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forthelostones · 6 months

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𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #3

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. what a diff'rence a day made by dinah washington ♫

Today had been overwhelming, to say the least, you thought to yourself as the woman bent over the center consul to retrieve something out of her bag. Her ass was firmly hugged by the cargos she wore and you had the temptation to press your hips against her. You found your lips back between your teeth only to relieve them as she looked down at you. Her mouth was slightly damp from the swipe of a tongue before she spoke. This was fucked up, right? Ogling over a woman older than you but more so another woman when you had Ellie.

“Should I bring anything?” You asked.

“Just yourself, a few pictures and I’ll bring my research too.”

She leaned against the shining truck with such machismo that it made you want to submit to her. Ellie never made you feel that way. Was it the heat causing the delirium?

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You mutter, trying to think of something other than her arms and how they’re delicately crossed enough to lift and frame her petite breasts.

She raised her eyebrows to say a quiet goodbye with a side smirk and you avoided her eyes and continued walking. A weight sank to the bottom of your ankles making it seem like you were slugging through mud. Abby looked more excited pounding a nail into wood than speaking to you. Her face had a general exhaustion as if she was translating adult words to a baby. For the first time since being home, you wished the neighborhood had a little more clamor to distract you from the turmoil pooling in your brain.

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

Ellie was in your shower, washing the dirt from today’s job off her body. The door was open and the pale bubbles on her skin should entice you to jump in with her. But you just watched and wondered what was changing? When you first got together all you wanted to do was be in her skin. Generally, it felt good to be with Ellie. To know that you can achieve a level of companionship with someone else was accomplishment enough.

“Hey,” she hollers over the falling water. “C’mere.”

The drop of her voice was soft like her wet hair with shampoo still looped between her inky strands.

“El, turn around.”

She turns without hesitating, as you tilt her chin back to rinse out the suds. She opens her eyes and brings her lips to yours. For a moment it does feel good. Her mouth is slick and warm. Ellie's hands come to your shoulders, wet with body wash as she deepens the kiss. Although the water splashes onto the floor, you don’t care, it’ll be replaced soon anyway. Your mind dots off to think about Abby in your bedroom this morning. It was foreign seeing her in a space where you never imagined her to be. She looked out of place but had the potential to fit in.

Ellie laces her hands behind your neck, tongue sliding inside with no force. She moans gently into your mouth and you bring your hand to her darkened crotch. Her kiss became carnivorous at the sudden action. Nails sharpening into skin, barring her teeth, and soggy smacking. It had been so long since you initiated any contact with her. The groan that vibrated off the walls showed that too.

“I love you.” She whispers into your ear.

Her mouth lingers there, waiting for your response, but something chokes you up. Like a cough or a sickened throat. “You’re my everything El.” You reply.

It wasn’t a lie, you loved Ellie for everything she was. But you knew she could sense a change in your behavior and you hoped that this orgasm you were giving to her would hold off her suspicion.

Ellie looked out the window and watched the neighbors follow their decades-old routines. She liked their displays of solitude and never failed to tell you about how she wanted that too. You came up beside her, holding the small of her back, peering towards the line of cherry trucks, wondering what Abby was up to now. Ellie turns to place a welcoming kiss on your cheek with her hand following shortly behind.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“Ellie, what?”

“I’m thinking too far into the future. I know I need to be present with you.”

You scoff. “I’m just a little stressed. Has nothing to do with you, you're perfect.”

“Let's talk,”

You both travel to the bed and she takes your fingers into her hands.

“It’s a lot. I just want to be here with you.” You lean in to kiss her.

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

It was unusual for you to put yourself onto Ellie like this but you did, again. Pulling her pants to the floor after you got up and locked the door. You wanted her to shut up and three fingers were the solution. You closed your eyes with your face buried into her hot collarbone, wishing it was someone else’s, not particularly Abby’s but not Ellie’s. A rupture of tears threatened to spill over as Ellie came to a climax, covering her mouth with a quivering hand. She turned to you just before any tears fell as you excused yourself to the bathroom.

You started to think about the conversations you and Ellie had often, which always led to the same thing. Someone gripping the bed frame and falling asleep to do it again the next day. Even with Ellie snoring on your shoulder amongst the orchestrated noises of bird chirps and lawnmowers, all you could think of was your meeting with Abigail tomorrow.

The night seemed long as you carefully removed Ellie from your body to tidy your room. It was more than embarrassing that Abby came into your room and almost fell over because of the mess. You didn’t have the will to start unboxing your college life because that meant it was time to face reality. As you sorted the items, you thought about what someone like Abby enjoyed doing outside of working 10-hour days. Obviously, she worked out, probably more out of necessity to keep her figure at her age. What else did she like? Your hands dust off a cover of Carmilla, and you stifle your laugh as you recall the story of blood lust and women. Ellie never understood your desire to read. She didn’t understand much about you, not that you wanted to think about that often.

Dating someone who took the trade school route versus college has created tension in your relationship. Ellie was a smart girl who knew what she wanted but never related to your stress in college. She was street smart, not book smart. When midterms rolled around you had to explain to her the importance that you two keep distance so you can focus. She accused you of desiring a connection with college more than her. She was insecure that you got to experience something she always imagined. Before you two were dating she would sit in the bar and brag about how she didn’t need school to be successful, as a way to flirt, but it came off as ignorance. So, that translated in various ways such as conversations about your career, the relationship, and even books.

She would kiss your neck to get the attention back on her when you read before bed. When you playful shoved you away that’s when she’d ice you out for hours. It was exhausting. Ellie wanted you to be hers in a different way. She did celebrate you and you appreciated that but there was an unspoken desire for you to be her wife in a traditional sense. She wanted you to follow her, no matter what. She was shocked when you denied her immediate advances to move away with her for the new job.

“I thought you loved me? I thought we were going somewhere?” Her brow furrowed.

“We are, I promise but I can’t just do what you want and not discover who I am before settling down.”

I’m your idea of settling, huh? She said quietly to herself but you pretended not to hear her.

“I want us to be together. I don’t like that long-distance shit, okay?”

You wanted to challenge her more but just sat quietly and you two didn’t speak on it for the rest of the day, proceeding as if what happened didn’t warrant more conversation. Shortly after Ellie's hands were between your legs to apologize. That's just the way you two operated.

Ellie stirs under the loose sheet and you dart your eyes over to her. You pull out more books and line them up against the wall getting startled by your phone vibrating on your side table.

1:30 AM: Would it be a bother for you to provide some shades of black and gold with your findings too?

You look at Ellie with her mouth open and body pressed deeply into the mattress before replying. Normal business hours were not a thing to Ms. Anderson, obviously. A message at 1 am caused you to squirm a little, and a shocking edge of exhilaration coursed through your body. Any normal person would simply reply in the morning but it wasn’t as simple as that.

1:32 AM: not at all.

1:32 AM: Thank you :)

Your eyes become one with the typed emoticon. As if Abby's eyes are the colons and pooling deep blue right before you. Something so simple but it made a part of you grin. A rush came through your body as you looked out the dark window, hoping she'd magically appear outside your window, and beckon you to come outside. Such immature thoughts, you whispered to yourself.

1:34 AM: no problem, have a good night.

She just left the message on read. That feeling you had vanished quicker than it came. That was stupid, you thought as Ellie mumbled a string of unintelligible words. She sits up, stretching her legs by throwing her feet over the edge of the bed and shuffling over to you. You lock your phone and place it back in its original place, face down.

“Come on, I need you. I just got so cold.” She demands, holding your waist.

You didn’t tell Ellie about the consultation with Abby, it wasn’t needed. She would be at work and you’d go to her place just after the meeting. You didn't feel compelled to share, so you didn't. To keep yourself busy you broke down all the leftover boxes and took them outside to the recycling. Only one truck was parked on your street. You shrugged like you didn't care but you grew curious about where Ms. Anderson spent her morning.

Abby’s office was only thirty minutes away and you drove slow to not seem as eager and still arrived on time. A large bubble felt as if it was going to pop any moment when you saw her truck in the driveway. Her office was her house. She lived at the peak of a dead-end road covered by the twinkling of leaves above her home. Any normal person would let the collection of branches and acorns rot in the street but as a woman who owns a landscaping business, it was the opposite. Even the carving of the bushes left you in awe — you couldn’t believe you suddenly took such an interest in bushes. She had the address printed onto a rectangular yard lantern surrounded by a pool of ruby-red roses. It was beautiful.

The door swings open as you’re tilted downwards smelling the flowers in front of you. You were slightly embarrassed she caught you and removed your hand from the stem. She squints with what you see is a small grin and welcomes you in. The scent emitting from her house is syrupy vanilla and pine. A combination that's pungent yet sweet. Abby is wearing dark blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with her skin exposed underneath, just shy of two undone buttons. Against the white linen, her skin is specked with brown freckles that deepen her slightly warm skin. Her hair had been brushed and bone straight with grown-out layers you didn’t get to see with her hair up.

“Hope it wasn’t too scary finding the place.” She says, being the personification of sunshine.

You look down at her feet, covered in Superman socks hidden under the cuff of her long jeans.

“Not at all, it’s nice that you have this little section of the neighborhood all to yourself.” You add, slipping your shoes off in front of the entrance. Her body is warm behind yours as she moves to close the door. Her living room was small but the floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves were an impressive use of space. The couch is in the middle of the room, peeling with softened worn leather. Instead of a TV, there was an out-of-commission fireplace with a mantle above it. There were a few photos in mismatched frames and stacked books with titles you could not read.

“I was super lucky when I found it.”

You were scared to turn to her but finally did. With her hands on her hips, she nodded for you to follow her into the other room. You took a swift look into her kitchen before turning left down the hallway to her office. It was painted a pale yellow with black and white portraits in black frames of houses she remodeled. The large wooden desk was pushed against the far wall, peering over the backyard. The sun shuttered through the leaves casting a beautiful shadow onto the healthy, neon-green lawn. Abby built the fence and had a garden bed in the far corner, a compost hidden near a bush, and one lone white lounge lawn chair in the middle of it all. Another wall of books crowded the room with words on architecture and lifestyle.

“I would love to live here,” You mutter, turning towards Abby leaning in the door frame. She admires her handiwork which makes you wonder how much of this house she remodeled. “Seems… peaceful.”

“It is when you can enjoy it. I’m looking to move out of the hands-on position to being the big boss behind the desk.”

“I am sure you’ll have no problems with that.” You reply, observing the plain floorboards to avoid her eyes.

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks.

You notice her thumbs rotating within each other and her mouth twisting as she asks you the question. You welcome whatever she’d like to bring you, hoping it was wine to loosen her, but knowing it wouldn’t be. But seeing her so casually made you relax a little. You sat at her desk, legs crossed, looking at the seclusion of her life. This was a level of solitude you could become accustomed to.

“Arnold Palmer. I hope you like it. One of my neighbors has a lemon tree and she brings them to me all the time, so it may be a bit tart.” She reaches behind you to place the glass on your right side, the flowing linen brushes your back gently, leaving you desiring more. She pulls out another chair and a folder stuffed in the drawer with your last name on it.

“So, black and gold?” She asked, with a joking charisma.

You bring the glass up to your lips and turn to her, swiping your tongue on your tangy bottom lip. The brush of your knee against her thick pants makes you retract and slide further back on the chair to create a professional distance. Up close her eyes twinkled under the warm light stretching through the window. You felt a pool quake beneath you. Suddenly you wished you didn’t put yourself in this position. So close to her, in her home, with lingering thoughts of her bedroom plaguing your mind. You imagined all-white bedding with many soft pillows and two bedside tables. A large window overlooking the front yard and sheer blue curtains. Maybe even a small desk in the corner stacked with old books.

“Is that boring to you?”

“What? Black and gold? I mean no, it’s not about me.” She shrugged.

“But I value your professional opinion.” You retort.

Her icy eyes widen at the comment, either shocked by your directness or desire to hear what she has to say. You wipe your forehead with the back of your palm and direct your gaze to the folder in front of you.

“Okay well, I think you should go for something more unique. Fun tiling, I can definitely have a custom vanity put in there, a standard upright shower.”

You blinked and suddenly she had a pencil in her hand, sketching on a blank sheet of graphing paper. Her lines were loose but neat, you watched how the tip of her index finger guided the graphite on the thin sheet.

#abby anderson smut #lesbian #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #ellie williams #abby anderson #abby and ellie #abby anderson x reader

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z0mbi-dog · 2 years

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data collection 2: electric boogaloo

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transparentkinks · 1 month

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What if the pre-war government censored all information on sexual health?

