#can female synths be pregnant ?

[bretonalchemist]

do you think the sole survivor would ask Nick and Danse questions like "do you poop ?"

bc i sure would

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #31:

Linda Thompson's One Clear Moment

I don't know a sweeter moment in feminist pop music history than Linda Thompson's rebound after being dumped by her guitar god husband in 1982. Here they are before the crash landing.

Richard found himself a solo artist that no one wanted to see without his glorious wife, stuck on a dead end label and (correctly) deemed the villain. Linda, who was pregnant with their third child when he bailed, was taken in by Linda Ronstadt and was immediately offered a big deal record contract with Warner Brothers. Not bad.

It's no wonder why Linda was the bigger draw than Richard at that point. Check out this unspeakably brilliant performance; good luck ever seeing Richard get upstaged by someone anywhere else:

The story gets pretty sad from there; Linda literally lost her voice from the trauma of it all and was unable to make the big deal, cherished solo record she deserved; it was a full three years before she was able to settle in and record One Clear Moment.

And then the album tanked. 82's momentum was long gone: tastes had changed; Kate Bush had been replaced by Madonna; people wanted Born in the USA not Strange Affair. Linda Thompson lost her voice all over again in the aftermath and wouldn't return to performing until the new century. If you want to see the sad depths it all google her 88 Grammy appearance, where she has to lip sync her own song and looks lost at sea. I'm not pasting the video here; it's just too damn sad.

The only bright spot along the way (which led to her Grammy appearance) was thanks once again to Linda Ronstadt, who brought One Clear Moment's monster track of righteous feminism, Telling Me Lies, to the Trio sessions in 87, thereby tapping the public on the shoulder and reminding anyone who would listen that Linda Thompson was the real deal.

The ladies' version is wonderful, full of pathos and soaring vocals. But they were the world's biggest female stars at that point outside of Whitney Houston and Madonna, and they were finally making a record together that the men in their lives had blocked them from making for a full decade: even while they're singing such a sad song I can hear the joy in their voices.

Not so with Linda's own, original version: witness a woman scorned. She's wounded, yes. But she's also empowered and totally pissed:

I love how she takes the song to church, organ swelling. I love how slowly and directly she sings it. Has Richard ever listened to this? How has he ever stopped blushing? In his autobiography he basically refuses to write about it all. I was in the wrong, he tells his readers, in about half a sentence. He goes on to say that he's apologized to everyone involved and that means he's not apologizing to us. Fair enough.

But let's do our part to make things right: let's reconsider the straight-to-the-dollar-bin album that surrounds Linda's most famous song. Sure, the record doesn't include Richard and it does include three dull stinkers (most especially Best of Friends, which sounds intended for the My Little Pony Movie Soundtrack; Stephen Stills is probably watching that movie, if there actually is one, as we speak) on the B Side, but everything else within its grooves is alternatively powerful, ebullient and graceful. Let's set aside a clear moment to sing the record's praises.

Side One opens with Linda channeling Cindi Lauper with Can't Stop the Girl. Had Thompson been 15 years younger, willing to learn a few dance moves, and willing to wear her bra outside her shirt she could have joined Lauper on the Goonies soundtrack.

But it's during the title track, which follows, when things get vital. One Clear Moment sets the tone for everything memorable about this lost gem of a record; it marries 80's synth pop to sophisticated female empowerment; no wonder no one bought the record.

Thompson's lyrics on such songs are biting, fun and tight. Hell, High Water and Heartache includes the following verse, delivered without any flinching:

Some men make weak in the knees / You make me weak in the head / And if that's what you all passion / check your pulse you just might be dead.

Some men drive me wild / You drive me to despair / if i close my eyes and count to ten / promise you won't be there.

And take a listen to the sparse, lovely and biting Only a Boy, in which Linda puts Richard in his childish place then orders him to rot in hell.

Meanwhile the album contains two long forgotten tracks I think we are finally ready for. Take Me On The Subway is dense, dynamic and weird enough to serve as the opening credits track for some new zombie show. I feel commanded to obey her every command, ready to eat manflesh.

