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

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Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2b/?

[(Anonymous)]

An hour later, they were seated at the counter of Gob’s Saloon and Elle had already knocked back a few shots of whiskey and was more than a little tipsy. Charon was nursing his own beer, even though he desperately wanted to drink himself into a stupor to forget about his employer, who became much more touchy-feely when she had a couple drinks in her.

Elle’s hand was currently clenching Charon’s thigh, using it to steady herself as she jabbered away to Gob about their latest venture into D.C., her other hand gesturing wildly. Charon leaned away slightly as her arm flailed a little too close for comfort, apparently demonstrating the way a Super Mutant’s head exploded as she nailed it with a blast from a shotgun.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t stop to see Moira!” Elle exclaimed suddenly, turning to Charon with a look of horror on her face. He opened his mouth to say she would have plenty of time in the morning, but she had already hopped off of the barstool and landed somewhat unsteadily on her feet.

“Oh, no, you can stay here,” she said quickly as he rose from his barstool, ready to escort her drunk ass across town. “It’s just around the corner, I’ll be fine.”

Elle flashed him an earnest smile, her cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a big girl, Charon, I can do it by myself,” she said, waltzing to the door of the saloon. “Stay here, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant it as an order, but Charon obeyed and sat back down. It wasn’t very dark outside yet, and Jericho was in the corner with some Wastelander girl, so there wasn’t much to be feared from Megaton at the moment. He listened to her footsteps clanking across the metal platform away from them, and when he didn’t hear a shriek of terror that would indicate that she had toppled over a railing, he allowed himself to return to his beer.

“I see you two still haven’t sealed the deal,” came a female voice from behind Charon. He swiveled on his barstool to find Nova watching him, her arms folded across her chest and a look of amusement on her face.

“You know, knocking boots, rubbing fun bits?” she smirked, exchanging glances with Gob.

When Charon didn’t respond, she huffed and approached the bar, sitting in Elle’s vacated seat.

“Listen, big guy, you’ve got it bad.”

Charon was taken aback at this line of conversation. He had never spoken to Nova before, let alone seen her without Elle by his side, so he had no idea why she was approaching him now with such a personal subject.

“Oh don’t act like you don’t know. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Hell, we all have. Right, Gob?”

The ghoul, who Charon thought until now hadn’t been paying attention to their one-sided conversation, set down Elle’s half-cleaned whiskey glass. He hesitantly met Charon’s eyes, as if assessing the risk of being slugged in the face should he respond. He must have decided that the counter between them was sufficient protection, because he chanced a brief nod.

“Trust me, I’ve seen that look a thousand times. You have the look of a man who’s fallen in love. Hard.”

Charon swallowed hard at hearing that word and drank the rest of his beer to occupy himself. Love. It was something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Sure, he was fond of the vault kid, but love? Now that Nova mentioned it, hadn’t he been experiencing all those bullshit feelings they always sang about on the radio…?

“And the frustration of a man who hasn’t gotten the girl,” Nova continued with an expression close to disappointment.

“She’s a smoothskin,” Charon blurted out before he could stop himself.

Nova gaped at him for a moment, as if she hadn’t expected this turn of events, and then she laughed.

“So? Just because you don’t see it out and about doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Gob and I are doing wonderfully together, thank you very much.”

She turned and gave Gob a smile and wink.

“Besides, haven’t you noticed the way she acts around you?”

A flash of confusion must have appeared on his features, because she gave him a look of mild pity.

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2c/?

[(Anonymous)]

“Oh honey, Elle adores you,” Nova said, her voice taking on a gentler tone, “She’s always looking out for you, even if you’re too busy looking out for her to notice. When you’re not checking her out, she’s checking you out. Her eyes light up when you look at her. And that’s just what we’ve seen here in Megaton. Who knows what you do out in the wasteland when it’s just you two.”

At that, Nova gave a little wink, and Charon shifted on his barstool uncomfortably.

“All joking aside, she really deserves to be happy. She’s been through too much shit for a kid her age. She needs a little comfort and loving,” Nova smiled, “And I’m sure an older man like you must have some tricks up his sleeve…”

Elle burst back through the saloon door, and Charon felt a wave of relief wash over him. He didn’t want to talk about his past, or even think about it, especially with Nova. She had already given him a number of uncomfortable thoughts to dwell on that night when he would be trying to sleep.

“Charon, c’mon, it’s sooo late!” Elle giggled, latching onto his arm. He could feel Nova’s eyes on him and ignored her, instead getting to his feet and helping Elle out of the saloon.

The cool night air was a refreshing change from the stuffy atmosphere of the saloon, even with the occasional dust-filled gust of wind. Elle was chattering about her trip to visit Moira, but Charon didn’t pay her much attention. Instead, Nova’s words echoed in his head.

Elle adores you.

He looked down at the vault dweller and saw that she was gazing up at him, eyes shining with excitement as she rambled on and on. Charon steered her back to her house more carefully, now aware that she wasn’t paying attention to the ground under her feet

“Let’s get you into bed, smoothskin,” he muttered once they got inside.

She pouted and protested feebly. Charon smirked and swept an arm behind her knees, lifting her up effortlessly. Elle laughed at the sudden action and curled up in his arms, burying her face in his chest. He froze at her sudden closeness, waiting for her to recoil, but she stayed pressed up against him.

As he carried his employer upstairs to her room, Charon frowned. He wasn’t going to give any weight to Nova’s words. Elle was a cuddly drunk, that was a fact. She would fall asleep in anyone’s arms, even if those arms happened to be missing skin in some parts.

He gently lowered Elle onto her bed and she grumbled, apparently disappointed to be leaving the warmth of his arms. She fell quiet again as he covered her with a blanket, and within a few moments, she had dozed off. Charon watched her steady breathing, the way her face softened as she fell deeper into sleep. Strips of moonlight, creeping in from the gaps in the roof shingles, illuminated her face and made her appear paler than she already was. Even after all her travels through the decrepit wasteland, Elle managed to remain almost as flawless as she had been when he first laid eyes on her in the Ninth Circle.

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

Charon reached out a hand hesitantly as if to touch her cheek, then quickly pulled it back.

An older man like you must have some tricks up his sleeve.

Nova’s words were still ringing in his ears. He was old as dirt, certainly, but that didn’t mean he remembered anything about romance. Two hundred years of combat and guard duty hadn’t exactly exposed him to the finer details of relationships.

