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Genius F!Courier manipulates Mojave
Date: 2011-12-31 10:43 am (UTC)But wait! There's more...
I want this cold, calculating, plotting, conniving dame to side with Mr. House, becoming something of a secretary or confidant. House absolutely adores this Courier, but when Caesar arrives on the Strip a couple years after the Second Battle to negotiate some political shit, the Courier secretly offers her services to the former emperor, promising to help over-throw House (again) and allow Caesar's Legion to become an absolute power, with her riding shotgun, whispering sweet nothings in Caesar's ear. I know that seems pretty backwards right? Why didn't she just side with the Legion in the first place? Will she actually let Caesar's Legion take over? WHO KNOWS. I'm not smart enough to figure out the plot, that's why I need the master writers of the meme to take on this baby. This can be a total gen fic or full of wonderful, dirty smut, I truly don't mind either way. If at a loss for pairings (if including smut) I wouldn't mind some rough, angry, dominating sexytimes between Caesar and the Courier. Or maybe Vulpes finds his doppelganger (the Courier) rather fetching and decides to tear dat ass apart ASAP. Or maybe... dare I say it... LANIUS? Anything goes, don't mind how or what and you can fuck around with my prompt as much as you want, take it all or leave it all, I just want this like the burning fist of Mars.
Re: Genius F!Courier manipulates Mojave
Date: 2011-12-31 04:29 pm (UTC)I too want this like the burning fist of Mars. Seconded!~
Re: Genius F!Courier manipulates Mojave
Date: 2012-01-01 03:47 am (UTC)Re: Genius F!Courier manipulates Mojave
Date: 2012-01-02 02:20 am (UTC)the lady from the mojave [1a/1]
Date: 2012-01-08 09:49 am (UTC)Pulling back the curtain around the tub, she steps into the hall of her suite. She feels no shame, comfortable and confident with her body as she is - and there's no one present that would care about her naked figure, anyway. (ED-E beeps quietly in a corner.) She strolls languidly into her bedroom, the sway of her hips as natural as breathing. The once-courier opens the closet door and sifts through the different clothes. She fingers the materials as she goes, deciding while biting her lower lip as to what she wants to wear. Her hand stops at a navy blue dress - a short-sleeved, low-cut, knee length garment that would hug her waist but sway freely around her legs.
Excellent. She smiles as she removes it and its hanger from the rack and holds it in front of herself. A quick glance in the mirror cements her decision, and she slides the number on. She places it onto the bed before digging in the drawer next to it and pulling out undergarments. She removes the towel from her head, and dries her long hair with it.
She pulls on the dress, zipping up the back with ease and doing a slow three-hundred and sixty degree turn to examine herself. The dress hugs her curves, and she's definitely not afraid to show her chest off. It's one of her best assets, and she's known how to use it and her other various features for as long as... well. Since forever.
She's only gotten better at it with time.
the lady from the mojave [1b/1]
Date: 2012-01-08 09:52 am (UTC)She takes the brush and runs it through her hair, before wrapping it in a tight up-do. It still lets her hair part in the front and hang just so on her forehead that it covers the white - whiter than her skin - scar from a bullet so long ago.
A medium sized jar of a pinkish-white paste is in the right drawer, and she pulls that out. She sticks two fingers into it, scooping up a small amount before spreading it over her hands. It's a homemade concoction she created ages ago to keep her skin soft and blemish-free, and as she spreads it over any of pale, exposed skin it leaves a cool sensation. She puts it back in the drawer before grabbing a pair of tweezers - stolen from Camp Forlorn Hope and never returned - and starts meticulously attending to her eyebrows. She strives for perfection, wanting it - craving it. And she'll take as long as she needs to till she's satisfied she's achieved it.
However, today is quick and painless, and she continues with the rest of her daily beauty regiment. It's simple after that. First, a light dusting of blush. She's got naturally thick eyelashes, and she finds that mascara and other eye make up is unnecessary. And rare. And expensive. And entirely not worth it.
Finally, she pulls out a small jar of a red lip dye. Another invention of hers - hell, her knowledge of science has its uses. Creating lipstick seems to be one of them. She dabs her index finger into the dye, before bringing her finger to her lower lip. She watches herself in the mirror carefully, her face close enough that it almost fogs up the glass. It doesn't. She spreads the dye over the plump skin of her lips, applying enough to last her the day.
She slowly smacks her lips - without the obnoxious noise. God no. Just the motion of it. - and flashes herself an award winning smile.
Perfect.
-
the lady from the mojave [1c/1]
Date: 2012-01-08 10:20 am (UTC)House's voice greets her as she saunters to the couch she's moved near his large screen. She sits on it, pulling off the heels and curling her feet under herself. She smiles, leaning against the armrest.