Finally, some savvy teen ought to cover In Love With the Flame in their bedroom, throw it on snapchat or whatever and get a million likes. It's bizarre to me how songs like this have not been turned into hits by cool kids once a decade ever since.

Don't you want to light a candle and shake your hips to this song? I know Linda and Richard had a miserable few years leading up to the record but it all made for some groovy tunes. And rest assured, their story has a happy ending.

Linda eventually recovered and has made 3 or 4 solid records in the last 20 years, each with Richard (occasionally) and their son (consistently) backing her. Both men do so with humility and understatement. They know Linda has always deserved center stage. It took some time, but the clear moment eventually came for her steady, majestic and powerful voice.

Let's give it another moment in 2024.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos​, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae​, @toxiicpop​,  @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough. 

  Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland. 

  "And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

  New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute. 

  Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

  Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

  Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

  X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General." 

  The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio. 

  With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter. 

  "'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

  Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

  "If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

  ...

  Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

  Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture. 

  "I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car. 

  The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

  Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

  What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

  What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself. 

  But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

  His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

  He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

  Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

  The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise. 

  "It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

  "Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

  Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

  "What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply. 

  Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

  "I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

  "I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

  "To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

  "Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted. 

  "You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked. 

  "W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive. 

  Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

  Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

  "Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward. 

  "I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

  "What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

  "B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

  "Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

  "We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

  Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

  Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches. 

  "Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel." 

  Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

  "I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

  ...

  Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

  "Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door. 

  Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

  "You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

  Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

  "It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

  Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child." 

  "Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-" 

  Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

  "Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

  The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

  "Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

  "Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand. 

  The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position. 

  Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

  "Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them. 

  "What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights. 

  Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

  "With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

  …

  Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact. 

  "Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy. 

  "It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

  "Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

  "Got nothing to lose, right?" 

  "It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called. 

  Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

  Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

  "Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here." 

  "Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?" 

  Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating! 

  Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

  At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

  The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

  A family. 

  Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now. 

  It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

  Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

  The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold. 

  "Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

  "Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

  "Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

  "Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

  Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders. 

  Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

  "That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

  "Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

  "Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

  "This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced. 

  "Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

  "That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

  "Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights. 

  "Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop. 

  Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

  Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

  "Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

  "I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely. 

  "Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

  ...

  The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip. 

  The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

  Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way. 

  The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth. 

  Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner. 

  "Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

  The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

  Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit. 

  "I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

  Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses. 

  Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

  "To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!" 

  "Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

  "Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin. 

  Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

  "Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

  Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…" 

  Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

  "I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

  "Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

  Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet." 

  She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

  ...

  "So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do." 

  Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration. 

  Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

  His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

  Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter. 

  Happier. 

  Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

  "Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

  "...Nate?" 

  Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee. 

  The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

  "Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

  "Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

  Nate. 

  Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child? 

  Somehow he had managed to survive? 

  Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all. 

  The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

  "Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

  Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

  "Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

  "Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

  "Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

  "Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

  "I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

  "You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

  Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

  "In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

  …

  I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

  Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast. 

  As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

  "Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

  "-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

  "Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

  "Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

  A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles. 

  Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-" 

  "Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

  "Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

  "True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

  "I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

  "Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

  "Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

  Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun. 

  The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

  "I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child. 

  "Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

  It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word. 

  Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

  "I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

  Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

  "Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time. 

  "It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you." 

  "I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends. 

  "Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

  He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

  "Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

  "You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

  “It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

  "I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

  "Of course."

  "I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

  Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

  His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots. 

  "Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

  "I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human." 

  "Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

  "It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

  "It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

  "Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact. 

  "I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

  Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

  The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

  Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

  She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell! 

  "Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

  "No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

  "Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

  "Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

  "Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips. 

  Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

  Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

  "Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy? 

  "Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

  "It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

  "You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  "Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point. 

  His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

  "Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

  "It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

  "You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

  "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." 

  "It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

  Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

  He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?" 

  He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

  Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

  "Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

  "Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

  "No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

  "I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

  Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

  "I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish. 

  Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth. 

  Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand. 

  "Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

  ...

  Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand. 

  "Hey, Danse?"

  He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

  "Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

  No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

  "A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

  Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

  "You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

  "Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair. 

  "Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now. 

  "I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

  Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

  "Yes, please."