He’d seen plenty of sex, though. Connections boiled down to one animalistic goal. The wasteland didn’t lend itself to romance, but there was still plenty of fucking. When Ahzrukhal wasn’t leering and making crude remarks to patrons of the bar, Charon had spent many evenings watching ghouls pair off after a few drinks. He noticed their hungry expressions and grasping hands, desperate to feel someone else’s flesh, no matter how ragged. Out in the wasteland, raiders fucked each other violently, wanting nothing more than to satisfy their carnal needs, and they uncomfortably reminded Charon at times of the feral ghouls lurking underground.

Elle didn’t need that.

Well, maybe she does, Charon thought with a smirk as images of his fantasies played once again in his head.

But no, Nova was right. Elle needed love, first and foremost. Anyone would probably be more than willing to fuck her, and the idea of another man in bed with his employer elicited ferocious feelings of jealousy and protectiveness that Charon didn’t think he could ever experience, especially for a smoothskin.
Elle was his to protect, and who better than he to give her the comfort that she needed? He was always by her side, and she had chosen him to be there, even if she wasn’t quite aware of what she was getting into at the time. He tended to her wounds that she couldn’t quite manage on her own, watched her back in combat, carried her to bed when she was too tipsy to think straight. Charon’s contract was purely for physical services, but now, he knew that Elle needed something more.

As Charon lay stretched across his bed, waiting for sleep to come to him, he thought of Elle, his Lone Wanderer, alone no more.

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

Author again, after finally dealing with character limits and formatting (grrr) - sorry this update took so long! I had a hard time writing this because I always felt like Charon was OOC or my writing was going in circles. Thank you again for all of your feedback. It's because of you guys that I continued writing instead of doing my research project like a responsible adult :) Enjoy!

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

MOAR PLS x) I've been following this on AO3 too, and it's really nice to see that Charon still gets some kmeme love. ;-;

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

agreed! i am also following this on AO3, i love to see Charon ones, they never get old sorry.

Trial and Error 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

Pairing: M!Courier/Fisto + James Garrett
Relationship: M/robot? & slash
Tags: Robot, voyeur & dub-con
Summary: “Garrett refuses to pay for his new sexbot before he hasn't seen that it is safe to use.”
Note: I went looking for this specific fic only to find out it didn't exist...I had to fix this. Also the courier is not actually underage of course, im just using an OC where folks assuming he's a child is an ongoing issue.
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“...I found the sexbot you were looking for.”

The casino owner jerked his head up from the ledger he’d been focused on; he hadn't noticed the young man approach the counter while he had been carefully tabulating the Wrangler’s recent profits after expenses. The results were looking severely dismal but the boy's abrupt announcement had instantly wiped any and all worries right from James Garrett’s mind.

“You- you did?! Hot damn! I've been looking for one forever!” The courier flinched slightly from the outburst and simultaneous jump out of his chair. James collected himself, embarrassed by his lack of control. “Er- I mean, for the customers, of course. I'm... not into that kind of shit myself. But we've had some ..hard times lately. Stretched thin.. erm,” he coughed, cocking his head towards the account book, dense with calculations. “A sexbot could do a lot.. a whole lot.. for us… For the Wrangler, I mean.”

He glanced back at the quiet boy, who seemed as jumpy and hesitant as he had been a few days ago when he first entered the casino offering his services in exchange for caps and maybe putting in a good word with the rest of Freeside. Truthfully, there was a whole slew of issues plaguing the Wrangler as of late that the Garretts needed help with, but the nervous kid about two sizes too small for that heavy leather duster didn’t look remotely capable of assisting with any of those problems. Though James had to admit he briefly considered a certain service the lad might have been able to do well, since that oversized hat and bandana and overgrown curls couldn't entirely hide what seemed like a fairly pretty face, he hastily dismissed that thought. There were plenty of customers that would pay hefty sums for their specific proclivities, but the kind of sick - sicker than usual - perversions this kid would draw weren't exactly the clientele they cared to draw in nor cater to, especially if he was as young as he looked.

But the courier was insistent on getting work, so Garrett has decided on a less risky request: there was no shortage of special interests from his wealthiest clients but some were fairly difficult to hire, even with a smooth tongue. Recruiting someone into this business was often tricky but a cute face can go a long way, so he told him about the two requested escort roles - a ghoul cowboy and suave talker - desired by some of the highest rolling patrons of the Atomic Wrangler.

He also couldn't help but add a sexbot to the shopping list despite no particular high roller asking for one; even if one of those was pretty unlikely to find, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. The practicality and usefulness of a sexbot for a brothel was more than enough reason, he told himself. He wasn’t expecting to get that demand filled anyways, since he'd already been hunting for years without success.

So the robot was definitely not the request he expected the courier to deliver at all, let alone deliver first; it couldn't have been more than a few days ago that the kid left looking as lost as he arrived. How he could have found one so quickly? James surveyed the casino floor but saw nothing resembling any sort of sex robot delivery, and looked back at the boy. The courier’s eyes didn't quite raise to meet his and he seemed to shift uncomfortably, unsure about answering. The casino owner narrowed his eyes at all the red flags but let him continue.

“The- the robot was in a factory…” he mumbled oddly, rubbing his arm. “...reprogrammed him with holotape ‘n ...upgrades from Ralph… He’s already programmed to respond to your commands.”

Despite his suspicions, he couldn’t help the slight excitement he felt from hearing that. He needed to be hardheaded and practical but he could even feel his voice wobble in the back of his throat while he attempted interrogating. “And where is the… robot? I don’t see it.”

Trial and Error 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

“It’s… It’s on it’s way,” the courier said with a nervous glance at the door; James looked as well, a little eagerly, then turned back to the youth in annoyance. He could sense himself getting his hopes up too quickly, which happens pretty easily, but trying to be realistic about the situation also reminded him of how much he absolutely loathed being disappointed after getting those hopes up too soon.

The kid shifted awkwardly again and finally looked up at the owner. “It’s on its way.. I ran a little ahead,” he clarified. Plausible, but suspicious. He looked like he wanted to leave as fast as possible. “..Umm concerning the payment…”

Expecting this, James straightened up and crossed his arms sternly. “We agreed to a price, and that’s what you’re getting. I’ll pay you once the bot is delivered.” The boy winced from the rebuke but nodded, dropping his head a bit to stare down again while he dug the toe of his boot into the wood grain. Another awkward silence, despite the raucous noise of the casino. James attributed this unpleasant mood to his feeling like a parent looming over the child he was going to have to scold for misbehavior, but the angle now gave him a new glimpse under the folds of the oversized bandana that had been covering most of his face and shoulders this entire time.