You should know I wrote this with my entire p#@sy. MDNI

Nora never really considered herself sheltered. All things considered she thought she was rather open minded. Anatomy and burns never made her squeamish, she was a battle medic, and then a trauma surgeon for hell’s sake. When she served she was often praised for her ability to keep it together even in the most hellish circumstances. When it comes to injuries encountered in battle, especially in regards to prisoners of war or those left too long alone in drastic environments, Nora was who they called. When the wounds before them were so gruesome it got to even the most seasoned surgeon, Nora was one of the few members on staff that people could count on to stay composed till the patient was stable. The things she’d seen, god the things she’d smelled… and beyond just violence and gore, she’s cussed, heard locker room talk, mothered herself a child, and she’ll never really forget that time with her company crawling around in a field looking for the dismembered penis of the poor bastard who caught the business end of a pretty nasty car bomb. Despite the propaganda of her small town she liked to believe that she treated people the same no matter what they believed in or looked like. When she crawled out of that vault she managed to swallow down her grief and face the wasteland. She accepted that life would always be stranger than fiction and started collecting friends that looked like they belonged in comic books. She learned fast and adapted to a world that had changed plenty without her.

So what the fuck were her friends talking about?

“I mean it man, I swear to god when I went down on her that rug was braided”

“No way, who in their right mind spends time braiding down there?” Piper looked at Hancock like his ear just fell off.

“I guess some girls in the capital are just different” Hancock shrugged with a tipsy grin before talking another sip from his beer. “Different strokes for different folks and all that.”

“I call bullshit” Macreedy spoke up. “Some chick in the capital isn’t gonna have any more time to be so weird about her hygiene than anyone in the commonwealth.”

“They do got that bigass water purifier down there, maybe they get to shower more and it does something weird to their brain” Deacon interjected, shit eating grin having not moved from his face since the second he sat down with the group with his bowl of stew and a bottle of whisky to pass amongst the group. In fact Nora was fairly certain his distinctive grin had only grown as the conversation got more confusing.

“Before ze war, zhey studied people’s brainz and why zhey might do strange zhings. Some diagnozis did mention zat a persons’s environment can induze compulzive behaviors, especially vhen expozed to trauma. Most of zhe examples were concerning cleanliness and hygiene.” Curie spoke up, and finally Nora felt like she was understanding what was being said. Though, She wasn’t entirely sure how they got to their current conversation topic. “If a perzon feels such compulsizons and findz zemselves vith zhe means, zhey may indulge zhemselves even to zhe point vhere ve find zheir behavior strange.”

“Well, I guess she could be considered odd. Becoming a ghoul isn’t exactly non-traumatic, but if it really is because of the water purifier than I wouldn’t mind everyone getting a little more weird. She nearly tasted like water” Tasted??? Who tastes someone during sex? Well, she guessed Nate had liked sucking her breasts, especially after having shawn, but she thought it would probably taste more salty. They had to be talking about sex if Preston's face was anything to go by. The man looked like he was simultaneously trying to hide behind his drink and shrink back into his coat. Hancock was looking away fondly when Cait slugged his shoulder.

“Man I’ve seen you put a slice of cram in between two snack cakes and call it a fancy sandwich. And then ate it. I don’t trust your sense of taste”

“Yeah!” Curie spoke up. “You zaid zath you can’t taste anyzhing since you turned ghoul!” A choir of yeah’s arose around her from Piper, Macreedy, Deacon, and Cait.

“Those are the words of a person who has never tried a fancy sandwich.” John waggled a finger at Cait. “You should know that’s a ghoul delicacy.”

“What are we talking about?” Danse strode over to the group following the cheers from the corner of the settlement bar.

“Only the finest delicacies available to a person.” Hancock grinned at the synth cheekily.

“Danse you’ve been to the capital wasteland before, did girls start tasting different after that water drama?” Deacon stood to drag the synth down into the already crowded booth. Danse suddenly looked very much like he wanted to leave.

“I’m not telling you about my sexual encounters.” Ah, so It was about sex.

“Oh come on! You’re no fun.” Deacon laughed and shoved Danse as he squeezed into the booth.

“You know for all your expertise on retrieving important information I'm surprised you’re withholding this essential data.” Piper jabbed, and with a wiggle of her eyebrows passed the whiskey to Danse. “No way this reporter can get a scoop?”

“Wrong hands and all that.” Danse sniffed before taking a swig.

“And therefore!” Hancock slammed his hands on the table and looked pointedly at Macreedy Curie and Cait. “None of you can prove that pussy did not taste different after that water debacle.” Nora was trying to put it together in her mind what they were describing looked like, fighting off a blush as her mind wandered.

“Does it even matter if there’s a difference?” Nick sighed past his cigarette, adding another puff of smoke into the already slightly opaque air of the concrete building.

“Ov course it doze” Curie slurred. While she had yet to touch any chems beyond stimpacks and the occasional med-x after a rough fight, curie was clearly enjoying ‘zhe social ritual of zhelebratory inebriation’ as she had put it. Especially since John used his connections to find her some pot, a drug she apparently had medical reason to trust more than alcohol. The first time Curie tried a shot she spat it out and talked extensively about how it burned. Right now she was enjoying a small rum and nuka (The only way she could tolerate any alcohol) and passing a joint between herself, John, and Cait. “It could be a healtz indicator! In regardz to zex, zhis is important, yes?”

“Or” Macreedy interjected, seeming rather done with this conversation. “Maybe we’re all a bunch of gross fucks and pussy tastes good if its hydrated. For all we know that was just basic pre-war and we’re just now catching up.”

“Man, people really had it good pre-war if everyone tasted like that.” Hancock sighed whistfully before taking a puff of the joint as it was passed his way.

“Vell, I guess ve vill never have the data on zhat” Curie sighed.

“Nu-uh” Deacon spoke up, grin unmoving as he cast his gaze to Nora. Oh no. “We got ourselves our own repository of pre-war experiences right here.”

“Oh shit, yeah. What do you think sunshine? Do folks taste different after the bombs?” Hancock looked at her rather excitedly, and suddenly Nora felt quite a few eyes on her. What she wouldn’t give for a stealth boy right now. Or a much, much stronger drink. Speaking of…

“Well I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly walking around licking people.” Nora huffed and snatched the whiskey bottle before it could reach its next destination.

“What, Nate never let you get a taste of yourself? Kept you all to himself? Never told you what it was like while he was going down?” Cait jested, propping her head on her elbow and looking up at Nora with mischief written across her face. Taste herself? Going down? Nora was rapidly losing context as her anxiety grew.

“I-... I mean not really?” Nora stuttered, floundering for something to say that wouldn’t tip off her friends that she had no fucking clue what they were referencing. Oh no, now Cait looked confused. “I mean, people didn’t really discuss sex like people do now…” She trailed off but the eyes did not leave her. Normally she relished sharing her better memories from before the war with her friends, loved how they listened to her no matter what she wanted to talk about, but this time she just wished they’d ignore her. She took another swig to buy herself some time.

“Wait, Nate did go down on you right?” Piper spoke up, leaning forward in her seat with a look of concern and confusion. Damn her. Nora normally loved how quickly Piper could put pieces together before she could, but right now she wanted to strangle her. The table was silent.

“I uh, that’s slang right?” Piper nodded. “I don’t really know what that means.” Cait started cackling and Nora felt her cheeks flush.

“Girly it means eating pussy.” Cait giggled. Nora just blinked at her, embarrassment growing as she remained confused. Cait’s giggles died off, along with her grin. “Eating you out? Shit Curie you had a big word for it.”

“Cunilingus?” Curie studied her face. “Oral zex?” Curie probed fruther. How would she taste herself during a blowjob? “Providing physical pleasure to a woman by means of contact between the mouth and the vagina?” Curie clarified. When she just started at Curie confused John spoke up.

“Hold on, you really have no clue what we’re talking about?” He looked bewildered.

“...No” Nora wished the ground would eat her alive.

“Damn, you had that man’s kid and he never went down on you? Ever?” John looked shocked, and looking around the table she realized pretty much everyone was giving her some flavor of the same look. “Man maybe pre-war folk didn’t have it that nice of they didn’t go down on each other.” Hancock shook his head.

“We had the notion of oral sex before the war.” Nick clarified with a furrow in his brow. “I’m sure you ended up reading about it somewhere. You were a nurse right?”

“I mean, yeah…” Nora mumbled. “But it was mostly about ways people catch different diseases and how to identify symptoms.” The whiskey bottle was passed along, and Nora prayed the conversation would steer towards pre-war medicine. At least she could talk extensively about that. Curie suddenly looked a little mad.

“On vhat anatomy?” She questioned with urgency. “Your medical textbookz must have explained zhe affects on men and vomen, yes?” A beat of silence passed. Shit, her textooks were basically all male anatomy. She racked her head. There were diagrams of women, she knew it. Yeah, when she was learning basic gynecology. She saw plenty of diagrams of female reproductive organs. And especially leading up to their unit on delivery. Did they talk about diseases in women? She knew they discussed pregnancy effects…

“I mean I was first trained as a combat medic, so it was mostly male anatomy...”

“But they had women in the army.” Nick corrected. “Not just medics, they saw deployment. They were soldiers.” Nick stubbed out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray. “They didn’t really train their medics to only treat half of their army did they?”

“Well beyond genitalia there isn’t much difference between male and female anatomy-”

“Zhat is not true!!” Curie exclaimed. She definitely looked mad now. “Surely treating soldiers so vould result in more female casualties, yes?”

“Women in relationships were given the option to opt out of the draft, so it was a lot more men than women.” Nora explained. “And if you ask me the death toll of that war was pretty equal opportunity in the end.”

Curie frowned. “Hold on” Hancock spoke up, tucking his tin of mentats back into his pocket as he looked at her contemplatively. Nora felt like she would not enjoy his line of questioning with those in his system. “So let me get this straight, you knew about oral sex, but not on women?” Why did he look sad?

“Yes?” Nora suddenly felt very uncertain.

“Did you perform oral sex?” He followed her response rather quickly. If she wasn’t already clearly blushing she was certain she looked like a tomato now (Or she supposed, a tato fruit is the new word for the vegetable). She swallowed and felt like it was all too audible.

“Yes.”

“I hope he was a good lay then, fucker better have caught up if you weren’t getting any head.” Cait grumbled, leaning her head on Nora’s shoulder. “-‘Nough men up here don’t care if a girl cums, I’did’d hoped it was different then.” Nora was silent. Girls didn’t have cum, right? She’d never produced any cum with Nate, and her teachers were very clear. Men produced semen and women produced eggs, and sex required the male to ejaculate to enable procreation. Women couldn’t produce ejaculate. Nora must have been quiet too long, or maybe she still looked confused because John spoke up again.

“He did make you cum, right?” Nora sorta wished someone would just shoot her now and spare her this exchange. Still, they seemed willing enough to explain, right? And they were her friends, she trusted them.

“I thought only men could produce ejaculate?” Nora clarified rather quietly.

“Fuck, man.” Hancock sighed dissapointedly, leaning back in his seat and pushing his hat back. Nick shook his head as their friends began mumbles of ‘That’s fucked up/ Damn/ Fucking pre-war assholes.’ She found the whiskey pushed back into her hands, a rather clingy Cait wrapping her arms around her as she indulged, but no explanation offered. Nora was thankful when Deacon changed the subject, content to listen to his latest exaggerated story rather than think too much about the pitying looks she kept catching from her friends. She wasn’t quite sure what to think about this newfound revelation that she had far less experience than she thought when it comes to sex. Clearly she was missing a lot. Everyone was weirdly more polite to each other and her after the whole conversation, not that Nora was complaining, but paired with the glances she kept catching between her friends it was all rather strange.

She was one of the first to turn in, making her way to the large house she built with a room for each of her friends. Of course not leaving without everyone insisting on a parting hug, Cait planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek with a grin. It was a short but pleasant walk back to the house. She loved sanctuary and still kept a house there, but sometimes the memories were just too heavy. There was just something about the complex she built at starlight drive-in that felt so beautiful to her. Maybe because her only pre-war memories of the place were high school dates and the carnival that would come through town. Maybe it was because it had one of the best places to stargaze undisturbed. Maybe it was because it felt like she was building a new family here.

The building was mostly concrete, with lead lining on the exterior to keep out the wastes when they came in on the winds of a radstorm. Everyone had their own room, each decked out to their own tastes. The settlement had huge walls and enough missile turrets to send a sentry bot to abu dhabi. It was safe, and cozy, but not nearly as lively and green as Nora remembered from her childhood. There were people aplenty sure, but pretty much just robots, synths, ghouls, and folks just looking for some peace for once showed up to her settlements. No kids. Nora would always lament shawn’s loss of access to many childhood cultural staples. At least he had his pip boy and her entire game collection, and what child-appropriate media she had downloaded on there before the bombs dropped.She tried to make the compound fun, but her settlers seemed to enjoy her amenities more than her son. It's one thing to build your kid a playground, it was another to get them to play on it. She really wished that ghoul family would move in, or really any family. She really hoped the cure they sent out to Macreedy’s son worked fast. It’d be nice to have him here. She guessed she couldn’t blame people for choosing not to bring a new life into this hellscape, and to not risk talking about any kids they did have outside of settlements. At least Shawn seemed content with picking up stories from residents and playing games with Ada, Codsworth and the robots Nora built. Whenever she had to take off to make sure the peace she helped build would stick, she felt a lot better knowing most of her friends would be staying behind, and they’d be looking out for Shawn.

