#Butch Pooch

[jesncin]

A buff butch in a kebaya? Oh my <3

Kebaya are traditional clothing found throughout Southeast Asia, and they've always been a dysphoric thing for me to wear. So! Here's a more dapper twist on a kebaya fit for a young butch.

#oc #characer design #butch #trans #southeast asia #indonesia #my art #lunar boy #graphic novel #this pic apparently gets passed around queer circles a lot #because being dysphoric over kebayas is that common #make cultural clothing your pooch <3

[ratsoh-writes]

Ages updated!!!!

I’m gonna do my best to include all important characters, including some “side characters” that appear often enough! So let’s begin!

Undertale: Sans: 65, papyrus: 49, Undyne: 47, alphys: 54,Toriel: 934, Asgore: 933, Grillby: 522, Mettaton: 22

Underswap: Star: 60, honey: 44, Twister: 44, Winter: 1013, Napstablook: 23

Underfell: Red: 66, edge: 43, storm: 44, King: 998, felltron: 21

Swapfell Mal: 60, cash: 51

Horrortale Oak: 75, willow: 59, Miss: 944

Horrorswap Lilac: 70, Basil: 54

Horrorfell Rust: 76, Noir: 53

Underlust Charm: 66, sugar: 52, Amor: 367, winnie: 10

Lustswap Sparks: 59, Salt: 50

Lustfell Lush: 63, Pepper: 51, Jezebel: 212, Marcelo goldenfoot: 455

Lustswapfell Sir: 68, weasel: 52, snow: 61

Lustred Flambe: 55, Pesto: 54

Lustgold Butler: 68, gold: 49

Outertale Pluto: 67, Jupiter: 49, titan: 598

Outerfell Orion: 60, atlas: 52

Outerswap Helios: 44, Artemis 36

Fellswap Lord: 60, mutt: 53

Fellswap gold Wine: 64, coffee: 50, Empress: 1033

Farmtale Peaches: 51, rancher: 46, Rosemary: 550, Yosemite: 501

Farmswap Cider: 50, Barley: 42, Carmen: 85, whisky: 520

Farmfell Ram: 49, pitch: 40, russet: 478, pooch: 489

Horrorfarm Moose: 64, maple: 53

Mafias Butch: 60, snipe: 58, ace: 53, boss: 50, slim: 48, bruiser: 45, tempest: 64, Don: 645, Madame: 647, Mr corgi (aka Charles): 67

Birdtale Quill: 59, crow: 51

Birdswap Mango: 62, papaya: 36, canary: 278

Birdfell Roost: 53, harpy: 42, Lewis: 90

Draketale Alden: 68, Ollivander: 60

Drakefell Barin: 71, Arwin: 59

Drakeswap Hilda: 66, saga: 63

Seatale Fisher: 60, Jasper 25

Seaswap Finn: 59, sails: 27

Seafell Hook: 58, captain: 30

Gastertale G: 80, green: 79

Dancetale Pop: 52, rhythm: 45, salsa: 678

Theatretale Tempo: 50, vibrato: 29

Fallouttale Lens: 69, cricket, 49, piranha: 65

Templetale Zen: 67, shield: 35

Nomadtale Gears: 49, compass: 42, copper: 645, lilo: 21, weave: 126, wisteria: 157, linden: 158

Here’s a quick rundown of a monsters lifespan:

A common monster has a life expectancy of 700 years give or take. The oldest monster in record (that wasn’t a royal) was a Drake monster who lived 732 years.

They are considered infants/babies up until the age of two. Toddlerhood is from 2-6

Children are from the ages of 7-13. Most monsters start public school at ages 7-8

Teenagers are from 14-19. Monsters mature at a slower rate than humans, and so while the body may look grown in the later teen years, they have yet to develop sexual maturity until around 20.

Once 20 they are considered adults, but some subspecies can continue growing up till 30

After puberty in the early 19-22 range, a monster is considered a young adult from 25-190. You can compare those ages to a human in their early to mid 20s physically

Middle Ages range from 200s- 400s roughly

500s are considered older and retirement age, 600s are elderly. Anything past 680 is fragile

The lifespan goes down with halfbreed monsters ( “full” monster parent and “full” human parent) where they live around 600-650 years

The lifespan takes a bigger drop for mages who have an expectancy of 250 years. Witches (humans who have trained to use magic) are known to live up to their 130s if they aren’t soulbonded to a monster partner.

Monsters and half breeds born with the disease called dimming rarely live past their 400s

An exception to the monster lifespan are the “royals”. They take a ritual after being voted into office that binds them to their country, making it so that any decisions they make for the country has to be for its and the peoples benefit (as far as they believe), making them a servant to ebott for the rest of their lives, but extending their life and health in return. The ritual can be broken for the royals who wish to retire and die in peace. The oldest recorded ruler was rumored to be around three thousand

And now the crash!!

For those who don’t know what that is, it’s when all the AUs merged (and my excuse for why all these guys are in the same place lol).

The crash started 17 years ago, and ended within 9 months. Since then no other mystery groups of monsters have been discovered.

Here’s a brief timeline of ebott from crash until now

First day: the land mass that holds ebott appears

Day 2: undertale, underswap, gastertale,, dancetale, theatretale, templetale, all the “farm” AUs, “lust” AUs and the “outer” AUs

Month one: the bird AUs fall from the sky, the nomads stumble out of the forest and the sea AUs mysteriously arrive on ship to shore

Month two, after two months, most of the fell aus (underfell, swapfell, fellswap gold) appear

Month three, the factory (mafias) monsters appear along with the “ghost city” now inhabited and known as ebott city, the capitol. A few weeks later, the fallout monsters appear and ebotts first official hospitals are created

Month four, the royals are finally brought together after threats of inner fighting, and Asgore is voted in as the king

Things settle for four more months, and the new land is explored, vary basic laws are out into place, and things start getting divided into districts.

Month five: Ebott makes contact with several other countries and is introduced to the worlds currency system. Ebotts gold, silver, copper coins is recognized as a currency by the rest of the world

Month seven, the first and only orphanage is founded for any unclaimed children.

On month nine of the crash, the monsters finally access the underground, and to their horror, they find three separate chambers housing the starving horror AUs who had no idea everything that was going on above.

Month ten, land is sold and divided, and ebott begins creating large scale farms

May 20, 2007, ebott celebrates their first official year as a country. The capitol city is named new ebott (cause Asgore sucks at naming things and frankly the rest of the royals aren’t much better)

May 30th, the royal guard is finally re-organized

December 2007, ebotts first countrywide gyftmas celebration, also an official design for the flag and coins are voted on and implemented

February 2008, the first official jail is built and used in ebott lol

July 2008, ebott is finally let into the rest of the worlds internet, and electricity reaches more areas besides just ebott city

August 2008, ebotts children and teens discover tik tok, and it is unanimously decided by every one that a standard public school has to be created

Late august 2008, the first public school is finished in city center

September 2008, the number of school sites number around 300, and counting

January 2009, ebott state college is built and open

April 2009, the ebott scouts is formed, and children hoping to join the guard in the future are able to sign up.

March 2010, ebott is opened by presiding countries for international students and charity programs

November 2010, the following of lady magic opens the temple to the public, and takes over the maintenance of what used to be known as the horrors underground. A grotto is transformed into a place of remembrance for those left behind before the crash

May 2011, the core from the stable underground is moved to the surface and duplicated into several other power factories. All of inhabited ebott is at least within an hour of power

May 2012, the stable underground is open to the public as a tourist attraction. Ebotts is opened by presiding countries to tourism

February 2013, because of public pressure from mainly farm, bird, lusts and the temple monsters, human-monster marriages are now recognized under the state as valid

July 2013 A farm monster discovers how to successfully cultivate magic crops from the underground, aboveground. He shares the secret for free, and other farm monsters take initiative to start sharing their own crop secrets. He is awarded the title of prince.