A deep flush, an open mouth, a soft lip being chewed: the tells any brothel manager was professionally familiar with exploiting and, considering the subject at hand, they were signs that James was also personally familiar with. His frame of mind now veered into a much different feeling of authority, and felt deviant from the thought. Picking up the ledger again, he started scribbling down general cost estimates to keep some shamefully sick thoughts at bay.

“If the robot seems ah.. like a good investment, then we might be able to discuss a higher price,” he rambled as he tallied some maintenance figures against potential profits.

The courier perked back up optimistically. He fidgeted with his sleeve, looking for words. “It- it.. The programming was made by Ralph and he had suggestions on mod- modifications. I ah, tried to do some.. work but.. but it’s a pretty heavy duty piece of equipment to begin with...Built to.. built to last. I think, it’ll be… it’ll be worth it.”

His salesmanship and charisma certainly needed work but it was somehow still working. James could feel some heat rising inside, though it wasn’t clear what was specifically causing it. He tried to be calm and continue the discussion professionally but quite a few thoughts were cluttering his head now. “Custom programming sounds pretty good. My god.. Imagine the possibilities…” He cleared his throat. “Er, it didn’t happen to come with a manual, did it?” He was getting overeager again.

Whatever the kid was about to say was interrupted by the jarring noise of casino doors crashing opened from ungraceful hands and a standard model Protectron shambling inside. Though James watched its approach with full wide-eyed attention, there were now a million new questions running through his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the courier shrink back slightly as the Protectron crossed the room towards them.

“Is this a joke?” He turned to the boy, trying to sound firm. “That’s a protectron.” Though he was aiming for standard disbelief, in the deeper pits of his mind, James could totally imagine how it might work: the protectrons had a certain appeal of their own already, but it still felt so unreal that practicality forced him to think more clearly.

“N-no! It’s..I mean, it’s a protectron, but it’s reprogrammed… It’s got parts… Honest!”

James groaned and rubbed his temple, trying to separate his annoyance with the ridiculous situation from the myriad of mental images the boy and his bot were inspiring. “Look, kid, I’m a serious businessman and that was a serious business deal. I’m not easily swindled.”

“What? I’m not lying!” Suddenly, the courier was the one crossing his arms and frowning. “I’m not swindling you either. I am being serious! I..added a lot of mods... And Ralph made the holotape to reprogram the bot! He’s a protectron but he’s also-” His petulant rant was cut off as the robot reached them.

“Greetings, FISTO reporting for duty. Please assume the position.”

Trial and Error 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

It’s voice rang out at full speaker volume and drew curious glances from some of the customers ...and maybe a few snickers at the provocative wording, though that might have just been James’ imagination. He was feeling pretty self-conscious about the situation unfolding out in the open like this.

“Let’s discuss this... in private,” he said as nonchalantly as he could, hoping came out with as little innuendo as a pimp could say that phrase with.

He hopped over the bar to lead them upstairs, something he never did during business hours unless there was an emergency. The courier followed him closely, with the robot slowly trundling after them. He could now see why the delivery boy left the delivery behind now; a little credibility to that as least. He wanted to let himself get a little more hopeful again, but the situation was still bordering on the “too good to be true” side; he felt like he couldn’t set aside his suspicions just yet. Not without some confirmation. He closed the door of the empty room behind them and nodded. Yes, that’s definitely sound reasoning, James reassured himself as the lock clicked like a metallic wink.

Turning back to face the other two, he realized the protectron’s frame was far more imposing up close like this. His insides fluttered a bit somewhere between fear and desire.

“Please assume the position,” it repeated, and was starting to sound like a threat. James knew the various models of protectrons somewhat, he always admired their sleek RobCo design and bold, hard edges for one thing, but he was also well aware that they packed some pretty powerful armaments and defenses.

His suspicions started to turn into a legitimate concern; had his personal desires let himself get duped? He knew the kid was poor and desperate for caps, but he had assumed the desire to up his reputation in Freeside - something casino owner James Garrett could provide him - was more important at the time. He wouldn’t try to kill him with a robot, would he? A rewired protectron, with its laser weapons and brute strength could easily do that and so, so much more...

Once again, fear and desire. He tried to brush it off and remain serious about the situation, watching the protectron intently. Even if he was safe from being killed, there was still the chance of blackmail or some other kind of extortion. The Garretts had seen their share of roughness from Freeside alone, so that could very well be a possibility. He reached for the small revolver in his suit as reassurance but his elbow unexpectedly bumps into the boy, troublingly close behind him for a reason James didn’t know. He panicked and spun around, gun in hand.

“What are you trying to pull, kid?!” He shouted in alarm as the kid stumbled back, eyes wide in surprise.

“Wha-?! Nothing!! It’s.. It’s programmed to respond to your command already...!”

The robot whirred in response. “I am programmed for your pleasure.”

His hold on his gun faltered slightly, burning at the reminder. “Kid, if this is some childish prank-” he warned, and the courier’s face darkened again.

“I’m not a kid… Jeez, why won’t believe me.” Ah. Don’t say that, that changes things a bit. The thought flashed through James’ head before he could stop it; one more mental barrier was about to coming down when James saw the kid’s hand hovering over a holstered weapon at his side.

“Not a kid, huh. You look pretty young to me. Young enough to assume you could pull a fast one on me. You’re serious that this thing’s been rewired into a ...sexbot?” The protectron seemed to loom above the tense situation as if waiting for a cue.

“I’m not trying to-” he sighed loudly in frustration. “I’m almost twenty! I’m not pulling a prank, I’m.. I’m trying to sell you a bot, man! I’m not looking for a fight!” His tone was convincingly exasperated but his posture and twitching fingers were projecting a more serious attitude.

Later, James would probably conclude that deep down he had already known by that time the situation was safe for him, and that he must have purposely escalated things as an excuse to turn it into a scenario he may or may not have already fantasized about.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (4a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


The shack is still empty, at least. She almost expected there to be people moved in, trying to escape the Legion. Too close to Cottonwood, maybe.

Their escort waits outside, and Twist and Dredge and Burn follow her into the shack.

“You lived here?” Twist asks. Rests her hand on the doorframe, looks up and studies the ceiling.

“Sure, for the last few months.” She hauls one of the footlockers full of food out from under the bed, shoves it away. Drags the other one out as Dredge settles herself on the table in the corner. Burn leans next to her.

“Heard about Strix,” Twist says.

“Yeah?” Lucinda asks, yanks up three loose floorboards, flops on her stomach to squirm under the bed. Her bird squawks, and she makes a shushing noise. “Heard he got promoted back east.”

“Yeah,” Twist says.

