falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Oh god this is delicious and I need more.

ALL OF MY YES
AMAZING, ART!ANON, AMAZING

so i'm a big baka who off an on checks the meme and i didn't think this would actually get filled

this was pretty great just so you know

Those are pretty sweet.

This is pretty much the best day of my life. <3

That was wonderful! LOVED IT!

Veronica, Arcade, FISTO
kink:robot

---

Veronica took a long sip of her drink and stared at Arcade. He shrugged and slung a leg over the low arm of his chair, twirling the toe of his boot until he managed to knock over her discarded pneumatic fist. A random decision to escape the Lucky 38 and Boone's foul mood had lead to the twin revelations of meeting Arcade's friend and long-suffering boss, and the realisation that they had access to Courier's tab at the Atomic Wrangler. Arcade's wheedling and cajoling had failed to convince Julie to join them at The Wrangler. A long afternoon was fading into night, and Veronica was sure she looked just as dishevelled as Arcade. Neither of them had the face for drinking, as equally cherry cheeked and shiny as each other.

Arcade's not so subtle needling about Veronica's immediate shift into perky flirtation had failed to get whatever results he was looking for, and now he was apparently happy to confess to things that Veronica hadn't quite expected to ever hear from him.

"Appreciation society," she said.

"New Vegas Robotics Appreciation Society," he corrected, grinning slightly wider than the sentence deserved. "We appreciate robots."

The only response she could think of was to take another drink, so she did. "Appreciate," she said finally. "Is this... is this appreciation or appreciation."

Arcade just grinned wider and grabbed at the bottle on the low table, shakily pouring a splash of spirits into each glass. "Appreciation," he said, rolling the r until Veronica collapsed into giggles.

"You sly dog," she said once she regained her composure. "I always wondered who you were sneaking off to visit all the time. How ironic. I was think tall, dark and handsome, not--"

"--a blue and gold paint job, even though what you said actually isn't ironic. Saying an unexpected this is ironic is a common misuse of--."

"Arcade. Shut up." She held up her glass and motioned it at him.

He accepted the toast, knocking his glass against hers with a clunk loud enough to make the next table glance over with interest. "Keep it down though," he admonished. "It's not something you should shout about."

Veronica glanced up at the stage. A cabaret singer was wheezing her way through a medley of hits, as uninterested in the Thursday night crowd as they were in her. "No shouting, I promise. It'll be our little secret," she said. "Even when you wake up tomorrow and regret telling me."

He just grinned even wider. "And miss this perfect opportunity? Santangelo, please. I thought a lady with your unique talents and engineering apt... aptit... know-how would be interested in, well, a bit of personal engineering."

Arcade's timing was impeccable as always. She thumped herself on the chest, vodka burning high in her throat as she caught her breath. "You've got to be kidding me."

He came dangerously close to spilling his glass as he lazily waved it in the air. "I know you're all hot and bothered for Julie, but trust me, that's a hard nut to crack. No first date fumbling with Jules. A piece of machinery though…"

"Gannon!"

"Oh, don't sound so scandalised. My workspace is below Julie's private quarters, I hear a lot of things whether I want to or not. I'm just giving you some brotherly dating advice in the form of helpful tips, such as letting you know that she likes having her fingers bitten." He looked over his glasses, his tone far too bland for someone dishing on his boss's sexual predilections. "And you probably shouldn't take her here because a) she thinks this place is a dump full of perverted sex maniacs and b) it'd be mixing business with pleasure. Some of the other doctors took her to the Ultra Luxe for her 30th last year, so, you know. Save up. Maybe don't tell her about the eating people thing though."

"I don't know if you're actually helping or you're just taking the potential fun out of finding this out for myself," Veronica said. "If - and I mean if - I ask your boss out, I don't exactly want her to think I'm a robot fu--"

"The term is technosexual," said James Garret smoothly, patting Arcade on the shoulder and neatly righting his glass in one smooth motion. "How is my favourite customer, John?"

"Swimming in a sea of vodka and feeling like I need to get put to bed." He twisted his neck awkwardly to look up at James. "Are we on for Tuesday still?"

The conversation droned on, a back and forth about collecting dues and maintenance schedules and Francine's upset about an oil-stained blanket. Veronica took the opportunity to prop her boots on the low table, swirling the greasy vodka and watching it cling to the sides of her glass. Her attention was only dragged back by Arcade tapping his fingers on her arm, saying are you still here? until she glanced up.