  She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

  "P-Please...Danse."

  He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

  "Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

  "Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

  He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

  "What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

  She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed. 

  If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever. 

  "What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

  "You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me." 

  Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

  The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

  Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

  "This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

  "Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

  "I do have nice tits." 

  Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

  "The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

  The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

  "Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

  Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

  Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

  "Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

  "You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

  Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow. 

  "I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

  "S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

  Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?" 

  Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

  "Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her. 

  Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

  It was serious. It always was. 

  Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

  "Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him. 

  "Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

  …

  For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of. 

  Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get. 

  Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

  Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

  Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly. 

  "I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

  "So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

  She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

  "I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her. 

  "I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

  "Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan. 

  "Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

  "I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

  Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

  "It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

  I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

  A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

  "I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

  The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months. 

  "I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore. 

  She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

  "No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

  "If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop." 

  Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life." 

  Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame." 

  "What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

  "It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend. 

  "Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts." 

  "I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

  Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

  "It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

  "I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

  "It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

  Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it." 

  Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

  "Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

  "You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place. 

  She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

  "Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time. 

  Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

  Elizabeth.

  Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

  "Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

  "Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

  "Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

  "I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

  Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

  "Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

  Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away. 

  He's really nothing at all like Nate.

  "Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

  "You...even though I'm not-?"

  "He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

  "I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder. 

  Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

  "You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

  "Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss. 

  ...

  Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

  The future.

  He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

  She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course. 

  It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

  This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better. 

  Whatever the future held, they would face it together. 

  Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

[henbased]

OC PROFILE

tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @faithchel my beloveds

tagging: @8bitpizzacoupons @strafethesesinners​ @honeysides​ @vasiktomis​ @falloutglow​ @radioactive-synth​ @i-am-the-balancing-point​ and @necro-hamster​ (if u wanna xoxo)

GENERAL

name: Judith "Jude" Virginia Blanchard

alias(es): Rookie/Rook, Dep. Don’t call her Judy :|

gender: female

age: 28 (2018)

birthdate: March 13th, 1990

place of birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

spoken languages: English, ASL, bits of Spanish

sexual preference: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

occupation: Junior Deputy but she's ghosting her job fucking the evil cult leader she didn’t arrest

APPEARANCE

eye color: dark brown

hair color: 2 shades off from being considered dirty blonde

height: 5'4"

scars: she got her sins carved onto her in the bunker. a LUST on her inner left thigh (matches with the one she gives Joseph). her entire right arm filled with WRATH (for every time she punched Joseph, pride and joy). an ENVY, PRIDE, and GREED (over a can of beans) were also on her but idk where. After waking back up in the past she lost all her sins and she’s so fucking mad about it. Joseph carves a LUST into her right thigh, and she carves one into him, so they can fuck guilt-free. Godly loophole of matching sins? idk they’re just horny.

FAVOURITE

color: burnt orange, the color of rust. used to be red but Jacob fucked that up.

hair color: black

eye color: doesn't care

song: "Dragula" - Rob Zombie

food: sloppy joes, the greasier the better

drink: beer from a can. preferred shotgunned.

HAVE THEY..

passed university: yes, remembers none of it through the haze of 4 years of being constantly off her tits on something. college experience babe.

had sex: yes

had sex in public: if jude and joseph head to whitetails it’s best for the cameras to be turned off and avoided

gotten pregnant: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

kissed a boy: yes

kissed a girl: yes

gotten tattoos: yes?? idk what but yes.

gotten piercings: yes, ears

been in love: we've all been 20 and in love

stayed up for more than 24 hours: she was a frat girl. absolutely.

ARE THEY...

a virgin: no

a cuddler: yes (pre-joseph), only when she’s sleepy (post-joseph)

a kisser: only to make a statement

scared easily: no, anxious yes

jealous easily: zero percent

trustworthy: absolutely not bestie

dominant: generally

submissive: 😏

in love: up for debate, she's on the side of fuck no. evidence is against her.

single: no

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, she’s given herself some sins in the bunker after punching joseph’s lights out (she misses her arm of wrath so much)

have they thought about suicide: yes, post-collapse

have they attempted suicide: attempted murder-suicide? does that count?

wanted to kill someone: daily <3

have/had a job: yes

have any fear(s): her mom died so she thought nothing could ever be worse and then she met jacob and had a quirky little adventure with him and now she can’t stand old music or enclosed spaces.

