#lesser mojave

[heartnosekid]

marshmallow, the royal python mojave lesser (bel) morph | source

[tsundereace]

Gender and the Mojave Wasteland or why i think New Vegas is so popular amongst trans women

In summary someone's gender (including the player's character) does matter to greater or lesser extents amongst the various societies and some characters that they can encounter which is likely to prompt someone to think more about gender, and or will have the game recognise and affirm theirs depending on the individual anyway

I have to assume other RPG's from a similar time and or quality presumably also did this to some extent but not as prominently as NV due to it typically being singled out in this regard

There's a few re occurring elements that do add to this such as the perks that allow you to flirt with them to be more cooperative largely only working on people of a compatible orintation, and Ceasers Legion's frequent misogyny but since thats more about gender as a whole withen the game here's a few things that would have resonated with trans women specifically

First is an unmarked companion quest where you are tasked to find Veronica a dress

(For the record her default outfit is baggy with a hood make your own jokes)

"I just like 'em, you know? They make you feel like a woman. Those ladies before the War, they knew what they were doing."

Even if you forget about this she will make a remark upon placing one in her inventtory but due to how the game is coded will not actualy put it on herself

next is from the in game Radio New Vegas where between the songs one of the presenters lines is

"The women of New Vegas ask me a lot if there's a Mrs. New Vegas. Of course there is. You're her. And you're still as perfect as the day we met."

and last but not least in the player's house within the Old World Blues DLC comes with an AI assistant who is hardcoded to call the player sir but will apologise when that is misgendering

"Sir? You are aware that I'm a woman, right?" "Indubitably, sir, but it is with a great lugubriousness that I must disclose that my programmers installed only the masculine honorific, sir. Moreover they neglected to enclose a parameter by which said honorific might be omitted altogether - over my most strenuous of remonstrances, sir."

all of these factors together would have likely catalysed some thoughts and new vegas being a very replayable game would have remained in discussion long enough for said thoughts to take shape

or maybe trans women just have better taste in video games ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[katiefrog217]

Walks with Aziraphale were always so amusing, especially when he took one of his different forms. Tonight, Crowley took note of a few different reactions:

1. Much to his bemusement, quite a few people crossed the road entirely just to avoid him (he didn't know why, he thought this particular form was very charming).

2. Those who didn't avoid them either didn't notice at all, or cooed adoringly at his companion. A few snake enthusiasts tried their best to impart advice upon him (Yes, he was aware it was a chilly night to have a python outside. Yes, he was aware that he had a few extra rolls on him, and he would appreciate it if they didn't body shame him, please and thank you).

3. He had a particularly interesting encounter with a stranger who tried his best to buy Aziraphale from him (he didn't know whether to laugh or be offended on his companion's behalf when the person subsequently dropped their price offering upon learning he was male. He turned them down, of course).

This just in: local vampire hunter tries his hardest to look cool in front of his crush.

I said soon and I guess I meant now haha.

I could help but draw Crowley and Aziraphale from @mrghostrat 's new Vampire AU (thanks for the permission btw!!) and I'll be damned if I couldn't pass up the opportunity to draw Ball Python Azi after being deeply entrenched in Ball python morphs and drawing them for the past few years.

I'm also a big sucker (har har) for any kind of vampire au, so I was incredibly excited to draw this!! I'm still not confident in my ability to draw Crowley (or jackets oof) but I tried.

On that, while I have ya'll here, a few fun facts about Ball Pythons and Morphs:

Azi looks to me to be based on a Blue Eyed Lucy (Leucistic) ball python. Leucistic is different from Albino - both lack pigment, but Leucistics only lack pigments in parts, rather than entirely like with Albinism. The fastest way to tell the difference is the eye color.

Blue Eyed Lucies have eye colors that range from Black to Blue - blue obviously being the more popular eye color.

The whiter the snake, the more sought after it is (not all Lucies are pure white, depends on the morph combo)

Unlike a majority of ball python morphs, Blue Eyed Lucies don't have a distinct gene combo that defines them. Generally, their morphs included Mocha, Mojave, Lesser, Butter, etc. The combos are generally endless. A Super Mojave (Mojave bred to Mojave) will produce a fairly grey/white snake, but their heads tend to be a very dusty grey, and isn't an ideal combo for a Lucy.

A snake that seems incredibly white when hatched may change color as it ages and become less white. This is common for all morphs, and their patterns define themselves and get stronger with age.

In breeding, males are generally less desired than females, and run at a lower price generally. This is because a single male can breed multiple females, so it's less effective to have more males in a clutch than females.

Obesity in snakes IS a real thing, and generally hard to manage if you do have an obese snake. Snakes tend to retain weight well, so exercise is really the only method to help bring their weight down (plus smaller meals). Good luck if you have an obese snake that isn't particularly inclined to be active.

Ball Pythons generally tend to have what's called a 1,000 gram wall - in which a snake that hits 1k grams stops eating and will not gain more weight. No one is 100% sure why this phenomena happens, but it's incredibly common.

Not a fact but opinion: Paradox ball Pythons are my favorite morph. If you want to see some incredibly interesting genetics, look them up.

[i-m-snek]

Baby Cole is going through a growth spurt! 🥺 He actually seems to be getting some creamy yellow coloring in down his sides, and a darker yellow down his spine! I'm gonna be sending one of his sheds in soon for genetic testing, I wanna know exactly what BEL combo he is. Leliana is a lesser/mojave, and the dad, Ghost, we actually aren't sure what the combo is 100%.

[feralwetcat]

(was gonna rb the other post but go off i guess)

boundsmp RRverse au

[RRverse: rick riordans universe of mythologies]

DISCLAIMER!: This is mainly based in CHB because to me it fits, the chaos of it all yk, though there will be mentions of Norse (Valhalla) and Roman (Camp Jupiter) mythology stuff

Im gomna avoid making characters kids of the big three unless it really makes sense so

(this is a long post, so info under the cut!)

Startinh with camps -

I think the Avicane would probably translate into Camp Jupiter somehow, so i definitely think Vast wnd Armor would be Roman demigods

Vast probably has friends in Valhalla, which is the magpies, maybe they're kids of a lesser known god, farther down the line of gods?