“So what was the point of bringing him up?” Lucinda asks, jackknifing so she can get one eye on Twist without moving from under the bed. She shoves her arm down through the gap made by the opened floorboard. Feels a beetle crawl across her knuckles as she fumbles the canvas sack up.

“You keeping this one?” she asks, jerks her thumb at the door, indicates the man standing out by the water tank.

“Don’t think so, unless Vulpes decides he can piss me off.” Drags the sack out from under the bed, dusts off her arm. Runs her palm over the bag, counts to make sure all three gold bars are still there without opening the bag and revealing them. “Which I wouldn’t put past him.”

Dredge laughs.

“You guys really hate each other that much?”

“Shit, yeah. He’s an ass. Thinks I’m out of line.” She stands up, goes to dig through the lockers against the wall for anything worth taking along. All three sets of eyes follow her. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks about my place in the Legion.” Her fingers slip over a cardboard cover, shoved behind a tangle of medical braces and surgical tubing. She gets her fingers between the cover and the age-soft pages and yanks, pulls out the whole wad of medical equipment at the same time she pulls out the textbook. Shakes the tangle to the floor so she can read the cover, then tosses the book next to the canvas sack with a loud crack. Burn jumps, Twist twitches, Dredge doesn’t react. There’s another book still in the locker, and she digs that one out too, tosses it--more quietly, a thump this time instead--on top of the other. “If you three want to go through those footlockers, they're full of food. Take what you want, leave what you don’t.”

“How long’s the food been there?” Dredge asks. “‘Cause it’s been, what, three weeks since the battle at the Dam? and if you were here for months before that, some of that shit might be ancient already.”

“It’s not that perishable,” Lucinda replies, bundles the canvas sack tighter around the gold bars. “It’s mostly gecko or bighorner jerky and dried fruit, with some NCR emergency rations thrown in for variety.” She crams the canvas sack into her backpack, sits back on her heels as she stacks the books on top of the bars.

Trial and Error 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

But at this current time, he was still just going with the conviction that his life was in definitely in danger and all his actions were in the name of self-preservation and safeguarding his business.

“So then, I’ll need you to prove it.” He didn’t lower his aim but tilted his head towards the robot.

The young man blinked at him, the deer in headlights expression from a moment ago returning. “Wh-what?”

“Prove that he’s been reprogrammed.” He’d been gradually stirring up inside this entire time, but ordering the kid around focused his motives into something a little more clear, a little more familiar. “Show me.”

The courier stared down his barrel for a moment, mouth still agape but dark eyes flicking cautiously between the gunpoint and the man pointing the gun. He seemed to deliberate for a second, then slowly raised his hands and moved towards the robot. “I’ll.. I’ll show you.”

Its mass towered over him and he stopped a few feet short of it, motioning at it carefully as if its surface was scorching hot. “It’s been… modified with a few extensions, and has room for more.. It’s programming has database of … premade routines… um.. and set actions but.. it can be customized…for.. for-”

“Fisto is programmed to please,” the robot turned suddenly to complete his sentence, startling him out of his terrible sales pitch.

James chuckled, but kept the gun up. “I get all that, but I want you to confirm that he’s safe to use.”

The boy stared with that slight blush returning to his cheeks. James continued, “Unless you already tested him out…”

“N-no, I-! It- he-” he stammered, and flinched again as Fisto whirred to answer for him.

“Servos have not yet been activated. They may require adjustment.” The whirring sounds became more audible, turning into a sexy mechanical purr that was starting to affect James a little more than he could control anymore.

“Really, Fisto? All those new modifications but still untested? That doesn’t sound very safe for commercial services at all.”

“Hardware and software modifications are untested. My safety rating is unknown. Please assume the position for testing.” The opportunity was too ripe to pass up at this point.

“Fisto, hold him in ‘the position’.” He licked his lips, not bothering to hide it anymore. Only having enough time to barely turn as he tried to get away, the courier let out a short yelp as two long metal arms extended from behind and clamped over his arms. James’ breath hitched as he watched the young man struggle for a moment against the unyielding metal hold, thick steel squeezing through the billows of an ill-fitted jacket to firmly tighten around small arms. He lowered his gun and walked a half-circle of admiration around the scene.

The courier looked up at him as he drew closer, but James chose to focus more on his flushed skin than the wide fear-filled eyes. There was guilt, of course, but it was getting quickly buried under a flood of much stronger, more carnal impulses. “Please..” he begged, not realizing how completely counterproductive begging like that was for his situation.

Still, James wasn’t a monster. He holstered the revolver and held up his hands cordially. “I’m not going to hurt you, and if you’re selling me a good product, Fisto’s not going to hurt you either… right?” The kid opened and shut his mouth a bit, at a loss of how to respond. It wasn’t clear whether his slow, stammered responses were from a lack of wits or charisma, or maybe a lack of both, but James wasn’t interested in conversing much at this point anyways. He leaned forward and tipped the brim of his delivery boy’s hat up with a finger. “I’m willing to pay double for your trouble, of course. And help you sort out that messy reputation you’ve got around here. Fair trade, I think. A fully tested product with a proven safety rating is well worth the cost of cleaning up your image, even with all those new.. troubling rumors.” He winked with smile, and straightened up. “So... what do you say? We got a deal?”

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (4b/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“What’s the stuff that isn’t those?” Burn asks, squats next to Lucinda to crack open the closer footlocker. “Ooh, Fancy Lads.” She digs out a box of snack cakes, half-turns to toss it up to Dredge, who cackles and rips first the box, and then the plastic wrapper around one cake, open. She crams the cake into her mouth while Twist snorts and shakes her head.

“A lot of stuff like that, yeah,” Lucinda agrees. “Pass me that box, would you?” She points to a handmade wood box, the word JERKY branded onto the lid.

Burn passes over the box, and Lucinda shoves that in her bag too.

“Why are you sharing?” Twist asks.

“Because I don’t plan on coming back here,” Lucinda replies. Crams a slice of jerky from her pocket into her mouth. “It’s going to rot or mold otherwise, and if one of you will eat it, that’s better.” She cinches her backpack tight, stands and removes her bird and the nest from her hood--sets them on the bed; the bird starts squawking--and swings the backpack over her shoulders. She replaces the nest a moment later, spits the half-chewed jerky into her hand and passes it back to the bird.

“Y’know, Boss, that’s kinda gross,” Dredge says, eyebrows rising. There’s powdered sugar caked on her lips and dusted over chin, and she’s clutching her third cake in hand. Twist reaches over to pull the box out of her hands, and Dredge lets it go without a fight.