January 2014 Due to complaints about side effects from human foods, money is poured into research about safer ways to process and preserve foods in ebott.

April 2014, mellowmart becomes the largest company in ebott, finally beating out Walmart in scale.

December 2016, ebott petitions to be recognized as a free independent country to the United Nations. Ebott is turned down

December 2017, ebott petitions again to be recognized as an independent nation

February 2017 Immigration into ebott is closed, and monsters begin boycotting imported human goods. The ebott navy is built.

July 2017, ebott is declared an independent nation

March 2018, the royals declare ebott self sufficient in feeding the country when the amount of food related exports finally exceeds the imports for the first time

July 2018, ebott celebrates its first freedom festival

October 2018, the first college dedicated to the arts is opened in the captitol

July 2019, magical spars are declared the national sport after a grueling battle between spar fans and pickleball fans

November 2019, the first echo festival is celebrated in Goldenvalley

February 2020, humans not born in ebott are finally allowed to apply for citizenship, and the process for that is created.

April 2020 the goldenflower festival is organized for the first time

September 2020, several big brands like coco cola, Hersheys and nestle are banned in ebott when complaints of health issues becomes too much

March 2021, Wendy’s becomes the first company to create a monster-safe fast food outside of ebott, and after months of testing, is given permission to sell. Many other food companies follow and begin making separate recipes for their monster customers

May 2022, snails are declared the national animal of ebott, and popular snail breeds are recognized and the society of the domesticated snail is created for shows and licenses

November 2022, a different country tries to declare war on ebott on the grounds of them “stealing” their young working force (immigrant workers). Ebott threatens to close borders to tourists, those coming for medical care, and all outside companies selling in their lands. The untied nations slaps down the country declaring war.

February 2023, a new branch of the royal guard, called the NPTRF (national people’s trafficking relief foundation) or more commonly called the reverse kidnappers by ebotts supportive teens, is founded to combat the rapidly rising issue of monsters and humans being trafficked and dragged outside the country

#worldbuilding #I may add more to the timeline in the future #depends on if anyone suggests some necessary events

[freyanistics]

Part 2 to this

The grandfather clock stroke 11 o clock. Natasha had just finish putting the last of her clothes in the suitcase shutting the top and zipping it.

She was exhausted but at least the hard part was over. Walking up to the desk she eyes the envelope that held the letter within. It was signed specifically to the girls, and her heart wrench at the thought of them reading it in the morning.

She didn’t want to leave them behind, she didn’t want to leave any of her newly formed family and friends behind, but it was too painful to stay here. She felt like she was slowly being suffocated; like a snake curling around its prey.

She couldn’t stay here.

She couldn’t stay here with her around.

Lifting her suitcase she walks to the the door and with a heavy sigh creaks it open. Peeking her head out she took note of the heavy silence that fell upon the castle. It was so quiet a pin could be heard if it was dropped on the porcelain floor.

Taking a step out she quickly yet quietly makes her way towards the large front doors. Once she gets outside she’ll make the trek out of the village and to the more popular areas of Romania, where she’ll catch a flight back home. She had already brought herself a ticket, using Alcina’s money of course.

As she continues her quiet walk through the castle a faint clicking could be heard behind her. Turning around her eyes widen as the large dog pads over to her, a high pitch whine coming from him. “I’m sorry Butch, but you can’t go.” She says sadly, placing the suitcase down to pet the dog’s large head. “You have to stay here, the girls are going to need you.” While Butch was her dog she couldn’t bring herself to separate the large pooch from the girls, seeing how much they loved him. And she knew nothing bad would come of him here.

Letting out another whine the dog looks up at her with sad eyes, a paw scratching at her. Placing a finger to her lips she tries to quiet the dog before picking up her suitcase once more.

Just as she was reaching the door a voice from behind her made her stop. “Mama? Where are you going?” Freezing up a bit before sighing Natasha slowly turns around facing Cassandra. Of course she didn’t hear, Cassandra was the best hunter in the family.

Yellow eyes studied her face before lowering to the suitcase in hand widening suddenly. She could see the realization hit her like a rock. “You’re-you’re leaving?” Cassandra asks in a shaky breath. “You’re coming back right? You wouldn’t…I know what Mother did was wrong but you wouldn’t leave us behind would you? You wouldn’t leave me?” She asks in a much quieter voice.

“Oh Cass.” Natasha starts placing the suitcase down once more and hugging the taller woman. “I will NEVER abandon you or your sisters, you are my family, my kids, no matter what happens between me and your mother.” Natasha could feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “But I can’t stay here, not with what’s going on. I can’t bear to see your mother, not when she’s sleeping with other women. I need to be away, but I’m im not abandoning you. I’ll still write to you and visit when I know your mother won’t sniff me out.” And she meant every word. She would never ditch her girls, they been through so much and their bond was strong, especially with Cassandra.

Balling her hands into shaky fists Cassandra wrapped her arms around the shorter woman. “You promise?” She asks looking down at her. Reaching a hand out Natasha wipes her tears away. “I promise.” She holds out her pinkie finger. Sniffling Cassandra extends hers wrapping it around Natasha’s gently, a weak smile on her face.

“I have to alert mother though, if she finds out I didn’t stop you from running she might hurt Ashley.” She spoke softly, referring to the pretty coco brown skin woman that Cassandra has been talking with. Ashley was a sweet girl and seem to be able to match up with Cass. The girl didn’t deserve to die.

“Then give me a twenty second head start. Then wake up your sisters and mother. Sic Butch on me if you must.” She says confidently. It’s not the first time she seen the girls chase down an escapee, getting joy in the thrill of the hunt. This time she was the prey.

“What if we catch you?”

“Then whatever happens to me, happens.”

Biting her lip Cass looks back at the large staircase leading to the second story of the castle before back at the darkskin woman. “Okay. Twenty seconds. I’ll hold back a little to give you a better chance.”

Smiling softly she hugs Cassandra again pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you dear.” Grabbing her suitcase she opens the double doors feeling the cool breeze hit her. Casting one last glance back at Cass she runs, shoes slapping the ground. Twenty seconds. She only had twenty seconds to get out the village, hell it would take more than twenty seconds to get out of the castle’s property.

Running past the dried up scarecrows and grapevines she spots the castles’ gates. She doesn’t look back as she all but slams into them trying to shove it open. Locked.

Shit.

How many seconds has went by already? She forgot to count.

Seeing the lock she slips a hand up her bun pulling out a hair pin and starts picking at the lock. It took her a minute but with a click the lock falls to the ground allowing her to push the large iron gates open and stepping out.

Just as she did so the loud calls of Daniela and Bela could be heard signaling Cassandra had finally called them. She looks back at the castle. The light to Alcina’s room was on as the large silhouette of the countess stood in front of the window. She was watching. Who knew what might happen to her if she gets dragged back.

“Mama! Come back mama!” Bela’s voice calls out snapping Natasha out of it as she runs off, her suitcase smacking against her.

She runs down the winding path to the village as she heard the calls of her children. At one point she heard Daniela behind her. By now they would have caught her, meaning they was purposely taking their time to give her a chance to escape.

Smiling softly she continues to run before pausing by a tree to catch her breath. Even if the girls weren’t fully trying to catch her she still wouldn’t make it out, not with the lycans running around like crazy. She had a gun and a knife on her but would it really be enough to make it out the village? And even if she did make it out then what? It was too risky to walk to the bigger cities in the dark with only a phone flashlight. She needed a better plan. She jumps as a twig snaps from behind her. Turning she looks at Daniela as she stares back at her.

