#mojavc

[nuclearspring-a]

@mojavc / "is that a-" it is. small, four legged, allergen to sheila, predatory. this one looks less mangy than arcade would expect of common or garden wasteland fauna, but that doesn't endear him to it. "stop petting it," he says. he hasn't rolled his eyes yet, but there's a thin line between his countenance and the action.

"i'm almost positive there's no antihistamine access here. you're going to be stuck like this." he sighs. there is a beat, and then he turns on his heel, waving a dismissive hand as he begins to walk away from sheila and feline. "well. hoc illud est quod est. don't say i didn't warn you."

[standingxbear]

@mojavc sent...

[BANDAGES] The sender carefully wraps a bandage around the receiver's forearm, securing it to protect the cuts.

The fact that Standing Bear had made it out of that building alive was a goddamn miracle. He'd been bleeding, nearly passed out when Wally found him in one of her stash points, an old dried out sewer tunnel. That was the one he frequented the most, leaving her supplies, silly jokes and messages, even toys he found.

He was awake and after several stimpaks from Wally, having run out of his own, he was stable. He'd been shot, luckily the bullet had gone clean though his thigh, and then stabbed several times. Some explosion or another had gone off, judging by all the metal debris stuck in his arms that Wally had spent several minutes pulling out before bandaging up his arms now.

Bear stayed quiet, except for the occasional sniffle. He cried steadily, silently, but said nothing to his friend. Not where he had been, why he had returned so fucked up, or what he had seen to cause this reaction. He didn't know if he could.

His own enslavement was something he rarely spoke of, if ever. The things he had been made to do, the children he was denied to care for... Death was a part of life, and it was too often seen in the desert wasteland. But enslavement and the cruelty and torture that came with it... the dehumanization of people, of children, was sometimes too much for him to bear.

[likemosaic]

❝ i do not want you to feel alone. ❞ - also sheila for kaj <3

old ask meme. / @mojavc

kaj smiles, the effort to do so gargantuan. the bags under her eyes have bags, now, and it's clear that whatever is going on inside her brain, it's merciless. she takes the offered canteen out of sheila's hands and takes a small sip, then returns it, like she's ashamed. in some ways, she is. in other ways, not at all. when she sees a slave woman with her child in caesar's camp, and that woman has given her child a toy stitched from the burlap bags she's forced to carry...and meanwhile, kaj wears fine armor and gets to eat fine foods and...well, a piece of kaj's soul dies, just a little. is there anything left of it, she wonders? to sleep next to a dictator who could have you crucified at any moment wears on more than just the soul, but the nerves too. kaj worries she's lost herself entirely, sometimes.

but sheila brings her back, a little. and kaj remembers why she's doing what she's doing. people like sheila deserve to live in a free vegas, where there's no threat of slavery, or of indoctrination, or...or...she's too tired to think of a third thing. and that's okay, because that's what matters. the kindness of someone you love, despite the despicable nature of your actions.

"thank you, sweetheart." and kaj means that from the very bottom of her rotten, wretched soul. "you mean the world to me." ed-e, next to her, beeps his protest.

"oh. and of course, to my boyfriend, too."

beep, beep!

[aamusedly]

Boone felt a strange lurch in his chest when he heard the tone of her voice; weak and wounded like a kicked dog. And what was wrong with her head?

He didn't pull back fully, but angled himself enough to look down into her face. His hand on her neck lifted to nudge her hat aside and reveal her head-- now shaved, and clearly scarred. Boone's teeth grit. "Fuck. Who did this to you-?"

"Are you still hurt? Do you wanna sit down-?"

it took every ounce of what little strength she has left not to burst into tears there and then in his arms, the sense of safety proving to be almost too much to bear.

the hand against the back of her neck was firm. warm. secure. though if he looked beyond the feeling of holding her close, he would notice something... off. a lack of cushioning where her shoulder length hair would normally be, even if it had been tied back.

" i'm sorry, " sheila whimpered against his shoulder, reluctant to move away to speak clearer. " i'm sorry, it-- it was so fucking weird, i don't even know where to start with it... "

[contrariian-archive]

      he’d thought he’d mostly recovered from the ambush she’d rescued him from, but given his current position—clearly not. his intention had been to shave, but he only got past the doorway of the bathroom when wooziness overcame him and he collapsed. must have made quite the clatter, considering sheila’s now standing over him.  he adjusts his sunglasses and grins, ready as always with a joke:  ‘ don’t you think i look pretty curled up on this bathroom floor ? ’

        deacon strikes an exaggerated pose, tossing his head as if to re-situate the ginger ( and gray, though he’ll never admit it ) stubble on his scalp.