“Well, I’d feed her carrion, but I don’t have any handy.” Lucinda sets her hands on her hips, tosses her shoulders back.

Dredge makes a gagging sound, follows it by shoving the entire third cake into her mouth at once.

“Now that is gross,” Dredge says. The words are gooey, and she sprays crumbs when she talks. She swallows hard and wiggles her fingers at Twist, who tucks the box of cakes beneath her elbow, against her side. “You feed her carrion normally?”

“Mostly been jerky, lately, because I’ve been in that weather station so long.”

“Yeah, but usually? You feed her carrion when you’re out of the weather station?” Dredge scoots closer to Twist, reaches across her without looking away from Lucinda, tries to grab the box of cakes. Twist moves it out of her grasp. “Cause I ain’t gonna hang around you if you smell like rotting meat, Boss, no offense.”

Burn stands and steps to Twist’s side, and Twist passes her the box.

“I mostly feed her crickets and locusts.” Lucinda drops her shoulders, watches as Burn tucks the box against her side, further away from Dredge, who is now leaning on Twist’s shoulder. “Rotten carrion is not my first choice.”

“Don’t have to be yours to be hers,” Dredge replies, finally turns away to lean around Twist and grab at where she thinks the box of cakes is. “Hey, where’d they go?”

Burn holds the box up, then tucks it into her armpit as she unwraps a cake and shoves the entire thing in her mouth.

“I was eating those,” Dredge pouts.

Lucinda snorts, squats back down to flip open the footlocker again. She tosses another box of cakes to Dredge, who snags them and shoves them into her waistband.

“I can’t believe you like those things. They taste like cardboard and radiation,” she says, looks at Burn and Twist. “What about you two? Is there anything you want here?”

“No,” Twist replies.

“I didn’t see anything I was interested in, no,” Burn agrees. She passes the box back to Twist, who takes and unwraps the last cake before tossing the box onto the table behind Dredge.

“Then we’re done here.” Lucinda snaps the footlocker closed and stands. “Let’s pick up our escort, and head back.”

Twist is the last one out of the shack, trailing behind the other three women. She already has her rifle at the ready, scanning the horizon, even as Dredge laughs and swings her machete loosely at her side. Lucinda slings her rifle off her shoulder and into her hand, and Burn tucks her arms over her chest.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“Where are you from? All of you,” Lucinda asks. Lucullus stands and their escort sits at the back of the raft, Lucinda sits at the very front of a crate, Dredge leaning against it, Twist and Burn settled on opposite sides of the raft, across from each other. “Not where you were born, where were you Legion?”

“Processed through Dog Town,” Dredge says. “Ain’t been Legion long enough to have a real place. Down on the lower levels, right, with all the rest of the slaves. Mostly just kept us all together until they could redistribute us out to where we were supposed to be. Kept us busy making armor and shit while we waited.”

Lucinda nods, looks to Twist.

“Flagstaff,” she says, doesn’t elaborate. Goes back to shredding the piece of cloth she found on the ground at Cottonwood, peeling thread form thread and piling them together.

“And what about you?” she asks Burn, digs out a cigarette and her box of matches. She lights the cigarette as Burn replies.

“Also from Flagstaff. Was born in the Sangre de Cristos, but my mother was moved to Flagstaff when I was five or so.”

“Who are the other two women you were sitting with? Drummer and…?” God she’s needed a cigarette. She can feel herself unjangling as the nicotine goes to work.

“Runner,” Burn says. “She’s Flatwater born. Whole tribe of runners, Legion kept my Runner carrying messages around town.” She picks at her fingernails, doesn’t look up.

“Where, Flatwater?” Dredge asks. She’s fiddling with the side flap on the box, picking at the failing glue with her chewed-up fingernails. “Like, Crater Flatwater, or Platte Stretch Flatwater, or Chimney Flatwater, or are we talking that place with all the balance-y rocks out near Pine Ridge?”

“Platte Stretch, as far as I can tell.” She drops her hands. “I never asked, though.” She flicks her eyes at Lucullus and the escort, though she doesn't turn her head. “I figured it didn’t matter much.”

Lucinda nods, breathes out. Breathes in, breathes out, takes another drag on her cigarette. Rock-Amulet’s name is Runner. Will be good for carrying messages, to scout ahead, most likely, and maybe hunting food to supplement their likely-insufficient rations. She’ll need evaluating, because even if the Legion kept her on her feet, the Legion still isn’t tribe the way the middle of Flatwater or Lonestar or Dakota is tribe. Not the way this mission will be tribe. Running messages isn’t the same as walking all day. All these women are going to need to be trained into being any good at walking.

“Wouldn’t matter, no,” Lucinda agrees. “Fucking tribals,” she adds, presses her calf against Dredge’s shoulder, and Dredge leans into it.

“Hah, yeah,” Dredge agrees, snorts. “Ain’t got the first idea of how great the Legion really is.”

Lucinda laughs, low and rough in her chest, and Burn grins down at her lap. Twist’s mouth twitches, but still can't really be called a smile.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (6a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Drummer nods and salutes when they arrive back at the tent. Burn goes to sit with Runner, and once Lucinda nods at Drummer in acknowledgement, she breaks to go sit with them. Twitchy Hands follows after a moment, settles into the now-square of bodies.

Twist and Dredge settle off to the side, on a pair of chairs apart from the others.

Pregnant Teen and Cornrows and Loose Hair all sit together, talking. Pregnant Teen keeps her hands on her stomach, wraps them around herself as Lucinda steps further into the tent and closes the flap behind herself, approaches on quiet feet.

“Hey,” Lucinda says, voice with just enough roughness to warm it. “What’s your name?” she asks, takes off her sunglasses to look Pregnant Teen in the eye.

“I, uh.” Pregnant Teen looks her in the eye for a moment, then looks away. Draws down her eyebrows and half-squints at the crack of light under the tent wall. Doesn’t respond.

“Born Legion?” Lucinda asks, sits down. Loose Hair scoots away, to give her room to join the circle.

“No,” Pregnant Teen responds. “Born tribe.”

“Where?” Lucinda asks.

“Canyonlands.”

“Long ways from where you were born,” Lucinda murmurs. Watches the other two girls--Cornrows is twisting beads on a string, Loose Hair is holding something behind her leg so Lucinda can’t see it. Lucinda looks back over to Pregnant Teen.

“I don’t remember it,” Pregnant Teen says, voice soft. She presses her hands to her belly. “I was three years old when we joined.”

Lucinda hums, first, pauses before she speaks again.

