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

The Courier strutted down the New Vegas Strip, and Caesar be damned if she didn’t look like she was working a catwalk. As usual, self confidence literally oozed out of her tanned, smooth skin. The never ending crowd of visitors to the Strip recognized her importance—her prolificness—and parted in front of her in silent awe and respect. A few paces behind, Boone and Arcade Gannon followed, looking slightly out of place and frumpy in the wake of such self assured grace. The trio breezed past the dirty prostitutes grinding outside of Gomorrah’s sleazy exterior. That fat fuck Cachino was puffing on a cigarette, leaning against the pillars of the carport and getting a good eyeful of the girls. That is, until he saw the Courier. Quickly, he put his cigarette out against the pillar and smoothed back his greasy hair.

“Hey, baby,” Caccino called to the Courier. “Lookin’ good as usual. How’s about you come dance tables for me and make some big caps? Hell, I’ll even cut my “protection fee” down to ten percent. Anything for you, toots.”

“No thanks, Caccino. The only tables I make big bucks on are the card tables,” the Courier replied back winningly. There was general laughter from the crowd around her and she favored them with a smile. Even Caccino laughed along, taking no insult from her refusal. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d asked. And he’d be damned if it’d be the last. You never know; sometimes these mouthy bitches get themselves in deep, especially when they don’t got no man to tell them what’s what. And when she finally did, she’d come crawling back to Caccino and beg on her knees for a job, and he’d give her one, alright. Mind you, he didn’t say any of this out loud because that bitch was all bark, but also all bite, but her time would come.

Just as Caccino dropped out of hearing range, the Courier fell back beside Boone and murmured, “remind me to gut that disgusting pig one of these days.” Just as she finished conversing with Boone, they passed a gaggle of off-duty NCR soldiers. Even in their raucous, drunken state, they recognized the Courier straight off, and hurriedly attempted to organize themselves. They shot off a smart salute as she passed, and the Courier flipped her hair and smiled graciously towards them. A few of the NCR boys nearly tripped over themselves in excitement, Arcade noted before rolling his eyes. He wondered if they’d still be so star struck if they could have seen the Courier earlier—her and Veronica setting with their hair rolled around tin cans for two hours as it dried—and Arcade concluded that yes, they probably would.

The people of the Mojave were crazy for her. Some hated her, most loved her, and all were stark terrified of her. The Courier had a certain look about her—something along the lines of ‘I might fuck you or I might fuck you up, depending on the next sentence out of your mouth.’ She was killing it tonight, as she strutted down the street. Her armor was specially chosen for this mission; a piecemeal arrangement of tit-lifting leather raider bikini, tight shorts, and a big ranger belt buckle, over which metal armor plates hung to protect her hips and thighs. The arrangement was carefully chosen to max out her sex appeal, but still remind you she could knock your block off. ‘The spike heels are a little much, though,’ Arcade thought to himself, but he’d be a liar if he said they weren’t doing anything for her.

The Courier tipped a wink to an old man, causing him to blush beet red, and Arcade thought not for the first time that Doc Mitchell had spent a little too much time putting her face back together, and not enough making sure that all of her grey matter was put back in the correct lobe. Which is not to say that she wasn’t smart—she’d have to be in order to tip the balance of power in the Mojave. Here’s this unknown woman—this little nobody package courier—and all of a sudden she’s turning the Wasteland on a tilt. And nobody knew exactly what to make of it. No, Arcade wasn’t saying she wasn’t quick, but sometimes he got the feeling she was more myth than woman. ‘Hell, at this point she may be more biotics than woman,’ Arcade thought. After all, you don’t take two slugs to the face and walk all organic. ‘And her tits are certainly fake,’ he added silently. One trip to the Strip was enough to convince the Courier that she had to step up her game. I mean, B-cups are cute—if you’re trying to get a date to the junior high vault dance, that is. But when the deciding factor between getting a favor from one of the main families and getting turned out on your nose is knowing the head of the family is a tits man, well sometimes you just had to take a trip to see Usanagi.

Arcade hadn’t known Usanagi did cosmetic work—not until the Courier went in for a quick perception implant and came out with a set of damn fine D-cup. For the next two weeks, Arcade had the job of changing her bandages and monitoring the stitches. He didn’t mind one bit. After all, nobody is that gay, Arcade decided as he weighed the Courier’s new assets in his palms—under the pretext of checking for swelling, of course. Hey, it’s a medical concern and Arcade was nothing if not a thorough doctor. A very, very thorough doctor.