They understood how anxious she could get about him. Shawn wasn’t born to her, but her son never really bothered to consider the implications of what he made. Shawn did not ask to be built young, programmed afraid and terrified of abandonment. Nora had asked the railroad if they thought he could grow, mature, not be stuck as a kid for however many centuries he’d survive. No one had any clue, there were no other synths like him. She knew one day she would have to tell him, before all the years on ice caught up to her and he was stuck alone.

Except he wouldn’t be, Nora reminded herself. Her friends, they’d listened to her on many dark nights, listening to her grief and fears and anxieties. Nick had held her, promised her that no matter what reality lay in store for Shawn, if he was functional he would be there for him. John had similar sentiments, with the addition of a few corny ghoul jokes and a radioactive punchline. Strong, well… ‘No cry!!! Crying Weak. Human not weak. Strong is Strong! Strong smash anything that try to smash tiny robot child.’ Which she supposed was reassuring at least in regards to his safety. He was good at that, any time he was stationed at the drive in he insisted on guarding the front gate. She would have thought it would be easier to get a super mutant to party, but he generally did not enjoy any situation with too many humans he couldn’t yell at. In all honesty, when it came to helping keep her kid sane she trusted curie the most. She had taken her worries so seriously that she found a new research focus after her stimpack breakthrough.

Nora stopped by Shaun's room on the ground floor, peeking in the door happy to see him in bed, his desk still littered with nuka cola bottles and the various pieces of whatever technology he could get his hands on to fiddle with. When she had started construction he had insisted on having his own door out into the little village so he could look around for scrap without Ada or Codsworth lecturing him for tracking mud water dirt or oil into the house. It worried her sometimes, and seeing him safe and at peace always helped settle her. She knew that with Ada in charge of the household and the many robots she had built to help the community nothing would ever happen to him. Realistically, It would be really hard to even approach the settlement while presenting a threat without getting nuked to hell by the space sentry bot her son had lovingly named Jupiter. Still, she always indulged herself in checking on him before she turned in whenever she was home.

Four floors up the complex of concrete lead and steel, her room had a beautiful view of the gardens below, beyond them the marketplace. She watched as her friends spilled out the bar, one by one. Chatting amongst themselves as they made their way back to the house. John slung his arms around Nick and Cait’s shoulders before making a broader gesture towards the top of the house. The group paused and lingered, chatting in a large circle.

Looking down on them, Nora figured it didn’t really matter if they all were more experienced than her. None of them would think less of her for it. She trusted them not to tease her, they dropped the whole conversation when they found their answers. No one said anything teasing afterwards, and she felt more confident now that if she had questions they’d be forthcoming with answers. She felt some of the tension from earlier leave her as she changed into comfortable sleep clothes and crawled into bed.

‘So there has to be a way for women to ejaculate by their reactions from earlier’ Nora thought. When they were talking about tasting earlier, she now realized they meant tasting a vagina. ‘There’s nothing wrong with experimentation’ She assured herself, looking up at her ceiling she had painted with yellow stars and feeling herself over her clothes. Her hand felt a little cold as she braved the elastic of her waistband, feeling herself clumsily as she remembered what Nate had tasted like when she gave him a blowjob.

‘What do I taste like?’ She dipped one slow finger into her heat and collected what wetness she could find there. She raised her hand up out of her pants to examine her fingers in what little light that made it through the windows. They were covered in fluid, but that was lubrication, right? She sniffed her fingers, and she didn’t smell bad. A bit like water left in a metal bottle out in the heat. Bringing them to her mouth she was surprised at the flavor. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected. John had described it as water at the bar, but this was definitely not water. She wanted to say it was salty, but It had this sort of tang that tasted similar to some pre-war sour candy without any of the sweetness. It almost tasted a little meaty? Thinking back on her assessment of the smell, she supposed it tasted like salt water left out in the heat in a metal bottle. She had a pretty fancy water purifier setup at the settlement, so if that really effected taste she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be right to say it tasted ‘just like water.’

A knock sounded at her door and she yanked her finger away from her face with a jolt.

“Hey blue, can we talk?” Nora sat up quickly and climbed out of bed to greet Piper. Except it wasn’t just Piper she saw when she opened the door, it looked like most everyone were settling down further along the hallway in the sitting area near the stairwell.

“Yeah-”Piper stepped inside and just as quickly closed the door behind her, the quiet murmur in the stairwell dampening beyond audibility with the soft thump of the door. Nora could feel her face flushing again and felt grateful for the night. “Is this all about earlier?”

“Well, yeah, and some other stuff..” Nora could feel her stomach drop as she watched Piper turn around and sit in her desk chair. Piper seemed to notice something was off with her and quickly amended. “It’s nothing bad I promise! At least I hope so. Listen, first, personally. I need you to know that its really, really fucked up that from what it sounds like, you’ve literally never cum in your life.” Piper looked at her with a question clear across her face, like she was still expecting Nora to tell her that she had actually came before, because of course she has. Except she hasn’t, and Nora really didn’t know what to say.

Piper sighed and continued after a beat. “Things are different in the commonwealth now Blue, and I know you know that, but I don’t know if you understand the extent of it- culturally.”

“What does that mean?” Nora questioned, having found a seat on the edge of her bed. Piper leaned over, grabbed her hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Well Blue, for one. Not only did you walk into the commonwealth like a hurricane, but you started just helping people for no real apparent reason other than they needed help. People don’t really do that here.”

Nora chuckled. “You know Cait and I already had this talk-”

“Yeah, and we don’t think you really get it. Preston has told you something similar too. And you brushed them both off, and me just now, why?” Nora looked down at their hands.

“I-” Nora wasn’t sure she had an answer. It had to be her past, right? She did it because she knew it was right, it was what worked. “-just, its what you’re supposed to do where… I guess when I’m from. Politically, you know, at the time. Helping people became a form of rebellion. Helping one another, building up the people around you knowing they’ll do the same was the biggest fuck you the average person could manage without risking imprisonment.” Nora couldn’t quite meet Piper’s eyes. She’d spoken plenty about good memories, favorite movies and shows and songs, dances and the relative luxury afforded most people. It still felt illegal somehow, to talk about such seditious thoughts out loud. To speak the thing that held the little neighborhood of sanctuary together until the very end. Piper nodded along.

“So It was still dangerous then?” Piper asked. Nora chuckled and shook her head.

“Not in the same way it is now. It was freedom on the line, not necessarily lives.”

“Which brings me to the point, you know we all really care about you, right? Whatever you need from any of us, we’re there.” Piper squeezed her hand, placing her other hand over top of their two hands already intertwined. Nora grinned.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Which brings me to my next point. Blue, you’re beautiful. Its some sort of crime against nature that no one has ever gone down on you. I don’t know where you are with your husband stuff, if you’ll ever really feel ready to try and be with anyone ever again. That’s gonna be all up to you. But we were talking, after you left. Commiserating, really, over i'm sorry Blue, but the tragedy that is your sex life, and we all came to the in retrospect very unsurprising discovery that we are all heads over heels for you. You don’t really flirt back, so everyone kinda thought you were still caught up over Nate.- And don’t get me wrong! If it is still is about Nate, no shame that’s just the assumption.- But now we also realize it is completely possible you just still don’t understand that we love you a lot.” Fuck, was Piper trying to give her a heart attack? “And Im not saying this with any expectations blue. We love you, and that means we’re here for you anyway you want us, especially as friends. But that also means we want you to see all the cards on the table.”

“Piper, what are you saying?” Nora’s brain felt like it was going a mile a minute and everywhere this train of logic seemed to lead was confusing and quite flustering.

“I mean that me and everyone back there in that room, we all want you to have what’s best, we want you to be happy, and we’re happy when we’re with you. And I know this is probably insane to you, by your pre-war standards but if you wanted to be with any of us, for some forever after or one night stand or anything in between, you can, no hard feelings. No friendship lost. All you have to do is ask.”

Nora nearly felt at a loss for words, just staring at piper. How could that many people love her like that? She’d always found them all attractive in their own ways, but it felt wrong somehow. Wasn’t she technically a single mom now? None of it felt like it made sense. “Why? How?”

“Well, apart from single handedly taking down the institute, the brotherhood, restoring the minutemen, terrorizing raider groups and wiping out packs of feral ghouls and super mutants, freeing any synth you can, being the most thoroughly loyal and kind person any of us has met, skilled enough to build huge settlements across the commonwealth and face down some of the scariest shit i’ve seen, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Nora was at a complete loss of words.

“I know its a lot blue, we just felt like we needed to tell you. You know, you have options.” Nora nodded in awe. She realistically liked them all, and had equally squashed any notion of such relationships being possible for her. Women like her, they weren't supposed to move on, were they? Would Nate want her to move on? Nora honestly felt she couldn’t chose to date any of her friends with a clear conscience. It’d be horrible of her to choose one relationship and then go pining after any of the others, especially since she has learned the truly meager extent of her ability to lie the hard way out on her adventures into the commonwealth. Nora was certain her face was flushed as red as could be.

“I don’t know what to say I - Im so flattered.” Nora tried to steady her thoughts. “I just couldn’t though you’re all- You’re all really attractive.” Nora couldn’t meet Piper's eyes. Piper gave Nora’s hand another squeeze before Nora heard her giggle.

“So you do like us?” Piper said in a teasing tone.

“I love you guys, Its just that-” Nora wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

“Romantically?”

“Yea-Yes.” Nora stammered out. God that was so stupid to admit. Why would she-

“You mean it blue?” Piper had risen out of her seat, now gripping Nora’s shoulders.

“Yeah, so-”

“So what?”

“So isn’t that unfair? To be with one person and secretly harbor feelings for others?” Piper was looking at Nora now at eye level. Piper frowned at her words.

“Who said anything about one person?” Piper smirked, a determined look in her eyes as she stood and strode to the door, opening it. “Deacon, come here right now!”

“A please is always nice.” He teased as he made his way in the room. “What do you need me for?”

“Explain polyamory to Nora.” Piper commanded, closing the door firmly behind him. Deacon suddenly couldn’t stop smiling, looking between Piper and Nora before finally directing his thousand watt smile at Nora before taking a seat at her desk.

“So, I know when you’re from people pretty much exclusively only dated or were romantically involved with one person at a time, and having more than one partner at a time was taboo.” Deacon was watching Nora’s face, so she nodded.

“Well, I'm sure you noticed what was taboo then isn’t always taboo now. Being happy, even momentarily, in whatever way a person can is expected of people. You know how much people in the railroad have each other’s backs, right? A lot of people were together.” Nora looked shocked and she knew it.

“I never noticed.” Nora mumbled.

“Well, you know, when a hot lady busts into your base in the fanciest power armor you’ve ever seen and a goddamn plasma rifle, and instead of opening fire tells you they wanna help, you let them do what they want and leave out any details until it's pertinent or they ask.” Nora could feel herself growing flustered. Intimidation was nowhere on her mind when she strolled into railroad HQ. She’d followed the trail, and it wasn’t a safe or easy trail. Of course she wore her armor. She did walk around in power armor a lot for the fun of it, she mostly saw it as a more efficient way to traverse the Commonwealth. Before her in her time it was just another piece of military hardware like any amount of the rather absurd guns she now had access to. Stepping into that power armor felt just like the medic armor, and on the battlefield everyone knew what it meant to see medic battlearmor. She never really considered the intimidation factor. Looking back, the only people who reacted like that anymore were minutemen or settlements. It kinda made her want to laugh, thinking about a raider shiting themselves seeing her in her x-2 armor.

“So wait, who was together?” Nora questioned.

“Tinker tom, Carrington, Des, and I.” He paused, his grin going bittersweet. “And Glory.”

“I’m sorry Deacon.” Nora held out her hand and Deacon took it gladly. He shook his head but his grin didn’t fall completely.��

“Thank you.” He paused. Nora knew Glory’s loss was a huge hit to the railroad, she didn’t realize the extent to which it impacted its top members personally. Everyone was grieving when the institute fell. “But you see what I mean. Happiness doesn't always last long, so if someone out here wants to love someone else no matter how complex we do it, no questions asked.” Piper snorted. “Well, some questions asked.” He added. “The problem is never really the number, but prejudice is still alive and well. A person would have an easier time keeping a harem than publicly being in a loving relationship with a synth, ghoul, or any other non-humanoid.” Nora nodded solemnly.

“Not to say that isn’t worth the risk.” He mentioned. “If you ask me any of it's worth it, however long it lasts.”

“So, Piper,” Nora started. “You’re- You’re saying that I can… or should, uh.”

“I’m not telling you to do anything Blue. I'm saying, we’re all saying, I think, that if you want something you should have it.”

Nora took a moment to think. Did it really matter what Nate or anyone from her past really thought? If they didn’t care that she was a widowed mother from a clearly different culture than the rest of them, then why should she?

“You think real loud Fixer” Deacon spoke up, apparently unwilling to go too long without attention on him. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, looking at her and taking a deep breathe. His gaze seemed focused on hers, as if daring her to look away.

“You” Nora started, shifting her jaw as she measured her words, praying her flustered mind wouldn’t say something too stupid. She turned her gaze to Piper. “-You all, feel this way?”