I can't exactly explain it but i wanna make Sylph norse? Maybe something like they're at CHB but are actually norse because she just doesnt like being norse and wants to be closer to xers friends? Possibly maybe

Rune is mortal, though that doesn't mean he won't be important:]

I think most everyone else is greek, though that may change

Now! Godly parents:] -

The one i mainly thought about was Sylph, who i think is Lokis kid, especially since its often known that they're genderfluid shapeshifters, which just fits them extremely well

Technically this isn't a godly *parent* but! I think Runes an oracle of delphi, maybe even vibing with the Hephaestus kids, but being fully mortal, it feels fitting to me, it gives him a good plot reason to be around everyone but also still being fully mortal and mostly unrelated to the gods. Probably goes and gets tea with Hestia every week though, yk

Nemo and Gavrin are probably both kids of Iris, i feel as if it fits well! The goddess of rainbows often being associated with creativity, which to me just kinda fits, though Nemo could be a kid of Apollo as well

I refuse to be basic and make every nerd a child of Athena BUT... Im sorry Elwood is an Athena kid, listen- you- yeah.

Mojave is an Apollo kid, send tweet

For Taliesin im tempted to say Hecate but i feel like with all the fraud stuff it doesn't fit well? But for now we'll sit with Hecate

Erin gives off either Athena or Demeter kid vibes, mostly leaning Demeter though, especially with the plant stuff, feels right

Marcel is an Apollo kid, send tweet

Avas probably a Ares kid who found some scruffy oracle on the side of fhe street, picked him up by the scruff of his neck and said "brother" and beat the shit out of everyone about it<3

I know making Virgil a kid of Athena is the best option, but im cool so *no* that bitch is just insanely smart, they're a kid of Mania the god of insanity because HEAR ME OUT. His powers come out through explinations, driving people to insanity by dumping mass amounts of information on them, probably hangs out at the Athena cabin a lot thoigh

Pietro (pieman) i honestly don't know, i was considering Athena (especially because owl), but i actually don't know? So Athena for now especially with the owl stuff, probably has a few owl friends

ASH IS A HERMES KID, SEND FUCKIN TWEET.

Vast *sighs* Mars, hear me out, he was forced to fight, become as strong as he could to please his father, at the same time competing herself to fight away any emotion thay would defy Mars. Hear me out. Though if you wanna bring in the big three i think Jupiter could work as well

Armor is a tough one for me personally, i was tempted to go with Apollo but that didn't sit with me right i guess? So Mercury for now i guess? Feels like the best option to me, plus god of trickery makes sense with an eventual betrayal of camp jupiter:]

PLEASE ADD ONTO THIS !!!!! IF YOU HAVE IDEAS THROW THEM AT ME !!!!!!!!

BONUS BECAUSE YEAH

Viviana as a kid of Hades, or Mania (making her and virgil technically siblings????) I'm thinking Mania because madness is just tasty, but Hades could work if you're dramatic, but Mania also because that girl is fuckin insane- (say hi to ur sister Virgil:>/j/j/j/j)

IM WORKING IN THE PLOTS RN !!!!!!!

[apr1lr4in]

EDDSWORLD FALLOUT AU

Ok I'm putting this here because I have had this as an idea for so long and I don't rlly expect eddsworld fans to rlly be into fallout BUT I AM, OK? I got a lot of points I wanna talk abt and MAYBE I'll draw it MAYBE SETTING- Every fallout game is in America and EW is not, but I think I can keep the setting in England. As ur gonna see later, I thought Tord being a synth would be fitting. BUT UNFORTUNATLEY synths are only present in Fallout 4 and that is largely due to the institute not being a huge presence anywhere but Massachusetts. Compromise? There is no institute, but something similar (Will talk more in the Tord section) EDD- Honestly I LOVE cowboy Edd, but the only game with a huge cowboy setting would be New Vegas. But think about it, a survivor in the wasteland who is obsessed with prewar relics and clothing. Places like the midwest or even the Mojave are very different from England, but Edd seems like the kind of guy to be into the whole Prewar cowboy nerd. Ofc he's the protagonist, I'm not sure what kind of name he would have though. You know, lone survivor, the courier, i forgot what the protag is called in fallout 3 i havent played it. The "Goulden one" would be kind of funny though. I want him to have the same energy as the Courier, got shot and survived and is now a menace in the wasteland. But he's more heroic obv, going on silly adventures with the gang and make the wasteland a better place

TOM- I can see him being a vault dweller, but choosing to leave the life of one. It wasn't working for him and he probably didn't live in one of the good vaults. He travels with Edd and matt because he probably would get killed if he went by himself (Alcohol and chem addict) and is possibly out for revenge. Revenge for what? You'll se :3 ofc this is just brainstorming, maybe he wouldn't end up as a vault dweller and perhaps Edd was the vault dweller and Tom is the jagged wastelander. MATT- I have to say it, Matt is a ghoul. But does that affect his self esteem? No! I don't think there's a single ghoul in fallout who doesn't have a captivating personality, Matt is no exception. He is definitely the type to pick up random junk from the wasteland and is over encumbered. And he loves those fuckass monkey symbol things that make noise if you've played fallout 4, you know what I'm talking about,,,shudder) But people don't take him seriously BECAUSE he is a ghoul and full of radiation. But Edd has a good reputation and is able to vet for him. I also just thought what if he was a celebrity before the war? That would explain his lingering ego, but failing to realize nobody really cares anymore. RED ARMY- Notice how I didn't put Tord here? That's because he is unfortunately the enemy. Moreso his Red Army, but he isn't aggressive towards Edd or anyone else. He thinks positively of the 3 (maybe except Tom), but the issue is his reign against the wasteland. Think of him like Mr. House or the Brotherhood of Steel (Not the vegas BoS, they can go kys) he is the only military force around, but it's not a good one. The Red Army are known for their brutal enforcement of rules and are in fact transhumanists. They want to slowly take control of everyone and "improve" the human form. Why? Tord is essentially a partial synth. Not fully robot, but not a natural human. Yes his robot arm is coming back and YES power armor is being involved. I would like to mention that as much as I want to include characters like Paul and Patryck in this post, they are not as "essential" as the main 4. They are still Tord's righthand men, but it would be unfair of me to include them in this post and not other lesser known character. I DO have plans though, but I'll have to iron all of this out first. Larry will be thought of dw bing and larry fans, all 10 of u <3 These are all ideas! Basic thoughts i've had for a while now and maybe some ppl won't understand it. But if anyone does like fallout and EW...GIVE ME UR IDEAS!!! Perhaps even draw up some designs? I know I def will revisit this but I have a haircut today

[forthegothicheroine]

You can make an argument for the NCR and (to a lesser extent) Mr. House endings of New Vegas, that argument being "I'm just the mail carrier, I don't know anything about running a city-state, I should entrust the Mojave to someone who does." Obviously, the problem is that the NCR is overextending itself and has a lot of horrible people in the army, even according to people who support it, and Mr. House is a dingdong who recreated the mafia because he thought they were fun. But it is an argument you can make.