Satisfied that he had her attention at last, he gave Veronica a sly look then twisted around in his chair enough to address James Garret directly. "James," he started, ignoring Veronica's immediate flap of her hands and mouthed refrain of shut up shut up I hate you. "Did you know my gal here is a wiz with technology?"

James perked up. "Really?"

She glowered at Arcade before reluctantly answering in the affirmative.

"You should talk to Francine," said James happily. "She was going on the other day about getting someone in to repair the broken slot machines. What are your rates?"

Veronica said 'prohibitively expensive' at the same time Arcade peevishly said 'more important technology than that, you moron.'

"Oh," said James, then oh! as he finally realised what Arcade was hinting at. "We don't get many women, uh, engineering fans here."

"She's breaking down the gender boundaries," said Arcade smoothly, slouching in his chair even further and graciously allowing James to top up his drink. "Did you know it's her birthday?"

"It's not."

"It is. She is definitely not born in July, no."

"She isn't?"

"It's her birthday. Trust me." Arcade patted at James' hand, still firmly placed on his shoulder with the kind of easy familiarity that made Veronica's eyebrows raise. So robotics appreciation apparently happened in groups? She added it to her list of reasons to never join Arcade in Freeside on Tuesday nights.

"Well then!" James gave her a sunny smile. "In that case, um..."

"Cass," said Veronica, already dreading where this conversation was going. "My name is Cass."

"Cass! In that case, Cass, let me offer you some one on one time. On the house. With FIS--"

"Thank you," she said a little too quickly, cutting him off before the table next door could work out exactly what he was saying. "That's a swell offer, but I'm, um." She took a sip of her drink, stalling for time and an excuse. "I'm not sure my... girlfriend would approve."

"Potential girlfriend."

"Yes," she said acidly. "Thank you, John."

"Libenter hoc facio, Cass."

"A complimentary session," said James, keen to draw the conversation back to something he understood.

"Go on," said Arcade, grinning slightly too wide for a man who claimed to have full access to his sanity. "Get some of the kinks out. Get back in the habit. Blow some of the dust--"

"If you say 'blow the dust out of my pipes', I will punch you all the way back to the Hub." She debated whether it would be worth using her glass as a distraction. Maybe she could throw it at the cabaret singer and flee out the front door.

"Guaranteed no dust," added James. "You won't find dust or oil stains or rusted sixteen pin connectors on any Wrangler employees."

She instead balanced her glass on the arm of her chair and pressed her palms against her face, the flaming hot flush of embarrassment negated somewhat by her ice-chilled hands. "This is going to be a thing, isn't it," she said, voice muffled by her sleeves. "You're not going to let it go."

"Hey." Arcade attempted to grab her wrist and missed, instead landing on her shoulder and pulling her hood to the side. "Hey, I'm-- James, will you please go away? Later. I'll talk to you later."

"I'll send FISTO to the usual ro--"

"Go away."

Arcade finally realised what he was holding and let her hood go. She set it straight and tried to keep her face schooled into annoyance, fighting the urge to burst into laughter and ruin her act.

"I'm only joking," he said, an excess of vodka rendering his expression cartoonishly worried. "I wouldn't actually make you ride the robot."

"I'm sure you wouldn't, Doctor Robolove."

"I wouldn't!" He moved her glass from its perilous perch and set it on the table. "Besides," he added, looking at her from the corner of his eye and attempting to gauge her mood. "I'd be worried that you'd rewire it."

"I'd rewire it so it shut down at the sound of your belt being unbuckled."

"You wouldn't. You would, would you? No, you would. Yes."

"I will if you don't stop saying wouldn't, Drunkcade." She grinned. "You can apologise by getting me a drink. A cold sarsaparilla, please. All this talk of robots makes me want to sober up for a bit."

He drunkenly patted her knee, satisfied that she wasn't about to punch him in the next few minutes. An attentive cocktail waitress materialised at his elbow and took his order, happily chirruping that James insisted that it was on the house. Drinks were promptly served, and Veronica silently thanked the idiot Garret sibling for having the foresight to include a bowl of roasted pinyon nuts that were heavy on the salt and spice.

"So," she said, chasing her straw around the edge of her glass of sarsaparilla with her tongue. She needed something to distract Arcade with that didn't involve him goading her into seeing how many nuts she could toss in the sir and catch in her mouth, and given that he had some information that she might need in the immediate future… "So," she started again. "Tell me all about Julie."