@mojavc​ liked for a lyric starter (accepting)

[exigencism]

@mojavc - for sheila !

Picking up a box of god-knows-how-old Salisbury Steak, Nate reads the back of the faded box. Radiation and time has rubbed plenty of the ink off it’s nutritional value, off the branding and color. Myrna looks at him with a wary gaze ( as she does for everyone ) before he picks up quite a few of them and tips her a few more caps than is necessary. It’s all he has that tastes remotely like things did before radiation gave everything a bit of an extra tang. He lifts his pip-boy up to update his list of things; it’s useful, to keep inventory. Out of habit, Nate walks whilst turning a few knobs. This isn’t all too dissimilar from the time he’d been on his phone and bumped into Nora while she’d been cooking.

Especially because he bumps right into Sheila, and the vault dweller takes a few steps back, looking up from his pip-boy. “Oh- oh, I am so, so sorry, miss!” His once-holstered Deliverer is on the ground, and he hastily picks it up to tuck it away, holstered back to his leather belt. “I should’ve been looking where- you know?” Nate is quite flustered; he’s known to be a bit headfirst and determined, but not clumsy. “Anyways, uh, yeah. Sorry... Uhm, right, yeah, rude of me-” A hand extends towards Sheila for her to shake, a symbol of apology. “I’m Nate. You... yeah, sorry, you probably already knew that. You are...?”

[tread-the-bear]

@mojavc​. Sheila.

Geckos were no problem usually-- but a pack of golden ones became a real problem up close. As much as Boone was best at range, he’d made a calculated decision once those geckos had swarmed around Sheila not far outside of Red Rock Canyon.  That decision had of course been to jump in, instead of to hang back and shoot-- too slow, to reload his gun and fire.

Boone had been rewarded with a spray of acidic spit as he clocked the gecko down with the butt of his rifle. Ultimately the beasts were down and tha’ts what mattered.

But there was still a significant burn up his chest and shoulder, one that burned part of his shirt to his sizzled skin. Still, what came out of Boone when they were finally away from the scene was to be expected. 

“It’s fine. It looks worse than it is.” 

[cheatdeathsarchive]

@mojavc for lily bowen.

It’s the first Sunday of the month, which means she gets to enjoy the company of one Lily Bowen. They sit side by side as she dusts blush across Lily’s face. It’s these afternoons that are some of her favorites, where they get to do their faces up all pretty and walk arm in arm for sarsaparillas.

“Hey, Grannie?” Six asks as she dips her old brush down into the pan of rouge again, “Do you remember where your Vault was?” she pauses for a second as it returns to the apples of the night kin’s cheeks, “Even a slight approximation? I was thinkin’ -- maybe we could head on out there, see what we can find. Maybe Becky and Jimmy settled down someplace nearby.”

[o-rusted-heart]

“Oh, we’re gonna freak out so bad.” - from sheila uwu

“Pretty sure just you are gonna freak out so bad.”

He’s just sort of adjusting one of the screws in his hand, not even looking at the veritable field full of feral ghouls before them, and the light fading from the sun cresting over the hills. 

“If I just lay there they usually think I’m a car or somethin’.” 

[spakonarchive]

@mojavc for sheila

He wants to know her story. It’s his duty as mayor to get a read on everyone who blows into town, after all. Though perfectly capable of getting his own drugs, just as well he gets the new delivery girl in town to do it. Perfect opportunity for an impromptu interview anyway. He lounges on the couch, like a cat in the sun, as Sheila enters, a lazy grin on his face and his hat slightly off his head. Hard to law down comfortably with it on right.

“Hey there, chicky -- that package for me?” A rhetorical question. Of fucking course it is. He takes his time straightening up, and only enough to get at the parcel to start the party. Soon as it’s on his lap he rips it open and shoves it aside on the coffee table in front of him. Then there’s no time to waste as he shakes up the canister to inhale the jet.

“Fahrenheit’ll pay you, but just sit tight for a second. Ain’t gotten to make your acquaintance yet. Folks call you Sheila, right? I wanna hear your story.” He says it with a flourish of his hand, and invitation for her to sit down anywhere she’d like to. The invitation implies no is not an option.

[dyedmaxiian]

@mojavc​  / sc.

“Do the Minutemen suddenly employ Couriers now?”