[jagopolis]

Courier 6 OC notes

She doesn't really have a name. She forgot it when she was shot in the head, and kind of, never bothered. She answers to Courier 6 and any variation of it, but doesn't really consider it her name. I usually call her girl/girlie, or just, she.

Avid drug user, with a history of a few addictions. Look, the improved combat performance is worth it, even if the stares from Julie are not.

Chez la femme perk enjoyer, slept with every legible woman and robot in the Mojave.

In general, she prefers to solve issues by Speech. If that fails, or if you pull a gun out first, Gun it is!

Smiles like a bloodhound sniffing out weak prey.

Actually extremely good karma. She looks threatening and lies and causes upsets but is genuinely such a good person it will cause problems later.

Initially, she didn't care for the central conflict, just hopping on her merry way. That is, up until Nipton. It took a bit more time, but she began shooting legionares on sight. Still, she hardly trusted NCR, preferring them simply as lesser evil.

Out of the companions, she's closest with Boone, with whom she traveled the longest and shares the hobby of hunting legionares for sport.

She started out as rather carefree creature, but slowly lost the whimsy, primarily to DLCs. Speaking of DLCs...

...Zion was fine. The biggest impact it had on her was finding most of the gear she'd use from then on. Desert ranger set! Yay!

Sierra Madre was a horror through and through though. It reminded her she's not invincible, or even in control of the events around her. She hated Dean, did not like Dog/God much, but she managed to stay strong thanks to Christine and gently holding her hands promising to go back for her. It did lightly sting when Christine did not go back for her. But she just wanted to get out.

Now Big MT? Big MT was hell. Stripped of agency, stripped of her own body, and no one to keep her sane. If there's a point where she snaps, it's this. In the end, on Mobius's request, she leaves the Think Tank alive.

Her biggest regrets are not killing Elijah slower, not killing Think Tank, killing House, and not bashing Ulysses's head in.

No gods no masters ending. The legion is her enemy, the NCR is incompetent, and she won't let anything of the old world control a place that is a home to her.

Her situationship with Ulysses is a seperate post lmao.

I love her.

[eldritchcoffeefiend]

Nothing Else Matters - Chapter 3 (of 4)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Just reposting some REALLY old shit from FF.net. To be fair, this is probably where my Courier, Sadie, really first makes an appearance, although she's not mentioned by name. I've also cannibalized small sections of this for my story First Kiss, Last Kiss on AO3 here.

The war is long over, the Legion defeated, the NCR sent packing and the Lucky 38 serves as Mr House's grand mausoleum. The Courier has ruled over an independent Vegas for a year, but all is not as it appears and a ghost wanders the halls plotting revenge.

Warnings for creepy Vulpes-y stalking and voyeurism and dubcon.

Somewhere in the dark penthouse a delicate mantel clock chimed midnight, its dainty bells playing some forgotten tune before it struck the hour. It was a pre-war trinket with an enamelled face and gilded cherubs under a glass dome. The open sides and back allowed a peek at the fragile cogs that somehow had remained intact in spite of nuclear Armageddon.

It had been one of the first things the Courier had purchased with her new found fortune and it had pride of place on her bedside table. Nearly every night before she went to bed, the Courier removed the glass dome and carefully wound it up with its key. There was something that she had found soothing about the barely audible steady ticking of it. In fact, on sleepless nights the sound of the clock would often help send her off to sleep.

Vulpes, however, had learned to despise the little clock.

From his place in the air duct, the ticking sounded more like hammering and it pounded, pounded, pounded away in his head, making him acutely aware of just how long he had been waiting here. Hour after hour had passed and that wretched clock seemed to mock him every time it played its music.

Leaning his head against the cool metal of the duct, Vulpes closed his eyes and thought back to earlier in the evening so he could try and ignore the pain of having been in this cramped space for so long. From where he sat, he had caught infuriatingly tantalizing glimpses of the Courier through the grate. Brief flashes of bare skin still wet from a hot bath, her just washed hair sending rivulets of water down her back. Stockings carefully rolled up her shapely legs. A daring red dress, her back revealed and a split up to her thigh. The scent of perfume that had been dabbed on wrists, neck and between her breasts had drifted up to him like some maddening incense offered to some long dead god.

It had taken every ounce of patience and self control that Vulpes had to remain where he had secreted himself. A lesser man would have undoubtedly pounced upon her, ravishing her, unable to control the rising tide of need and desire that the Courier had unwittingly unleashed. But Vulpes was not a lesser man and this was not the first time he'd found himself in this position.

In fact, he'd quite lost track how often it happened over the last year.

The dull wanton ache he felt low in his belly and the horrendous little clock marking the half hour roused him from his thoughts. Very carefully he removed the grate from the duct and with all the grace of a cat he dropped into the room, silent as a shadow. Crouching low, his eyes scanned the room looking for anything untoward before he moved.

It was dangerous being here, he knew that, but it was worth the risk just to be near to her.

Quietly padding through the bedroom, Vulpes' hand glided over the dresses in her wardrobe. Silks, satins, velvets… Only the best for the Courier now that she was in a position of power, but there was something about seeing her in worn out leather that had always appealed more to Vulpes. And, to hear the Courier complain about it, she preferred her former wardrobe as well if for far different reasons.