"I thought you said that it would take away the fun of finding out for yourself."

"Aww, Arcade." She fluttered her lashes. "You know I just can't say no to your brotherly dating advice. It's the perfect guide. I just need to do the opposite of whatever you say."

The tactic worked. He spoke and spoke, she gained some insights about Julie - some interesting, some helpful, and some of them enough to make her blush scarlet - and Arcade got drunker and drunker as she sobered up. When he gestured too lavishly and accidentally dropped his glass, she decided that it was now or never.

"Arcade? Where did James say your, uh, usual room was?"

"Third from the stairca-- hey. Hey." He pushed his glasses back up his nose with a shaky finger. "Hey."

"Stop saying hey, drunky."

"Really? You're actually gonna…" He waved his hands in the air, and it took Veronica a moment to realise that he making a shape that vaguely approximated FISTO's body panels.

"Don't you dare ask if you can watch." She got halfway out of her chair and paused. "How long does it take you to, uh. You know. How long does it take you to conduct an appreciation session?"

"That's very personal, isn't it? I don't ask you how long it takes you to attend your personal affairs."

She tried not to laugh at the fact that his cheeks were flushing redder than the time Cass had accidentally walked in on Raul in the bathroom and then told them all about the colours, shape and dimensions of his ghoulified backside in lurid detail.

"Five minutes? Two minutes?"

"Fifteen minutes if it's been a while. An hour usually." He set his jaw and stared at her as if daring her to her to challenge his stamina.

"Relax," she said mildly, biting back a grin. "You just sit here and watch the entertainment. Personal engineering, right? I'll be back in an hour."

She stopped by the bar on her way to the staircase to ask for a toolbox, and trued to ignore the way James Garret's eyes lit up with delight. She took the stairs two at a time, the toolbox bumping heavy against her thigh, and when she reached FISTO's door she took a deep breath and pushed it open.

"Greetings. I am programmed for your pleasure."

"Oh no you're not," she muttered, kicking the door shut and dropping the toolbox on a dressing table. "Mr FISTO, I presume? Do you respond to voice commands?"

"I am fully voice activated."

"Wonderful!" Veronica pushed back her hood and scuffed a hand through her hair, grinning in the dim bedroom light. "In that case please present your rear access panel, Mr FISTO."

---

---

It'd been a fortnight since Arcade had enough free time to get back to The Wrangler. A fortnight of trudging through the desert with just Courier for company, a fortnight without a proper bath, a fortnight without any personal time. To hell with waiting for next Tuesday night. He slammed closed the door to FISTO's room, belt buckle already sagging open and fingers tangled in recalcitrant bootlaces.

"You miss me, metal man? I've missed you. Admin level user: ArcadeNoWaitJohn FakeLastName."

"Greetings ArcadeNoWaitJohn FakeLastName. I am programmed for your pfssssszzt."

He glanced up, hopping on one foot as he tried to shuck his trousers and boots together. "You working all right? I hope you've been oiled, 'cause tonight daddy is too excited to grease you. Queue routine five, subprogram two."

"Greetings ArcadeNoWaitJohn FakeLastName. I am programmed for your education."

FISTO's bulb dimmed slightly as Arcade's undershorts skimmed past his shoulder housing and snagged on an open pincer.

"Routine five, subprogram two." The mattress dipped as he crawled over the stained cover and laid down with a sigh. "Wait. Make that routine five, subprogram one. You do all the work, I'm feeling lazy."

"Routine five, subprogram one. Begin: He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish."

"Yes, that's the stuff I need… wait, what?" He rolled onto one elbow and squinted at the robot idling at the foot of the bed. "Routine eight, subprogram one."

"Routine eight, subprogram one. Begin: Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen."

There was a long pause. FISTO waited expectantly.

"Did… did Francine do something to you? Is this about the grease stain I forgot to clean? What program are you running?"

FISTO's light brightened, and one pincer pointed at him. "User access ArcadeNoWaitJohn FakeLastName. Custom operating system Santangelo 1.0.1a. System notes: hi Arcade! I hope you're having a romantic night curled with the classics. Libenter hoc facio in advance. If you want all your routines back, including the one you called DON'T LOOK JAMES, tell Julie that I want to take her out for a magical evening at the Ultra Lux. You're paying, by the way. See you back at the 38!"