“Mama?” She asks looking both scared and concern. Taking a tentative step forward the redhead cuts her eyes over to somewhere than back at her.

Following her gaze she looks at the other path leading to another lord’s territory.

Was she suggesting she hide out with another lord until it was safe to get out? It could cause problems within the lords but maybe….it was worth a shot? Nodding to Dani she takes off down the path, sweat pouring down the sides of her face.

The farther she went down this path the more distant the sounds of the girls’ voices were. Mist started covering the dirt path making it hard for Natasha to maneuver. ‘Shit.’ She thought. She may have lost the girls but now she might be stuck in this god forsaken mist.

That’s when the heavy sounds of a rainfall filled her ears. Using her hearing she follows the sounds of rushing water until she comes upon a familiar looking cozy house.

She had reached the home of Donna Beneviento

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #natasha dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x oc #one take let’s go

[boycuntbakery]

Sorry but being a girls personalized puppy faggot………her cockwarming lapdog…………..a breedable butch purse pooch

#lesbian nsft #nb nsft #nsftumblr #wlw nsft #nonbinary nsft #nsft #t4t nsft #butch nsft

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

🐾The Doctor's Non-Robotic Dog

Besides K9, the Doctor has inadvertently travelled with another pooch - a French bulldog named Butch.

(The Monsters from Earth)

Whoniverse Facts for Friday by GIL

-------------------------------------------------------

》📫Got a question / submission? 》😆Jokes |🫀Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts 》📚Complete list of Q+A 》📜Masterpost If you like what GIL does, please consider buying a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious for future projects, including complete biology and language guides.

#doctor who #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #GIL #gallifrey institute for learning #GIL facts #TOTW: Dog #whoniverse

[hellchilde]

this is not directed towards anyone in particular and i hope tlt fanartists know how gleefully i consume every piece of art that they produce

but my favorite gideon is now a thicc gideon, but namely around the middle. god, when she has a lil extra padding around the middle? when she has that soft butch cushion? like yeah she's solid muscle and was surviving on gruel or whatever, but i love it when she has that pooch

that's all. blah blah something fat-over-muscle butch gideon

#the locked tomb #gideon nav #just my thoughts #but also i got wrecked by that one fanart that i just can't get over #i hope you all know i love you because fanart is the lifeblood

[amateur-selfshipper]

Koki: Oh, I never asked you your name. What’s your name? 

Gwen: Oh, I get called a lot of things. 

Gwen: You know, I get Buddy or Pooch or Spot or Butch or Scram. 

Gwen: Or Hey, get out of the trash. 

#Koki🐾 #s/i: Gwen El Cat #Incorrect Quotes #source: Lady and the Tramp 2019

[rat-tail-butch]

Wimpy dog hates rain

#butch #me #my dog’s name is dizzy #butch and a pooch

[burrito-child]

One thing that really annoys me about being a lesbian is that our "butch" fashion is all tall skinny girls who have muscle tone and jawlines who will almost definitely turn any girl they choose to even look at.

Like, what if I'm a little doughy? Got a lil pooch goin on? All ass and no tiddies? A few pounds over average but not actually plus size?

How am I supposed to find fashion ideas when I'm assaulted with images of these hot ladies and I just look like a potato? How am I supposed to even feel okay in my own body knowing that these skinny muscled sex gods are the ideal? And that I will never be able to measure up?

Gah!

#lesbian fashion #gay girls #lgbt #lgbtq community #lgbt fashion #lgbtqia #lesbian #girls who kiss girls #girls who like girls #queer #queer pride

[ratsoh-writes]

Masterlist 31

(******)= suggestive

general:

do they like being tied up**** (ds tpt)

SO LOVES wing cuddles (all birds and drakes)

they wake up as a new species (tpt dt dt os)

bath or showers (all)

he ends up preggers (horrors)

late or early? (all)

stranger is getting stalked (ff fs ft hf)

hes balllddddd (lf tpt gt)

favorite game of the gamers

What they put as SOs contact name (all)

libidos******

they meet thier evil twin (hs hf hfr sf dt)

someone drugs SOs drink (lsf lr lg lf)

SO says his **** is too big lol******

you know what that sounds like (edge sugar helios)**

the floor is lava (all)

who does and doesn't like being pinned (all)***

SO fell for him during an embarrassing moment of his (hf uf ht)

they catch their kid forging their signature

their kid got bit at school

pillow fight (all)

barbieland (mafias, lr. lsf)

SO nibbles to show affection (ul dt)

alien invasion (lsf ot)

fighting styles (of bf lsf df)

housewife or breadwinner? (all)

rule the country for a day (drakes)

aesthetes (drakes)

SO gets love potioned (st sf ff hfm)

Side Characters

sans the bat

rosemary's family history

snows siblings

Worldbuilding

three biggest covens of ebott

bloomsiles (monster subspecies)

monster blood

Unicorns! (Monster subspecies)

soulbonds

burial practices

how the lust serum came to be in each au

which aus follow lady magic the most

sunset surprise snails

skeleton beauty standards

ebotts sodas

after the horrors were discovered

what was the institution like?

how the horrors met their counterparts

tribes of drakefell

surrogates (and sir)

why sir isn't attracted to other skeletons

ebotts education system

foods banned in ebott

ebott fashion

UPDATED AGES LIFESPAN AND TIMELINE

Temmies

The mafias

would they reach out to their kid? (continuation)

butch with an anxious SO

Templetale

are they bilingual? (bonus saga)

Theatretale

tempos biggest enemy

farmswap

cider is secretly a supervillain

Farmfell

what pooch looks like

horrorfarm

the story behind moose's nickname

maple is a bean pole

outerswap

artemis' life goals book

dimming gene origins

Seafell

hook has a secret kid

Underfell

edges favorite restaurants

Lustfell

lush's favorite restaurants

#masterpost #masterlist #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #worldbuilding

[refreshdaemon]

Poster cast of Django Unchained (2012):

Jamie Foxx as Django

Christoph Waltz as Dr. King Schultz

Leonardo DiCaprio as Calvin Candie

Kerry Washington as Broomhilda von Shaft

Samuel L. Jackson as Stephen

Walton Goggins as Billy Crash

Dennis Christopher as Leonide Moguy

James Remar as Ace Speck / Butch Pooch

Michael Parks as The LeQuint Dickey Mining Co. Employee

Don Johnson as Spencer 'Big Daddy' Bennett

#Django Unchained #Jamie Foxx #Christoph Waltz #Leonardo DiCaprio #Kerry Washington #Samuel L. Jackson #Walton Goggins #Dennis Christopher #James Remar #Michael Parks #Don Johnson

[cranetreegang]

4) 7 Day Fallout Writing Challenge: Coming Home

Day 4!!! This one was way too much fun to write. Decided to do present tense, and nearly wanted to die. Present tense sucks. It’s a bit on the longer side too. It’s like 1,400 words. 

Fallout 3 again! I remember the first time I did Trouble on the Home-front, and I nearly blew the whole place up after I ‘saved’ them. Vault 101 is literally the breeding ground of assholes. EXCEPT for my main man Officer Gomez. He’s a real G.

Enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Warnings: one curse word and mentions of dead people

Some dialogue (specifically at first with Amata) I did take straight from the game. So credit to Fallout 3 for that.

Amata gives me a smile of relief. The dark circles under her hazel eyes really aged her and her raven black hair is dull and tangled into a messy bun. With the conflict over, I can tell a weight is lifted from her. We move closer together, filling me with a certain nostalgia. I’m finally back with my best friend and I can’t wait to tell her everything that’s happened. To finally catch up without chaos ensuing. The stories I have will stomp anything we ever read in the Grognak Comics. I’m already forming plans on who we can go to for supplies. How I can help protect our people from the Wastes.