“Why not bring them in? Let them tell you themselves.” Piper looked pleased, and rather mischievous. Nora paused, glanced back at Deacon, and nodded. Piper strolled back to the door before throwing it open. “Why don’t you all come tell Blue what we came her to tell her. A quick shuffle of feet brought most of her friends into her room, pulling over her desk chairs and sitting on the edges of her bed and other furniture to make room in her room.

“So,” Nora panicked a bit over what to say. She felt many gazes on her, and her eyes inevitably fell to her lap. “You all feel this way towards me?”

“What way?” Cait teased, having claimed the spot on the bed to the right of Nora. She heard Deacon snicker before Hancock spoke up.

“Yeah sunshine, how do we feel about you?”

Nora felt a bit conceited even entertaining the idea that this many people would fancy her, but here they all were, in her bedroom telling her as much. Damn, how did this many people like her like that? Eight people? “You like me?” She spoke it as a question. Some of them laughed at her response, Cait included.

“Way more than like, love. You’re in my dreams, especially the naughty ones.” Cait leaned over to speak gently in her ear.

“I second that” Hancock raised his hand with a grin, apparently enjoying whatever look Nora had on her face while she processed perhaps the most flustering thing possible being said to her.

“My favorite dreams are spent covering your six when you’re wearing that tight ass blue suit” Macreedy spoke from his place leaned against the wall.

“I’ve had that same dream” Danse spoke with a smirk.

“God, don’t get me started on that suit” Piper sighed wistfully.

“We may need to lay off before we give our poor girl an aneurysm” Nick nodded towards Nora, her eyes big, face red, and utterly speechless. Preston nodded solemnly from beside Nick.

“We can’t overwork her” Preston warned with a tone of authority. Curie, having climbed onto the bed behind Nora, touched a cold hand to the back of Nora’s neck and Nora nearly jumped out of her skin.

“She is greatly flushed” Curie concurred, her hand not leaving Nora's skin.

“Oh, she’s fine” Deacon spoke, playing with her hand held between his. “She wasn’t too flustered to have some fun before we showed up. Isn’t that right Nora?” Nora tried to pull her hand back, but Deacon held it fast, pressing a kiss to the finger she had used to feel herself. She swore she felt his tongue flick out and touch her skin.

“I just-”

“Wanted to know what it felt like?” Deacon finished for her. The bed creaked as Hancock grabbed the footboard of the bed and leaned over it.

“Do you want some help with that sweetheart?” Hancock asked with mirth in his voice.

Nora felt herself work her jaw, finding the right words. “ I like you all like that, but I don’t really have the experience and I don’t know how well I’ll-” Deacon squeezed her hand as Curie wrapped her arms around her waist and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck with an excited giggle, with Cait seconds after doing her best to pull nora to her and press kisses under her chin. Nora had to fight down a rather undignified noise at the attention.

“We don't need you to do or be anything Blue. You’ve already done a lot. We just need you to tell us what you want. Now, do you want us?” Piper walked over to Nora, fingers lifting he chin a touch to give Cait more room for her conquest.

“Y-yes” Nora croaked out.

“Do you want us to make you cum?” Piper looked her in the eye in a way that turned the butterflies in her chest into something warm and intense pooling in her gut. She was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat. Nora swallowed before answering.

“Yes”

“All of us?” Piper clarified.

“I-” Nora paused. Would doing this make her a whore? Did stuff like that matter anymore? She can’t have sex with eight people in one night, she wasn’t sure her body could take it. “I can’t have, -Can’t have sex with eight people in one night.” She spoke worridly, and suddenly felt very embarrassed at the laughter that bubbled up at her response.

“Baby, she said make you cum, not have sex.” Cait clarified.

Nora furrowed her brow. “What’s the difference?” Curie suddenly pulled her back onto the bed. Deacon let go of her hand in favor of leaning over and grabbing her ankle.

“Why don’t you let us show you?” Cait leaned over and licked a stripe up Nora’s neck, forcing a gasp from her.

“Fuck” She heard Preston mutter somewhere off to the side of her.

She felt a sudden tug at her hair, and Cait forced her head up to lock their lips together. Cait quickly pressed a tongue into her mouth, and when Deacon leaned over and slowly pushed her shirt up she let out a particularly undignified noise into Cait’s mouth. Nora wasn’t sure when she closed her eyes, but she opened them in shock when two pairs of lips began working over her stomach. Looking down, Deacon was running his hands over her ribs, pressing kisses to her sternum and inching her shirt ever higher with his nose. She was suddenly all too aware of the noises around her.

“Fuck baby” Below him Hancock had climbed his way onto the bed and began kissing down over her belly to where the waistband of her shorts rested. Curie pulled Nora further onto the bed, lying back and resting Nora’s head on her chest. Many hands maneuvered her body into what they deemed an acceptable position.

“Good girl” Deacon praised. Her hands were pulled over her head as her shirt was stripped from her, and with another breathtaking kiss stolen by Piper she lost her shorts and underwear.

“So pretty Blue” Piper remarked, moving down her body and sliding a hand up her thigh. She hardly had a moment to be embarrassed at her naked state in front of her mostly clothed friends when Preston and Piper each took a leg and pulled them apart, kissing and biting as they wished at her flesh. She nearly jumped at the contact and fought back a yelp of surprise. With Cait occupied with her mouth and neck, Danse and Nick had their fun with her breasts, palming and rolling her till Nora let slip whimpers.

“Don’t hold back that voice baby, let us hear you” Deacon encouraged. Deacon took hold of her hand once more, and she could feel kisses pressed to her fingertips. Macreedy stole her other hand, lacing his fingers with hers and running a thumb over the back of her hand.

“I want you to sing for me sunshine” Hancock returned to his place nestled between her legs and Nora was glad for something to hold on for dear life to. Cait pulled away, yanking her head back so that Curie could kiss her forehead and so that she may return to kissing and licking Nora’s neck. Nora let out a groan, deep and gutteral and she felt herself arch into Curie’s grip around her waist. Hancock began running a hand over her, sliding just over her entrance and back up to her clit before repeating his path, and Nora couldn’t help but whimper each time he traced his path, the movement accompanied with a wet clicking sound.

Nora immediately felt embarrassed at her noises, doubly so when Nick pointed out her blush spread to her chest while he toyed with her pebbled nipples. However, looking up at her, well, she wasn’t sure what to call them right now, she felt a little less embarrassed when she realized they all seemed to be feeling even more aroused than her. And oh, she could see-, Danse and Preston, pleasuring themselves to her. She could hear Cait grunting against her throat and a light squelching sound that didn’t seem to be coming from what Hancock was doing to her. They were making noises right along with her.

Hancock slid a finger into her and she couldn’t help but wiggle her hips at the pleasure he was forcing upon her. He began thrusting, sliding in another finger before lowering his head and sucking. Nora had never felt anything like it and she damn Near screamed while he hummed atop her. Piper and Preston had to force her down where her legs met her hips to stop her from bucking away from the onslaught of pleasure Hancock was causing with his every move.

“I don’t know how you can be this cute and so damn strong” Preston mused as he held down her hips. He nipped at the skin of her inner thigh in mock punishment and a shudder ran through her. Nora began registering the growing states of undress of her friends. It just wasn’t fair how hot they were. It honestly felt like they were toying with her.

“Taking this so well” Cait paused her onslaught of kisses to whisper praise behind her ear. She could feel Hancock’s tongue work at her, felt the little puffs of air over her mound as he grunted into her flesh, and damn if the noises he made didn’t make it feel all the better. Nora had never felt anything like this before. With Nate, sex, it felt intimate but without fanfare. This, Nora felt like she could hardly stand it. Her toes curled, a heat in her belly got heavier by the moment, and it left Nora damn near sobbing at the pleasure of it. She had never heard anything like the noises she was making, it was involuntary and visceral with every suck and thrust.

“You’re shaking like a leaf doll” Nick spoke as he smoothed a hand over her ribcage.

“You’re feeling good?” Curie questioned her. She gripped the hands holding hers with a deathgrip and moaned when Hancock added a third finger. She nodded aggressively and was rewarded with a flurry of kisses wherever she was being held down. Her legs began shaking when Hancock picked up the pace, and the heat in her stomach coiled. She had no control, nor much awareness of the noises she was making at this point. Despite being held down, with the pleasure she was experiencing and the praise from her friends rolling around in her head she almost felt like she was floating.

“Please what?” Danse asked with a rough squeeze of her nipple. Coming back to reality a bit, Nora realized during her whimpering and moaning she had started to beg. Please what indeed.

“I-” Nora panted through another string of moans. Hancock was too skilled at this. “I don’t know”.

“She’s gonna cum” Cait giggled into the skin under her chin.

“Fuck” Piper cussed, looking down her body Nora realized that everyone was either watching what Hancock was doing to her or watching her face. While holding her down, most of them were working at themselves too and she couldn’t tell if it was embarrassing or arousing.

“Cum for us baby”

“Give us a show doll”

“Good Girl”

The coil building in her gut suddenly got more and more intense in a way Nora was unprepared for. She hardly had a moment to register her shock at this new bodily experience when It all came down suddenly, like being hit with a ton of bricks straight to the brain.

“Oh, Oh FUCK!” Nora screamed out, body convulsing and head flying back. Her eyes closed but her vision went white. White hot pleasure shocked through her, before turning into waves of bliss. When she opened her eyes she felt like she was floating. She felt curie tucking strands of hair behind her ears. Hancock worked her slower and lighter till she shook. Looking down she met his eyes and his hands and mouth finally left her with an embarrassing pop and a slight smirk before taking the fingers that were within her and sucking them into his mouth with a pleased groan. Nora could only whimper and close her eyes. She faintly heard the moans of some of her friends, felt Cait shake and groan into the crook of her neck.

“So, how was the first orgasm of your life?” Deacon teased, himself sounding a bit out of breathe. All Nora could manage was a grunt in response, apparently enough for him as he and some others began chuckling.

The world seemed to come more into focus as she took some deep breaths. What did this mean now? She’d never felt like that before, her friends went out of their way to make sure she felt like that. They enjoyed making her feel like that.

“You did so well” Piper praised, and many kisses brought Nora out of her thought process. Piper sided up to Nora, shoving Danse out of the way. Cait took the cue to so the same to Nick, and Nora was suddenly being held by three women.

“You guys are hogging her” Deacon whined, making movements to tug Nora his way and tuck his face into her neck.

“Says the guy who wasn’t shoved off” Danse ran a hand over her hip.

“Are you feeling okay?” Maccredy checked in on her. Maccready sat down on the bed next to Cait and began playing with Nora’s hair. Nora nodded. She felt boneless. It felt like her veins were buzzing. Beside her, she could hear whatever kept Nick running humming loudly.

“Any words?” Preston teased, rubbing at her ankle.

“-Wow” Was all she could manage. Giggles erupted around her. Nora tried to get her thoughts straight. “So, what now?”

“Like I said” Piper spoke up. “Whatever you want.”

“And- You all feel like that?” Nora checked, looking around at her friends, or were they lovers now? That’s a lot of lovers.

“Yep”

“Whatever you want baby” A chorus of agreements spoke up. Nora looked around, only to see those that were silent nodding.

“So I guess that just begs the question Blue, what do you want?” Piper questioned, and damn was that a hard line of questioning. What did she want? Piper talked about this all like it could be a casual thing, but would they be down for what she actually wanted from them? They all had lives to live, despite what she’s built here. Nora took a steadying breathe.

“I want us to be family” Nora spoke. “Like Shawn and Nate and I were, but bigger.” She felt a bit afraid of what they would say, suddenly very aware of her nakedness in comparison to her mostly clothed lovers.

“Oh Blue” Piper raised a hand to Nora’s face. “That sounds perfect to me.”

“I like the sound of that” Preston spoke with a smile.

“Me too” Maccready.

“Oh, vhe vill be zhe best family!” Curie spoke cheerfully, squeezing Nora around the waist. “I can make you packed lunches vith little notes and you vhill have to kiss me before you leave for vork”. Nora couldn’t help but giggle at the image. Before the war, that’s what she was expected to do. Now her synth, doctor, girlfriend? Wife? Did she just propose? How did that even work in the wasteland?

“I can’t think of anything I would want more sunshine.” Hancock spoke with a grin.

“Wait, did I just propose to you guys?” Nora spoke with an amount of shock. “How does this even work nowadays?”

“Well, considering you currently are the head of government, unless you want to join a religion or go do paperwork at diamond city, if we all agree to it that’s a marriage”. Nick explained.

“Oh god” Nora threw her head back and closed her eyes with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m the government and I married y'all after we had sex once. Why is the law like this?” Her companions quickly dissolved into laughter.

“Well I’m definitely not complaining” Deacon reassured.

“Me either” Spoke Nick.

“Isn’t this fast?” Nora asked. “I mean, I’ve been unfrozen maybe four years”.

“People feel lucky to be able to spend even a year straight at a time with those they love. People marry fast.” Deacon explained.