Arcade stared at the ceiling. He lay there and listened to FISTOs servos whir, and plotted exactly how he would take his revenge on one Miss Veronica Santangelo. Eventually he sat up again, a pillow pulled over his lap for modesty, and stared at his former robot paramour. "I'm probably going to regret this, but... run routine DON'T LOOK JAMES."

"Routine DON'T LOOK JAMES renamed DID I GET IRONY RIGHT THIS TIME. Begin: The first time Yossarian saw the chaplain he fell madly in love with him."

I was wondering if you where still interested in this.

Priceless!!! I love party banter and this is hilarious. I love Arcade teasing her... and she definitely gets him back. Too funny. I imagine Fisto's voice narrating that and I die inside :)

Characters: Razz, Mags
Pairing: Razz/Mags
Kinks: None
Summary: Love means never saying you're sorry for swearing like a motherfucker. And oops, no companions, sorry OP!

Mags was a better swimmer than him. She’d grown up on the shore of one of California’s few clean lakes. She said her dad had her swimming before she was walking, but Razz is pretty sure that’s bullshit. But she’s cute and he likes her, so he lets it slide.

He wouldn’t usually. Razz doesn’t do idioms or turns-of-phrase or whatever. They bug him. He thinks people should say what they mean without gussying their words up with sayings that don’t really mean anything. Like, he knows Mags wasn’t swimming before she was walking, so why say it?

But again. She’s cute and he likes her.

Those were words that, three months ago, he would have been pretty sure he’d never say. Mags was always cute, but he never really liked her, not in a substantial way. She talked too much, and she didn’t have a sense of humor, and she hated his guts for a long time. But then that Courier came around and had a sit-down with each of them, and now the Misfits are the pride and joy of Camp Golf and he’s sleeping with Mags regularly.

‘Sleeping with’ is another phrase he doesn’t like. He doesn’t sleep with Mags. He fucks her. But she’d say that was a vulgar expression, and she doesn’t like vulgarity, so he says they sleep together. It’s a polite way to put it, but it means the same thing. He, Razz, is having sex with Mags.

And even though he thought she was kind of a bitch, he really likes her now. He figured out that she does have a sense of humor, she just doesn’t think jokes about shit and fucking and how Poindexter’s a fag are funny. She likes jokes about sarcasm.

Razz thinks it’s boring as hell, but he’ll listen to all of her jokes, if only to listen to her talk. She’s got a great voice, almost as good as her figure, and she moves her hands around a lot when she talks. He used to think it was annoying, but now it’s just another little thing about her that he thinks is cute. That and her freckles and the faces she makes when Poindexter’s rattling on about shit no one cares about and the way she always tries her hardest the little mole on her hipbone.

She hates that mole, but he thinks it’s kinda sexy. It’s like a secret, and he kisses it every time they get freaky, and he thinks she likes it too, even though she says she doesn’t. Mags ain’t shy about what she likes and doesn’t like, neither. She doesn’t like him pinching her nipples or licking her face, but she likes hair pulling and kisses that start on her mouth and go all the way down.

Mostly, she likes fucking, and Razz likes that too. But he also likes how when they’re done, she lays back and closes her eyes, and he puts his head on her chest and listens to her heart beating. It’s weird, that the touching is almost better than the fucking. Razz thought maybe he was some sort of freak, so he asked the medic about it, and the medic just laughed and told him he was in love.

Razz thinks that’s bullshit. He likes Mags more than he’s ever liked any girl, but that’s only cause she’s his own age and not all dried out from chems. There’s a lot about her to like, but that doesn’t mean he’s in love. Not with her, not with any girl.

But if he had to be in love, it wouldn’t be so bad, being in love with her. She’s cute and he likes her a lot.

OP here and god, this is good. Thanks a ton, anon! Razz having a soft spot behind that thorny facade came across totally believable. Don't worry about the lack of companions, this was perfect!

Great start, now more! :)

Ghost was soaked between her own legs, anxious as she watched Cass move carefully so they were face to face. Cass sucked hard on Ghost's neck, biting and breathing in her flesh, laving it with her tongue. She left deep marks beneath her jaw and lightly grazed her fingers over Ghost's nipples.

“I love marking you up,” Cass whispered into Ghost's ear.

“Well it's not difficult.”

“Yeah, but it's pretty.”