“I… I can’t believe it.” Amata whispers, pulling me from my grand plans. “My father… I can’t believe he’s stepping down. I can’t believe you got through to him.” 

“We talked. I think for the first time, he actually listened. He… he didn’t even realize how wrong he was.” I take in the disarray state of the medical room. A place I saw as a sanctuary growing up. I could still see Jim laying stiffly against the wall when I first arrived. Or even Beatrice’s mangled corpse in the next room. A shake of my head returns me to the present. “But I set him straight.” 

“Well, thanks for keeping your cool. Violence would only lead to more problems in the future.” She puts her hands on her hips with a prideful smirk. “It’s time for our dusty old Vault to have a new beginning and it’ll start by opening it up again, and this time for good. It’s a bright new day for the Vault…,” Her pause takes me off guard. She looks at me sheepishly. The same look she gave me when I first got here. “But I’m afraid there’s one thing that has to change.”

“Whatever it is, I’m happy to help.” I reassure her. 

“I know you are and, on behalf of the Vault, I thank you for all you’ve done.” She places her hand on my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. She sounds too much like an Overseer already. “But there are still many who blame you for everything that happened. So I have to ask you to leave. I’m sorry, but the situation is just... too delicate for you to stay.” 

My stomach feels like it’s in a knot; like I had been punched in the gut. I know I’m making a face as Amata continues, “Please. If you want to help the Vault, you need to leave.” 

The sting of tears began and my throat’s tight. I stare her down with a bitter smile. “Just like that, huh? After everything I’ve done, you’re kicking me out.” I laugh a bit as I realize that was her plan all along. She knew I would come, she knew I would help, and she knew I wasn’t allowed to stay.

“No, it’s not like that.” Amata grabs my hands to bring my attention back to her. Her hands are so soft compared to mine. “But if you stay, it’ll just keep causing more problems. The Vault can’t take any more in-fighting. It’s just what has to be.” Her explanation only makes my blood boil. I swear, I knew raiders that were less cold-blooded than her. “It’ll be awhile before we’re ready to really go outside. But once the Vault is stable again, maybe we’ll see you out there.” She smiles sweetly at me, which feeds my disgust toward her. I let the silence fester before I rip my hands from hers. She frowns, but switches back to a sweet smile.

“I guess this is goodbye for now.” She reaches behind her and hands me a dirty utility suit. “It’s not much, but take this with you, to remember us by. With luck, we’ll meet again.” 

I look at the grimy suit for a moment in a state of absolute shock. This is it? All that she sees me worthy of is some piece of shit suit? 

“Goodbye, Amata. I have a feeling you’ll do just fine as Overseer.” The ice in my tone causes her to flinch. I give a parting glance to the room that was my whole life with my dad. Him teaching me how to treat cuts, bruises, sprains, and numerous other ailments. The trash and overturn tables made the bile crawl further up my throat. Freddie and Mr. Brotch walk over to me just before I turn away. 

“Goodbye. We’ll miss ya.” Freddie says. His ‘Tunnel Snake’ leather jacket slipping off his slim frame. 

“I never thought you would be back. I’m sorry you have to go. You were always a pleasure to have in class.” Mr. Brotch adds with his warm brown eyes giving me pity. But he does nothing to object to my banishment. 

I almost roll my eyes at their pathetic attempts at a goodbye. “Good luck out there. You’ll need it.” I walk through the familiar yet ruined hallways of my home… former home. I pass by my room. My heart nearly shatters upon seeing Dad’s old bed, but I force myself to keep going. Residents line the hallways as their whispers and glares follow me.

“Good riddance.”

“Get out.” 

“You don’t belong here.” 

“This is all your fault!” The voices say as I pass by.

I hold my head up high despite wanting to yell and scream at them. They’re supposed to be my family, yet here I am leaving with my tail between my legs. I’m at the security room when a familiar guard brings me out of my haze. 

“Officer Gomez?” 

He looks at me with sorrowful eyes. “You aren’t leaving already, are you? Goodness, you just got here.” 

I curse my growing bad luck. He’s always been so kind to me. His salt and pepper hair made me think of a time long before that. The fondest memory being when he got onto Butch for stealing my sweet roll. I thought of him as my hero from that moment forward. I find it hard to look at him now.

“Yeah. It’s… for the best. Or so I’m told.” I mumble. 

He places his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry about your daddy. And I’m sorry that… I wish you could stay.” I meet his gaze and he looks more upset than I am. “Good golly, I don’t know what’s happened to you out there, but you’re different now. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not... ,” He laughs a bit before giving me a beaming grin. “You’re not a kid anymore. I’m real proud of ya. I know you’re gonna do great things, kiddo. Always have. I hope we get to see you one day. Out there. Maybe you’ll be the one giving us the big tour of the place.” 

I bite my lip to keep a sob at bay before hugging him as tightly as I can. “Thank you, Mr. Gomez. I’m gonna miss you.” My voice cracks and a few tears stream down my cheek.

He chuckles a bit, but hugs me back. “Stay safe.” 

I nod my head and smile. “You too.” 

He pats me on the back as I walk towards the exit. I spare him one last look. He waves with a warm parting smile. I walk outside and open the wooden slat door. The ground shudders from the vault closing. The breeze rifles through my hair and the dust fills my nostrils. The heat of the waning sun warms my skin. I hear the metal screeching of the vault sealing. My breath leaves my chest and a choked cry follows. It’s done. 

I stare at the scorched landscape around me. Echoes of the past are all that’s left. Megaton catches my eye against the evening sun. I suppose that’s not entirely true, I realize. I think of Gob, and Lucas, and even Moriarty. I start to think of the Brotherhood, and the people of Rivet City. So many people that I’ve met, helped, or killed. I notice a furry blob heading towards me. A wide grin forms on my face when I realize who it is.

Dogmeat barrels up to me with yips of excitement. I pat his head while scratching behind his large ears. His rough fur feels great against my near numb fingers. His brown and blue eyes fill me with a comforting warmth. 

“I missed ya, too. Ya mangy mutt.” I tease.

He nudges my wet cheek then takes off down the hill. I look back at the Vault. I feel over the utility suit in my hands. The 101 is a faded yellow against the dingy navy. I hang the suit on the wooden door and re-shoulder my rifle. I meet up with the enthusiastic pooch at the bottom who huffs at my lack of rush. He spins in place a few times before taking charge towards Megaton. Our home.

#vault720 #fo3 #officer gomez is a real g #fallout fanfic writers #fallout #fallout 3 #amata almodovar #7daychallenge

[hondobrode]

INHUMANS ONCE FUTURE KINGS #1

MARVEL COMICS

(W) Christopher Priest, Ryan North (A) Phil Noto, Gustavo Duarte (CA) Nick Bradshaw

SOMEDAY, ALL OF THIS WILL BE YOURS!

A king in training.

A brother destined for madness.

These are the early days of the Boltagon legacy.

When the king of the Inhumans is attacked, Black Bolt and Maximus spring into action to save their leader!

But when Black Bolt loses control, what are the consequences for his future kingdom - or his own family?

Plus: A two-page backup (in every issue!) starring Lockjaw, as told by UNBEATABLE SQUIRREL GIRL writer Ryan North and artist supreme Gustavo Duarte!

BLACK BOLT #4

(W) Saladin Ahmed (A/CA) Christian Ward

MAN TO MAN!

•  When their prison break ends in catastrophe, Black Bolt and the Absorbing Man are forced to confront their pasts - together.