On the shelves that used to hold dusty tomes dedicated to old world technology, the Courier had cleared space for keepsakes that she'd acquired in her travels over the Mojave. Most of them made no sense to Vulpes as he had no point of reference, but it was obvious in that they meant a great deal to the Courier. From his place in the duct, he often spied her picking them up and caressing them with a wistful smile on her face. They were nonsensical things such as snow globes, miniature Dinky the Dinosaurs, glowing rockets, and hula girls that would swing their hips when touched.

Vulpes picked up the snow globe of Hoover Dam and flicked his wrist to watch the snow swirl and settle. He scowled at it; it was a decidedly stupid and pointless thing. And although he would love nothing more than to smash it, he placed it back exactly where it had been with the utmost care so it wasn't obvious that it had been disturbed.

It was this kind of attention to detail that had allowed Vulpes to lurk here for so long without arousing suspicion, but there were times when he was unable to help himself.

A missing t-shirt, a misplaced hairbrush, an old bandana, and the Courier's worn out denim jacket had magically disappeared from her suite. She'd searched high and low for these and other items that had been pilfered, but never had been able to find them. Vexed, she had merely chalked it up to the memory troubles she suffered from since Benny had shot her. For Vulpes these little treasures were as close as he could get to her for the time being and he cherished them much as the Courier treasured her snow globes.

Now forgetting himself, Vulpes brazenly stretched out on the Courier's bed and buried his face in her pillow, breathing in deeply and remembering all the times he'd watched her sleeping. He could only watch her from a distance most of the time, but there were rare occasions that allowed him to be bolder than usual. Sometimes she would come home so drunk that she could hardly stand and would usually pass out. While Vulpes found her drunkenness disgusting, it served a purpose.

When he felt certain she was out cold, he would emerge from his hiding place and creep over to her. Most of the time he would just stand over her, watching her sleep and listen to her steady breathing. Other times he might go further and risk running his fingers through her hair or brush a knuckle along her cheek.

At his bravest, when the Courier had happened to be at her drunkest and passed out at the foot of the stairs, Vulpes had dared to pick her up and carry her to bed. Thinking quickly, he had grabbed the 1st Recon red beret she kept on a shelf and slapped it on. For one heart stopping moment, the Courier had stirred, her eyes blearily focussing on him before she broke into a wide smile.

"Boone!" she had happily exclaimed. Throwing her arms around Vulpes' neck, she nuzzled against him and murmured, "I've been missing you."

After that, she had passed out completely, which Vulpes was thankful for. He had laid her on the bed, removed her shoes and then dared to kiss her even though she reeked of booze. Lazily, he tongued her lips and explored her mouth, ignoring the taste of wine that he found there. When there was no reaction from her, Vulpes grew braver still and lightly rested a hand on her breast, his thumb idly teasing her nipple.

For one fevered moment, Vulpes wondered just how far he could go before rousing her. Even if he did chance it, if he remained silent and kept the beret on, would her level of inebriation cause her to mistake him for the moronic NCR sniper? And what if she recognized him for who he truly was?

Her hand touching his cheek and a soft moan against his lips brought Vulpes back to his senses and he quickly retreated to the ventilation ducts before she fully came to. While he put the grate back in place he could hear her mumbling something about Boone and sounding terribly disappointed.

Rolling onto his back, Vulpes scowled up at the ceiling as he thought of just how close he'd come to having her. It was sheer torment, if he were honest with himself, to be able to do little more than watch her night after night, especially in some of her more intimate moments.

Occasionally she brought men back to her suite and without much pomp or ceremony, they would fuck. On those nights Vulpes could only sit there and seethe while listening to them. He felt anger at the Courier for sullying herself, but there was an impenetrable black fog that would come over him when he thought about the Courier's lovers.

All of them were dissolute and seemed to have no idea who she was or what she had done. All they cared about was their own pleasure and pawed at her without any thought or respect. Vulpes, of course, was completely blind to the irony in his thinking.

Instead, he became acutely aware that the Courier was ignorant to the fact that she'd brought more than one former Legionnaire to her bed. It was this that prompted him to act as her protector and ensure that none of these men ever sought the Courier's embrace again.

Because of Vulpes, most of them never saw the light of day again, much less left the Lucky 38.

Vulpes would lie in wait for them, hiding on top of the elevator car. Once moving, he would silently open the access panel and attack. Sometimes, if he particularly hated them, he would garrotte them. It was a slower death, one that gave the victim a chance to see their killer. In other words, this was reserved for former Legionaries. He enjoyed seeing the shock of recognition in their eyes followed by abject fear.

For others, he took the greatest of pleasure in snapping their necks. It was quick, simple and clean. Once he was certain they were dead, he would stop the elevator on a lower floor, drag the bodies to a disused hotel room and leave them there to rot. The only thing he found disappointing about it was that he had to keep to bloodless means of killing; a part of him so longed for something painful and messy. He truly missed a good a crucifixion.

The thought of the Courier in the throes of passion, however, brought forth other memories. Vulpes closed his eyes, desperately trying to banish the images that flashed in his brain of the Courier's hands roaming over her naked body before drifting lower, a finger circling her navel, and finally plunging into the cleft between her legs. The whimpering sounds she made, the way her back arched as her pleasure reached its peak, her crying out – swearing, even – was unbearable to him. On those nights, Vulpes had been unable to contain himself and quietly he would finish himself off, biting on his bottom lip to stifle any sound he might make.

And when the euphoria wore off and his head had cleared, it was in those moments that Vulpes hated himself the most for what he'd become.

He'd once been the greatest of Caesar's frumentarii, his very name striking fear into those who knew of the things he had done. It wasn't that long ago that Vulpes wouldn't have thought twice about taking what he wanted. The Courier would have been his and he would have broken her time and time again, mercilessly, without remorse. But now he had become a ghost of his former self, and this was as literal as it was figurative. He slept during the day and only ventured out at night to hide in shadows. The Courier went about her business as if he weren't there, and as far as she knew, he wasn't.

Vulpes growled, pressing his hands against his eyes in an effort to try and make the thoughts in his head go away. There were times when being in the Courier's inner sanctum was overwhelming making Vulpes feel claustrophobic, which he was feeling acutely now. Reminding himself that he had far more practical reasons for coming here this evening, he leapt to his feet and straightened the sheets and blankets of the bed before fluffing the pillows for good measure.