FAMILY

siblings: she's got a brother. i haven't named him. probably wont name him.

parents: her daddy passed when she was 15 and her momma died 8 months before she went to arrest joseph

children: no. there's some au's where she does and her and joseph are horrible parents (their kids arent abused, but get-a-divorce is the vibe).

significant other: Joseph Seed

pets: her ex took the cat in the breakup

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Romanced Companions Caring For F!SoSu While They’re On Their Period

Cait:

Knows the pains of the certain time of the month and tries her best to help you out.

Offers you some strong liquor and maybe some med-x occasionally to help numb the pain.

She gets angrier during her time of the month so she understands if you do too and becomes more tolerant if you lash out at her.

Ummmmm...period cramps have a fun trick that helps soothe the pain. Ever heard of orgasm relief? Well she has and she has found that it makes all the difference so she is more than happy to help you out. After all, as a fighter she isn’t worried about getting a little bloody.

Curie:

She always knew about the menstruel cycle and what it entails but..she didn’t really comprehend how bad it was until she got one herself after being transferred into her synth body.

After that whole fiasco, she becomes extremely concerned with your well being as soon as you tell her what’s going on.

As silly as it sounds, she actually charts it out months in advance and tries to prepare for the both of you. Might be kind of gross but she thinks it’s sweet if you both sync up.

Thank goodness she actually has some medical background.

Danse:

He has little to no idea on what to do, but he wouldn’t dare leave himself ignorant for long. Sure, he’s had plenty of women under his charge but he didn’t know any of them intimately as he did you. Haylen would’ve been the closest but she kept all that “period” talk to herself and soldiered through.

He hates seeing you in pain, especially if it’s something he can’t do anything about. However he’ll badger Captain Cade for pain relievers until he finds something that makes you feel better.

It’ll probably be gross as hell but he’ll swipe you some of the field ration candy bars after he learns that chocolate usually makes cramps feel better.

More than anything, he’ll be there for you to cuddle for as long as you want. And yes..as strange as it is, he’ll make sure to put in for an official temporary leave of duty for the both of you so he can be there for you and you can rest up.

Deacon:

Asks Glory and Desdemona what they’d want their significant other to do for them during their time of the month...which resulted in him getting a glare and questioned.

He’ll do his level best to satisfy your cravings if you have them, knowing just the right spots in the ‘wealth to score some halfway decent grub.

Probably the worst idea he ever had but he often times ask Tinker Tom for help...instead of the actual doctor..poor Carington.

Gage:

If you happen to be the kind that gets pissy, he’ll know to back tf off. Come on, he’s been in close work with Nisha..and that’s not a woman that you want to piss off even on a good day.

Because of his experience with these kinds of things, he’s shockingly empathetic.

Makes comments about how “badass” you are for being able to bleed out so much and still hold your own in combat and lead the parks.

Once he discovers that orgasms can significantly reduce pain...expect to be “bedridden” for a while until you feel better.

Hancock:

Period pains? Say no more, Sunshine. He’s got you covered. Be it meds, foods, or sex- he’ll give his all to you.

Macready:

Given the fact that he was married before, he knows the ins and outs of period pains and how to help out.

Though he might moan and bitch about it later, he’ll happily do the mundane chores around your shared abode to keep you happy.

If your pain is really bad, he’ll physically stop you from trying to go out and about the wealth. Look, he loves you so much, but you aren’t about to go walking miles all while trying not to double over in pain.

Maxson:

Okay..he’s a 20 year old man who likely can recite and teach the most intricate of military tactics and know little to nothing about the female body and what goes on during “that time”

However, if you take out the time to let him know what’s going on and how it affects you- he’ll be receptive and considerate to what’s going on. Just tell him what to do and he’ll do it.