•  What makes a hero and a villain?

•  When new hope comes from an unexpected source, Black Bolt faces a choice. What price will he pay for his freedom?

LOCKJAW DOG DAYS

(W) Bill Mantlo, Paul Jenkins, Dan Slott, Scott Lobdell, Jill Thompson, Stuart Moore (A) Butch Guice, Jae Lee, Andrea Di Vito, Jose Delbo, Jill Thompson, Rick Geary (CA) Geof Darrow

They say every dog has his day - and this is Lockjaw's! The Inhumans' prodigious pooch takes the lead, teleporting into amazing adventures! When the Avengers and Inhumans come to blows, Lockjaw shows he has a nose for danger! With Attilan in turmoil around him, the colossal canine has his own agenda in an all-time classic tale that could only be named "Woof!" What a revoltin' development for the Thing when he spends the day babysitting and dog-walking - with Lockjaw on the end of the leash, it's slobberin' time! Plus: The humongous hound helps the homeless, has the Inhumans in dogged pursuit and goes digging for his Original Sin! Collecting AVENGERS ANNUAL #12, INHUMANS (1998) #8 and THING (2005) #4; and material from MARVEL COMICS PRESENTS (1988) #68, GIRL COMICS (2010) #2 and ORIGINAL SINS #1.

ROYALS #6 

(W) Al Ewing (A) Kevin Libranda (CA) Sanford Greene

FAMILY REUNION!

•  The mysterious Progenitors have been revealed! But to seek them out, the Royals will need help.

•  Enter the Universal Inhumans, alien beings engineered by the Kree - the Inhumans' brothers and sisters in the stars!

•  And sometimes, brothers and sisters fight...

TRUE BELIEVERS KIRBY 100TH INHUMANS #1 

Reprinting material from AMAZING ADVENTURES (1970) #1-2 

(W) Gary Friedrich, (A) Jack Kirby, Chic Stone (C/A) John Romita

click for best comics talk

#INHUMANS ONCE FUTURE KINGS 1 MARVEL COMICS (W) Christopher Priest Ryan North (A) Phil Noto Gustavo Duarte (CA) Nick Bradshaw SOMEDAY ALL #OF THIS WILL BE YOURS! A king in training. A brother destined for madness. These are the early days of the Boltagon legacy. When the kin #king of the Inhumans is attacked Black Bolt and Maximus spring into action to save their leader! But when Black Bolt loses control what are #the consequences for his future kingdom - or his own family? Plus: A two-page backup (in every issue!) starring Lockjaw as told by UNBEATAB #UNBEATABLE SQUIRREL GIRL writer Ryan North and artist supreme Gustavo Duarte! #comic book art cover art virgin cover superhero supervillain absorbing man sci-fi science fiction saladin ahmed christian ward #LOCKJAW DOG DAYS (W) Bill Mantlo Paul Jenkins Dan Slott Scott Lobdell Jill Thompson Stuart Moore (A) Butch Guice Jae Lee Andrea Di Vito Jos #Jose Delbo Jill Thompson Rick Geary (CA) Geof Darrow They say every dog has his day - and this is Lockjaw's! The Inhumans' prodigious pooch #Attilan in turmoil around him the colossal canine has his own agenda in an all-time classic tale that could only be named Woof! What a revol #AVENGERS ANNUAL 12 INHUMANS (1998) 8 and THING (2005) 4; and material from MARVEL COMICS PRESENTS (1988) 68 GIRL COMICS (2010) 2 and ORIGINA #ROYALS 6 (W) Al Ewing (A) Kevin Libranda (CA) Sanford Greene FAMILY REUNION! • The mysterious Progenitors have been revealed! But to se #Universal Inhumans alien beings engineered by the Kree - the Inhumans' brothers and sisters in the stars! • And sometimes brothers and sis #TRUE BELIEVERS KIRBY 100TH INHUMANS 1 Reprinting material from AMAZING ADVENTURES (1970) 1-2 (W) Gary Friedrich (A) Jack Kirby Chic Ston #Chic Stone (C/A) John Romita silver age marvel age anthology

[destroyyourbinder]

rethinking butch while doing my laundry in buckets at 8 PM

You know, I never thought there would be anything on this earth that could make me re-think my commitment to pants over skirts and dresses, a vow I had made to myself over and over again since my childhood days of being crammed into tights and lace, but doing my laundry in a series of five gallon buckets in the bathtub of our dingy apartment was it.

I was thinking yesterday, while staring into our shared closet and remembering when I had a purple closet full of clothes that I had to tug at, clothes that I tried to ignore that they existed even when I was wearing them, that I probably haven't worn a skirt outside of a Halloween costume in almost fifteen years. When I moved out of my parents' house I ditched my last one, a vintage skirt that had always stayed on its hanger, part of a pair with a yellow blazer that I had loved but didn't fit anymore. I felt vindicated, but a bit lost, as if a high school presentation was going to leap out of the void at any time and make me regret my decision. I didn't bring any skirts with me here, to the city; it felt daring and somehow pathetic at the same time, a sign of how stunted my life had been that it seemed like a bold move at all. It was a tiny hop into the deep end of a lesbian kiddie pool. Skirts do lurk around the corner at any old thrift store, but somehow I felt like there was no going back; I had banished them, and they would not return.

My girlfriend and I share most of our clothes, as we're close in size-- she's a bit broader, I'm a bit taller-- and our clothing tastes are pretty similar. She has her favorites, and I have mine, and we don't tend to share pants or shoes due to the particulars of how we wear them out, but the rest are a big indeterminately owned mass of potential dress options. The thing is is that she's supposed to be a "man"; she still lives a life where she doesn't tell people she's detransitioned, generally, and most people take her to be outright male or a trans man. I'm not supposed to be a man; I don't pass except maybe from afar and behind, and I assume I mostly come across as tired and dumpy and gay. I don't really know if people notice that our shirts and shorts and socks swap between and across us. Maybe they're too confused by the other things going on with us to see that one. When we worked together doing early morning stocking we used to fuck with people, we'd switch our jackets and hats every so often and see who we could fool, which was way too many people at way too close a range for a pair of human beings supposed to be at the opposite poles of Gender. Nobody was particularly apologetic about it either when they mistook us, even though that kind of outright misgendering is supposed to be a major faux pas. They usually just laughed in a way that indicated that, well, of course. I laugh in the same way when people tell me that Trans Men are Men, that everyone treats them just like any other male person, that nobody knows they aren't male, that they never experienced sexism and never will, that the gap between them and A Woman is incomprehensibly large. A waiter's never handed me the check at the diner when I was out with a dude, but they do it all the time when I'm with my girlfriend, and then she has to use the men's room after dinner.

I've somehow gotten more "masculine" since I stopped seeing myself as transgender, which I think might surprise people who know nothing about the process of desisting or reidentifying or detransition, but doesn't surprise women who have been through this. I feel a lot less neurotic about wearing men's clothes, about buzzing my hair off, about being hairy elsewhere and not hiding it, about stepping out into the world as an unacceptable female person, uncontained and unbridled, edging in on men's turf. The stakes aren't quite as high, now, honestly, even though they're higher than they have been before. I don't have my family to fall back on if I lose my job due to being an unrepentant dyke, but now that I'm not in her house, I don't worry about my mother discovering my secrets, including that I'm not the daughter she wanted me to be. I'm scared to go out after 7 PM if I can't sufficiently cover up the fact that I'm female, but my entire sense of self worth isn't riding on whether or not someone perceives my ham-handed attempts at not-being-female correctly. I worry about my rent, but I don't worry about where exactly it is men pull up their socks to on their legs, and I don't worry about whether I'm not really worthy of living if I can't do it right, because I don't worry about if I'm not really a man or just a fuck-up of a woman, and I don't worry about whether or not a fuck-up of a woman is the worst thing I could possibly be. Well, I worry about it sometimes, still, because it matters to other people, even if I don't think it matters to me. But I've stopped trying to compensate for my fuck-ups by wearing the right earrings with my undercut, or hiding my breasts under a binder, hidden under a blouse. I can leave the house without having twenty thousand insecurities about the masculinity or femininity of my leg hair growth pattern or the color-contrast of my lips. So I leave the house in shit my nine year old self would probably appreciate: a flannel, a shirt with a cat on it, yellow pants with functioning pockets. I try to take stupid thoughts about whether the pocket style of said pants makes my butt look girly the same way I took my skirts, which is to chuck them out in honor of living a life without gender neuroses.