"Morning, sugar." Marilyn tilts her head at looks at the screen. She's gotten used to it, talking to a screen. She knows he can see her -through some manner of elaborate technology that she would understand if she felt like it would benefit her in any way. And it doesn't. At the moment. She taps her chin.
"So I was thinking last night, listening to the radio and keeping myself updated and informed on the current affairs of the wasteland and all that..."
"Yes?"
"And I was thinking about that man... The one that talks and seduces his listeners."
"Mr. New Vegas, you mean. An older male with a large following. What about him?"
Marilyn sits up a little as she laughs, "Well, if I didn't know any better.. I'd say you were jealous, sweetheart."
The screen blips and fritzes like it usually does.
"Hardly."
"Well, I was thinking that he's not really Mr. New Vegas, quality. I mean, if anyone should be called that, it should be you, right? You pretty much are. Just... not in name."
"Is that so."
"Mhmm." She chuckles.
"So you think I should forcefully take the name of a popular radio host? There would be no point, unfortunately. His listeners may even try to revolt."
Marilyn casts a glance at the securitrons, cold, obedient, and armed to the teeth.
"Not like that would get anywhere, right?" She smirks.
"That is correct."
the lady from the mojave [1d/1]
Date: 2012-01-08 10:38 am (UTC)"I hope you slept well." She lets herself imagine the inquisitive, caring tone that the voice might have had were he able to.
Marilyn laughs, "Like a baby in her mother's arms. At least until Victor gave me a little wake up call. Any particular reason for that, by the way? I'm assuming it has something to do with that group of legionaries camped a little ways away from the New Vegas border, though."
"Yes. I would have just sent a securitron to get rid of them if they posed even a minimal threat - and they didn't - but one of them tried to get access into the city. He was disguised, of course. We've got him in our custody, and he's saying he simply wants to talk to us-"
"-and you want me to look into it. I am your diplomat, ally, and errand girl after all, aren't I? Hm. I can think of a few things the Legion is here about."
She uncurls her legs from under her, standing up and fixing her dress. She slips her heels back on, puts on a pair of sunglasses, and blows a kiss at the screen.
"Don't worry. I'll talk to him. You know I'll do anything for you, sweetheart."
-
Bringing the 'prisoner' to the Lucky 38 would have been an idiotic move - and Vulpes was aware of this. So sitting in the Presidential Suite of the Tops casino was, all ideas considered, the best choice. Or it was for someone. It was private, and the walls were thick and prevented anyone from listening in. The intercom might've worked, and Vulpes had experimentally pressed it.
Either it was broken, or the person on the other end didn't give a damn.
So he stands next to one of the barstools, awaiting some robot to represent Mr. House to come for him. What he gets is the door opening, and the quiet click of heels as the courier steps into the room.
She takes one look at him, and her face splits into a wide smile.
"Well, they didn't tell me it was you, Vulpes. Color me surprised. Take a seat!" She goes over to one of the other stools and sits down on it. He makes no move to sit.
"I prefer to stand."
the lady from the mojave [1e/1]
Date: 2012-01-08 11:12 am (UTC)If Vulpes wants to say something in defense of the Legion, something about their fortitude and discipline because they're certainly not fucking cute, he loses his chance as she mows over it.
"Caesar is still alive and kicking, I see." There's a slight, brief tone of - surprise? disappointment? curiosity? - something in her voice as she sits up on her stool. She'd honestly expected him to die rather quickly, at the state he was in after the second battle. But Vulpes Inculta just stares back at her, his face impassive and his voice as calm and collected as ever.
"We found him... suitable care. No thanks to you."
Marilyn tilts her head down and to the side a little, bringing a finger to her mouth and biting on it coyly. She keeps eye contact with Vulpes, her crossed legs shifting a little as she pulls her hand back and smiles, her canines seeming sharp and predatory. Perhaps an insight on her personality, the very base of who she is.
"I would have given you the doctor, Arcade, but I fancied him a bit too much."
Accompanied with a small shrug, she induces a fire in his blood that makes him bitter he can't take the few steps across the room and strangle her. Or throw her to the floor and make her apologize. But he knows that he's in no position to do anything of the sort.
Vulpes says dryly, "I could have predicted that. You've always been driven by avarice. Sometimes I wonder if we should stop saying you're just a profligate whore, and instead call you the embodiment of avaritia." A pregnant pause, a small, fauxknowing smirk on his face, "Or perhaps greed is the wrong term. Luxuria, perhaps?"
Marilyn is unaffected by the remark, hands lacing together and her lips pursing slightly as she coos.
"Oh, Vulpes. You know how I love it when you speak Latin to me."
Vulpes doesn't respond, only staring her down like he'd love to shove the hat he's wearing down her throat.
"Loosen up, Mr. Fox. Why are you so tense? I'm just harmless little ol' me, aren't I?"
