end of .. times[?]

and then... she hears the alarm of a vault door open. her pale brows scrunch together, looking to the nearest map. (interconnecting vaults... how curious, you think.) plastered all brightly, that sickening yellow— so fucking familiar, all bright and cheery bullshit. and then she steps closer, watching the locks open and—

a moment of darkness. then the light bleeds through. the next vault and she stares wide-eyed, dog to one side with a gun in her arms.

“  once,  back at little lamplight,  we found a pile of this old spongey stuff?   someone called it bread—  it was all moldy,  no one knew how long it’d even been there,  and i refused to eat it;  absolutely refused,  but one of the other kids did.   he puked his guts out for days;  we were all convinced he was going to die.   he didn’t,  but we were all scared shitless;  running around,  trying to help him out…   my friends were dicks about it.   they woke him up in the middle of the night and tossed water on him,  saying it’d cure him or some shit…  i don’t know—  we were young.  stupid shit,  you know?   shit you look back on and just wonder,  what the hell was i doing?  ”    there’s nights he questions whether he should even be alive after his childhood—  king of little lamplight,  heart of nothing;  most days,  he considers it a dodged bullet,  but it doesn’t make the nights any easier to sleep through.    

“  look—  you might be right;  being easy pickings and all that.   i don’t know,  i just think…  i’m here,  alright?   i’m staying because i got things to work out,  and i think this might help me;  maybe it’s selfish,  who knows—  you can figure that out for yourself,  but i wanna’ help.  if we find a pip-boy,  then cool!   awesome!   but even if we don’t,  i’m sticking around,  i think…  marley might get mad…  dustin even…  i don’t want them to think i’m abandoning them,  because i’m not?   i’m doing this for them.   now i’m rambling—  it’s the ego talking,  i guess.   i want to help,  though—  and i think you can help me,  maybe.  ”    (i want to help  /  please let me help.)

“ ahhh good ol’ bread.   generally moldy bread won’t kill you,  the problem is vomiting causes dehydration sickness which can kill you.   so honestly,  dumping water on him wasn’t a bad idea.   did you know that moldy bread was a major breakthrough for medicine?   doesn’t mean you should eat it but the growing mold spore bacteria can help produce anti-biotics.   i used to help produce a basic distilled form of penicillin back in the vault with the leftovers. ”     her eyes drift down to her pip-boy,  the ugly green glow illuminating the map as they trailed through the caves;  dogmeat at her heels.     “ bread is actually quite easy to make when you know where to source it.   i mean,  i’ve had to figure out substituting packet yeast for using ground wheat and peach skins but i can teach you if you want—   god. i sound so stupid,  talking about fucking bread.   you don’t give a shit about bread.   i hate the wastelands.   i miss the vault but i hated it there.   the world is shit,  you want to make it better for the people you care about.   marley,  she another friend of yours?   tell me she isn’t going to kick my ass for kidnapping you on my quest to find a geck because i will lose. ”

“  are we seriously arguing about fruit?  all we had in little lamplight was pudding—  one of the kids,  dustin,  he’s obsessed with pudding;  it’s all he’ll eat.   we had some cans of beans,  too—  i liked the beans,  but then they make you gassy and my girlfriend hated that.   she’d always scoot away from me and say i stunk—  you know what!   no!   you don’t get to hear this shit!   you’ve lost the privilege to hear about my life!  ”    he shakes his head rapidly,  uh-uh’s trailing from his mouth.    “  i meant anyone with a brain would offer you a hand.   and you think you’re so smart?   get over yourself;  if there’s a rock down here,  i’ll fucking help you,  but that’s it!   that’s all you get from stevie.   and i know what a germ is!   i’m not stupid—  i’m quite smart actually;  that transmission you heard on your little wrist-thingy?  i fixed that radio!  well,  actually,  i hired dustin to help me but i did help hold things!   i held the flashlight,  i held some of the knobs…  i helped fix it,  alright!   so,  if you don’t mind,  i would appreciate some credit where it’s due.  ” 

“  you grew up in a vault!   not my fault we didn’t have prime learning down in little lamplight—  my apologies,  smartass.  ”    he can’t help but roll his eyes,  a loud  (and dramatic)  sigh exhaling from his mouth.   (he was starting to regret everything.   maybe everyone was right—  maybe the wasteland wasn’t meant for him.  maybe he should turn his feet around and retreat back to big town,  crawl back into bed and live the life he was destined for.)    “  twenty-two?   jesus,  you are fucking old.   standing next to you,  i can just feel myself balding.   you think you’re so cool because you fucking made it out of the vault,  don’t you?   one of the only ones— yeah,  i talked to some people in big town before i left with you.   i know all about you!   your leg isn’t a problem;  anyone with a brain can get over that,  just like you manage to get over a fucking rock.   your attitude,  though?   that’s a burden—  you need to tone down the ego. ”

“  what the hell is a mango?   i said mungo.   jesus,  look at you!   you’re so old,  you’re already going deaf.   must suck getting old!  ”    initial confusion from her words turns into annoyance,  clouding his entire being.    he continues shining the flashlight in his right hand further down the subway tunnel—  definitely not because she asked him to earlier.   “  if you wanna’ talk daycare service,  i’ll have you know,  for the past two years—  i was the designated big town guide.   if someone from little lamplight came through,  i trained them the ropes.   always the goddamn babysitter.   now look at me:  i’m stuck with your ass.  ”

“  you’re joking,  right?    you’re absolutely kidding.    there’s no way,  not a single chance in whole world,  i will be following your orders.    you’re a fucking mungo—  i refuse.    you cannot,  and i repeat,  cannot make me do anything.    who do you think you are?    my mom?  ”    

@vaulte​

❛      yo,   if you’re not gonna’ buy something,   get lost.      you’re fuckin’ with my business with your  goody-two-shoes  clean lookin’ ass standing ‘round.      ❜          his pungent tongue spews words of venom,   his gaze full of daggers following in suit.      (either  get lost  or  i’ll help you get lost, bitch.)

❛     maybe  i wanna buy!   you don’t  know.    you didn’t even ask,  dickhead.     ❜       a  scrunch  of her nose,   pout  dragging over her lips.    it’s  duality,   about the  purpose  &  agency,    she doesn’t want shit.    just to get on his nerves.