They always say that gender is culturally contextual, limited to time and place, and while we all pay lip service to that in some way or another when we get mad that our favorite historical figure got parsed as one thing or another, I think we all like to think we would be butch lesbians or trans men or whatever it is we are in another life, that we probably wouldn't have ended up like our great-grandmothers but something like female husbands, passing soldiers and sailors, instead. I spent a lot of time as a kid wondering why the hell girls did this or that, wasn't it harder, it's so stupid; I felt so betrayed when I hit middle school, and everyone was tripping over their purses, pursed lips in candy-sparkle lipgloss, on the way to idolize boys. I wanted to be among boys, I wanted to be a boy, somehow at the same time I thought girls were stupid for admiring them in the other way. I think a lot of us carry this into adulthood; we figure femininity's a bunch of dumb crap we can't be bothered to do, and besides we're unsuited for it, constitutionally incapable of hoisting a tube of fabric above our pooch. We escaped from it because we kept our heads (non) straight or maybe because it wicked off us like pink droplets on a Teflon pan, which we definitely use to make burgers with and not cute hors d’oeuvres. We know what a dress means and how it works, and we know how it makes us feel, and we know we would never wear it, not on a desert island nor to our sister's wedding.

After washing my clothes in a bucket, I don't think you should do disservice to your grandmothers like that. I had to sit on one of my other buckets-- there are three in this clothes washing system-- and think for a bit about what the hell I was doing with all this gender and anti-gender shit, what the fuck I was doing with my life at all. Because the thought I had, which surprised me, was that pants are fucking bullshit. They're fucking bullshit when you wash your clothes by hand, which is what generations of women did before me. My value system got turned upside down; I spent my whole life thinking skirts and dresses were frilly nonsense, floofery intended to hold women back from participating in the world, an "easy access" hole to parts I didn't want to exist. And it's not like that isn't true: women's dresses and skirts have been artificially cumbersome throughout history, full of engineered contraptions to enhance women's decorative-sexual living-pornography value, whether literally stuffed with metal cages and yards of fluff or whether tightly drafted to form a second skin. When you can't fucking sit down or lift your legs or bend over it's a problem, when your teeth chatter in the winter on your way to school it's a problem, when you can't be a lawyer or a senator without wearing the appropriate kind of Leg Tube it's a problem. It was a problem when my mom put me in a velvet thing that rested just above my knees, and I wasn't allowed to play or even spread my legs while I was in it, lest I render myself an obscene five year old girl. But the Leg Tube isn't the problem, it's all the other shit, and I had never taken that seriously, never really dug into it, until I had to confront the inconvenience of manually sloshing around my pants for ten minutes.

I had confused symbolism for reality. I thought I was done with that, over that, now that I was out of the trans shit. I was living in some patriarchal dollhouse, and I had thought I busted out, but now I'm in another one, better maybe, but just as artificial, because the grass being greener over here all hinged on having a washing machine. When do I get to leave? I am suddenly afraid I'll spend my life in an infinite nested universe of misogynist fuckery, having existential crises about the fridge or maybe the carpet next.

I guess my girlfriend and I got into what you might call "urban homesteading" by accident. We didn't set out to do this out of convictions or philosophy, it was mostly because we were cheap, and also we're lazy in a certain kind of baffling ADHD way where it's easier to make a curtain with your two damn hands than navigate thirty, fifty pages of advertising-merchandising to find one that will ship to your house for not-sixteen-dollars . Car insurance in this town is absurd, so we just don't have a vehicle. We also don't turn on the heat in the winter, or the air conditioning in the summer. We bake bread, make yogurt, make shampoo, wash out and reuse plastic zipper bags, don't flush the toilet for stretches of time. Clothes get patches upon patches, breadcrumbs go in a jar, there are lots of systems for a lot of things that nobody really thinks about anymore. My dad told me his family used to sleep on the porch of their farmhouse in the summer; I can't do that here, but it comes to mind anyway. He was from that kind of people where you did it yourself or you didn't do it at all, German farm folk born in nineteen-oh-something; my mom was from people that didn't do it at all, her father too drunk to give a shit, her mother feeding her seven kids out of cans. There's a weird mix of shame and pride when you end up doing your laundry in buckets, dual gene lines, dual angel-devils sitting on my shoulders: someone clapping me on the back for my resourcefulness, a job well done, and someone asking me why the hell I stooped to this when there's a washer in the basement, didn't I work hard so you didn't have to live this way.

We saw it on YouTube and thought we could save some money on electricity or water because our landlord isn't going to replace our 30-plus years old washing machine anytime soon. I thought maybe doing it in the buckets would help my busted brain a little, 'cause I could do it every couple days, fifteen minutes at a time, instead of in big piles once a week. I like shit I can touch or otherwise it doesn't feel real, I can't keep track of it, it feels like the sort of work women with tight lips and long nails do and they make their lips tighter when I can’t hack it. There could be a system, tangible, clothes I can see in places where they belong, hands on a plunger pushing soap and water and fabric up and down, you can tell if they got clean yet or not if you open the lid. I don't like dumping them in a machine, an unknown hole of productivity, input-output, assembly line nonsense. I'm not productive anyway, so what do I care?

When you're doing your laundry by hand like this something occurs to you, which is that this is a lot of work, and maybe you don't want to be doing this all the time, so you should be careful with how dirty your clothes get. I realized real quick I wasn't going to be doing this every day, and that it would be wasteful, worse than the water usage of some old-ass washer to try. You start realizing how dumb it is to wear your clothes once and only once before you wash them, as you plunge up and down, up and down. It occurs to you that ten minutes is a pretty long amount of time, even though you're in your late twenties and winter just showed up again and you keep wondering where the hell the time goes anymore. You start resenting how stupid and arbitrary it is that you're supposed to be squeaky clean in public, that stains and wear are unacceptable, that they mean anything at all about anybody except that they live a life and entropy exists. You think that if you have to put this much arm power into washing your clothes, then how much power has to go into a damn washer, and you start thinking about the arms that shovel coal out of the ground, into rail-cars, into boilers. You start getting real mad about how much shit the world puts people through just so clothes can get clean and floors can get clean and skin can get clean and nothing will look like it's ever been touched except by a very conscientious housewife. Your brain starts contriving things while your arms are going, like some wild-haired inventor, like maybe if you had an underlayer of clothing all the time you could just wash that and the outer layer would be allowed to get dirty for a while. Brilliant! And then you feel stupid because well, that's what we always did until you could dump your shit into an electric machine, and then they raised the standards to keep women busy doing something they didn't need to do. It occurs to you that pants are dumb because they're heavy and sopping wet, one big lump of fabric, and you can't wear an underlayer unless it's really cold outside. It occurs to you that pants are not worth it unless you are doing certain kinds of manual labor all the time or you need to protect your legs. You understand why the women in YouTube videos about washing your clothes in buckets are really mad at their husbands and sons, and some generational rage takes hold of your arms as you agitate the clothes in the bucket. Why do men get to be dirty in their stupid pants. Why do women have to clean them. You never want to hear anybody talk about fashion ever again. You never want to hear anybody talk about the gender of clothes again unless they've wrung out denim in anger and they're willing to wring a man's neck the same. Now you get to drain the bucket. Now you get to refill the bucket with clean water and agitate again. Now you get to drain the bucket and press the water out of your clothes with the full bucket. Now you get to hang up your clothes over your tub.

