falloutkinkmeme_backup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
Entry tags:
Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.
- Fallout Kink Meme posting guidelines
- Read something? Love something? No matter how old the story is, please let our amazing authors and artists know that you enjoyed their work with a nice comment, and share the love by recommending your favorite fills!
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (83a/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-06-25 01:34 am (UTC)(link)"What does it say?" Lucinda asks, leans back against the porch railing to light a cigarette.
"Hold on a sec," Twist agrees. "Let me find the good parts."
"I can wait." Lucinda nods, takes a drag.
"Alright," Twist mumbles, scans down the page. "'The Lady Legate of the Legion.'"
"I'm not a Legate," Lucinda says immediately.
"Good enough," Twist laughs, shrugs. "'She has been accused of a laundry list of crimes: terrorism, theft, assassination, murder, and most tellingly, cannibalism." Twist looks up from under her raised eyebrows. Lucinda shrugs, grimaces. "And now most recently, of butchering an entire ranger station singlehandedly."
"So you can see how bad their information is."
"She came to the NCR in 2276, after the first battle of the Dam, claiming to be a refugee, escaping her husband, a Legion officer."
"That was my story," Lucinda says, sinks down to the ground, rests her elbows on her knees. “I’d still swear by it.” Twist almost-laughs before she continues.
"She quickly disappeared into the backroads and small towns of the NCR, becoming little more than another nameless courier among hundreds of others--but where did she come from?"
"Oh my god, are they gonna try for the 'all tribals are baby-eating savages' angle? I thought we were past that."
Twist hums, skims a few more lines.
"Looks like. Say you're probably from a southern tribe too."
"Well, they're not exactly wrong, but I feel bad for anyone in any tribe they actually mean. What else are they saying?"
Twist snorts, scans a few more lines.
"Nutjob paper. Now they're asking if you have magic powers, since you killed the president and all his guards without ever getting caught."
"Magic called pre-war military tech." Lucinda shifts, takes another drag on her cigarette. "Maybe I got my magic powers from eating babies."
"That's their next guess," Twist laughs. "'Or perhaps she gained her power by drinking the blood of her victims, much like the pre-war mythical vampire.'"
"Blood is not fun to drink." Lucinda shakes her head. "I've tried brahmin blood and I can't imagine human blood is any better."
It's Twist's turn to snort.
"Could always turn it into sausage."
"If you wanna drown it in ten pounds of filler."
"What else you gonna do with the liver? Fry it up, eat it plain?"
"Done it before," Lucinda replies, flicks her cigarette.
"Better in a sausage."
"Wimp." Lucinda grins.
Twist snorts again, rolls her eyes, leans back on her own railing. She folds the newspaper up, turns it in her hands to study Lucinda's photo from every angle she can. It's faded from the photo on the wanted poster, like someone copied it, badly.
"Dredge was right. You were cute. Little kid cute."
"I look like my mother." Lucinda sighs.
"Then she was cute too." Twist shrugs.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (83b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-06-25 01:37 am (UTC)(link)"Don't like you, but I can see it." Twist nods. "Can appreciate a pretty face."
"Does everyone on this team think that I'm pretty?" Lucinda asks, raises her eyebrows, takes a drag off her cigarette.
"Tooth doesn't," Twist laughs. "Or Runner, or Burn, or Drummer."
"Don't think I'm cute, or wouldn't do anything about it?" Lucinda asks.
"Tooth doesn't, rest wouldn't do anything." Twist shrugs. "I oughta get back to the others, reassure them we haven't finally killed each other."
Lucinda snorts and smiles at the dirt between the toes of her boots.
"Hey, you smoke?' she calls, as Twist turns away.
"Socially," Twist agrees, turns back.
Lucinda digs out her pack, holds it up toward Twist, pulls out a lighter she grabbed off the sherriff's bedside table and holds that up to.
"Take 'em," she says.
"How old are the cigarettes?" Twist asks, steps closer to take the pack.
"Not pre-war," Lucinda says, with a shrug. "NCR imports, nabbed 'em off a writing desk three towns back. They're good enough. I've got loose leaf I roll into my own, when I have time, so I thought you might like these for yourself." She pauses. "If you smoke."
"Peace offering?" Twist asks, opens the pack to count. She looks at Lucinda from one eye. Lucinda shrugs, takes a drag off her cigarette, elbows on her knees and hands dangling in front of her.
Fourteen thousand dollars, she thinks, looks at the poster. Her photo is smaller, overshadowed by the price on her head, by the list of crimes she’s accused of, the terms and conditions of bringing her in.
She folds the poster up before Siri ducks into the lean-to, buries it down under the three remaining gold bars in her pack. Some day, when all this is over, when she's not--what she is, when it's all a distant memory, funny, a story about being a wild youth, she'll hang it up on a wall. Point all the little Birds at it and tell grandiose stories made from whole cloth, so they never know how much of it is actually true.
Siri had ripped up the first poster she had read, crumpled the shreds in her hands and stared into the fire. Dredge had apologized for bringing it back to camp, and Siri had shaken her head, closed her eyes, told her she didn't need to apologize.
She ignores them, in towns, when she sees them. Pointedly ignores them. Ignores them with a set jaw and eyes straight ahead, ignores them like she's trying not to read the growing list of murders, deaths, theft, chaos, political machinations that looms besides Lucinda's face, larger and larger in every town.
Ignores them like she doesn't want to see them.
Lucinda can’t blame her.
They're hard to read, if you’re expecting someone different.