Crossing the expanse of the open living room, Vulpes couldn't help but feel his skin crawl while passing the massive terminal that dominated the room. He felt certain he was being watched, but after a year his incursions into the Courier's domain had not prompted any attack or even an alarm. It was something that he still found unsettling after all this time. By all accounts, the defences of the Lucky 38 were practically legendary across the Mojave, yet he had managed to waltz in through the front doors quite freely.

Of course, it probably worked in his favour that all hell had broken loose at the Fort and Hoover Dam by then. Too many people had their eyes elsewhere and so they never seemed to even notice him.

After he'd arrived, Vulpes spent the next few weeks discovering the ins and outs of the tower and figuring out the best way to avoid any security. There were access tunnels, air ducts, maintenance passageways, service elevators, and stairwells that he had learned by heart. He planned his revenge carefully, imagining all the painful ways in which he was going to torture the Courier for taking away everything he'd held most dear.

As time went by, however, Vulpes' resolve had seemed to crumble in the face of his growing obsession for the Courier.

He watched as her former friends and companions slowly left one by one in the weeks after the war, leaving her so utterly alone and desolate. She had had been hit hardest by Boone leaving though. While Vulpes had no true concept of what love could possibly be, he had to concede that if the Courier loved anyone, it had been Boone. No sooner had the sniper left that the Courier had grabbed a bottle of whiskey and drowned her sorrows in it.

The Courier's obvious feelings for Boone had brought out a fierce jealousy in Vulpes. It was an emotion that he wasn't fully prepared for, nor did he understand it. Vulpes wanted, no, needed, the Courier to feel that way about him, but how that might happen, he had no idea. Considering how Vulpes had spent most of his life planning and preparing for all eventualities, to suddenly be at a loss was incredibly frustrating.

A year on and Vulpes felt that he knew as much about the Courier as anyone possibly could. He'd watched her trying to adjust to her new role as the leader of the Mojave. It had been a big change for her, a change that she still struggled with and as time went on the Courier was withdrawing into herself.

And as much as he hated it, as much as he didn't want to draw parallels between himself and the Courier, he found that he couldn't help it. There was something about her loss that resounded with Vulpes.

Now in the kitchen, Vulpes started to put bottles of water and food into the small sack he'd brought with him. This was how he'd managed since residing in the lower levels of the Lucky 38. Going out on the Strip was far too dangerous; someone out there might recognize him. Besides, the thought of being out in the open set Vulpes' heart to racing and a filled him with a sense of dread. No, he was safer hiding in the narrow passages and vents of the Lucky 38 and stealing rations from the Courier's own supplies.

Satisfied that he'd taken enough to survive on for a few days, Vulpes decided that it was time to make his exit. He'd already spent far longer in the Courier's penthouse than he had intended, but he'd been feeling rather nostalgic tonight. He turned to leave but the moon glinting off Lanius' helmet caught his attention. The Courier had put it on display along with the brute's sword as trophies.

Vulpes, forgetting his previous haste to leave, went over and picked up Lanius' sword, testing the weight and balance of it in his hand. The Blade of the East had been specially made for the former Legate by Caesar, which would most likely explain why it felt heavy and awkward to Vulpes.

Nonetheless, Vulpes wielded the sword, remembering exercises and drills from his youth that the trainers had made them do over and over until their muscles felt as if they were on fire. Any who dropped their training swords once were punished harshly; those who dropped them a second time were put to death. The message was clear: there was no room for weakness in the Legion.

Parrying with the sword, Vulpes grunted with the effort, quickly growing breathless. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eye. It was disheartening, to say the least, that his stamina and strength had all but been sapped by his year-long confinement and a lack of martial training. He'd once been nearly unstoppable, pushing himself harder and further than most. Now he found a few simple exercises with a sword taxed him.

Disgusted with himself, Vulpes put the sword down and turned his attention to the helmet. It wasn't the first time he'd studied it, but he always felt drawn to it. He would look into the black, empty eyes of the mask waiting for Lanius' sepulchral voice to issue forth, but it never had. The Monster of the East was just as dead as the rest of them, thanks to the Courier.

Sometimes Vulpes was jealous of them for that.

Death had been something that he'd never feared. If anything, he'd been taught to welcome it. Legionaries led hard, short lives and for most death was a welcome release. Vulpes had been willing to lay his life down should Caesar demand it, but that moment never came. Instead, when the army of Securitrons attacked the Fort, Vulpes had somehow survived with little more than a bullet lodged in his thigh. Doing what he did best, Vulpes donned a disguise, taking the filthy rags of a slave that had been caught in the crossfire, and watched as his brothers in arms were cut down mercilessly.

The chaos of escaping slaves, rampaging Securitrons and mobilized Legionaries had given Vulpes the cover he needed to escape and make his way to the Strip to exact his revenge on the Courier. It had taken a few days before she returned to the Lucky 38, triumphant but weary and injured. One of the first things she did upon her arrival was to shed her filthy clothes and armour, stripping down to her underwear. After that, she wandered through the penthouse, Lanius' helmet tucked under her arm, until she found the perfect place to display her spoils of war.

Picking up the helmet, Vulpes smirked at it and wondered what the Legate's last thoughts were. He'd clearly underestimated the Courier, but in all truth nearly everyone had.

Vulpes clearly remembered the day that she'd come to the Fort, chasing down Benny. It was the first time that Vulpes truly realized the threat she posed, in fact.

Caesar had proposed a bit of a trade to the Courier. If she would go down to the bunker beneath Fortification Hill and destroy it, he would give her a gift – the gift of choosing Benny's fate. She had agreed and was immediately escorted to the entrance of the bunker and left to her own devices below.

She had returned to Caesar's tent within the hour, much to his delight, and when given the choice of what would happen to the Chairman, she'd never hesitated for a moment; she wanted to fight him in the arena. This brought more than a few derisive snorts and comments from those present and, even though she'd been giving the option, her choosing it gave Caesar pause. He leaned back in his throne, fingers steepled thoughtfully while he studied the Courier, before he finally gave her a succinct nod.