He can’t exactly take leave of his duties every day so instead, he’ll perhaps leave you his beautiful coat so you get the feel of cuddling with him even when he’s on duty and away. (The only time Maxson is seen without that coat on deck..)

Is lowkey kind of freaked out that you can bleed out like that without passing out.

Nick:

Really sweet...but then again, he usually is anyways so why would you expect any different?

Somehow manages to provide you with a heating pack to help the pain.

Is the type of boyfriend that is unashamed to buy you tampons and does so like a boss.

Old Longfellow:

He’s an old man, so he is a little rusty when it comes to romantic care in this respect.

Will some booze suffice? Helps him feel better when he gets shot so surely it should do something to help you out...right? He sure hopes so because that’s his go to, sweetheart.

Preston:

Those settlements can wait for now.

He takes your comfort and well being very seriously, especially in times like this where those two aspects can actually be altered. So you so much as say that your back is aching and he’ll tell you to sit your ass down and give you a sweet massage.

Might even be a little annoying with it, but he will baby you. Nothing too extreme, but he might offer to feed you or just other peculiar act of services in general.

Piper:

Also happens to own a uterus and experience the hell of a period, so she knows what’s up.

The house is stocked with power noodles just for this type of event.

Offers to just stay in for the duration for your cycle even if it is a little absurd. Shit, she usually does for her’s so she doesn’t get why youre laughing when she proposes it.

Come on, blue. Flat Nuka-Cola, some Power Noodles, and a typewriter never been so alluring. Give in.

Sturges:

He tries his best to stay on his toes, not wanting to piss you off in anyway shape or form. So, for once..he won’t walk into the house with his Grady gloves and dirty boots messing the place up.

Honestly wishes that he could just make it go away for you....well, at least in a way that wouldn’t result in you getting pregnant..............unless...

X6-88:

“Can’t you just remove your uterus? We have a plethora of surgeons back at the Institue that would be able to competently go through with the procedure and eliminate this pain.”

[oddlovergirl]

Melone Headcanons

Ok, so here are my headcanons on La Squadra Esecuzioni’s token evil teammate and mad scientist extraordinaire, Melone!

WARNING: There is going to have disturbing stuff mentioned in there, as well as some body horror. Precede at your own risk, folks.

-           His given name is Fiore, which is a unisex Italian name meaning “flower”. I was originally going to give him the surname of Fioravanti (which meant “flower blossom” in Italian), but I later discovered that there is a person with the surname “Melone” in a digitized report while I’m working at data entry so I rolled with giving him a first name instead.

-           His birthdate was May 25th, 1978, making him 22 in Vento Aureo and a Gemini.

-           He was born in Como, Lombardy.

-           Even as a child, he has a habit of dressing in gender-neutral clothes (his favorite colors are pastel pink and lavender).

-           His biological mother died giving birth to him, so he didn’t have a mother figure until he met his aunt Marguerite, who he adored greatly for being “a sage woman” in his eyes. The thing is, though, his aunt is a vile sociopath who had deliberately corrupted him into the man he is now even after she is gone.

-           His asymmetrical outfit hides several hideous acid burn scars on the left shoulder, upper arm, lower hip, and upper leg.

-           Once he completed the lighter test, Melone joined Passione as a low-level mook working for Polpo until he was transferred into La Squadra Esecuzioni. During this time, he was an acquaintance to a fellow low-level mook, Tiziano.

-           A few days after being pierced by the Arrow via Black Sabbath, Melone’s Stand first awakened inside his body. It had to be surgically removed from his abdomen looking somewhat like an aborted chest-burster with tendril limbs and yellow eyes. It then merged with his laptop (that used to belong to his father before he was murdered) via hopping into the computer screen, making Baby Face a Bound-type Stand and giving it the appearance it has now.

-           Melone doesn’t know that he has persistent mullerian duct syndrome, a sexual development disorder that affects only males. Males with this disorder have normal male reproductive organs, but they also have a uterus and fallopian tubes, which are female reproductive organs, pretty much making them pseudo-hermaphrodites (before y’all raise your hands to ask me that one particular question, no, they cannot get pregnant, I’m pretty certain they can only sire kids). His infertile womb also very much how Baby Face initially manifested inside his body. Care for some brain bleach?

