#thiscruelearth

[waste-land-artist]

Meeting on the Strip

Out of all the places she thought would survive and thrive after the bombs, she didn’t expect Vegas to be one of them. Figures though. Where else best to drown your woes than a city of drinking, gambling and sex? She been there once before before the bombs. Didn’t seem to be too much different. Hell, one of the old casinos she went to was still standing. 

Lucky 38.

She entered the doors, amazed to see how it was still in pretty good condition, handed over her few weapons and made a bee line to the bar, seeing who she could mingle and perhaps pick up. There sure was a cast of characters out here.

And speaking of characters, she spotted a tall man at the bar, serious face. Handsome. Couldn’t hurt to see if she could get him to warm up a bit. She got a drink and walked over to him, sly smile on her face.

“Well hello there~ You a regular here? I just got into town. Maybe you could tell me about how this place operates? Where the places of interests are? Where to avoid? Not really from the Mojave to be honest.”

@thiscruelearth

[shesclcdy-a-blog]

Continued || @thiscruelearth

Salazar rolled his eyes slightly, and allowed himself to stoop down to kiss her back. Yes, it was his exceptionally bad attempt to talk dirty, perhaps even in poor taste considering that it had already been a year or so since he had unfrozen and found her again and still they could not locate their son, Shaun.

But he was under the influence of vodka, celebrating after completing an extremely dangerous contract, the extermination of an entire nest of Deathclaws for the betterment of one settlement.

Pulling her body close, he did not hesitate to move his hungry lips down her chin and onto her neck, breathing heavily whenever he could. “This time, Violet, It won’t be an accident. We’re actually planning to do this right, you hear?”

Violet tilts her head as Salazar’s lips move down her face and neck, hands moving from his collar to his waist. His lips tasted of vodka, but hers likely had the same aftertaste, even after the Cola. 

Shaun had been an accident. She knew this was a fact but it still hurt to acknowledge it. Still, she wanted this–to have a family, even with everything that went wrong before.

    “Loud and clear, dearest.” Violet agrees, kissing his cheek lovingly, “Not another honeymoon incident.”

She grabs his hand and leads him to the bedroom for added privacy before kissing him again, pulling him close.

[emmreth]

@thiscruelearth​ ( continued from here. )

She could not stay angry, not when he apologized. Her iciness thawed just as fast as it had come over her. Emmreth was one who was quick to forgive, and even if she wasn’t, it was hard for her to stay mad at someone who was sitting there apologizing while he was wounded and bleeding. In fact, she felt guilty for getting upset in the first place.

“It...it’s okay.” she assured him as she shifted to kneel beside him. “...You’re not unworthy.” 

Maybe he was, objectively speaking. She did not the know extent of his past deeds. But the truth was that she did not think objectively. She saw just the here and now, and what she saw was a man who needed help. So to her, he was not unworthy of her concern. 

“We should get you to a doctor.” The breadth of her medical knowledge was basic aid and stimpacks. She knew very little about bullet wounds. “Do you think you can walk?”

[faeshiftersmore-archive]

Gambling Fae

Another overly long closed starter. This one for @thiscruelearth 

Stepping into New Vegas had been an interesting experience for Rumple. It wasn't often she ended up in such places, but this particular Land and Realm was a rather violent one. Better to be in what passed as a large and built up city then out in the wild with all the raiders, deathclaws, and who knows what else. Even the Fae woman could only handle so much at one time.

Humming softly she passed a dice game and stopped to watch it for a few minutes with an odd little smile on her face. The players looked up and with their own grin invited her in figuring she'd be an easy mark. Shrugging she moved to crouch down and took the dice while placing a bet. The first roll went in her favor which was taken in good nature. So did the second, and the third. By the time the fourth, fifth, and then sixth rolls all went in her favor as well with progressively larger and larger bets the leader of the game was growing rather angry.

“You cheating whore!” Face flushing with anger he slapped at the ground suddenly grabbing the dice and tossing them himself which of course was a losing roll.