And the rest of the group? What did they think of the Courier? Veronica was awestruck with her power and grace. The way that girl could handle a pump action? Well, let’s just say if Veronica wasn’t into that sort of thing before she met the Courier, she certainly would be now. But as it stood, Veronica had more respect for the Courier than lust. The woman was the freakin’ epitome of Feminine Badassery. If there ever was a poster child for post-apocalyptic feminism the Courier was it. She was so Goddess-like that you couldn’t even hate her for it. Oh, most women did at first. Take for instance every female in the NCR army—they were so sick of hearing the men of the company verbally masturbate over her that they were ready to claw the Courier’s eyes out if she would walk into their camp. That lasted all of five seconds once they saw her. Because this bitch was so fierce, so utterly rockin’ as she strutted into camp with desert dust clinging to ALL the right places, that you couldn’t help but come to terms with the fact that you will never best her, develop a gay crush on her, despair over the fruitlessness of your infatuation, come to terms with it, then develop a lasting respect and awe of her untouchable femininity ALL WITHIN FIVE SECONDS OF LAYING EYES ON HER.

The effect was so overwhelming that the ladies of the NCR put together a petition to get more feminine armor plates and sent it to the head office in Camp McCarren. Colonel Hsu happed upon it in his incoming paperwork, conveniently placed near the top by a hopeful secretary, and read the treatise with bemusement. The women in the field wanted armor better suited to their curvy, busty physique? He cocked his head and read the paper a second time. Bustier armor? Those crazy women were willing to risk getting their tits shot off for feminism? He shook his head knowingly. This is what happens when you cut mandatory drilling down from six days a week to three. Gives the grunts too much time and energy to think. The request was denied, but the women of NCR didn’t remain dispirited for long; they couldn’t have their tits. But they could still have their Goddess.

The only woman in the Mojave who had enough balls to be jealous of the Courier’s attention was Cass. Which is not to say that she disliked the Courier. After knowing each other a few weeks, the two settled into a catty sort of friendship that they could both commit to peacefully. A few ‘oh these pants are too big for me, maybe they’ll fit you better’ and ‘I’m sorry sweetheart, the way he was coming on to me I didn’t know he was interested in you’ type of comments came between them every once in awhile, but for the most part they got on.

Lilly looked to the Courier fondly, calling her the prettiest of all her grandchildren. Occasionally Lilly even made queerly matronly remarks like ‘my baby’s not leaving the house dressed like THAT. You’ll draw all the wrong sort of attention, if you know what I mean,’ causing Gannon to snort and try to hide his laughter behind a book as Lilly marched the Courier back to her closet. If anyone else had dared to talk to the Courier like that she’d of had her foot crammed up their ass so hard that she could scratch her big toe on their front teeth, but Lilly was above reproach. That’s not to say that the Courier didn’t change back into her own clothes and sneak into the elevator when Lilly wasn’t looking. But don’t call that defeat; that’s just respecting her elders—which makes her even more awesome. Family values; fuck yeah!

Gannon had never been a particularly brave man. If you’d have come to him six months ago and told him he’d be stirring up factions and plugging Legion soldiers full of lead one day, he’d have involuntarily committed you. He hadn’t meant to join the Courier’s group—she looked like trouble, he decided the first moment he saw her in the Old Mormon Fort. Back then she wasn’t much; the stink of backwater ‘burgs like Goodspring and Novak clung to her and Boone was the only person trotting behind her. Still, his keen eye saw her potential. The Courier was just on the verge of blooming, and Gannon could feel her magnetism even back then. He tagged along mostly out of curiosity. In the coming weeks, he watched his life change in a dramatic, gun powder fashion with the sickening slowness of a person in a bad dream, but for whatever reason couldn’t bring himself to get off of this crazy train. It hit him on their first visit to Camp McCarren that this girl was good, like crazy good, at moving people. At that moment he came to accept the fact that he respected the hell out of her and would follow her to the ends of the earth. ‘Good god. Is this what it feels like to be whipped by a woman?’ he wondered that night at the campfire. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it….’

"Family values; fuck yeah!"

Rolling around on the floor omfg this is diamond.

As for Raul, he was prone to dramatics. Often he would pick a wilted flower out of the New Vegas gutter and deliver a flowy speech in Spanish praising the Courier’s beauty and fortitude. Mostly he did this out of amusement. ‘You’d think these compadres have never seen a seniorita with a pair of big irons—and her guns aren’t much of a surprise either.’ Still, like Gannon, he was deeply intrigued by her magnetic aura and felt that running around the Wasteland wasn’t half bad if you were following a person that was brave bordering reckless. The Courier had the luck of the devil to boot, and Raul could respect that in a person.