When I stopped seeing myself as transgender I told myself I would consider very carefully the value of anything I did, and I would let practicality and ethics dictate my life rather than sucking up to gender, to men, to the women pandering to them and afraid I wasn't going to. It's taken me some wild places, for real, and I didn't think it would take me to a place where I was questioning wearing pants. But given this, I find myself all the same cringing at wearing a skirt or something else other than those damn pants, other than the thing that men wear and women fought for, willing to violate my newfound guiding forces... and for what? Butch cred? Womanly pride? Can't I just shove it all in the washing machine and stop thinking about this? Do I need to live in the woods to tie something around my waist and get on with my life? If I've learned anything there's really nothing neutral when it comes to gender shit, and no matter how far you get in processing the patriarchy there's always something else at the bottom of a bucket, a broom, a sink strainer. How many years worth of women have had these thoughts while scrubbing something, however they cut their fucking hair? I try to focus more on that these days, rather than what I call myself or what pronoun I use. My grandmother, my mother, all those girls in my class who I thought were big idiots, the women out there bigger and badder and butcher than me, the trans men I envied for living in my dream world, all these female people I defined myself against all these years, we all end up here, staring into a drain, hoping the man won't crush us. When does it end? I want it to end. I'm done spinning my head in circles about the cut of my jeans, whether I wear jeans at all, and I hope you are too.

#writings

[lavenderhyrdrangea]

The Perfect Gift

A/n: So as you can tell from the title this is a month late. The holiday isn’t stated at all though so things should be fine. Click here if you would prefer to  read this on ao3.

Viola had some ghoul indebted to her and she had absolutely no idea what to get him, which was sad since he practically gave Dogmeat a run for his money when it came to attaching himself to her hip. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made it easy and yet somehow it was still stupidly hard. Every time she thought of something there was a reason why she shouldn’t staring her dead in the face. Would he want a jacket? Hn. She was an idiot.  The one he’d recently come to own  looked thicker and warmer than anything that she could get her hands on--even more than that leather tunnel snakes jacket.  Did ghouls even get cold? Was he just wearing it as armor? Ugh! Would he want a gun? Charon was the now late Ahzrukhal’s former body guard. He could’ve walked into any store and intimidated anyone into dropping a hefty discount at his feet if he wanted. Plus, she brought the whiny greaser a gun. She’d look cheap and unimaginative if she brought the same thing for them both.

Moira had given her a transcript about some homemade soap but she wasn’t sure how’d he take it. She would absolutely not look forward to the smooth skin is mocking me and telling me I stink argument that could be born from that. Plus, it was Moira. No doubt the recipe would’ve required  Mole rat fat or something more disgusting and off the wall.

The sound of Dogmeat’s claws scraping against the metal floor slowed her quick firing thoughts. His tail wagged and his ears perked up. He bore into her with a tennis ball in his mouth, expectant.

She stuck both her hands out for his drool drenched toy. Saying the thing had better days was a massive understatement. Whenever she threw the ball it would go flying but  instead of having that nice round, buong like it used to it landed with a soft thud.  

“At least you’ll be easy to shop for.” She pitched the ball softly towards the leaky pipe going down the hill of her home.

Dogmeat tore after it for only  a few steps before stopping and barking one his barks where if translated to human speak would’ve fell somewhere between “where have you been” and “feed me”.

“What are you doing out here without your dead weight, Pooch?” She overhead.

��Hey, Tunnel Snake.”

“Speak of the devil.” Butch took a final step up the small ramp leading to her home with Dogmeat in tow. “No weird spin on the gang name or nothing? I’m touched.”

“ Sorry, I can’t even donate  a half of  a percent thinking of power.  I need all  I can get.”

Butch pondered her words and the environment. “Out here?”

After some very meaningful back and forth with Butch over whether or not she’d been huffing jet when no one was looking, they migrated inside and fell into their usual tasks. Butch rearranged his hair tool kit for the umpteenth time and she--

“-- Hope you don’t plan on slogging through that to do list of yours. With the way your mind’s been working nowadays you might mistake a Raider camp for a settlement. Not that that’s my problem. I’m just not sure if they’ll let me hang around if you’re dead and my name isn’t on the deed.”

Maybe it was more like Butch fell into his usual tasks and she fought the urge to look at her Pip-Boy. Any other day and she would’ve had her eyes glued to the thing. Somewhere down the line it and it’s never ending tasks drained her--- and being drained was no where near like she read in her Dad’s textbooks. She never woke up feeling the sluggishness she assumed she was suppose to be overwhelmed by and dark clouds never followed her unless she was caught in the rain. In fact, her body felt  like it could take on all 24 hours of the day. It was just that all those hours were unusually needy. Whenever she’d finish something it lead to five more tasks.  

Stress like that was why she had to sit back, smell the radiated air and think of small things like gifts.

Dogmeat’s insistent sniffs near Butch’s backpack stopped her from forcing asking Butch to help her come up with with something good for Charon.

“I keep telling you to train him to keep away from my stuff,” Butch said

“ I personally find Dogmeat’s insatiable hunger and curiosity charming.”

“Yeah and convenient, I bet.”

Butch emptied his backpack bit by bit. First, he took out a few Fancy Lads. She chided him about its lack of nutrients and its boat load of sugar, but was immediately shut down when he reminded her that a lot of his snacks disappeared too quickly for him to be scarfing them down on his own. Hey,  Iguana Bits  being nutrient dense didn’t  exactly mean they tasted good.

Next, he took out some 10mm pistols, combat and hunting rifle pieces, and a shotgun barrel. Odd choices for someone who stuck to “Toothpick” and a sniper rifle.

“Are you,”  Viola scratched her neck, “are you opening a weapon’s shop to earn some extra caps?”

Butch feigned offense. “I could be holding it for somebody.”

“You could be but I don’t think you are.” Viola put her hands on her hips. “Lay it on me.”

“A customer gave me a deal. These in exchange for a couple of months worth of cuts. I didn’t really check to see if they were high quality and to be honest, I don’t think I could. But I do at least know the difference between functioning parts and trash out here.”

She stared.

“What?”

“You don’t really seem like  a major gun head. I could understand a pack of bullets but,” She looked down at the contents of his bag again, “all of that? Did you lie about how big and bad the Tunnels Snakes are again?”

“He just gave them to me.”

“Right. Do you plan on using all of this or are you sharing?” Viola walked over to the desk for a closer look. Eight of the pistols were inoperable but the parts could’ve been be recycled or sold in the future. The other two were decent, and could’ve probably been modded. The pieces were usable as well. There was obviously more in the bag.

She looked at Butch, question in her eyes. He paused for a bit but decided against whatever hesitation was present and shrugged. She pulled out a schematic to a Nuka grenade.

“We could open up a space in here and make a  workbench area with all this.”

“I thought that ghoul that tails you would want some of this. So I’m sharing, I guess,” He said sheepishly.

“You got this for Charon?”

“I didn’t get it for him. I thought he would want it that’s all.”

“You picked up something with him in mind.” Suddenly something dawned on her. “Are you giving this to him as a gift?”

“No, it’s not like that!” Butch stammered.