The other snorts and removes his hat, placing it on the bar counter. He takes a seat at the stool offered to him earlier.
"I've learned that you are far from harmless."
The courier can't help the crack in her simple façade as she smirks with a little too much cunning that most of the Mojave will never see. And then she pauses, before appearing to think fuck it, and dropping it altogether. Her body language makes an abrupt shift as she decides it's time to stop playing around - her mother would never approve of her playing with her food, right? She's changed from a gorgeous woman just lounging in her chair, languid and at ease - to something sly and almost chilling. Even the air seems to shift with her, and Vulpes, for all his experience, cannot help but feel that he's in danger.
She stands, and when she stands, he's sure that she would command the attention of everyone in the room with one word. If she were a man, Vulpes is sure she would've been an amazing legionary.
And then he stops, because it doesn't matter that she isn't a man. Marilyn takes a few steps towards him, and when she's like this, he remembers that this is the woman that metaphorically grabbed the NCR and Caesar's Legion by the balls and nearly ripped them off and and beat them to the ground without even lifting a damned finger.
This is the very same woman that waltzed into their damn fortress, unarmed and nonchalant and untouchable.
And how was that possible?
He's still trying to work it all out.
the lady from the mojave [1f/1]
Date: 2012-01-08 11:15 am (UTC)"Let's talk business."
--
anon read the prompt and practically screamed SHE'S A DOMINATRIX SHE'LL BE A DOMINATRIX and then i pooped out this fill.
i might continue idk. (/); 3;)/)
also heh... hehheh.. the lady from...
shanghaithe mojave... hehheh..Re: the lady from the mojave [1f/1] OP
Date: 2012-01-08 10:27 pm (UTC)the lady from the mojave [2a/??]
Date: 2012-01-12 10:30 pm (UTC)A long time ago, she’d found posters of her, old pre-war films, heard a few of her songs, and decided Marilyn Monroe deserved to be showed one of the highest forms of flattery - imitation.
Though, not just her name - a little bit of her image, her personality, her identity - all to mixed together to create the perfect disguise to roam the Mojave. Marilyn isn’t sure how many people in the Mojave are aware of Marilyn Monroe’s existence - information on pre-war celebrities is spotty, depending on where you are, what pre-war remnants were salvaged, and how far the word spread.
In any case, she’s sure that there are only a few visible parallels. She isn’t blonde like the real Marilyn, her facial features aren’t as soft as hers either - they’re not too sharp, either. She isn’t gifted with a gorgeous singing voice. Or she doesn’t find it in her interests to even try out a tune. She’s too pale - of course, that could be easily altered, but she prefers her skin the way it is.
She isn’t fooling herself. She isn’t Marilyn Monroe.
She’s a courier. Number six.
The memory of being sent off is as fresh as it’ll ever be —
— her, hair pulled up into a loose ponytail instead of it’s current style, sitting with her legs uncrossed and a sarsaparilla pressed to her lips as she takes a sip. The small package is in her other hand, wrapped up in rough cloth and tied together with a thin piece of rope. She remembers fingering the fabric between her thumb and index, glancing up at the man who’s dispatching her with a curious expression.
“So. Urgent delivery to the New Vegas Strip to Mr. House?” she says, mind flipping through any files it has on someone named House - it pulls up a few blanks, except for the basic textbook stuff she’s heard about him in passing.
Another quick examination of the package and, “A poker chip. I’m delivering a poker chip?”
The man scowls slightly, arms crossing and she can hear him about to reprimand her for breaking protocol and opening it. Customer privacy is important, he’ll say.
“You aren’t allowed to open the packages, damn it—”
She smiles wryly as she interrupts, “I didn’t.”
the lady from the mojave [2b/??]
Date: 2012-01-12 10:32 pm (UTC)So she smiles and gets off of the empty sarsaparilla crate, tossing the package in the air before catching it and sliding it into her pack.
“I’ll be off, then.”
He nods at her once, and she slinks out the door of the dimly lit building into the dark of the Mojave night.
It’s easy. Her body is nocturnal, and for the most part, so is her mind. Trekking her way through the wasteland under the dark, blue night sky is possibly one of the only things that brings her tangible joy.
(It’s the question of the century if she’s pale because she prefers to move around at night, or if she prefers to move around at night because she wants to stay pale. It’s a question she’ll never directly address, either.)
She doesn’t fear the dark. She’s got a pistol that she uses to drive away any animals that try to approach her, but for the most part they don’t bother her at all. Her shoes are worn and worked in, to the point where she feels as if she could walk across the radiation devastated country without her feet aching. That’s complete lunacy, though. She knows that she’d have to amputate her feet off at the ankles and cauterize the stumps by campfire by the time she got to the midwest. Her eyes are sharp and accustomed to the lack of light.