“Don't insult me like that, I don't like Rudeness. Those are your dice, and have been the entire time. No way for me to cheat. If that's your attitude though then I'll take my winnings and leave.” One hand was already twitching for a dagger as her jaw tightened and eyes went flat. She'd almost slit his throat already, but really didn't want to attract that much attention. Eyes on his her other hand scooped up most of the money and slowly stood. He stood with her and suddenly went for a pistol. Expecting the move her hand flickered out casually with a blade suddenly drawn and dragged it across his throat before giving his chest a hard and fast push with her other hand to make him fall back onto the ground which also moved the blood spray so none of it hit her.

“Idiot... not my fault I'm lucky. At least with gambling and the like. Really didn't want to attract that much attention.” Glancing around she spread her hands wide with the stiletto dagger dripping blood. “It was self defense, he was drawing a gun. Come on now.”

[blackwiidowsniper]

@thiscruelearth

Mars knew he had fucked up.

The fact that he was that stupid to have not noticed the new bartender at the Lucky 38, an employee he had not personally screened should have been strike number one. The fact that she had to ask him what was his “usual,” when every bartender he knew and trusted knew that his “usual” was simply a 60/40 mixture of Vodka and Nuka-Cola on the rocks, ought to have been strike number two. The final strike ought to have been the fact that his “usual” drink ought to have a dark, yet clear appearance. Instead, it was white and cloudy, obviously tainted with some sort of added drug or poison. Yet Mars was too high on the accomplishment of another successful raid against the remainder Legion forces in the Mojave. He had grown too careless to care that he, a former Frumentarius, was about to fall victim to a sloppy version of a typical Frumentarius tactic: datura poisoning.

Obviously, the tactic did not work, otherwise, the NCR colonel wouldn’t be slowly coming to the sharp kick of a passing woman to his ribs. Sacred Datura root, if not fatal, did produce severe hallucinogenic effects. As such, when Mars awoke, his eyes saw an intense, technicolor landscape that did not reflect the dank, decrepit alleyway that the inept Frumentarius had just dumped his unconscious body in. Instead of seeing a woman trying to wake him up, Mars instead saw a giant Cazador, hovering over him, dressed in Caesar’s garb, its glistening stinger vividly shifting colors against the intense landscape of his hallucination.

In Freeside, nobody gave a shit if they heard you scream.

Well that wasn’t what she was expecting. Startled by his reaction Victoria took a step back, her brows narrowing as one hand all but instantly went to rest on her pistol. She glanced behind her once again, only to see nothing but a dilapidated wall.

Her attention returned to the man.

“Well, I can see you’re a morning person.” The comment amused her, if no one else.

She was tempted to walk away. It wasn’t her business, she didn’t know what had happened, had no connection to this man. And yet, she stayed. If someone found her in a Freeside alley, she’d want them to help. With that thought she swallowed the urge to sigh and dropped her hand from her gun.

“Are you hurt there, darling?”

[distantpagesandpapercuts]

😍

“Not pretty enough to let go scratch free though. Isn’t that right Mars?”

[noseblxxd]

@thiscruelearth

        Survival was very unlikely.  It was a miracle they found him breathing.  Legionaries really did a number on the poor guy.  Covered head to toe in lacerations, all various depths, body riddled with bullets, eyes swollen shut.  Following surgery he would be bed ridden for at least a week; that is if he made it.

An hour went by since she last checked on him.  She located his pulse and listened to his breathing for a moment; normal enough.  It still baffled her how he made it far enough to stumble into their base.  Stimpaks could only do so much.  Regardless, the willpower demonstrated on that matter alone was impressive.

              When the man stirred, Beverly stepped back from his bedside.  Grabbing a new pair of gloves, and gathering her supplies together.  Shock was to be expected following this level if trauma, so it was no question that she needed to be gentle when he awoke fully.

                    “It’s okay,”  She reassured him quietly, moving the fresh bottle of water closer to the side of his cot.  “You’re safe now.”

[waste-land-artist]

Patching Wounds (RP with thiscruelearth)

“Hey!  씨발-Are you alright?” Yun could feel that she was bleeding, probably badly. She had gotten grazed by a few bullets, and she thinks shot. She wasn’t sure, adrenaline did wonders. And plus she was more concerned about the other person the raiders had cornered. She went over to the small wall the man had used for cover. “It’s all clear now. They’re dead. You hurt?” She offered her hand out to him, eyes full of concern and worry.

@thiscruelearth