News spread quickly through the Fort of the showdown between the Courier and Benny and by the time they were ready to begin, there was a large crowd jostling for good vantage points. Upon Caesar's signal, battle commenced, raising a roar from those watching. Benny and the Courier started off circling each other, trash talking one another. There were plenty of cat calls and wolf whistles when the Courier decried Benny's distinct lack of ability in the bedroom which made him lunge for the Courier. After that, the gloves had come off and the pair of them went hell for leather against each other.

Vulpes had tried to maintain his usual air of detachedness, but he must have done something that piqued Caesar's interest. Caesar fixed his gaze on Vulpes before giving the spy a broad, wolfish grin.

"I gotta say, that bitch can fight!" Caesar exclaimed. "She's tough, too. Not many people can get shot in the head and walk away from it."

"Indeed," Vulpes replied, trying to sound unimpressed and folded his arms across his chest.

"I think…" Caesar began slowly, "when this war is over, I'll let Lanius have her as a reward. Imagine the little sons of bitches that'd make!" His eyes glittered over the thought of the demon spawn that pairing up his brute of a Legate with the tough-as-old-boots Courier could produce. They would be hardy warriors with the stature of their father, practically unstoppable and completely loyal to Caesar.

A nearly imperceptible twitch of Vulpes' eye let Caesar know he'd hit a nerve. He'd suspected that his head Frumentarii had developed an interest in the Courier, but this was the confirmation he was looking for.

"That's if she survived long enough to even become pregnant. Lanius is notorious for killing the women he beds," Vulpes drily replied.

Caesar chuckled at Vulpes' not so obvious disdain for the idea and returned his full attention back to the arena leaving Vulpes to stew with the thought of the Courier in the hands of Lanius.

Later, after the Courier had finally managed to sink her machete into Benny's guts and she'd gone on her way with the platinum chip, Vulpes had warned Caesar not to underestimate the woman. He'd tried to impress upon the Son of Mars how dangerous she possibly could be, the power she seemed to hold over people. Vulpes knew that she'd been quietly building alliances with several groups across the Mojave. But it had all gone unheeded.

Caesar learned the hard way that he should have paid more attention to Vulpes' warning when a Securitron emptied nearly a full magazine into his thick skull.

Closing his eyes, Vulpes remembered the sights and sounds and smells of that day and an odd smile came to his lips. Unfortunately for Vulpes, he'd become so lost in his memories that he was totally unaware that the elevator was now on the move. It wasn't until it arrived at the penthouse and let out a cheery ding that he realized his time was up.

Vulpes' heart was in his throat and panic had overtaken him and he quickly abandoned Lanius' helmet and started back towards the vent, but suddenly stopped. For a year he'd been hiding, lurking, watching and waiting and he'd had enough. Tonight he would finally reveal his presence to the Courier.

A hint of the old Vulpes had returned and standing a little taller, he waited instead of running.

The doors of the elevator had just opened and the Courier appeared looking disheartened and drained. She'd spent the evening in the company of the White Gloves yet again. It was another banquet held in her honour where she ended up listening to the same inane conversations while picking at her meal and wondering exactly where the chef had sourced his ingredients. She desperately wished that she were flanked by Arcade and Veronica instead of Marjorie and whoever else she had deemed important enough to be at the head table. At least Arcade and Veronica were witty and would have made the evening far more bearable with their humour.

Naturally the Courier had the choice to refuse Marjorie's invitations, but the offense it would cause would only lead to indignation which would lead to the White Gloves becoming belligerent in their own fashion. In other words, it just wasn't worth the hassle. And it wasn't just the White Gloves. She'd discovered that all of the families on the Strip had certain things that they disapproved of. It had taken months for the Courier to figure it out the steps of the dance, and even now she was still awkward and clumsy at it.

Angry and frustrated, the Courier kicked off her high heels, picked them up and with a growl threw them down the stairs.

"Arrogant bastards!" she shouted at no one in particular and started clumping down the stairs to go to the kitchen. She was badly in need of a drink, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed a figure moving in the shadows.

"Who's there?" she asked as she descended the stairs into the lower level of the penthouse.

"Ave, Courier," Vulpes purred and stepped into the moonlight, offering her a knowing smile. With sure strides he closed the gap between them. "You look lovely this evening," he said, his eyes raking over her body before he reached up to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen from the chignon at the nape of her neck.

"Oh fuck no…" she breathed and took a shambling step backwards. Vulpes noticed her hand instinctively reaching for the weapon she usually kept on her hip, only to discover it wasn't there.

"Perhaps you should rethink not wearing a weapon with your finery?" he thoughtfully suggested. "Although I must admit that I'm pleased you aren't armed. I have no wish to be shot tonight."

The Courier's eyes flicked towards Lanius' sword. It was almost half her height, but it might be her only chance. Or it would have been if Vulpes hadn't noticed and moved so that he stood between her and it.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she asked, and started sidling towards the kitchen, hoping to grab a knife from the kitchen, but she kept her eyes fixed on him.

Again, Vulpes followed her movement, blocking her path yet again. "I honestly don't think you would like the answer to that question, Courier," he replied with an enigmatic smile and took a tentative step towards her.

Without warning, the Courier broke off in the direction of the sword, with Vulpes in hot pursuit. While he may not have had the strength he once did, he still was every bit as fast. Before the Courier knew what was happening, Vulpes' hand closed around her upper arm, stopping her cold before whipping her around and pulling her against him.

"Let me go!" the Courier growled and tried to pull away.

"Stop!" Vulpes' fingers dug in, holding tighter, "I have no interest in hurting you!"

"Fucking liar!" the Courier spat back and started struggling again.

Growing impatient with her, Vulpes grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him and blurted out, "If I had wanted to hurt you I would have done so months ago!"

The Courier stopped fighting, her eyes going wide with the horror of recognition. "No… Oh God…" she breathed.

Vulpes nodded at her to silently give her confirmation of what she'd just concluded in her mind. Sensing that all the fight had just gone out of the Courier, he released her.