“It’s a shame,” she says. Cornrows looks at her, narrows her eyes, grimaces like she’s trying to fit Lucinda's words somewhere in her head. Pregnant Teen gives a tiny, hesitant nod. Loose Hair looks at all three with wide eyes. “I know some things. I can't teach you everything, but I can teach you a few things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Pregnant Teen says, but she doesn’t sound like she means it.

“I mean it,” Lucinda says. “The Legion did you and everyone else in this tent wrong, and I’m not going to pretend they didn’t.” Lucinda turns, stands, dusts off her pants. “If you wouldn't mind coming with me, I need to go visit someone and I’d like to have you along.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pregnant Teen agrees, and takes Lucinda's offered hand. She waves her fingers at Loose Hair and Cornrows, and Cornrows nods and moves so she’s sitting across from Loose Hair.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (6b/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: Implied gore


Pregnant Teen Follows her out of the tent, past Drummer, Runner, Burn, and Twitchy Hands, who are rolling dice next to a number board drawn in the dirt, past Dredge and Twist sitting together by the door, voices low but not stopping even as Lucinda walks close.

The two of them wind past the training yard--one of the boys even salutes at her, and she nods in acknowledgement--and over to Siri’s bar.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, so there’s only one ‘patron’, at one of the tables nearer the fire, and Siri is leaning on the countertop, rubbing her eyes and sighing.

“Hey, Siri,” Lucinda murmurs, slides onto a stool. She glances at Pregnant Teen, pats the stool next to herself. “How would you like a different job?”

“Depends,” Siri replies, turns her head just far enough to get one eye on Lucinda. “How many legionaries am I going to have to pour drinks for?”

“Absolutely none,” Lucinda replies, leans forward. “We need a doctor. Vulpes only brought me nine of the ten women I asked for. I think I can make a good case for having you come along, especially since there are more doctors in the area they can draft.” Lucinda leans forward more, drops her voice low. “We have two pregnant women, we need a doctor. With what we’re supposed to be doing, we’ll need a doctor for more than just births, too.”

Siri leans back, drops her hands from her face. Lucinda sits back, too, folds her fingers around the hem of her shirt. After a moment, she reaches up, removes her sunglasses, and hooks them over her shirt collar.

“Don't you flash those big blue eyes at me,” Siri replies, grins as she turns around to grab a pitcher of water. She pours two glasses, sets them in front of the other women. “If you can convince him, I’ll come. If you can’t, I’ll…” she trails off, looks toward the arena. There are dogs yelping, and someone yells, and then there’s a scream. The yelping stops, replaced by growls and barks, the snap of a bone and tear of flesh and a long, human wail. “I’ll manage,” she finally finishes, looks back down at her countertop. Presses her palms into the splintery wood, then her fingertips.

“Okay,” Lucinda agrees, reaches up, brushes her fingertips across Siri’s knuckles before she pulls back, casts a speedy glance at Pregnant Teen. “By the way, Siri, this is, uh.” Lucinda pauses. “Well, she didn’t give me her name. But she’s part of my team, and I wanted you to meet each other.”

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (6c/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: Mild gore


“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Siri murmurs, holds out her hand. Pregnant Teen carefully takes it, and they shake. “My name is Siri, I’m a doctor here, and maybe along with you if Lucy’s plan goes alright.”

“Lucy?” Pregnant Teen asks, voice faint, eyebrows rising.

“She’s the only one who gets to call me that,” Lucinda replies, picks up her glass and takes a swig. “It’s Lucinda to you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Pregnant Teen responds, grins down at the countertop. Lucinda looks over to her, grins too, tries to cover it up with another drink.

“If you’d like to stay here with Siri while I go talk to Vulpes, I’m sure you’re welcome.”

Lucinda and Pregnant Teen both look over to Siri, who nods before her eyes focus on the body being dragged out of the arena, now that the commotion has died down.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,“ Siri murmurs, adds, “If any men come over here, do what they ask. You should be alright because you’re--” she manages half a wave in the general direction of Pregnant Teen’s torso before she pauses, steps around the counter, draws her eyebrows together as she tries to figure what’s happening. Antony drags two dogs out of the arena by their scruffs, and another body is pulled out of the arena, making pitiful noises. “Lucy, if you wouldn’t mind waiting for a moment.”

“Sure,” Lucinda agrees, stands and ducks past Siri to take Siri’s place behind the counter, as Siri starts toward the mess of people.

“Is she really a doctor?” Pregnant Teen whispers, once Siri is gone into the cluster of people.

“Not quite,” Lucinda replies. “Almost, and the closest thing they had here for a long time.”

“I didn’t think they'd teach women to do things like that,” Pregnant Teen replies. “But maybe that was just in the town I was in.”

Lucinda shakes her head. “Captured. New Mexico. Legion interrupted her training.”

“But you’re going to--” Pregnant Teen stops talking, presses her lips tight, studies the ground next to the counter.

“You can talk to me,” Lucinda replies, raises one eyebrow. Someone screams from the knot of people, and she cranes her neck. A garble of words in Siri's voice follows. “What were you going to say?” she asks, turns her attention back to the girl.

“She’s not a real doctor, but you still want her along to watch me and--” she pauses.

“Dredge,” Lucinda offers.

“You want her to come help me and Dredge have babies?”

“Yeah,” Lucinda agrees. “There are already a handful of tribals in the group, and women old enough to have had children or bene present for the birth of other children.” Lucinda picks up Siri’s rag, twists it through her fingers. “I want here there to tell us if one of you is bleeding too much, and to count baby toes if that’s what’s needed. I’m not expecting her to actually deliver a baby.”

“So who’s going to?” Pregnant Teen asks.

“You, probably. We’ll be there for you, though. We’ll help, all of us who can.”

Pregnant Teen looks away, hunches her shoulders up.

“It’ll be alright, kid.” Lucinda leans in. “You’ll be alright.”

The girl nods, but can’t look at Lucinda.

Siri comes back, after a long minute of silence between Lucinda and the girl. Her hands are covered in blood, and her rag dress is smeared in it.

“Two slaves against the dogs. Neither slave made it.” She doesn’t look at Lucinda or Pregnant Teen.

Lucinda picks up the pitcher, and Siri holds out her hands so Lucinda cna rinse them. Lucinda passes over the rag once they're reasonably clean.

“I’m going to go talk to Vulpes,” Lucinda murmurs, lenas her hip on the countertop. “I'll be back as soon as I can be.”

“Good luck,” Siri replies, turns to watch the crowd disperse form in front of the arena. Two other slaves are hauling away the bodies. “Tell me, whatever his decision is.”