“Things move slower in the brotherhood, but I’ve known you over two years, and you’ve saved my life multiple times. Unless a brother has taken a vow of chastity, that’s more than enough time to decide to marry for them, and a lot of the wasteland considers them prudes.” Danse spoke up.

“So as long as we love you, and you love us, you could call us married. Or fiances, or dating, the label doesn't matter. I just know that I love you sunshine, I think we all do. Do you love us?” Hancock asked.

Nora felt very warm, surrounded by people she cared for, people who made her feel safe, people she would die for. She couldn’t help the small smile creeping on her face. “I love you all too.” She sighed. “I like the sound of married. I like the promise of it. But I think I’d want to do a ceremony or something. And I- I also want what you guys want. If we’re gonna call this that, we’re in this together, right?”

Amid many agreements and sounds of excitement and some of the best cuddles Nora had experienced in her life, Cait leaned forward to whisper in her ear; “I want to eat my wife’s pussy till she screams for me again. Care to make that happen, love of mine?”

Nora could feel the flush all the way down her chest. “Now what did you say to her Cait?” Maccredy questioned.

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dogddays · 7 months

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❝ 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 . . . 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 . . . [ dr. sawyer ]

[ spoilers for ch. 3 ! ]

DogDay's voice actor is shared with that of Dr. Sawyer, the doctor responsible for the Bigger Bodies Project. And while I was shocked to find out that they were the same and not shared with Rich from another tape in Chapter 3, I must say I do enjoy the idea of it if not only for the angst !

DogDay notes how their voices sound similar if he hears the VHS, but only to himself and it feels like a slug to the gut. He struggles a lot with the questions he has for himself after that -- if this is what he always was, or if he was that man -- that monster -- who did all of these terrible, cruel things to people. Only to be fed to the very machine he made.

Needless to say, it messes with his head a bit. DogDay has no memory or remaining pieces of Dr. Sawyers life if he was him . . . but does that mean anything when no one else can seem to remember either? And if he was him, does that mean he deserved all he suffered? Perhaps he was never even good at all, just a broken toy masquerading as a good dog.

The internal conflict is a bit inspired by Nick Valentine, and that goodness he wants to do is something he calls his. No matter who's mind and matter is in his stitched up body, that good he did is something that cannot be taken away from him and he finds solace in that.

In the end, as it stands at least, there's true explanation. No outright confirmation of it, and therefore all he can do is wonder. Wonder if these thoughts are his or not. Strung between the extremes of a mad scientists brain and a company that doesn't care, he grapples with what it means to be anything at all.

But if he had to choose, he would like to be kind.

Dr. Sawyer always remains as a shadow in his mind though -- not as a real entity or even a spirit, but as someone -- something --- he's haunted by. A collection of best guess ideas of who he may have been. Something he can't quite escape and can't quite put to rest, always wondering if some cruelty he did unintentionally is some subconscious version of him unrelenting and persisting after the transformation.

He will never know what Doctor Sawyer looks like, but flickering images of what he could have looked like stay stuck in his mind. So too does that voice, the voice that never fit the cardboard cutouts and promo material, the voice he speaks with.

The voice that played on that VHS tape.

Personally, I'd like to leave it more as a what-if possibility on this blog as I feel its more impactful if he can never know. Having to make peace with not knowing and carrying on anyways, growing beyond the shadow of that past -- of who and what he endured before.

With choosing everyday to wake up and define himself, to define what it means to be DogDay through his actions. Regardless of the rest of it.

Because sometimes it's not about knowing everything, sometimes it's about making your peace and letting it go and moving beyond it -- growing beyond it.

#honestly was surprised to see they shared the same voice actor but I am a simple mutt.#I see potential for angst and I grab #˗ˋ ☀️ . . . ⌜headcanons.⌟ ❛ 𝙳𝙾𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙻𝙾𝙶 ﹟ ﹖﹖﹖ ❜ ˎ˗

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evolutionsvoid · 2 months

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Though belonging to a group of animals known for their slow speed, Decapitator Slugs are actually a serious danger and are capable of racking a substantial body count over their lifetime. They dwell in dark and forgotten places, like tunnels, caves and abandoned buildings. Their sluggish nature makes the pursuit of prey impossible, so they rely on ambush to take down their food. Their typical tactic is to slither up onto ceilings and wait for a target to pass below them. Once prey is detected beneath them, they will peel their front half free and stretch their heads down to reach their food. What used to be simple tentacles and eye stalks have now developed additional grasping tendrils and hooked barbs. They are quick to reach down and snare prey, digging in their claws and holding on tight. Their strength and sticky mucus make this grip quite difficult to break, no matter how much the prey struggles. It is then the maw of the Decapitator Slug descends, yawning open to reveal horrible blades and a slicing radula. The slug will latch onto the victim's head and use its highly flexible mouth to slowly swallow the entire skull until its cutting jaws are positioned round the neck. It is then they begin slicing and sawing through skin, flesh and bone, eventually shearing through the spine. The head is cut off and swallowed whole, while the body is left to drop like a useless sack of meat. With prize in gut, the Decapitator Slug latches back onto the ceiling and then slithers to its lair to digest its new meal.

It appears that these slugs feed primarily on the brain organa, which many find fitting due to slugs' association with Phlegm. All soft parts of the head are digested, and eventually the skull is excreted as waste. However, it does not discard these bones, rather it scoops them up and holds onto them with its muscly foot. Decapitator Slugs carry a morbid collection of skulls, all taken from previous victims. Studies found that they store their eggs in these skulls, using them as a protective shell for their young. Some suggest that these slugs even leave some digested brain matter inside these things to help feed their children as well. When the young are ready to live on their own, they slither out from their bony homes and venture out to new feeding grounds.

The diet of the Decapitator Slug makes it a menace to all, but what makes it more horrific is the slow excruciating manner of death. Those snared by its tendrils are forced to struggle in vain, all while the deadly maw creeps closer to their heads. And if they cannot cut themselves free, the mouth begins the lazy journey of swallowing your head. The entire time this happens, you are alive and aware, watching in horror as its gullet creeps over your eyes, nose and then mouth. Your screams are muffled in its throat, and your only hope remaining is that you asphyxiate before the teeth begin sawing through your neck. This is why they are despised and slain wherever they are found.

Their populations were once kept in check, and they were little more than scary stories for children, but now that the war has dragged on, they have found their opening. Less hunters and more places to call home. The menace spreads, and not always on their own. Some unsavory types have found these slugs to make good guards and living traps, placing them where intruders and easy targets may wander. The slugs will eat those who don't belong, and the bandits get the spoils from the corpse. Plus, the slugs provide a fine source of skulls and bone for those who need forging materials or intimidating trophies. However, it should be warned that these slugs know no loyalty. They simply eat whatever passes below them. Thus many drunken bandits have met their end to their own guard dogs when blindly wandering into the wrong places.

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

"Decapitator Slug"

A creature drawn before my FOI redoing and then slapped into that setting once I saw the fit. Thus why its design and colors are a bit different then one would expect for a FOI slug.

#slug #skull #monster #creature #death #art #drawing #fall of ichor

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 1 year

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Hi Slug! If you've listened to the full songs in the new EP, have your opinions of the trailers changed? Also, the new dramas are HEAVY, so if you've listened to them, I'm curious to know what you thought of them. As always, thanks for the translations!

I like listening to Hypmic music on shuffle during workouts, so I've most of the new songs in full by now. I don't think my opinions have changed majorly. I really enjoy Black and White, and Move Your Body Till You Die is a phenomenal work of art.

As for the drama tracks... truth be told, I haven't even listened to the one that came out in April, so I'll read through some TLs now and record thoughts below the cut:

No One Lives Forever, translation courtesy of shinseimcd on Twitter

"Anti-Party of Words faction" Huh, like a government faction? I'm surprised the PoW allows other political parties or at the very least open dissenters. There was talk in some chapters of the manga of them punishing protesters, not to mention the way they crushed the TDD rebellion in its primacy. Either way, interesting, and I hope we learn more about this as time goes on.

Ichijiku and Nemu baking together is really cute lol

I love the way Ichijiku's whole personality shifts around Otome. Gap moe (????)

It's a cool tidbit that Nemu tends to prefer plainer outfits, as that tracks with how she dresses in TDD. Also, Nemu and Ichijiku shopping together is kind of bittersweet, since Ichijiku is clearly using Nemu as a replacement figure for her deceased sister...

Ichijiku secretly wanting to fall on the cute side of the cute/elegant spectrum is a pretty classic trope but a fun detail that's been hinted at already, since we've seen that she keeps a bow collection.

??? Rei's lab is on Battleship Island? Ohhhhhhhhh this is why Twitter was blowing up with controversy right after this track released... The IRL Battleship Island was home to forced labor of Korean and Chinese citizens during the twentieth-century push of Japanese imperialism which was later, iirc, denied in part or totally by the Japanese government to immense international backlash. Using this as a setpiece for Hypmic is oddly provocative, and I can't think why the writers would want to do that. On a much lighter note, this is also a headscratcher to me because isn't this a UNESCO World Heritage Site? The whole point of that is conservation, and I don't think building a clone lab counts as conservation... Unless they're implying the clone lab was built prior to the 1950s? Hm. Let's not go down this rabbit hole.

"I would like all of the True Hypnosis Mics. As well as all the Amemura clones." Oh? Are there more still alive? I thought Honobono ordered the death of the last remaining three... Well, that scraps a piece of writing I was working on LOL

"Your biometric data is required to access the mic storage facility" So how did the PoW get in?

Her? Heart stop beating? Oh for fuck's sake, is Rei's wife also in a coma? How many fucking characters are in a coma in this series... Whichever mfer invents a device that restores people from comas with no significant brain damage will make a fortune in this universe

"And I won't try anything funny." I do not believe this for one instant

Hmm, the framing of Otome planning this and the way she brushed past talk of countermeasures for the anti-PoW faction implies that Rei is heading this faction.

Oh, so they couldn't get past the biometric locks after all, I see.

I strongly dislike the idea of thirty clones for thirty mics and the nonchalance in which Rei goes, "Yeah, I'll ship them off to Chuuouku" like they're a parcel and not human beings, but that's my personal bone to pick w/ this character and setting.

I was intrigued by the notion of the PoW holding caucuses, implying there's some sort of democratic process in terms of choosing their own party members or positions, but the JPN audio doesn't specify that exactly.

"We no longer require the cooperation of Jakurai Jinguji." I know that this took like four years in real time, but in terms of the Hypmic universe... I mean, Jakurai didn't even do anything for them, did he? He went through all that moral dilemma for nothing, as far as I can tell. (I get that it sets up the reconciliation with Ramuda, but that's it? Seriously?) That's disappointing to roll it back so quickly.

"During the Division Rap Battle, the people of our nation will be focused on the tournament, giving us the opportunity to use the True Hypnosis Mics to mind hack the Anti-Party of Words faction who stand in our way, ultimately pulling them over to our side." Otome always has the most batshit plans. God bless. A consequence of her needing to drive the plot forward is that she'll say some of the truly silliest things I've ever heard. What a complete misappropriation of government funds lol. Also... is this stating there are only 30 dissidents (????), or can the True Hypmics brainwash more than one person at a time?

"Once that is complete, we will move on to other countries. And when we have taken over the world, then, in the true sense of the word, peace through the power of words will be achieved." LMAO? I'm sorry, this isn't very considerate of me, but in my initial impressions of this, I am well and truly gobsmacked. What in the actual fuck. How many clones will die for this? How much money will it cost? How does she think she stands any chance at governing so many people across such an area, even with a downsized population after WWIII? Homie... Never change, Hypmic, you are the wildest.

I can't believe Ichijiku is so whipped she's willing to go along with an absolutely nonsensical plan for world domination. Ma'am, Otome is not going to fuck you, and even if she is, it's not worth it! Ma'am!!! I'm sorry, I'm being petty and not giving this a lot of in-depth thought but LORD this is a trip on first read.

A FUCKING CLONE UPRISING AT THE HANDS OF REI? HAHAHAHAHA.

"World domination, huh, what a joke." Man after my own heart.

I'm actually quite interested in how this "mics are disabled forever" thing works. I guess the mics have a kill switch in them? I vaguely recall someone saying that in the manga years and years ago... Oh yeah, it was Ramuda in TDD 12. Huh, interesting if that was intentional foreshadowing (I'm not sure if I want to be that charitable). At any rate, can't everyone in the room just get new mics? Or does it affect their speakers and such too? I'm curious how that works, like if you build an affinity with a certain mic or some nonsense.

"looks like we won't be having any Division Rap Battles from here on out." Ah, and this is why the other half of Twitter was up in arms like "No more DRB??? End of Hypmic??" I guess.

The Block Party tracks are quite long, and since it's getting rather late for me, I'm going to leave off here for the moment. I'd like to continue this at my next available opportunity... WHAT a ride. Not sure when that will be, but I will add to this with a reblog when I can. And I know it's been months since this track came out, but I would love to hear other people's thoughts. I wasn't around much when it first launched, so I missed most of the commentary on it.

#not a translation #asks #hypmic asks

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thesilliestrovingalive · 15 days

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Updated: September 23, 2024

Reworked Character #8: Clark Still

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death and human experimentation.