“It is a gift!”

The teasing lasted well into the next morning. Butch had no clients for the day so he stayed on the couch, and munched on his Fancy Lad cakes and Viola was still fighting her Pip- Boy’s call and her unabated glee.

“Since when did you have a heart?” She said, plopping on the recliner across from the couch.

“Oh, come on.  Are you writing a book?”

“ Butchie going out his way for someone and they’re not in his gang or related to him? You got to admit that’s out of character for you.”

“I told you he gave it to me. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Her stomach growled at her. Smugger than ever, Butch handed her a cake. She snatched it from his hands.

“My mind hasn’t gotten that jumbled in the past few days. You might not have begged on your knees or anything but you might have set up an exchange. If you didn’t the guy’s an idiot because he could’ve sold everything for caps.”

“Yeah, the exchange might have been me.” He said with caution but she knew she’d already caught him.

“You don’t like him. His face freaks you out,” She pressed.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been pushing us to get along even if it’s like trying to mix oil and water.”

“I’ve pushed you to do plenty of other things and you never listen.”

“ Let’s not act like I’m impossible.”

“A possible person would tell me what’s up.  Besides, we’re due for a heart to heart.”

Butch took a breath. “You’re a pest. You know that, right?” He paused like he had no idea how to start. “He’s really on it when you take him out on missions with you.”

“ Protection is his MO. What’s your point?.”

“When I first came out here and  recruited you I thought you never messed up.”

She beamed really big. “Tell me more.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tee hee. Believe it or not. I kind of thought you were invincible, Pipsqueak. With me added you were beyond invincible. I found out though that the story’s a little different. According to you and your ghoul friend at least.”

“According to us?”

“Yeah. You ever hear yourself when you two come back from a mission? Sure you sniffle a little but he does mention a few times where he saved your skin. My favorite is when he said you ran out of bullets and tried to finish the rest of a firefight with a sword.  It would have been curtains for you if he hadn’t shot the guy in the leg.”

She hummed in response and all Butch could do was laugh.

“He’s not too bad. Sounds like the type to have your back.” He rubbed his chin. “He might make  a great Tunnel snake.”

“Not too bad? So it’s safe to say all it takes is some loyalty to get on your good side?”

“Yeah. Maybe. No. I ain’t that easy to read.”

She threw her empty Fancy Lad wrapper at him.

“I like that he keeps an eye on you when Dogmeat or I can’t be there,” He admitted.

“I’ve done well out here without anybody before.”

“True. I guess it’s something like what you said a while back.  It’s easy to turn into a handwringer when it’s only us two out here.”

“Well, the vault is open.”

“Yeah, but...”

“I get it. We’re in the fellowship of the forbidden.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Think he’ll like it?”

“ I don’t think there’s anything he likes more than weapons. I’m sure he’ll like tinkering with them. You did good kid. I can go to Moira’s to buy a workbench to hold everything.”

Secretly and almost selfishly, she made off with a gift from of this too. The tension between Butch and Charon would cease now, meaning that one space in her life would be peaceful and harmonious.

Beautiful.

#female lone wanderer #Viola #Fluff? #Butch Deloria #Charon #Dogmeat #My writing

[purplexflamingo]

Omg, sorry I keep spamming your askbox but yr content is sooo gooood. Of course dialog prompts 8 &10 DrayxSelma, and! OC #19 for Laurie, #40 for Selma...

Hey it is all cool! I have so much fun doing these!! Send any many as you want!!!

“ I see you still have that mutt with ya. Eheh here I thought you would’ve re-homed it. Poor thin’ looked skin and bones when I found it.”

 Selma listened to Drayton’s remark, her fingers coursed through her pooches’ thick coat. How the pup pranced in place, just so happy to be there. Peering up at the man, as she remained on her knees leveled with the dog.

“ I couldn’t part with her. Once you gave her to me-- I tried to drop her off to another family after feedin’ her as much as i could (she liked my cookin’ surprisingly!), but she followed after me. I got very attached and my heart won’t let her go. Every time I think ‘bout it I get too emotional for my own damn good.”

 Planting many kisses on the dog’s black and white furry forehead. Returning to her feet she gazed at the cook. That bright smile faded.

“ I-I am doin’ the right thin’, right?? I just love her so. She seems happy.”

“ There ain’t nothin’ wrong in keepin’ her, she had no family. No collar, no name. She would’ve probably wind up dead if it weren’t for us findin’ her. What did ya end up callin’ her?”

 The reassurance soothed her, she didn’t want any selfish behaviors to cloud her judgement. She had a huge fondness for the canines and it has been over ten years since her last hound dog. 

“ Dallas, it just fit. It felt right.”

“ Well Dallas is welcome ‘round here then. It’s been many years since we’ve had a dog on these lands. I grew up with a great big one named Butch. I was ‘round eight years old. He was grandpaw’s dog. Earned it’s keep by keepin’ trespassers off the farm and kept wild animals away from the cows and sheep.”

 Listening to his stories were always a treat. There was a lot to him she didn’t know and certainly wanted to. Drayton Sawyer was a mystery and she never got tired of hearing his voice.

“ These creatures just fascinate me.”

“ Well I am glad ya like her, you stopped over at the right time. I would’ve been lost on what to do if it weren’t for ya. Heh.”

Selma took it as a compliment and she felt her face flush. Her ears felt so warm. Watching him interact with her new found companion made her heart skip. He was absolutely gentle with her, playing with her to an extent, while chuckling away. Dallas enjoyed his company too, her tail wagging violently.

“ Get it, girl, get it! Go get it!”

 He chanted waving a stick before the pup’s wide eyes. Tossing it and watching her leap after it. Hand shielding his old tired eyes from the sun. It was moments like these that she just wished would never end.

“ I’ve been waitin’ a long time......but Mr. Sawyer--- I mean Drayton. Would you like to go on a date with me? I’d offer ya to come on over to my home and I’d cook ya somethin’, but to be honest with ya. I ain’t the best cook. I can make a few things, not much. It would be very insultin’ to ya-- being a cook and all.”

“ Huh? Well....I’m hesitant in acceptin’ your invitation-- you just don’t wanna get mixed up with me. But for now...I....uh how ‘bout I cook somethin’ for ya and bring it to your home? How’s that sound?”

She chewed at her bottom lip expecting rejection at full force, but this time he seemed to ponder on it and gave her a chance. While warning her. Batting her eyes it finally hit her, he agreed. Her face instantly lit right up.

“ Sounds wonderful! Oh I am so excited. You just don’t know that you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world. It’ll be a wonderful evenin’!”

Out of the corner of his eyes he watched her bounce her heels, the happiness written all over her like she was an open book. This eased whatever feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. Motioning her near.

“ Oh c’mere you.”

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her into an embrace. 

OC QUESTIONS:

19.What does their relationship with their family look like? Are they close? Distant? Ect.

 Laurie has a rough relationship with her adopted family. Her adopted father was constantly working and being a politician made him become a strict father. She has absolutely no control in her life choices. It drove her mad. Her adopted mother was more involved due to being a teacher herself, Laurie bonded with her the most. Though learning she was adopted made her grow distant and try to figure out who he real parents were. Her biological father died when she was a year old from a house fire and her mother was sent to an institution(being accused of the fire, even though there was no proof)- but recently released and she has gone to Mississippi several times to form a relationship. At this point in time she is very distant with her adopted parents since she moved to Texas. But she is attempting to build something with her mother.  

40.If I wanted to draw them, what would be distinct physical features that I would have to know to draw them correctly?

For Selma uuuh definitely her shape, she is a chubbier woman. Her nose, it’s larger than most, rounder too and her gap between her front teeth. 

#weirdodujour