“I will,” Lucinda agrees, turns to head to the top of the hill.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Vulpes is in what used to be Caesar’s tent, maps spread across all available surfaces. A praetorian and a dog sit in one corner, the praetorian sharpening his machete on a whetstone, the dog watching Lucinda walk across the center of the tent, her head high, her shoulders back.

“Vulpes Inculta,” she greets the man in question, his back turned to the entrance.

“Hello, courier,” he replies. His voice still makes her skin crawl.

“You only gave me nine of the ten women I requested. I have a specific request for the tenth.”

“Then speak,” he replies. Still doesn't look up from his maps. He has a point marked with one finger, another finger in an open book next to the map.

“Siri, the woman at the bar.”

“The one with medical training?” Vulpes asks. Pauses. “You request her?”

“Yes,” Lucinda replies. “With two pregnant women, and the nature of our assignment, I want her as the tenth member. There are several other doctors in the Mojave, if you need recommendations of who to bring back here to fill her place.”

Vulpes looks up, turns. Lucinda can’t see his eyes behind the tinted goggles, but his mouth draws tight.

“Leave a list of names and locations, and your request is granted.”

Lucinda nods, and digs for a pencil and paper in her pockets.

***

“You’re with us,” Lucinda says, bounces up to Siri’s counter. Pregnant Teen has a plate of roasted brahmin in front of her, sliced yucca fruits arranged next to it, half an apple to round out the plate. “Request has been granted.” She grinning, wide and easy, and Siri breaks into a grin too.

“What should I bring?” she asks, turns to look at her workspace. Dusts her hands across the front of her dress, scowls down at them when they come away with faint red streaks.

“Whatever doctoring things you have,” Lucinda instructs, leans on the counter. “And any extra clothes. Anything you want to keep, that doesn’t weigh too much.”

“I don’t have anything that weighs much,” Siri replies. “Am I--are we going right now?”

“As soon as possible. You should come back with us, and then we’ll see how quickly we can get everyone else arranged and moving. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, most likely, with the sun going down.” Lucinda nods toward the sunset, where it’s turning the sky purple. “So we’ll spend tonight here, getting arranged, and then we’ll be moving before the sun is up tomorrow morning.”

Siri nods, turns to grab her doctor’s bag. The leather is cracking, and one of the handles has been both repaired and reattached with duct tape.

“I’m ready to go,” she says, hefts her bag higher in one hand. She grins, after a moment, and Lucinda grins back.

“Hey, Little Bird,” Lucinda says, directs it at Pregnant Teenager. “Let’s go. You can finish eating back at the tent, we'll all eat.”

“Little Bird?” she asks, even as she stands and picks up her plate.

Lucinda startles, stares for a moment.

“Sorry, name I picked up a long time ago as an endear--” she stops. “Is there a name you’d rather go by?”

Pregnant Teen ducks her head, shuffles her feet around in the dirt. Looks bashful.

“I like that one,” she says.

“Little Bird?” Lucinda asks, raises one eyebrow. Turns to go back to the tent, waves the other two along, urges Siri to go in front of her as she walks at--Little Bird’s--side.

“Well, maybe not all of it,” Little Bird says. Rests one hand on her stomach, balances her plate on her other hand.

“Birdy?” Lucinda asks. “You look like you could be a ‘Birdy,’ with that nose.”

“It’s not a birdy nose,” Siri responds. “That’s the sort of adjective you keep for that other woman you left with, earlier, the pregnant one.”

“Dredge,” Lucinda agrees. “Fair enough.” She surveys Birdy’s face, squints a little. “But it’s a cute name, and a cute nose.”

Birdy laughs, has to turn her head.

“I like it,” she says. “It’s a good name.”

Lucinda laughs and smiles, digs her hands into her pockets and hums to herself as they walk.

Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

It's great work.

Re: Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (7/?)

[(Anonymous)]

I AM GLAD TO SEE LUCY BACK AAAAA. She is such a good interpretation of a f!legion courier, and I'm interested to get to know these other women she's with. THey all feel like people and the dialogue and interactions between them are wonderful.

Eagerly awaiting more!

**Snicker**

[(Anonymous)]

Oh dear, that poor kid. 'Almost twenty' indeed.

Um... And possibly poor pimp, too, given what said kid has already survived. If he doesn't like this...

Please, keep writing Anon! I'm interested.

RE: Re: Heavy In Your Arms - Part 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

I have also set up camp, there are quite a few tents here now a!a and a fire and some killer snacks :) I'm kicking back with my Nuka Cola and waiting patiently for the next piece of this beautiful story. You've rekindled my Charon romance and for that I thank you <3

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (8a/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Cornrows follows last, three steps off the outside of the approximate column.

Twitchy Hands leads, on the other side.

Neither volunteered names over dinner, although everyone else had gotten acquainted by new names--Dredge had laughed when Drummer pulled off her scarf and shook it out, revealed it to be a baby blanket; Birdy and Dredge had sat next to each other, occasionally poking each others’ bellies, Dredge laughing in delight and Birdy in disgust when Dredge’s baby decided to press its (Dredge insists his) foot out her side; Siri and Twist had sat together in silence, except to introduce themselves, Runner and Burn had used each others’ names until they’d turned into nonsense, Loose Hair had pulled out a camera--a big boxy thing with a missing flashbulb, cracked and duct taped back together--and had summarily been named ‘Photo’ to the tune of her furious blushing.

Cornrows stayed in the corner and watched, Twitchy Hands next to her, both silent.

They don’t talk out here on the road, either, but they watch each other from the corners of their eyes, move in a sort of off-kilter tandem that almost has a rhythm to it. They must know each other. Must know each other well.

“Hey,” she calls to Cornrows, steps two steps across the back of the column, so she’s a step and a half from the girl. “What’s your name?” she asks.

“Watch,” Cornrows replies, low and soft like she’s used to answering to someone. Takes a moment before she tips her chin up, watches Lucinda from the corner of her eye. Keeps her hand close to the machete at her hip--refused a rifle, took the .44 revolver instead.

“Watch. And where are you from?”

“All over.”

“Tribal?”

“Legion.”

Lucinda huffs, half-smiles.

“Not common for the Legion.”

“I’m not common,” Watch agrees. Lucinda nods, studies everyone's backs. Dredge is laughing about something, shoves Twist’s shoulder; Siri is boxed in by Birdy on one side and Photo on the other; Burn walks two steps behind Dredge, leaning int Drummer’s shoulder to giggle every time Dredge laughs; Runner leads the column, a half step off and two steps ahead of Twitchy Hands.