Real name: Clarkeston Vince Stillwater

Esper title: Avatar of Flora, Wind, Vitality Syphoning, and Physical Adaptability

Alias: Hard-Boiled Assassin and Coolness in the Strong

Occupation: Lieutenant Colonel of the Ikari Warriors and tactical spy for the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. (formerly)

Retirement plans: Live in a cabin near a lake abundant with fish and become a professional photographer

Special skills: Survival mastery in many kinds of rough terrain, proficiency in wrestling and grappling, gathering information for missions, sniping with lightweight firearms, and ichthyology

Esper abilities: His go-to esper ability is the Argentine Backbreaker, which enables him to effortlessly lift and throw a wide range of targets, including humans, Martians, Invader Drones, smaller mutants, zombies, mummies, Sasquatches, medium-sized to larger tanks, and larger helicopters, before slamming them into the ground. He’s invincible to weak physical attacks, bullets, and smaller missiles, and can cut through almost anything by generating telekinetic soundwaves with swift hand movements. When activating his infrared x-ray vision, he can see through walls and perceive the heat signatures of people. He has three frilly fish gills located underneath the area of his lungs, allowing him to adapt to an underwater environment. He possesses the cunning predatory instincts of a fox, the acute hearing of a deer, and the swift running speed of a rabbit.

He possesses the ability to manipulate the motion and intensity of wind as well as control the growth, decay, and movement of flowers and vines. He possesses an additional pair of lung-like organs situated on his upper back, between his spine, connected to a pouch located directly behind the pharynx and pointing towards the opening of his mouth. This pouch is sealed by two wrinkled skin flaps covered in mucousal hairs. It can be opened to release a purplish-green breath that contains a deadly poison, causing brain hemorrhaging and organ dysfunction. Clark is immune to the poison contained within his specialised lungs, but occasionally, he inadvertently inhales air into that specific organ. It triggers a cough due to the irritating sensations and causing him to release a small amount of his toxic breath.

His skin contains four types of microscopic pigments: xanthophores, iridophores, melanophores, and leucophores. Unlike other animals, he possesses exceptional control over these specialised colour-changing pigments, enabling him to seamlessly blend into his surroundings. Additionally, he can temporarily render objects and people invisible by scratching or spitting on them. Clark can open the small, closed holes located slightly below the centre of his palms, revealing a seven-petaled flower-like structure. From this, he can extend cartilage pipes covered in spikes with a metallic bronze sheen and a blunt, tri-holed tip from which flame-coloured veins are released. He uses the pipes to pierce the hearts or brains of individuals, utilising the emitted veins to syphon their life energy, thereby healing his wounds, revitalising his physical strength, and preventing his own demise.

Hobbies: Reading books on interesting subjects such as the biology of fish and the history of secret societies, collecting guns, playing casino games, photography, and fishing

Likes: Rugby, his sunglasses, reading gun catalogues, successful fishing expeditions (especially when he catches rare fish), and sharing a couple of drinks with Ralf

Dislikes: The awkward movement and gimmicky controls of the Slugs, being woken up by loud construction noises, people doing obviously stupid things, betrayal of trust, and arson

Favourite food: Oatmeal, vegan pizza, and caramel and cheese popcorn

Sexuality: Heteroromantic asexual

Gender: Male

Age: 23 (in 2022), 29 (in 2028), 31 (in 2030), 33 (in 2032), 35 (in 2034), 42 (in 2041), 44 (in 2043), 45 (in 2044), and 48 (in 2047)

Blood type: A-

Weight: 231 lbs. (104 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 3” (190.5 cm) Canadian mesomorph with an inhumanly imposing build, robust musculature, and semi-sloping shoulders. He has pale purple eyes with flecks of magenta, warm beige skin, and a rose gold quiff with subtle curls (it was once a honey blonde). A large patch of burned flesh extends from his left cheek, across his deltoid and shoulder, to the back of his trapezius. He bears a series of small scattered cut marks and a few stab wounds on his arms and torso. Additionally, he has two gunshot wounds, one located above his right kidney and the other near the left side of his navel. He has a long jagged scar on his right cheek, running from the underside of his ear to the centre of his upper lip. The skin on his arms and legs is a charred bluish-black and has a few stitches, and it can be a tad stiff at times, so he often asks Fio to give his limbs a well-kneaded massage.

Clark’s military gear consists of a light cyan tank top, a Bondi blue headband, and purplish-black elbow and knee pads. He always wears a cobalt blue cap with an embroidered Canada jay with outstretched wings, holding an olive branch in its talons. He wears purple-tinted sunglasses to hide a scar on his glabella, caused by Ralf's careless handling of his combat knife. He wears a cobalt blue waterproof vest adorned with the Ikari Warriors logo on the back and lined with grey fox fur. A white magnolia flower is pinned on the left side, just above his deltoid muscle. The vest contains two hidden strapped compartments, each capable of holding two firearms, but one is often occupied by a shotgun or flame shot.

He wears a fallow brown wristband with black spikes on his right hand and a blue-green glove with a silver eye surrounded by rays of light embroidered on the palm of his left. He has cargo pants with an army green, brown, and silver-grey camouflage pattern, tucked into his Persian indigo jungle boots. Clark wears a fallow brown belt with six black pouches for bullets and a holster for his handgun. He also carries a Japanese violet waist pack that holds bandages, a small package of cotton swabs, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and four rechargeable batteries for his camera. He wears two black drop leg holsters, each featuring two pointed silvery stripes that form a triangular pattern, holding his combat knife on the right and an electrical baton on the left.

Over his tank top, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, carrying his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. He wears two dark brown bandoliers, crossed in an X-shape, with the left one holding throwing knives and the right one holding ammunition for his handgun. Clark carries a fallow brown load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, and a bluish-black digital camera. He also carries a comprehensive fishing kit, complete with various baits and lures, hooks, a rod, floats, monofilament lines, braided lines, fluorocarbon lines, and spincast, baitcasting, spinning, and fly reels. Additionally, he treasures a photo album filled with pictures he's taken from his teenage years to the present, holding it dear as a cherished keepsake. He wears a pair of small silver hoop earrings and conceals a portable, jagged piece of Sol Dae Rokker's red gem in the left pocket of his cargo pants. The red gem appears to be powerless except when reacting to the presence of individuals with malicious intent or those who pose a potential threat.

Thanks to Tarma, he owns a key to access his periwinkle-coloured Velocette MAC motorcycle, which has dark cyan outlining.

Super Devil form: He’s a 16 ft (487.68 cm) wolpertinger-like entity with a slender build, disproportionately muscular arms, and a body encased in iridescent blue-grey scales. Clark boasts a feline head with the left side of his face gruesomely rotted, distinguished by rose gold fur, a silver-grey snout, and fallow brown eye patches. It has majestic Persian indigo elk antlers, elegantly adorned with white magnolia flowers and delicate patches of hanging moss. The head features two jutting fangs and luminous pale purple eyes, accented with magenta flecks and blue-green pupils. He boasts a majestic mane of fluffy light grey clouds and razor-sharp black claws that seem to be forged from a resilient, crystalline material. He wraps himself in a shawl of rippling bluish mist, surrounded by a light scattering of purple leaves that flutter around him, circling his head like a halo.

His fingers are adorned with light cyan webbing, while his back features six prominent vertical cobalt blue streaks. He possesses four majestic 17 ft (518.16 cm) Canada jay wings and an additional pair of arms situated on his inguinal regions. Clark’s lower half is that of a grey fox, featuring silver claws and twelve symmetrically arranged purplish-black eyes along both sides of its back, extending to the base of its tail. His Smith's bush squirrel tail is entwined with a spiky, verdant vine, while the grey fox body's hind legs are replaced by fleshy, charred tree roots that twitch spasmodically and subtly ripple.

Personality: He's a wise, introspective, hard-boiled, self-disciplined, and self-reliant pescatarian with a stoic demeanour, rarely showing emotion and possessing a taciturn personality. Initially shy and reserved around strangers, he gradually opens up and becomes more talkative and less aloof once he gets to know them. He exudes an unsettling calmness, intensely focused on his professional duties and the safety of others. While watchful and serious, he's not above showing a more playful side, engaging in witty banter and dark, dry humour. Clark frequently uses sarcasm to tease Ralf about his stubborn and rowdy nature, yet harbours a deep affection for him as his closest ally. He genuinely worries about Ralf's well-being and will go to great lengths to ensure his happiness, offering comfort and support during difficult times. He frequently enjoys joking around with Ralf, while also keeping a watchful eye to prevent his friend from getting into trouble or engaging in destructive behaviours.

He’s fiercely loyal to Ralf, his comrades, and friends, and will only consider betraying those close to him if presented with compelling reasons. He adores his pets, Sparky, a rambunctious and playful young charcoal Bengal cat with white “goggle” markings and black rosettes, and Mr. Kibleton, a grumpy but affectionate older chocolate smoke Exotic Shorthair cat. He’s devoted to giving them a happy and fulfilling life, providing attentive care and showering them with love and affection. He has a strong aversion to obstinate stubbornness and betrayal of trust, finding them frustrating and inconsiderate.

Notably, aside from Ralf, he shows unexpected support and empathy towards those he genuinely cares about, offering a helping hand when they need it most. Clark is kind-hearted but brutally honest, harbouring a strong disdain for dishonesty, exploitation, and showboating. He has a low tolerance for liars, cheaters, and those who try to take advantage of him or his loved ones. With a keen eye for deceit, he isn't afraid to confront and expose wrongdoers, often calling them out in a blunt and uncompromising manner. He demonstrates significant respect for war veterans, elders, individuals he values, and authority figures who uphold moral justice.

He personally believes that everyone has the capacity to act in accordance with their own moral compass and make decisions based on their unique needs and values. Furthermore, he holds that every individual has an inherent and inalienable right to freedom and personal autonomy, and that suppressing this right is a violation of basic human dignity. It takes a lot for him to get angry, and when it happens, he appears menacing and difficult to approach. Clark gets easily annoyed when people do something he considers stupid or utterly absurd.

He has a melancholic streak and sometimes relies on instinct rather than strategy in battle. Like Ralf, he enjoys diving headfirst into combat, using everything at his disposal, revealing his occasional impulsiveness and craving for adrenaline. He wouldn't hesitate to fiercely confront and verbally or physically shred anyone who tries to harm a child or one of his friends and comrades. He has some trauma that he's slowly coming to terms with, and a deep-seated fear of medical needles and laboratories, which causes him to panic when in their presence.

Backstory: Clarkeston Vince Stillwater was born on May 7, 1999 in Twillingate, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada. He was born into a loving family that deeply valued the great outdoors, individual freedom, and their diverse expertise. His father, Kenrick Stillwater (commonly referred to as Kent), was a fisherman and a well-respected private detective, and his mother was a successful commercial photographer. He spent countless hours on fishing trips with his dad, Kent, who taught him the ins and outs of fishing, including which hooks and baits to use for each species. Kent also ignited his fascination with the criminal justice system and the complex psychology of criminals. Meanwhile, his mother nurtured his creative side, gifting him a digital camera and photo album on his sixth birthday. She guided him in taking professional-quality photographs, developing Polaroids, and exploring various photography genres.

At the age of 8, he tried out rugby and discovered a passion for the sport, although he only plays when he feels like it. He showed a natural talent for rugby, particularly when playing fullback during pickup games with friends in Crow Head at Sea Breeze Park. By the time he turned 11, he began regularly visiting a new library that had been built near his community two years earlier. He cherished the library's vast collection of intriguing books and the peaceful atmosphere, where patrons were genuinely quiet and respectful. His reading interests spanned various subjects, including criminology, military history, and the occult. He also enjoyed reading about secret societies, undercover operations, philosophical explorations of freedom, and ichthyology.

Before turning 12, he started experiencing symptoms such as persistent fatigue, chest pain, dizziness, recurring headaches, shortness of breath, and pulsatile tinnitus. As his condition worsened, he was forced to discontinue playing rugby altogether. This prompted concern from his parents, who quickly arranged a doctor's visit. Following a medical evaluation, he and his parents learned that he had been diagnosed with anemia, a blood disorder that runs in his father's family. The news disheartened him, but his parents did everything they could to keep him healthy, ensuring he received the best care for his condition. They encouraged him to continue pursuing his hobbies, focusing on those that were less physically taxing, such as reading and photography.

Despite his health complications, his life had been running smoothly, and he was doing alright in school, but this stability was short-lived. Just four months after his 14th birthday party, disaster struck. While he was asleep, his family home was engulfed in flames, set deliberately by unknown assailants seeking revenge against his father's refusal to comply with local criminal demands regarding fishing quotas. As the fire alarm blared, Clark caught a whiff of smoke and sprang out of bed, panic setting in as he heard the faint sound of firefighting sirens in the distance. In that harrowing moment, with smoke filling his lungs and fear gripping his heart, he experienced a sudden surge of energy coursing through his body.