Cass was gentle and moved Ghost's nipples back and forth with the pads of her thumbs, hands holding her tight. Ghost twisted with stuttered breaths. She wanted to touch Cass more, return the appreciation. Even if it was just a kiss, Ghost would be satisfied. But instead she was bound. She closed her eyes and felt the mattress shift and bob as Cass moved further down. She felt a hot breath on her thigh.

Cass licked up the small stretch marks of her outer thigh where the leg met hipbone. She bit the deep blue veins near the surface of her pale skin and kissed the extra bit of fat Ghost had gotten since spending her days in the solitary confinement of the outpost roof. Ghost struggled, felt beads of sweat drip from beneath her breasts and under her arms.

She got comfortable between Ghost's legs and spread her lips wide, licking each bright piece of flesh with sharp swipes of her tongue. Ghost tried to close her legs, but the rope around them held tight. All those little things that used to help release the energy of a sensitive touch—they were gone. Her legs were tied down straight. Her arms behind her. She opened her eyes to see Cass staring straight back with a sick smirk on her face. Cass slid a hand up Ghost's side and settled on her nipple again, brushing it lightly with her finger and squeezing the hardened bud.

Ghost was panting, biting her lip and tensing her muscles in frustrated pleasure. Ghost remembered their night on the roof, staring at each other and working themselves to orgasm as outpost soldiers dicked around below. Ghost had won their little game, using her words to make Cass come first with a story she made up on the spot. A few more games between them and here she was with the shotgunner between her legs, making her drip onto thin dingy bedsheets. Cass was not only good with rope, she was also good with her mouth, working her into a sweet frenzy.

Cass lapped at her clit with the tip of her tongue in brief bouts. Ghost yelped.

“What was that?” Cass snickered.

Ghost rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and keep doing that!”

“Excuse me?” Cass sat up with her palms pressing into Ghost's thighs. “I don't remember you being boss of this little tango.”

Ghost glared back. “You little fucker.”

“Well if you're gonna be like that then I've got more important things to attend to,” Cass smiled and straddled Ghost's waist. She put her hand between her own legs and rubbed her clit while Ghost stared in disbelief. Ghost fumed silently as Cass brought herself to a quick second orgasm. Much lighter than the first.

“Let's try this again.”

:D :D :D great little story!!!

WOW!
holy wow. that was freaking great

Kinks: crossover, crack

Canon Characters: F!Courier, Vulpes Inculta, Craig Boone, Arcade Gannon, Rex, the King, Mr. House, Benny, Dr. Usinagi

Summary: Courier Six loses her memory and with it, all hope of returning home. With a ragtag band of companions, she follows the Long 15 seeking the help of the great and powerful Mr. House. But the cost of House's aid is higher than any of them expected and will pit Six against a wicked foe and his gang of blue-suited monkeys.

= = = =

There’s no place like Goodsprings. There’s no place like Goodsprings.

If she had a pair of red shoes, Six would’ve tapped them together and wished herself back to Doc Mitchell’s house. Ah, Goodsprings, that sleepy little town full of honest little people, where the most pressing problems were geckos and Trudy’s blinkered radio.

It wasn’t home, but it’d been the next closest thing since Benny and the Khans had come roaring into her life like a human tornado, kicking up dust and making her whole world go topsy-turvy.

She pictured the flickering lights of the Prospector Saloon and it occurred to her that Sunny would probably be perched up on a barstool ‘round about now, with Cheyenne crouched at her feet, wagging his tail while a mournful country song played on the jukebox. It’d be nice to be there now, belly-up to the bar, slurping back a cold Sasparilla and catching up on the local gossip.

Of course, just about any place would be better than being tied up in a janitor’s closet at the Tops while Benny and one of his lackeys, a monkey in a blue suit, alternated between sweet-talking and roughing her up.

Right now, it was Benny’s shift so the bullshit was flying thick and fast but at least she didn’t have worry about taking a fist in the gut.

“C’mon now, baby, ol’ Benny ain’t got all day. I just want you to tell me a little story about Mr. House and that big shiny palace of his.”

She kept working at the ties around her wrists. “What is it you want, Benny? You honestly think you can take down House?”

“Why not? He ain’t such a wizard. Me and the Chairmen, we got this thing in the bag. Now, you sing like a good little canary and maybe I don’t finish what I started in Goodsprings. You’re a survivor, kid, and I can respect that. You don’t have to go down swinging for House.”