Perhaps the weirdest rapport the Courier had was with Boone. Initially, the group was convinced that the sniper was all kinds of hot and bothered by the Courier. The woman could strategize, shoot, and loot bodies like a pro, and look good doing it. What more could a soldier man want in a woman? Boone grew attached to her rather quickly. Arcade would shake his head and exchange a knowing look with Veronica as the Courier paraded around the presidential suite in that infamous red First Recon beret, Boone looking after her with an uneasy gaze but not saying a word of approach. To put it in perspective, one time Gannon had moved the beret off of the sink so that he could shave, and Boone had nearly smacked the gay out of him for his troubles. The group’s opinion began to change when Boone started siding with Lilly about wearing revealing clothes. Cass could parade to hell and back naked for all he cared, but the Courier should have her shoulders covered like a decent lady. Uneasily, Gannon had decided that some sort of weird, bastardized fathering instinct had nested in Boone, and the group agreed not to speak of it again.

[A/N Whoa. I would really appreciate feedback because I'm not sure if I'm going in the direction the O/P wants. Don't be afraid to tell me, we're all wasteland bros here.]

...I'm not the OP so sorry if I'm stepping on toes, and I'm not trying to be rude or petty and I'm certainly not trying to be a troll, but is this supposed to be a crack-fic or an actual serious fill?

Some of this is... I'm sorry, but a little degrading. Your grammar, spelling, and punctuation is great, but I'm a little thrown off by the writing (if this is meant to be a serious fill).

I understand where you're coming from (as a gay kink memer, "smacked the gay out of him" kind of rubbed me weird as well) but I don't think this was meant to be taken seriously, I think it's just supposed to be a silly thing like the prompt entails.

I love this, A!A. I'm having no issues with your tone (this comes across very clearly to me as satire, all-for-good-fun), and I'm enjoying it immensely.

I'm enjoying this! <3

OP here (the drunk one, heh)! Thank you for filling my crazy booze filled fantasy. However, since there seems to be some confusion I might as well ask to clear things up, is this crack?

I personally don't care if it is or not, I think this is interesting either way, but now that there seems to be confusion I find myself wanting the official word too.

Other then that, keep it up!

Hey, guys, A!A here... I don't know where to begin D:

I thought this was a really great, funny prompt. My intent wasn't to 'compete' with the prompt or try to make mine 'funnier,' so I felt comfortable taking this a little in my own direction. To clarify, this is crack. I went heavy on the black humor with this one, which possibly wasn't the ideal way to go about filling this particular prompt.

From my standpoint, the cannon Courier already walks a fine line in the Mojave with being loved and being hated--either from direct actions or the fact that she is too 'perfect'--and I felt that a more flamboyant Courier would irritate that opinion. I see the Mojave as a rough place with rough people, most of whom are trying to grab power. Enter this bangin' Courier, and I expect the reaction wouldn't be complete acceptance. The lay people might worship her (like my female NCR soliders, who although initially resented her perfection came to idolize it), though I would expect that any respect from the powerful people of the Mojave would be undercurrented with fear and resentment--which is what I tried to showcase in AWG.

At this point, I would feel more comfortable with a little input from OP and commenters on what direction I should continue. I could go on as I see fit, but please feel free to tell me if I should tone it down, make it a lighter fic, go in a different direction, ect. I don't mind the input, as this is someone's prompt, and I admit to taking a liberal interpretation to something that was meant to be light and funny.

Not Op, but I'm loving it! I hope you continue.

Lets set the record straight A!A, cause you are a wonderful angel for filling my drunken fantasy. I enjoy this, a lot, and want you to know that I, as the OP, am completely in favor of the way you're going with this prompt.

As for the anon who was offended or what have you, lets just lighten up a bit and enjoy the fun! If you don't like it or are offended, then please move on. Everything is sorted out, the meme loves you A!A, so lets get back to crackin' with this fic, shall we? <3

This is preeeeetty much what I was about to come here to say.

With a prompt as zany as this, I'm not quite sure why anyone would be surprised that it's going to be a cracky fill. I mean, if you can write a serious character study about Courier and her fineass room clearin' charlies then my rawhide cowboy hat is off to you, but y'know. Fun prompts get fun fills, let's not over-think things too much.

A!A, I can't wait to read the next part :)

Hey a!A i hope all that discussion didn't kill your enjoyment of writing this, cos i was really liking reading it! It's funny as hell, you got such a way with words.
I'm not the OP but it looked like the OP liked it too. Come back!

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

Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess

Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (2/?)

Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (3/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (3/?)

Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)

The Drunken OP

Re: The Drunken OP

Re: Adventures of a Wasteland Goddess (4/?)