Clark quickly ran out of his bedroom with his digital camera and photo album, desperately searching for his parents. But what he found was his mother, burning alive. Overcome with horror, he tried to exit the building, but the flames nearly trapped him. In a split second, he subconsciously summoned a harsh gust of wind, dissipating the flames and allowing him to escape. As he stumbled out, he saw Kent's lifeless body lying near the front porch, his throat slit and his face brutally stabbed multiple times. He broke down in tears, consumed by grief, cradling his father’s body in his arms. When the firefighters and police arrived, they were met with the devastating scene. One kind-hearted officer took Clark in, providing temporary shelter. Unbeknownst to him, the officer had also contacted the Regular Army. The next day, the Regular Army adopted him, providing shelter, food, clothes, and a new sense of purpose.

A few days after the incident, he received a revelation dream that unveiled his esper title and the key to unlocking his Super Devil form and harnessing his newfound abilities. However, the dream's cryptic nature left him struggling to fully grasp its meaning, hindering his ability to effectively wield his esper powers. Furthermore, he was physically weak due to his anemia, which made his esper training even more challenging and arduous. The Regular Army higher-ups took notice of his struggles and ordered the Amadeus Syndicate scientists to conduct experiments on him, aiming to enhance his abilities and overcome his limitations.

He doesn't recall much of this period in his life because he was constantly kept in a drowsy state. However, he recalls being injected with mysterious drugs that altered and reconstructed his muscles and brain chemistry, miraculously curing his anemia in the process. The experiments were agonising and left lasting scars, including charred bluish-black skin and stitches on his limbs. He also experienced terrifying hallucinations, such as seeing blood pouring down the walls and hearing whispering voices that sang incoherent lullabies. The traumatic experiences left him with a deep-seated fear of needles and laboratories as well as a profound mistrust of the Amadeus Syndicate.

During his basic training to become a peacekeeping scout for the Regular Army, he learned valuable lessons in discipline and camaraderie. However, he struggled to come to terms with intense feelings of abandonment and anger stemming from his parents' deaths. Tequila, noticing Clark's aloofness and difficulty connecting with others due to his timidity and unresolved trauma, approached him with kindness. He invited him to a trip to Yr Wyddfa in the Snowdonia region of North Wales, which Clark quietly accepted. The trip proved to be a turning point, as Tequila shared wise words on coping with his emotions and managing his past. From that day forward, Tequila became Clark's mentor, offering guidance and invaluable insights into the ways of a Regular Army soldier and Intelligence Agency agent.

After completing his training and successfully executing several missions as a tactical spy for the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. of the Intelligence Agency, Clark discovered a thriving mercenary group, the Ikari Warriors, was gaining popularity. He then attempted to resign from his position in the Regular Army, but initially faced resistance. However, following repeated requests, his superiors eventually accepted his resignation, recognizing that his unique expertise could be valuable in supporting the Ikari Warriors' missions by gathering crucial intelligence. He joined the Ikari Warriors after demonstrating his skills as a spy and esper by chasing down a disguised terrorist who had infiltrated the biennial tournament. He expressed his commitment to preserving global peace, earning his place among the team.

Upon joining, he befriended Leland and Eikichi, who were fascinated by his esper status and drawn to his kind and mellow demeanour. He also befriended Byron, bonding over their shared love of fishing. Clark’s heroics in single-handedly saving General Kawasaki's and Second Lieutenant Cook's mercenaries from a surprise counterattack by a powerful Mafia organisation earned him their respect. Later, he befriended Ralf, another esper, and they quickly became close friends after collaborating on a mission to take down a corrupt politician.

He frequently partnered with Ralf on numerous missions for the Ikari Warriors, including rescuing Elise, the U.S. President's daughter, from a criminal organisation and dismantling the Serapion Fellowship that was harming Latin America. For his heroism in saving the President's daughter, he received the Medal of Honor, but he prefers to keep it private, as he dislikes drawing attention to himself. His unwavering loyalty and impressive successes as a fighter and spy earned him a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel.

However, he and Ralf suffered a series of devastating losses, including the deaths of General Kawasaki, Second Lieutenant Cook, Eikichi, Leland, and Byron in separate incidents, each of which was difficult to bear. During General Kawasaki's funeral, he remembered Tequila's words that the white magnolia symbolises deep, unspoken trust. He incorporated the flower into his attire as a reminder of his loyalty to those he cares about, both living and deceased. It's commonly believed that after Ralf saved the United States from being taken over, Clark played a crucial role in grabbing the Regular Army's attention and convincing them to establish a mercenary branch by forming an alliance with the Ikari Warriors.

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kollector-of-stims · 1 month

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I have managed to choose my top 50 favorite stim toys out of my collection!

First, the top 10:

1: Nee Doh Nice Cube. Just perfect all around!

2: Marshmello Fruitz grapes sugar ball. It fits in my hand really well because of its shape and honestly may be tied first place with the Nice Cube..

3: Squirkies turtle. The clicking buttons, joystick head, and switch tail just make it so satisfying to me for some reason-

4: Mini articulated fidget slug. The amazingness of the fidget slugs but smaller and easy to use in public!

5: Fidget worm/Morf fidet. Something about holding it and shaking it to make it rattle has just appealed to me a lot out of nowhere? Also fun to move around when listening to music!

6: Marshmello Fruitz strawberry sugar ball. Amazing texture from this one specifically and I also like fruit!

7: Marshmello Fruitz pineapple sugar ball. Pretty colors and sometimes the softer sugar balls are good in occassions!

8: Bubble tea squish. The sound...mainly the sound...That, and I always like water squishies!

9: Squirkies chameleon. Small, cool fidget options, love the silicone tail!

10: OddBallz click clack molecule ball. SOOUNND..And feel ofc but the sound is a GREAT addition!

My 40 other fave stim toys under the cut!

11-20:

11: Pastel Fidget Slug. My first one ever!

12: Rainbow Fidget Slug. Pretty colors!

13: Candy Drop Sugar Ball. Nice texture that's soft but not too soft!

14: Galaxy Infinity Cube.

15: Mini Train Pop It. Purple, train, and portable!

16: Jumbo Squishy Gummy Worm.

17: Watchitude Octoz Fidget Octopus.

18: Mad Lab Glob Ball.

19: Brain Splat Ball.

20: JA-RU Stretchy Sand-Filled Banana.

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21-30:

21: Squishy Dumpling.

22: Galaxy Fidget Cube. My first fidget item with fidget in the name! Been treating me well for years~

23: Super Duper Sugar Squishers Axolotl.

24: Takumo Kawaii Squishy Kitty.

25: Small Blue Bear Sparkly Squishy.

26: Boink. Simple but effective in public and easy to hide in your sleeve if you want!

27: Squirkies Scorpion. After I replaced the wacky tracks tail it got a lot better and less squeaky!

28: Mini Pop It Single. Simple as that!

29: Rat Splat Ball. Little friend!

30: Foam Penguin Squishy. Came in a mystery pack and is actually super soft!

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31-40:

31: Orbeez Filled Squishy Bat.

32: JA-RU Dragon Monkey Noodle. I like dragons!

33: Squirkies Butterfly.

34: Textured Skeleton Monkey Noodle. I like Halloween and skeletons! Also less things to get in the way while you run your hand along the textures!

35: Sand Filled Moon. Nice texture AND a little weighted!

36: Squirkies Monkey.

37: 5 Bearing Fidget Spinner. Fidget spinners always work for me!

38: Mini Fidget Cube. Good for the Dentist or other appointments or meetings!

39: Mini Tangle.

40: Small Suction Toy. Got it from a quarter machine and honestly? Very nice!

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41-50:

41: Realistic Stretchy Banana.

42: Art Palette Clicking Button Fidget.

43: Mini Wacky Tracks.

44: Parrot Dimple. Chose the parrot for the animal and colors!

45: Simple Orbeez Squish. Classic, cheap, and effective for me!

46: Pop It. This one has great pops!

47: Textured side an ASMR Fidget Cube. I split it all into pieces and like this one the most!

48: Mini Slinky.

49: Cat in a Cup.

50: Foam Ball Squish. My legit first stim toy ever! It's been through a lot and has gathered a lot of sentimental value!

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If you have any questions about any of these stim toys such as the brand or where I got them from, or if you have one of these too, I'd love to see and/or answer!!

#stim toy collection #mine #my collection #stim toy ranking #stim toy rating #fidget toy rating #fidget toy ranking #stim toys #fidget toys #top 50 #my favorites

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bromcommie · 6 months

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free verse poem for @catws-anniversary, day 4 | theme: natasha romanoff | prompt: favourite natasha quote, disguise, trust issues

The truth is a matter of circumstance -

this, you know. Or at least this is what you have been taught, your skin made to learn it over and over and over raw repetition, the mother of all knowledge:

The truth is not all things to all people, and you know this because you've seen men make a living of the truth - shaping and moulding it, a convenient tool to build up myths and nations and gods, break down empires, paint history a dull, inconspicuous color with it. (Blood is never red when it dries, but it does leave stains: dark maroon for the loving glide of Soviet slugs through the organs, overripe date for the shadows of American bombs in bright desert sand. You've collected more conflicting shades than any artist.)

The truth is not all things to all people, and you know this because you have been the clay in their hands and you have been the hatchet chopping away and you have been a footnote in the histories, but your name is not in any of the books. (You have never been any of the men pointing the stick.) Does that matter? What difference does that make? None, except for how sometimes you miss the paper trail you were taught not to leave, how you catch yourself missing the belonging inherent in Alianovna no matter how fabricated, catch yourself wanting evidence that you were ever Natalia before you were Natasha before you were Natalie - Nat - - Tasha - - Widow, with your face plastered all over glittering billboards and your Mona Lisa smile like an autopsy cut. There's really nothing the stars and stripes love more than a good, old-fashioned dissection. So go on. Spread 'em, belly up, label maker in hand ready to agonize over a name for each part, make it neat and palatable for public consumption. Murder Natalia Romanova in cold blood so that Natasha Romanoff can walk away with clean hands; drag the body around because, what - can't you take the silent weight? You weren't planning on living in it, were you? This vicious little animal thing, with sunken eyes and deformed feet? (common side effect of strained movement: hallux valgus. Common side effect of being stepped on one too many times: shrinking.) You wanted that to remain your truth? Forget it - it's too much work, anyway, explaining, and you've been wearing the face of English too long and still don't have all the words you need. (The ones in your head don't count. The truth is for handing out to the people out there, not for ruminating on inside the confines of your own brain.) So chop chop. Hack yourself down to a convenient size, an easily describable shape, a prime cut all juicy and tender. Fit it in the soft pink parts of your mouth where it's the least threatening, the most deadly, just another name to play at your ruby lips. (Most people usually miss the knife at their throat if they're looking at your smile. Most people don't know that all other animals only smile as a threat.)

You are not most people, but you'll pretend anyway because this is what you wanted, isn't it, here is what you ran to: something starkly redacted, something more black and white. A kinder guiding hand. A way to wash the blood off your hands with different, simpler blood, except that - Except that you got sloppy, didn't you. You got complacent and forgetful; all of it, the playing nice and playing parts in games that always somehow end logically, storybook and wrapped up in softened movement and all those eyecatching, carefully controlled curves, every Disney executive's wet dream. And all that carving, my God - it made you tired instead of hungry, didn't it, and you forgot. Forgot that there's value in being many things all at once, forgot that you were still holding the knife until you got carried away and drew real blood, let yourself bleed slow along with the familiar face on the other side of the glass of the OR room. You forgot what it's like to lose, is the thing, and so you let the many-eyed, many-headed sweet-tongued cancer grow and spread right under your nose, and you didn't even notice until it was too late.

It's a straight hit to where you live, isn't it. Second bullet with your ego's name on it, fool me once and all that nonsense, but forget about the anger for a second. Let's focus on the bleeding, on the sharp thing lodged in your throat, the aching pain in your shoulder: here is a reminder from your dead and buried. Here are all your ghosts coming back to haunt you in the shape of many deadly little hands, many false little platitudes, the burn of blinding sunlight off of unyielding metal; primal terror that used to be a kindness. Here is what you are, here is what every one of you has in common, the birthplace of the common denominator of all your truths: survival.

You forgot because it really was too much work, anyway, finding the right words to say, I didn't orchestrate the pain of the Department's stick over my spine or the War that burnt down all our apple orchards or the Long Cold One that came right after, I didn't set my finger to the trigger, but: I still pulled it. I still believed in the bullet, the future it was supposed to bring - no more children with concave stomachs, no more shrinking from being stepped on. I believed and wanted to impress and belong and be untouchable, maybe. Make my spine immune to the stick. So it was not me, you see, apologies for the confusion. It was not this me in front of you, except in all the ways that it was, will be, is still. I am my survival, I was that which I had to survive, and I will be that which will make its way out of the dark in the end. (You are not afraid of the dark. Like all children of war, you know that real fear is born of fire.)