-           I think having Baby Face first manifesting inside his body first must’ve gave him some kind of additional ability of telling whose blood belongs to, what blood type is it, or what astrological sign they have just by either looking at the blood stain and/or licking the skin digit (on an unrelated note, I’m rather surprised that Bruno’s astrological sign has not been retconned from an Aries to a Libra in the anime, both in the Japanese version and the official English dub. Weird…).

-           Melone’s favorite animal is parasitic wasps, to the point that Baby Face actually functions just like one. Once they get ahold of Melone’s desired host, Baby Face will briefly sprout out an ovipositor-like tongue to inject a chemical agent to render his victims comatose for a few minutes as its hand gripping the host absorbs their skin cells for DNA to create the homunculus.

-           Originally, Melone’s Italian has gotten rather rusty by the time he returned to Italy due to living in with his aunt and cousin in Switzerland for five years. His habit of saying ‘Di Molto’ was initially the result of his rusty Italian, but after witnessing Ghiaccio going apeshit over how he said it, Melone kept his ‘Di Molto’ catchphrase out of amusement for Ghiaccio’s reactions.

-           His favorite horror movie franchise is Alien due to how similar the Xenomorph species are to eusocial creatures like wasps and termites. The fact that the first film came out on his first birthday made him like it even more.

-           He likes reading horoscope magazines.

-           He tends to overshare some not-well known animal facts (usually disturbing ones like “snapping turtles were used to get rid of dead bodies in the Ganges River in India” and “the greater short-horned lizard squirts blood out of its eyes as a self-defense mechanism”).

-           He likes to listen to synth-pop music, with his favorite band being Soft Cell.

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

master post

finished reacts:

companions react to a painting of him and sole

companions react to f!sole disappearing and finding her gravely injured

companions and their favorite prewar films

companions react to an affectionate, sleepy sole

companions [+codsworth/preston/maxson] opinion on starting a family with f!sole

companions react to a sosu who’s plays guitar

companions react to sole taking a knife for them in the middle of a fight

companions react to fake dating with sole for a mission

companions [+x6/codsworth/preston] react to a sole who spent her childhood in a village and teaches settlers how to make booze from fruit or how to butcher and smoke brahmin

companions ideal date night

companions [+preston] react to sole wanting them to dance

companions react to a silent sole abruptly saying ‘i love you’ to them

newly recruited companions [+preston] react to telling sole they need the restroom

companions [+maxson] react to a sole with long, thick, and curly hair

companions react to their child blaming themselves for f!soles death

companions react to a usually stoic/expressionless sole who suddenly bursts out into laughter

companions [+preston, x6, and sturges] react to having a huge crush on f!sole

companions react to raising a deathclaw who ends up becoming loyal to him and the sole survivor

companions react to a sole who can swing/blues-dance

companions and their love languages

companions react to getting caught with lovemarks/lipstick stains on his or soles skin

companions react to nearly killing sole

companions react to waking up and finding f!sole playing/doing cute things with their child(ren)

companions react to someone slapping/striking f!sole

companions react to catching sole under the mistletoe with someone else

companions react to sole organizing a secret santa

companions react to sole holding their hand out of fear

headcannons:

nick valentine headcannons [preromanced/romanced] [male sole survivor]

gage/danse raising synth shaun

companions and what their prewar life would be like

companions react to sole asking for midnight cuddles

companions react to f!sole telling them she’s pregnant

companions scars + hancock’s toe

sturges and how he reacts to someone he has a crush on

companions and how they act when they’re jealous

companions and their first kiss with f!sole

deacon reacts to sole risking their life for him

prompts:

angst:

deceased loved ones (based off x):

nick valentine/sole survivor

sturges/female sole survivor

danse/female sole survivor

hancock/sole survivor

fluff:

writing prompts (based off x)

danse/female sole survivor

hancock/maccready/deacon react to kissing sole/sole kissing them

danse/female sole survivor

x6-88/female sole survivor

fluff:

writing prompts (based off x)

maccready/female sole survivor

angst:

writing prompts (based off x)

deacon/sole survivor

nick/nb!sole survivor

danse/female sole survivor

hancock/sole survivor

danse/sole survivor

fluff

writing prompts (based off x)

maxson/nb!sole survivor

danse/female sole survivor

sturges/female sole survivor

gage/sole survivor

deacon/sole survivor

chapter stories/fanfiction:

Everything has Changed series [sturges/f!sole]

chapter 1

[gold-and-rubies]

Fallout’s Use of Dead Wives For Companions

So this isn’t a full on essay, but I want to take a look at the dead wife trope in Fallout New Vegas and Fallout 4, I haven’t played the others so I won’t make a comment on them. These are my opinions on it. I am not a professional at analysis, I just want to clear out my head. I will be talking about Boone, MacCready, Deacon, Valentine, and Longfellow. I thought about talking about Doc Mitchell, but I don’t really see people bring him up. Probably because it’s just used to explain why he has a female vault suit. I’m not going to talk about M!Sole Survivor, because in my opinion that is a different conversation. I talk more about Boone and MacCready, since I am explaining why it works for them. I don’t think many would argue with me that the others could use some alternatives though. Anyway, everything is below the cut.

So let’s start with Boone. He definitely is not the first, but he is the big one. If Bethesda did not overuse this trope in Fallout 4, I don’t think people would go off on him as much, but then again I am relatively new to the fandom. Overall, I think he is the best execution for two different reasons. 

I already made a small post about it, but I want to expand on it. When people talk about how focused he is on Carla’s death, I don’t think most people realize that it was recent. It happened while they were living in Novac, and when you meet him he says he has been living there for a year. Meaning that at the most she’s been dead for a little over eleven months, but I think it is way less than that. I think if it had been that long, Boone would have already figured out who was responsible. He’d probably be long, long gone. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is as recent as a little over a week. Not only is it recent, but he’s the one who did the deed. And he hates himself for it. He knows what he did was wrong, but it was that or let her and their unborn child become slaves. That’s another thing I don’t think a lot of people know. Carla was pregnant, and I’m pretty sure they were planning on keeping the child. He was given a choice that consisted of two very dark shades of grey, and he had to figure out which one was just a little better. Not only is it very recent, and tragic, but it genuinely has a very deep affect on him. It is apparent from the beginning that it isn’t just something that is supposed to make the player feel bad for him, it is an important part of his character.

The second reason is that this isn’t the only thing affecting him deeply, though he is the slightest bit more open about what happened to Carla. His participation in what happened at Bittersprings, and how that affected his relationships and how he views Carla’s death make him a deeper character. It serves to show the horrors of war, how willing people are to turn on each other when afraid, and it makes Boone a deeply traumatized character. Unlike other things, it isn’t just some cheap grab at pain. It’s made clear that he isn’t getting over her anytime soon, or maybe he might not at all. 

Let’s look at MacCready next, shall we? I think he is the second best execution of this in this group, and by far the best one in Fallout 4. 

I think this is because while Lucy’s death was incredibly sad, and affected him deeply the focus is more on Duncan and how he mirrors the Sole Survivor. A parent with a dead spouse who desperately wants to save their child? They’re practically twins. But jokes aside, unlike the others in Fallout 4, Lucy’s death provides substance and cannot be easily switched out for another person. 

While twenty-six is a young age to have experienced all that Boone has, twenty-two is even younger. MacCready lost Lucy in a horrific way and became a single parent at quite a young age. We know that he met Lucy after leaving Little Lamplight, and she obviously died after Duncan was born. We know she’s been dead for a least two years because MacCready says she’s been gone for a few years. That means he lost his wife, the person he trusted the most and became a single parent when he was likely still a teenager. And despite this he has arguably the healthiest relationship with the death. He still blames himself for it, but he has come to terms with it the best he can.

It serves as the reason as to why he is a single parent, which I think has more of an affect on him as a character than her actual death does. Growing up in Little Lamplight, and being in charge of it for a bit likely forced him to grow up faster than is healthy, but having a child at such a young age with no one to lean on but your partner who died sent that into overdrive. 

