take his giant buddy away. Hell, this is probably the most proactive thing I've ever done! I'm grinning from ear to ear like some stupid little kid. I wonder if once I get his contract, I can give it to him or something? I'll have to ask Charon about that, once he can talk to me freely. One thing's for sure, I don't want to stick him in a corner like a damn chair or lamp.'

  'What an asskicker! Charon is the man with the goddamn plan not a doubt in my mind about that. It's awful that I can't give him his contract and set him free, but...I'm okay with having him around for a while I think. I've been keeping up this 'man' facade for some time now, just because it makes me feel safer. I never thought...after what happened, I figured I'd never want to be a girl again. But being around Charon makes me want to be okay, if just for a little while. He makes me feel safe. Hopefully writing these things down will help me work them out of my system.'

  'Charon says it's not a problem that I'm a girl. “I don't recall your gender ever coming up in conversation”. Just like that. He's not angry. He fucking carried me home. He helped patch me up. ...I don't know what to do with myself. It's almost a relief that someone knows. At the same time I'm sorry for making his job tougher. Now he has to...to worry about something happening like I have to worry.'

  Charon grumbled low in his throat, watching Spoon's chest rise and fall as she slept beside him. Smoothskin...

  He rubbed a hand across his face, feeling a little less exhausted after his long nap. Charon shimmied up to slump against the headboard, his movements sending dust motes spiraling up into the shafts of sunlight that seared their way through the partially-boarded windows. He turned his attention back to the chronicle, patchworked fingers turning the pages slowly.

  Sometimes there were sketches. Her rifle, the view from what he assumed was the door of Vault 101. A few of him, the muscle groups in his face and shoulders clearly labeled. Charon snorted when he came across a rather gratuitous sketch of himself with his pants unbuttoned, his fingers resting on his belt and the muscles of his legs clearly visible and labeled through his pants. Sometimes he stumbled over words, having to sound them out in his head. Sometimes Spoon's writing was illegible, too small or smeared to read. She had a habit of cramming words together if she was coming towards the end of a page, her loops and lines squashing themselves in a vain effort to make more room. Have to keep an eye out for extra paper. Don't want her running low.

  'I could have lost him today with those super mutants. I panicked. He could have died. He could have died and I can't fix that. I can't fix that. What the hell am I going to do? I'm already way more attached than I should be but he's been through more than enough! What is wrong with me?! Why the heck did I get so worked up? Jesus. I can't afford to be this way! 'This thing did a number on me' he says like he got love-tapped instead of thrown across the room. Stupid me I'm so stupid! We're okay now but God do I feel like an idiot.'

  'Caring for someone else is weird. It's been ages. I mean yeah Wadsworth Gob and Nova. Moira. Carol. Even Winthrop. Just since James I figured I never would again. Thought it would be easy. Then I met Gob in the bar and I knew I was screwed. He's the first ghoul I ever saw and he was just...he was so sad all the time and it made me so angry. He didn't do anything wrong and yet here's this other guy spitting on his existence! Making him his free labor! I don't understand how people can get away with that. Simms frustrates the hell out of me sometimes because he ignores it. I know he's just trying to keep the peace but really?'

  'Charon says he's been passed around and that he's broken. I can understand at least one of those things and I'm going to do everything I can to help. I'm tired of pretending we're just partners. We're friends damn it. From the day I followed him tossing out Patches I knew I needed to help. Even while I was getting turned into Swiss cheese by the Talons I understood that failure wasn't an option. I don't have much to live for out here honestly. The allure of finding my dad and punching him in the groin for abandoning me kind of wore off years ago. But if I can keep helping...keep doing what I think is right even after everything else...I don't know. Maybe I'll make a difference. Three Dog talks about me and it's like he's talking about a different person. I can't do great things. I can barely clean my rifle right. I can do good things though. I think.'

  Charon closed the notebook, trying to collect his thoughts. He took a deep breath to clear his head and felt Spoon's fingers close around his limp hand slowly, like a reflex while she was asleep. “You're wrong, Spoon.” He rasped, his throat rougher than usual. The smoothskin hummed, obviously not awake. Charon felt his chin quiver a little. “Fuck's sake, you don't even see how much you do, you...you fuckin'...you disarmed a nuke for these people. You're so damn good and you can't even see it, spitting in the damn face of the Talons and raiders and slavers.” He slid down until he was laying beside her again, taking her face in his hands and shakily kissing her forehead. “Christ, smoothskin. Jesus fucking Christ. I told you I'd follow, 'I will make my services worth your kindness'. But I fucking can't. I failed. You've done so much more for me than I could ever...so much awful shit has happened to me and then your contrary ass comes walking in acting like I still deserve to have good in my life.” Charon shook his head in disbelief.

  “Don' cry.” Spoon murmured, putting a finger over his mouth. Charon hadn't even noticed the tears making their way down his face. “S'okay. No bad dreams. I'm here. Gotcha'.”

  “Spoon...”

  “M' here.” She repeated, wrapping herself around him protectively. “Right here. M' gonna' be here when y' wake up. Then we gotta' kill s'more baddies.”

  “Of course.” Charon tried to smile, wiping at his cheeks haphazardly. “For good or ill, remember?”

  “How 'bout 'for quiet an' let Spoon sleep', s'at sound okay?” The smoothskin mumbled, scrunching up her nose when Charon kissed it. “M'poss'ble bigass ghouly-ghoul, stoppit.”

  “I've been called much worse than that, smoothskin.”

  You are my heart. I will be with you always, for good or ill, and I promise I will be worth your kindness. Thank you.

#fallout three #fallout 3 #Charon the ghoul #Female!Lone Wanderer #rewrite #hurt/comfort #canon-typical violence #video games #slow burn #charon/F!LW #Charon/Female Lone Wanderer