Frankly, at some point she thinks that visiting New Vegas might prove to be some interesting form of entertainment. A change of pace for her idle mind. And it’s around that very point that everything seems to go wrong.
Men - she knows how to handle them. And she knows that she knows, so she never pulls the pistol out of her holster. It would’ve been a pointless effort, though. She’s never shot a man. She’s not afraid to admit she’s a piss poor shot and even worse with hand to hand combat - give her a riding crop and some rope and maybe it’d be different. She identifies the men as Great Khans - hired men, then - save for the one who’s running things.
A checkered suit, too fancy for the wasteland so she decides he must be from the Strip and this is about the chip. Speaking of the Strip, casinos - a stain on his sleeve - alcohol, whiskey probably. He smokes - a bit of ash on his collar. The redness around his eyes, possibly a side effect of walking through the wasteland all day or an addiction to jet.
She puts just as much stock in her instincts as she does in her eyes, and the moment the man flashes his too bright smile at her, she knows that tonight is going to end with him pointing a gun at her and pulling the trigger.
It’s a red alert situation, a get out or die kind of thing.
So she starts off by feigning innocence. What’s going on? I’m just a courier! And when that doesn’t work, she concedes. This package? This is what you want, right? Take it. Go ahead. It’s not worth much to me. Take it. And it seems to work for a minute, but it falls through. She tries again, because getting on her knees and sucking his cock or getting fucked seems like a much better ending to this evening than quitting and dying if things keep going like they are. And hopefully, it’ll give her a chance to get away as fast as fucking possible. Mm. Now that the nasty business is out of the way, what’s your name, stranger? You’re far too handsome to be hanging out around here in the wastes like this. Fancy a little R&R? Let me treat you right, darlin’.
the lady from the mojave [2c/??]
Date: 2012-01-12 10:33 pm (UTC)“Alright baby. Let’s see what you can do.”
And when he’s done, and her jaw is sore, he knocks her unconscious with the butt of his gun and she wakes up with her hands tied and her cheek pressed into the cool dirt.
The click of him cocking the gun- the rush of blood trying and failing to drown out the sound of him speaking - she takes a deep, last breath.
The rest is clockwork.
-
Vulpes moves a hand instinctively to her waist, fingers pressing down and with them, shifting the dress up. Marilyn looks amused at the show of possessiveness that the other expresses, and she tilts her head to look down at his tie. She glances up at Vulpes, up through her long lashes and smiles a little. She reaches her other hand to stroke against his cheek when he squeezes her a bit harder.
“Do not think that this will get anywhere, whore.”
The hand on her waist doesn’t move from its spot, and Marilyn can’t help but biteher lower lip.
“Name calling, Vulpes? I thought we were past that. Don’t you remember that time at the fort?”
She remembers it all too well. Drunk off sick satisfaction and the power the Legion had given her by letting her decide Benny’s fate. She’d searched the camp till she’d found Vulpes in his private tent, and she’d run her hands over his chest and whispered words of gratitude and praise for Caesar and the Legion and him most of all - until she’d worked him to hardness with light, promising fingers. And when he’d pushed her towards his bed as they tore at their clothes with the full intent of getting her on her hands and knees - she’d managed to maneuver her way on top of him, straddling him and pressing him against the bed with her bare hips.
“Your betrayal of the Legion has driven me to realize that you were a lapse of judgement. Something that I will take careful account of in the case that we work something out here today.”
Vulpes seems to realize that the moment he calls her a lapse of judgement, she feels like she’s won. It just goes back to that night in the tent, just the lapse of judgement that got her on top of him and she had his cock pressed to her entrance and his lapse of judgement that had her sliding down till he’d filled her completely.
“I’m counting on it, darling. It’ll make everything more fun. You make everything more fun. You’re so much more interesting than most of the people around here.”
the lady from the mojave [2d/??]
Date: 2012-01-12 10:38 pm (UTC)But then Vulpes seems displeased by Marilyn calling him fun. He finally removes his hand, and sits up properly.
“I am not here for your entertainment.” He hisses, staring at her with a hard expression.
She sighs, pulling back and fixing her hair.
“Aren’t you a grumpy gecko?”
Vulpes sniffs, “What happened to us getting to business? You’ve done nothing but procrastinate and waste my time. Perhaps I should ask for someone else to come speak to me.”
At that, Marilyn laughs.
“Who else is there?”
---
hey i'm back!! hi there!! ;v; i guess i'm not done then!!! woop woop.
Re: the lady from the mojave [2d/??]
Date: 2012-01-12 10:59 pm (UTC)Re: the lady from the mojave [2d/??]
Date: 2012-01-15 08:49 pm (UTC)Re: the lady from the mojave [2d/??]
Date: 2012-01-16 07:59 pm (UTC)