“Why are you here, Watch?” Lucinda asks, stop walking and turns to face Watch. Watch stops a step ahead, turns around.

“The men didn’t like me,” she replies.

“That’s not a reason,” Lucinda fires back. “Dog Town loved me and yet here I am, they hated others but they're still there.” She takes a half-step closer, edges herself into Watch’s space. “Why are you here, Watch?”

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (8b/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“Rumors they couldn’t prove but believed anyway,” Watch replies. She crosses her arms. Lucinda leans back on one foot, crosses her arms too. Studies Watch--her face, her hair, her shoulders, her arms, her hands. Narrows her eyes as she considers the possibilities.

“Theft,” she finally says.

Watch shakes her head, but smiles.

“Get more creative,” she says.

“Huh,” Lucinda snorts, turns and begins walking again. Slows her steps so Watch walks at her side. “If you’d done anything much worse, they'd have crucified you.”

“If they could trace it back to me,” Watch replies. She doesn’t turn, just flicks her eyes at Lucinda as she digs her hands into her pockets

“Someone must have traced it back, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe something happened a week ago and they thought this would make a better example of me than crucifying me.”

Lucinda hums, digs out a cigarette and her matchbox. Gives Watch another considering look.

“Who did you kill?” she asks around the cigarette as she lights it. Takes and holds a drag.

“Boy tried to touch me.”

Lucinda nods, exhales.

“It was an accident,” Watch continues, twist of her mouth and down-draw of her eyebrows telling a different story. “Enough suspicion they wanted rid of me.”

“What sort of accident?”

“Tripped and slashed his own throat open with his machete. A real shame, when they go that young.”

“How old was he?”

“Does it matter?” Watch bares her teeth. Up ahead, Burn laughs about something, loud enough to startle Siri, who freezes for a moment before her shoulders go soft again and she keeps moving.

“Just curious. Not saying he deserved it less.”

Watch looks over at Lucinda, stay silent, but the gears are turning in her head. Lucinda meets her gaze, steady, even, doesn't look away as they keep walking and she keeps smoking.

“He was my age,” Watch finally says.

“Boys that age are always shitheads,” Lucinda agrees, finally looks away. “I’m glad to have you here.”

Watch grunts.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (8c/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


Lucinda speeds up her steps, weaves past the others until she’s walking next to Twitchy Hands, on the outside of the column.

“What’s your name?” she asks. Doesn’t look at Twitchy Hands, just keeps smoking.

Twitchy Hands pulls down the bandana over her mouth--some novelty shit, a slobbering mouth full of dog’s teeth printed over it at an angle so she can double it over in a triangle and have the mouth show--and grimaces.

“Call me Tooth.”

“Because of the bandana?” Lucinda asks.

“Yeah,” Tooth agrees, smiles. Her walking pace is steady enough that Lucinda falls into it easy.

“Where’d you pick it up?”

“Road somewhere, decade ago by now.” She shrugs, picks at one frayed-and-hemmed edge of the bandana.

“Tribal?”

“Yeah.” She nods, juts her chin out and wobbles it back and forth, like she’s gargling marbles. She spits a moment later, a wide arc out to her left, away from the column. Runs her tongue along the backs of her teeth, gives the horizon a considering look.

“From where?” Lucinda follows her eyes. There’s a single joshua tree topping a hill, off in the distance, could almost look like a person.

“Long ways from here.” She slants her eyes at Lucinda.

“Long ways in particular?” Lucinda raises her eyebrows, slants a look back.

Tooth shakes her head.

Lucinda lets that hang, keeps pace with Tooth as she finishes her cigarette

“How do you and Watch know each other?”

“Came in together.”

“That all the longer you’ve known each other?”

“Yeah.” Tooth goes quiet, and Lucinda does too.

“Why are you here, Tooth?” Lucinda asks, as she starts a second cigarette.

“When you talk, they want you to praise every baby hair on their chins as being the greatest and most powerful baby hair you’ve ever seen. Some of us talk too damn much,” Tooth tips her head, rolls her neck and shoulders back toward Dredge. “And some of us are too damn quiet.”

“I take it you’re the second?” Lucinda raises her eyebrow.

“I guarantee you the only person in this outfit better at being silent than I am is Watch, Boss.”

“What did you do in your tribe?” Lucinda asks.

“Hunted, mostly. When we’d fight, I’d follow behind.”

“Vulture?” Lucinda twitches her cigarette between her fingers, shakes the ash off the tip.

“That’s tribe. Dunno,” Tooth replies.

“Sees a lot of death,” Lucinda clarifies.

“Mmm. Yeah. Good a name as any.” Tooth nods once, then tugs the bandana up over her mouth again.

Lucinda takes that as her cue, breaks to walk next to Runner.

Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (8d/?)

[(Anonymous)]

CONTENT WARNING: None


“You’re doing an awful lot of moving,” Runner says by way of greeting.

“There's an awful lot of people to meet still.” Lucinda holds out the pack of cigarettes, and Runner waves it away. “Burn said you’re Platte Stretch Flatwater. That true?”

“Sure is.”

“How long have you been Legion? You on my end of time, or are you on Dredge’s?”

Runner chuckles. She’s got longer legs, is harder to keep up with. Must be doing some maneuver so she doesn't gain ground over the others too quickly.

“Try Twist.”

“Five years?”

“Or so.”

“What’d you lose?” Lucinda asks. Keeps her voice forward, and Runner follows suit.

“They brought thirty in, of a hundred and forty. That’s what I lost.”

“What thirty?”

“Thirty you’ve never met, Bird.”

“Fair,” Lucinda laughs. “Why are you here, then?”

“Me and Burn and Drummer. Women can’t have friends that close.” Runner crosses her left arm over her chest, holds up two fingers on her right hand, taps her fingertips on either side of her mouth. “Not natural, who knows what sort of sedition it’ll lead to.”

Lucinda snorts and ducks her head.

“Long as it doesn’t get in the way of work, I don’t care what you three get up to in your off time.”

“Dredge says you and the Doc are together the same way.” Runner slants her eyes over, keeps her face forward. Drops her arms so they swing loose again.

“We’re not,” Lucinda replies. Digs her teeth into the filter of her cigarette. Why the fuck does this keep coming up. Is she going to have to have a Talkwith Dredge to get her to cut it out?

“Glad to have the score straight, then.” Runner bobs her head. “You oughta spend some time with the real young one. She wouldn’t shut up about how great you are, all yesterday and the day before and also the preceding six fucking days.”

“Fuck,” Lucinda murmurs around her cigarette.

Runner laughs, and Lucinda drops back to walk next to Dredge and Twist.