There's the truth you know. You've seen its glowing eyes and its snarling snout in the soft golden strands of a girl grown from the foam of the Black Sea but grown hard in the oblivion white of the tundra, in the artillery midnight sun over Volgograd - Stalingrad - Volgograd, you keep forgetting, in the face of a deprived stray with its ribs sticking out in broad daylight, lips pulled back. Your own face in the mirror through fogged glass. Don't you recognize it? Don't you know this thing with too many teeth, hungry and frightened, like the times that birthed it? Don't you rememeber? (Which times? Does it matter? Any, some, all at once. The truth is not beholden to time, and it's not supposed to be.) Smile, krasotka. Don't we get a smile? Let me see that pretty face, baby, come on. Let me see those teeth bared, inspected like a show animal's, let me see if there's any blood on them. Turns out you're still a commodity, just for a different market. So: break yourself all over again, make yourself unmarketable, undesirable, ungovernable. Because the truth is white-hot, sometimes, the truth gets angry, the truth claws its way out under history's shadows and leaves marks of its own.

The truth is not all - The truth is that which -

The truth - well. The truth is just one of many, is that which you've been running from, is a shapeshifting beast, a useful weapon, a sign of the times. What does that make you? What's it matter? It doesn't. But sometimes you look at the blond man with too many obvious bruises and the soft eyes and the string-calloused hands that spell your name all chopped up T-A-S-H-A before they shorten it to a single sign just a fond blur and you don't even mind the boldness of that familiarity, and you think: maybe it should. Maybe it should matter.

You look at another blond man with the invisible bruises and the lonely guarded eyes and the slow but overwhelming trust in the human parts of you, asking the wrong questions that aren't questions and expecting plain answers, and you think: I should know better than to keep falling for this. You could scoop it out, you think. All the soft compromised parts of him, all that big emotion written all over the sky, expansive and wide: too obvious, too exhausting, too American, all that painful picturebook blue.

It's embarrassing, really. Undignified. You could tear it out of him and twist it into any shape you wanted to, and you wouldn't even have to try all that hard. (But you don't. You don't. The part of you that hasn't shut up in 70 or maybe 17 years sees his trust and says leverage, meaning opportunity. The quieter, braver part sees it and says badge of honour, meaning: something to hold onto. Something else to remember.)

So instead you look at the man with the invisible angry hurt and too much trust in all that is supposed to be human and you think: maybe you can stop believing in the bullet long enough to let yourself believe in something else. So run it through one more time, until it sticks like broken bones did, like knives stuck in moving targets, repetitio est mater studiorum - The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people, all the time, and neither are you.

Meaning, go on: Chuck all of your faces onto a funeral pyre, burn them at the altar of something unfamiliar, something you don't yet have a neat name for. Peeled back, cleaned out like this you still have all your hungers, but maybe you've earned the right to them now. Maybe you can get angry and get even and let the most rabid of all your truths out to stretch their legs, let them snap their jaws but to protect rather than to kill; to exist in all of their conflicting shades and still have a place to lay their head at night. Maybe that can be a cornerstone for something - Not permanent, certainly. Not real, either, because that's just another Americanism that snuck into your vocabulary when you weren't paying attention. Honest, maybe. Maybe you can let the vicious little animal that is you believe in a tomorrow that isn't promised by a myth or the legend of a moulded truth, but that you can still eventually, painstakingly slow put your trust in, and trust it not to break. Maybe.

Maybe seems like enough, for a first second third fresh start.

#catws10 #catws anniversary #natasha romanoff #catws natasha my beloved<3 #the first and last time they got her right imho. sigh #a good part of this is also very comics inspired i have to admit #my fic #I guess? this is the first time I'm posting something like this so I really don't know how to tag it #natasha romanoff fic

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sshbpodcast · 1 year

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Character Spotlight: Leonard McCoy

By Ames

We’re still boldly going through all the characters of The Original Series in A Star to Steer Her By’s latest blog collection, and this week the spotlight is on Dr. Leonard McCoy! We’re not even going to be at all objective about this one because Bones is the favorite TOS character of most of the hosts here at SSHB, so be prepared for us to gush about his curmudgeonly actions, witty one-liners, and constant back-and-forth with Spock.

It helps that DeForest Kelley brings so much more to the role than is on the page, so let’s dive in and discover what our favorite McCoy moments are, scrape the bottom of the barrel for some lesser moments, and generally fan all over the CMO of the starship Enterprise. Read on below and listen to this week’s banter on the podcast (discussion at 1:04:23) for more about this old country doctor. We hope you have a mint julep handy!

Best Moments

Promoted too fast One of McCoy’s most highlighted facets is his obstinance, which is often played to hilarious effect. So when the ship is under threat from Balok’s Fesarius in “The Corbomite Maneuver,” it’s quite fitting that McCoy is stubborn enough to make what might be his last living action writing up Lt. Bailey just to spite Kirk for promoting him too fast. Now that’s no bluff!

Well, either choke me or cut my throat! Make up your mind! McCoy is at his most badass in “Space Seed” when his patient, Khan, has grabbed one of the good doctor’s handy wall knives and held him up. “It would be most effective if you would cut the carotid artery just under the left ear,” Bones says while his life is being threatened, and everyone watching this show goes “Daaaaaamn.”

Something called a mint julep. It’s a drink, Jim! Speaking of McCoy being a straight-up badass, when the subsonic transmitter is undoing the euphoric effects of the spores in “This Side of Paradise,” he straight up slugs the guy who dares imply that his job as a physician may have become obsolete on a planet with no disease. Without so much as dropping his drink! Grade-A badass right there.

My patients don't walk out in the middle of an operation Don’t forget that McCoy is a half decent doctor, especially considering most medical work in the future is waving a medical tricorder over people. But he proves his physician’s skills in “Journey to Babel” when he performs surgery on Sarek, transfusing a blood sample from a reluctant Spock and saving the ambassador’s life, all in the middle of a battle with Orions!

I’m trying to thank you… As we mentioned in the Spock spotlight post, the jail scene in “Bread and Circuses” is just stunning acting work from both Nimoy and Kelley. It’s such a short scene, but it’s got everything. And when McCoy ponders that Spock is afraid of living, afraid of showing his human half, afraid of feeling, they display in their acting that they’re both in the same emotional place and I love it.

A child could do it Like in “Journey to Babel,” Bones gets to prove his medical prowess in “Spock’s Brain,” even if it’s a little bit laughable overall. He does need help from the Teacher to give himself the temporary knowledge to reconnect Spock to his big Vulcan brain, but when that wears off, he keeps it together, and with a little help from his green-blooded friend, gets the job done.

Please give yourself every minute No wonder this episode was our favorite from TOS. What a great showcase for DeForest Kelley. His grappling with impending death in “For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky” is expertly played and beautifully explores how to measure a life’s happiness. McCoy’s romance with Natira is lovely and I heartily wish he didn’t have to leave her, though as I said in my review of Sawdust to Stardust, the novel Ex Machina revisits Yonada and is quite good!

I’ve been drafted There’s just something about Bones McCoy in The Motion Picture, standing on the transporter pad that he hates so much, grumbling at Kirk about getting drafted back into Starfleet, complaining like a cantankerous old coot about all the renovations made to his medical bay, all while wearing the most disco of civilian attire that is just plain charming.

I choose the danger While we found it a biiiit presumptuous for Spock to cram his katra into McCoy in The Wrath of Khan, it allows for some just plain great DeForest Kelley acting in The Search for Spock, so we can kinda forgive the violation. All movie long, McCoy gets to act like he’s mildly possessed by Spock, and then bravely face the fal-tor-pan ceremony that could be dangerous to humans. “Hell of a time to ask.”

What is this, the Dark Ages? While it could be seen as a blatant infringement of the Temporal Prime Directive to give a kidney pill to the woman on dialysis in The Voyage Home, you’ve just gotta love it when Starfleet doctors take matters into their own hands for the sake of a patient. Does the Hippocratic Oath trump the prime directive? Probably not, but McCoy is a hero to that woman regardless.

Not long after, they found a cure Sometimes Star Trek just doesn’t deserve DeForest Kelley, whose acting chops are frequently the best on the show, in our humble opinions. And the debated worst of the TOS films actually has some legitimately great McCoy moments – watching him euthanize his father only to learn a cure has been later found in The Final Frontier is such a moving scene that we really feel for.

Aside from a touch of arthritis… Only Leonard McCoy could get away with cracking a joke during his conspiracy trial prosecuted by relentless Klingons, as he does in The Undiscovered Country. And he even gets a couple of laughs out of the spectating Klingons in the audience, which may make up for getting convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. Take that, Chang!

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Worst Moments

I was thinking about the buffalo The very first introduction of McCoy in “The Man Trap” sees him doing some pretty irrational things. How is Plum’s mind so clouded that he can’t see Nancy for what she really is, especially when she’s literally sucking the salt out of the captain? And it’s an emotional scene, but I still can’t forgive McCoy for killing the M-113 creature, a sentient being and the last of its kind.

Don’t peek! Something rubbed us the wrong way about Bones’s flirting with yeoman Barrows in “Shore Leave.” Maybe it’s the age gap. Maybe it’s that they didn’t have a ton of chemistry. Maybe it’s that we ship him and Natira way more. Or maybe it’s that when she asks him not to watch her change, his response is “My dear girl, I am a doctor. When I peek, it’s in the line of duty.” Gross, doc.

Two drops of cordrazine can save a man's life Every so often, we really question Dr. McCoy’s doctoring skills and how his shenanigans wouldn’t fly in later series. And as much as it serves as the impetus for one of the best TOS episodes, being careless enough to inject oneself with a hundred times the normal dose of cordrazine in “The City on the Edge of Forever” – time ripples or not! – is just plain ineptitude.

You are out of line… sir. McCoy says in “The Doomsday Machine” that he hasn’t had time to run an examination on Decker to declare him medically or psychologically unfit to command. Well, why not, doctor?! If in “The Deadly Years,” we had time to hold a trial about Kirk being too senile to command, you surely have the authority to order the commodore to a checkup. You’re the CMO for chrissakes!

I’m a doctor, not an escalator Everything McCoy does on Capella IV in “Friday’s Child” is very strange to me. a) Why had McCoy been there when these people are still in primitive stages? b) Why didn’t McCoy TELL Grant that drawing his phaser would get him killed? c) What fetishist wrote the slap fight with the pregnant woman? This whole incident was just eyebrow raising, one of McCoy’s specialties!

A total resentment towards women See what I mean about Bones not understanding doctoring sometimes? A woman crewmember makes a mistake that bonks Scott on the noggin, so McCoy diagnoses Scott with misogyny in “Wolf in the Fold,” and prescribes a trip to a brothel. That was a thing that happened. What incel wrote this nonsense? Sometimes, Star Trek, your being written in the sixties really shows.

They reproduce bisexually Another weird medical gaff McCoy makes is stating that the tribbles reproduce bisexually in “The Trouble with Tribbles.” Someone on the writing team apparently had no idea what that word means and it resulted in making McCoy just sound incompetent. The tribbles reproduce asexually, and their being born pregnant is what Bones was trying to relay when he flubbed it hard.

I think I left it in Bela’s office Not only did McCoy NOT get to play dress up in gangster clothes like Kirk and Spock in “A Piece of the Action” (what a waste; he would have looked great!), but the button at the end of the episode reveals that he’s left his communicator on Sigma Iotia! Well. Go and get it, nincompoop! That’s cultural contamination! Beam it up! Amateurs, I swear to Okmyx.

…you pointed-eared hobgoblin! Most of our worst McCoy moments have been a bit tongue-in-cheek until now, but you do have to admit that McCoy’s constant stream of casual racism at Vulcans is absolutely problematic. And as much as we credit the beautiful jail scene in “Bread and Circuses” (as I already did above), it’s also the time that he called Spock a “pointed-eared hobgoblin” and that’s not okay. The rest of that scene is still great though.

Will I become like Chekov, doctor? Okay, doc, I know everyone’s going mildly nuts in “The Tholian Web” because of the space crazies, but Uhura’s claim that she saw the captain should have been taken seriously. It was a symptom no one else had displayed. You already knew Kirk was vanishing and reappearing. And later you take Scott seriously when he makes the same claim. Justice for Uhura!

They've lost confidence in you We mentioned this episode in our Spock coverage, but it bears repeating. Everything was out of place in “The Tholian Web,” and McCoy was in rare form being extra racist to Spock the whole time. Even if it’s for good reason (Spock is terrible at command!), McCoy comes off as petty, emotional, and cruel all episode long and that’s not the kind of light-hearted ribbing he usually gives Spock.

It tastes just fine One final blundering McCoy moment comes in The Animated Series episode “The Eye of the Beholder.” “The water is too pure,” according to Spock, before McCoy reveals that it tastes fine. What are you doing drinking untested water on a planet where people have disappeared, bonehead? And getting crushed by a dragon somehow? What is this, amateur hour?

— This blogpost is dead, Jim! We know Bones is a doctor, not an engineer, so fittingly next week we’ll make sure to aim our character spotlight at an engineer! Join us for our celebration of all things Montgomery Scott here on the blog, and also in our continued watchthrough of all Trek over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast. You can also hail us over on Facebook and Twitter, and maybe don’t keep your scalpels mounted above the biobed, doc. Just a thought.

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