Stepping back and rubbing her jaw, the Courier sat on the arm of a nearby sofa and started to mutter under her breath. "The others wouldn't listen. When I didn't see you at the Fort, I knew you weren't dead. But they just wouldn't listen." The Courier let out a fragile laugh and shook her head in disbelief, "And you've been right under my nose the whole time! Fuck me…"

Vulpes merely smiled, "I told you that you wouldn't like the answer."

She glared at him. His glib answer made her want to punch him, but it also made her want to be sick.

"Believe me Courier, I wanted to kill you," he continued, freely admitting it. "I was going to make you suffer for taking everything I had ever known away from me."

Still in shock, the Courier tried to make sense of what Vulpes was saying and stared at him blankly. While she initially swore blind that Vulpes was still alive, there was never any indication either way. His remains hadn't been found at the Fort and there were no reports of sightings. In the end, after all this time, the Courier had started to believe that perhaps he was dead, or on his way back to Arizona with his tail between his legs.

"Why didn't you do it then?" she finally asked, although she wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Vulpes, however, instead of outright telling her his reasons, just met her gaze, his eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

"No… Oh no!" The Courier exclaimed, panic filling her heart again. Of all the things she didn't want in this world, having a psycho like Vulpes as her number one fan was probably at the top of the list.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she suddenly realized that there had been indications of Vulpes' interest in her all along.

There had been their encounter outside Boulder City, to begin with. It had been frightening and uncomfortable, but the Courier had never admitted to any of her friends what had happened that night.

After that came the invitation from Caesar delivered via Vulpes. He could have shoved the Mark of Caesar at her and been on his way, but he didn't. Instead he took his time about it and insisted that he put it on her himself, tying the leather thong around her neck and adjusting it so it would be obvious for all to see. Boone looked ready to explode at that moment and Arcade didn't seem to know where to look.

Even when she'd gone to the Fort, Vulpes could have sent any number of his men to escort her around the encampment, but he had done it himself. Then, after her time in the arena with Benny, he had taken her to Siri to be patched up and remained until he was satisfied with the slave's work.

Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the situation made the Courier crack and she burst out laughing, "You have got to be shitting me! I just can't… Fuck… I need a goddamned drink. A big one."

The Courier's reaction had not exactly been what Vulpes was expecting and he felt that old familiar rage flaring up in him that made him want to lash out violently against her. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his nails digging into the palms of his hands and drawing blood. Stalking after the Courier, he shouted, "They left you, Courier!"

The Courier stopped and wheeled around on him, a look of fury on her face.

"What!?" she growled.

"When you needed them most, they left you behind!" Vulpes said and rapidly approached her. "Even Boone left in the end! Your friends abandoned you!"

The Courier shook her head, "Shut up! They had to go!"

"They left you alone when they had what they needed from you!" Vulpes exclaimed and dropped to his knees before the Courier, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her stomach. "But I'm still here, I've not left. In spite of everything, I am here."

It was perhaps the most surreal moment of the Courier's life, and that was saying something considering the things she'd seen and experienced since that fateful night when Benny shot her in the head. The Courier dumbly looked down at Vulpes who was nuzzling against her while his rough hands stroked the small of her back.

"They never could appreciate you. Not as I do," Vulpes muttered to her navel, sending a shiver through the Courier.

Hesitantly she rested her hands on his shoulders, prompting him to hold her more tightly.

"Vulpes…" she softly said, using the proper Latin pronunciation of his name and cradled his head in her hands.

He looked up at her, something strange and unreadable in his icy blue eyes.

"I'm yours to command, Courier," he said with conviction.

The Courier's thumbs stroked his cheeks before she extracted herself from his grasp. Vulpes reluctantly let her go and watched her closely as she went over to the window to look out over Vegas. It looked so beautiful from up here with its lights twinkling in the dark.

Sighing, she pressed her forehead against the glass and closed her eyes. This was such a dangerous position to be in, and she had no idea what to do next. The easy solution would be to put him down, to take a gun and put a bullet in his brain. He certainly deserved it considering his actions at Nipton alone. But there had been far too much blood spilled. The Courier's hands dripped with it and she just didn't have the stomach to carry out a summary execution.

Before she had too much of a chance to think things through, she felt his hands on her waist, making her jump in surprise. She'd never even heard him approach, which was a disturbing thought in and of itself. His hands gradually slipped beneath the satin of her dress and glided around to her stomach.

"Vulpes…" she said, although whether it was a warning or an invitation wasn't clear.

"Use me, Courier," he purred in her ear, his hands slowly moving upwards. His hot lips brushed against the side of her neck. "Let me be your eyes and ears here." He nibbled her shoulder. "Let me be your knife in the dark. Let me strike at your enemies," he whispered and caught her breasts.

The Courier's head swam and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. It was hard to think straight with his hands fondling her and his hungry kisses on her neck. Was he really suggesting that he work for her? That he trade Caesar for her? A sharp nip on her shoulder instantly cleared her head and she turned to face him. The intense look of desire on Vulpes' face was both frightening and thrilling to the Courier.

Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed him and pulled him in for a desperate kiss, pausing long enough to pant, "I… hate you…"

Vulpes darkly chuckled, grazed his teeth against her throat and said, "I don't care."

Again they kissed when without warning she bit his bottom lip hard and drew blood, making him pull away suddenly. Vulpes smirked while the tip of his tongue prodded at his bleeding lip and he made a sound of approval.

There was fire in his eyes and he slammed his hips against hers, trapping her against the window. The Courier gasped and gave him a dark look of want that urged him on. He claimed her mouth with a possessive kiss while his hands raked over the thin spaghetti straps of her dress and pulled them free her shoulders causing her clothes to drop to the floor.

Pinning her shoulders against the glass, Vulpes leaned back to slowly take in the sight of her naked body. His insufferable smirk grew with every passing second, making the Courier squirm. She wished that he would just take her already as the needy ache she felt was growing unbearable.

Vulpes knew what he was doing to her though and lightly brushed his fingertips over one of her hardened nipples. It made her arch her back and moan, a reaction that Vulpes wanted to see more of. Once more falling to his knees before the Courier, Vulpes teasingly kissed her stomach, his tongue flicking over old scars. With each one, the Courier whimpered and pressed her thighs together to try and get some relief.