THIS WAS certainly news to him, granted he wasn’t one to complain, BUT HE HAS to wonder how they’d navigate the COMMONWEALTH with everything that’s RUNNING AMOK. Especially given how dangerous the FENS were as well as how NOTORIOUSLY easy it was to get lost there. HE RISES from the chair was in, the SETTLER that notified him trotting back off to their business as he approaches.

“If you don’t mind too terribly, would you be so kind as to inform me about who sent this message exactly?”

[thelasttejada]

✳✳ snow time

Raul stared out the window of the old abandoned cabana. He had been reluctant to follow Sheila to the mutant-infested ski lodge because of his experience with the big green humanoids, but getting snowed in and trapped was the last on his list of concerns.

“So boss, about how long do you think until the snow will thaw?” Jacobstown was cold, but even in winter, the updraft of warm air from the Mojave desert would swathe in to disallow the snow to cling on for very long, keeping the area a cold, slushy place.

He wasn’t too worried, he’d give it a day tops.

[betterhealing]

" hey arcade-- look at this cool lizard i found! " proudly holds a baby gecko out towards him.

     For a moment there was a pause, however brief - a flicker of confusion as Arcade straightened from the old pre-war documents, barely preserved, he had been piecing together and looking over. But it didn’t take much for his brain to click that yes, someone was talking to him and that someone was indeed his friend. His expression adopted one apologetic - how long had she been left waiting like that? - before he looked over and -

- oh. “Well, that’s certainly a discovery right there.” A blond brow raised slightly but he stepped closer, intending to get a better look at the little creature in those hands. “I’m to assume its parents weren’t around?”

[likemosaic]

you alright? you alright? // sheila for benny heheheue

there will be blood.

it's the kind of pain where you can only gasp and hope you don't die. benny opens his mouth to say something smart (shot in the hip, doll; think i'll ever shimmy at gomorrah again?). all that comes out is a strained groan. he puts his hand to where he felt the bullet go in and it comes away stained with red, the blood dripping off his fingers and onto his suit. one thought comes through, clear as a whistle: i'm not dying in fucking freeside. but when benny tries to sit up, it's the same as before, white hot pain and a pained groan that he can't control.

he tries his best to think fast with blood pouring from a wound and sheila panicking beside him (he's had worse odds and still pulled a good hand). if he dies in the courier's arms, well, that'll be a big fast twist, won't it?

" followers, " he gasps, trying to sling his arm around her shoulder to stand, failing miserably. try, try, try again. if he can get to their camp, they're the closest. they can fix it and he'll live another wacky, wild mojave day. benito, the desert calls. no, i won't go, not yet.

" followers, " he says, desperate, meaning to say more. then the world goes dark.

[whaleships]

@mojavc​

In a forgotten lounge, a piano --- sun-stained. Lined in dust. 

A note rang out.

Warmth had begun to seep through his chest. He could imagine it: the morning sun, sluggish and drowsy, leaking past the curtains. Cinnamon, sweet, tickling his nose. And if Wallace suddenly stopped shuffling behind him, rummaging for whatever nameless supply or disappearing behind the bar, Ainsworth did not notice, his mind elsewhere for a moment, far beyond reach. 

“My sister --- Music is food, she would say. For the soul.” His voice was croaky and odd at first, maybe from disuse. He lifted his finger off the key. “Which is why whenever I'd sit to play, she would... always say she was going without dinner.”

[tcxastough]

@mojavc continued from here

【🔧】— What the hell kind of Mentats did that ghoul give me? Was her first thought upon being approached by a talking deathclaw. Scared out of her mind at first, managing to climb up the delapidated ranger’s cabin to keep away from it, after a few tests of conversation, she concluded that, hallucination or not, the mutated chameleon would do her no harm, so long as she stay as still as possible and kept herself on the roof of the cabin. 

        “I’m a lot bit than I look, shug, trust me,” she figured she might as well humor the hallucination by continuing to talk to it. Who knew, when she came off her high, maybe it’d turn out to actually be a handsome wild man or something.

        Cybernetic heart still pounding in her chest from the adrenaline, her eyes shifted over to the radstag carcass that was gutted open and hanging from the rack to dry the meat out. She figured, if this was indeed a deathclaw, that the blood dripping out must have attracted it.

       “You can help yerself if y’ want,” she said, gesturing over to it. “Just make sure y’ leave me a leg ‘r somethin’.” Hell she knew she couldn’t eat it all herself; initially planning on salting and tanning the meat to preserve it, but if it kept her on the monster’s good side, then that was no big deal.