Six doubted the sincerity of his offer. He wanted her Platinum Chip and the only way to be sure that she wouldn’t reclaim it was to shoot her good and dead. If it’d taken him this long, it was because he was squeamish. He wanted even his mortal enemies to think he was a real cool cat before he shot them, execution-style.

She decided to encourage his verbosity and see where it led. “Alright. So there’s a change in management. You and the Chairmen take over New Vegas. Are you going to improve things or is it all just business as usual?”

He launched off on some long spiel about how he and his goons were going to make Vegas swing, how every scene would be hopping with ring-a-ding girls and hip cats, how the booze would flow like a river down the Strip and the lights would shine so bright you’d be able to see them clear across the Colorado.

Six’s wrists chafed against the rope, rubbing her skin raw. At last, she managed to wriggle part of her right hand out of the binding, hooking a thumb over the top of the knot and prying out each of her fingers.

One hand free. Now what would she do with it?

She spotted a bucket of soapy water sitting on the floor. It looked heavy to lift one-handed, but she might be able to manage it, with the adrenalin pulsing through her, giving her some unexpected strength.

Her hand shot down, seizing the bucket's handle and she pitched the soapy water in Benny’s face.

/screams in delight/

Loving the Courier's narrative so far, and even more so that you're starting in the thick of things, not way back at the beginning.

wow razz's voice is so perfect!

Vault-Tec Industries
Pip-Boy Model 3000
User Log Entry

∙ We're going to give Michael Angelo back his equipment soon. We went over and told him what happened, but he didn't seem to be a in a rush to get everything back. I'm glad this is over, but I'm sad to see the camera go. We're going to use up the last couple tapes first.

[C:GP_10_01.exe
Play attached video file? y/n\

"-re it comes," Veronica said as the video started.

"This one better be them; we've been here for nearly an hour,” Layla said as she smoothed her dress and turned to face the monorail station.

"Weren’t you the one who told me they do a lot of paperwork?” the scribe asked.

"I think it's some kind of psychological deterrent to keep them from wanting to go home," Layla mused. "Boone said it took him more than a day to go through his discharge papers."

"I think we- There, there they are!" Veronica cried, and the camera wobbled as a hand pointing to the station showed up on the screen. In the throng of people leaving the monorail Lt. Gorobets and Jack of Spades were suddenly visible. After them came the rest of 1st Recon.

"What’s this?" Gorobets said as he reached the girls and the camera was pointed in his face.

"We're making a documentary about the NCR's greatest snipers," Veronica said. "You guys know any of them?"

"Here we go," Bitter-Root said as he got in the frame. "The Brotherhood’s unwanted opinions. What would you know about hitting something from a distance?"

"Layla wanted to invite you all to dinner before you went your separate ways," Veronica said. She pointed the camera to the side where the courier and Boone were making out. "But she looks busy at the moment."

"Is she buying?" Bitter-Root asked.

"Doesn't she always?"

"Then we're in," said Betsy, "but I get to pick where we go."

"Good," Veronica laughed. "You always pick the best places."

The video cut out.

No, actually! I've never heard of that before. I mainly got the title from a song I kept listening to while writing this so far.

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Re: F!Courier + Vulpes, "Hushabye Mountain", 1/?

no subject

op hurr

no subject

Re: Power Play 3d/3d

Re: Power Play 3d/3d

Veronica/FISTO Arcade/FISTO, 'Libenter Hoc Facio' 1/4

Veronica/FISTO Arcade/FISTO, 'Libenter Hoc Facio' 2/4

Veronica/FISTO Arcade/FISTO, 'Libenter Hoc Facio' 3/4

Veronica/FISTO Arcade/FISTO, 'Libenter Hoc Facio' 4/4

Re: M!Courier/Veronica - Voyeurism/Mutal Masturbation (Attention A!A once more)

Re: Veronica/FISTO Arcade/FISTO, 'Libenter Hoc Facio' 4/4

Good as Gold, 1/1

Re: Good as Gold, 1/1

Re: F!Courier + Vulpes, "Hushabye Mountain", 1/?

"Restraint" 2/? Ranger Ghost/Cass femslash

Re: F!Lone Wanderer/Dean Domino; Madre No More (2/?)

Re: Power Play 3d/3d

Home is Where the Heart Is, 1/?

Re: Home is Where the Heart Is, 1/?

Re: Good as Gold, 1/1

Greener Pastures (10a/?)

Greener Pastures (10a/?)

Greener Pastures (10b/?)

Re: Shades of Black and Blue - 3a/? A!A