"Vulpes," she panted, practically begging for him to take her.

"If you'd been given to me," Vulpes quietly started before tonguing her bellybutton, "I would have carved my name into your flesh here," he dragged the tip of his tongue low across her belly.

The Courier's fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging in and biting at his skin and she cried out.

Looking up at her, he could see the desperation she was feeling and he liked it. Giving her a cruel, superior look, he said, "Beg, Courier."

She blinked at him dumbly, struggling to comprehend what he was saying, but when it clicked, she scowled down at him.

Sensing that the Courier's defences were rising, he took one of her stockings off, again his fingers barely brushing against her skin. Once her thigh was revealed, he licked and nibbled the soft flesh there, slowly working his way upwards.

Throwing her head back the Courier loudly swore, "Fuck!"

"Only if you beg," Vulpes drily replied and stopped kissing her, fixing her with an expectant look.

The Courier looked him in the eye and swallowed her pride.

"Please Vulpes!" she breathlessly asked.

"Please what?" He asked, his hand now trailing up her thigh.

"Fuck me! Please!" she pleaded with a plaintive whine.

Growling, Vulpes suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Without another word between them, he carried her up the stairs. There was a feral, yet triumphant, grin on his lips.

Finally, Vulpes would have what he'd so long been denied.

[romana-after-dark]

Anyone wanna drop by and tell me what you’re thinking for the dead dove December event?

I’ve got a few Joel’s, of course and I think I have a Frankie idea

Super fun, a few people have mentioned doing lesser written characters! I have a Jack from Mojave, William Tell from the card counter , and Rydall Keener the two faces of January as potential works!

Also, is anyone thinking of contributing art? I’ve mostly just heard fics and that’s great! It’s okay if it’s all fics, i just would like to support artists too!

[yuro-skell]

Honestly, killing Inculta wouldn't do much in the whole "We're stopping the legion from exploding the mojave" thing. You know what's behind the battle for hoover dam? A faction battle nobody wants anymore. The NCR public started a campaign to stop this, most ncr army personnel just want to go home, even inculta himself just wants to go home.

Me personally, I just want to finish my job and go back to my home in shady sands where I can get a decent cup of coffee instead of the "Coyote Coffee" substitute. Live and let live is all I say, but you do not need to heed my advice. It is your choice.

-@a-fellow-courier

I just don’t want innocents to die and currently, Vulpes has a death ray and a track record of killing innocents. I’ve already lived through fearing for my safety and livelihood due to my gender being seen as lesser. I refuse to live in that kind of fear again. I just want to wrestle the death beam from that idiots hands.

[milliebrown580k]

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[i-m-snek]

All of the lesser combos found home (which to me was a surprise, since I like Mojaves better), so now we're just looking for homes for these four :) The little male disco mojave yellowbelly is still my favorite. He gets more gold with every shed! Take a look at more info on them on my morph market :) https://www.morphmarket.com/stores/hardyreptiles/

[3zgritty]

Claudia Lovell-Graham ingame you are my brain worm forever very much. I play FNV and pretend you are a real companion in the game.

Affiliations Enclave/Research and Development Division (Chief Scientific Officer) New Canaanites (assistant to local doctor) Dead Horses Courier (will want to go see Randall Clarke’s terminals with the courier)

Family Erica Lovell (mother, scientist) Unnamed soldier father (deceased)

Game Role: Doctor (restores HP, installs implants, purges radiation) (will not trade anything other than chems and will not cure addictions---you can ask about the addiction, but she’ll simply tell you to “go see that house in New Orleans. They call it the Rising Sun.”) (speech check where the courier convinces her to improve one implant by being like, “ohhh noo I’m just a little guy. Out here in the wild wild wasteland. All I have is a botched lobotomy, a pipboy, and a dream. What-ever shall I do?” because she’ll genuinely feel bad for the courier.)

SPECIAL: 4ST, 7PE, 5EN, 2CH, 9IN, 5AG, 3LK

Tag Skills: Energy Weapons, Science, Survival

Karma: Very Evil (previously), Neutral (present)

Aggression: Unaggressive

Confidence: Cautious

Assistance: Helps Nobody

Can be pickpocketed for poison, random fruits, and a journal (contains some unsent letters to mother and other old acquaintances, horrific details from her old occupation, and thoughts about her present companions, including a note about the courier: “I have seen deathclaws with more sophisticated instinct for self-preservation. No concern whatsoever for their health and medical care, a non-existent sleep pattern and diet, and radiation poisoning that could kill an inferior organism. The fact that they continue to live is enough to support efforts toward developing similarly durable grunt-soldiers---ones unburdened by consequences that would cull lesser stock. But they endure. I hope the best for them---and perhaps even more when they return to the Mojave.”)

She’s so lame and she sides with Joshua in her own little way. even though she's a huge hater. It's all projection and made to mess with the courier's mind late-game. “Honestly? If they run, they will not be spared. They will be followed. If they fight inadequately, they will be killed even sooner. I've seen it before, in places far worse than this. Still---each time, the choice was theirs to make. Even when it only led them to defeat… though I’m sure they’d see it differently.” and “I… pity you, courier. This is not something they should disclose to an outsider. Your task was simple enough. Not intrusive. As were theirs; and I mean, Joshua’s. Supposedly. He’s-hm. [pause] The tribes are not so helpless... You… should see that, really... I should speak to Joshua. This isn’t… how do you say… not our circus?”

The type of person to tell you it’s “17:45,” like, what? I am going to eat your fucking shoes.

She is terrible your honour she is just terrible. I hc my courier gets suuuper pissed over how mean she is actually. She's actually chill and fond of the courier though, she really just cannot help but be her... condescending self.

I need her to have a bug that makes her have this crazy angry facial expression and say her alert dialogues (a deep, audible sigh or grumbling) over absolutely nothing at all, like Boone for some reason in my game.

breaking news: woman regrets pursuing a master of engineering degree instead of being at the club!

detailed claudia lovell-graham rawrr. she will sell just about every type of chem to the courier or agree to be the courier’s companion and help them craft every chem or poison known to mankind. she is afraid of mould and etc., always has her makeshift mask on when she’s outside exploring damp areas.

[marzipan-riddles]