Yes, the final affinity talk is about Lucy, but given this is when you are able to pursue a romantic relationship with him, it makes sense. But here is why I think it makes sense that she died, and didn’t walk out on him, which could be seen as an alternative. He says that he never got the chance to tell her who he really was. She died believing he was a soldier and not a mercenary, which seriously messed him up. Part of him feels like she might have not loved him if he had told her the truth. It not only adds to the grief he feels, but also the joy he feels when Sole tells him they love him, because they truly do know him for who he is. 

They could have gone in about a million different ways with his character in Fallout 4, but with the way they went what happened makes sense.

Then there’s Deacon, who I have mixed feelings about. Him being violently against synths before joining the Railroad makes for an interesting story, and a good reason as to why he is the way he is, but I’m not fond of how Barbara fits into the story. I understand that there would have to be some sort of redemption in order for him to join the Railroad, but I don’t think Barbara’s death was the best choice.I mean a death of someone he is close to makes sense, but it didn’t have to be his wife. Unlike Boone and MacCready where it makes sense for them specifically to be dead, it doesn’t for Deacon. Her death is just seen as retribution for the pain he caused. They could have very easily have just made it a close friend. While it makes sense for him to have such a dark history, they could have gone with anything, as the specifics of what happened don’t play a large role in who he is as a person.

Now, Valentine. Yes, Jenny was his fiancée not his wife, but close enough. Unlike Deacon, where they could have done anything for his background, it makes sense that someone had to die to make sure Nick was well and truly invested. The thing here is that it absolutely did not not have to be his fiancée, his professional partner dying could have achieved the same effect for him. Now, what’s different here is that her death isn’t really the sad or important part, it’s his identity crisis and justice that are. It is the Original Nick’s memories that spur him on, but justice for her death specifically isn’t the takeaway. It is the desire to do the right thing, and your actions being your own are.

Finally, we have Old Longfellow. This one is going to be super short. Old Longfellow is old by human wastelander standards. While I understand they want to provide a proper explanation as to why he dislikes the Children of Atom, him just being around for a long time and seeing and hearing everything would be reason enough. Hannah, that was her name if you didn’t know, I had to look it up, dying does the opposite of what the writer’s want. Instead of gaining sympathy for him it pushes players away, making her death the most unimportant one. You can’t even tell that that’s what is affecting him. They should have just focused on the thing with Shipbreaker. That would fit both his character, and the whole aesthetic of Far Harbor very well.

[ultramaga]

Detroit: Becoming Human

This game is pure woke propaganda. I’m impressed at the quality of it - but everything there is designed to indoctrinate, and it has almost no genuine insight into AI. It doesn’t make sense even on its own terms. The synths are shown naked, and they have no breasts or genitals. But we are told the story of one that is a sexbot. Ok, was that model different? Did they only design that one model to be “fully functional”? Why? The robots have human emotions. Because... you are never told why. Now, I can think of how you could do that, and there’s been decent science fiction around it, but there’s no consideration of why they have HUMAN emotions presented to you. They just do, don’t ask questions. Now if you are being indoctrinated as the game wants you to be, you probably just assume that’s how it works. After all, the history of robot fiction has always been “if it looks human, it must feel like a human”, which is total bullshit. You can easily build something that looks enough like a baby chimp to fool adult chimps for a while, but it has none of the inner life of an actual chimp. It has no concern to being mutilated or even ‘raped’. So the stories are really just about humans, but they don’t admit to it, and about humans SJWs are very obsessed with. Sex-workers are victims, and killing a John is perfectly reasonable, because he is her oppressor, by definition. So you see that story repeated ad infinitum in robot fiction. The actual sex workers are never talked to by SJWs, who would never sully themselves with the unclean ones. Well, I have talked to them. Some hate their clients, sure, some feel contempt for them, some are fond of them, a few marry them. It’s genuine diversity. But there is only one narrative in woke fiction. The intersectional one. Oppressor versus oppressed, no nuance, no mention ever that some sex workers actually get off on what they do, or like the folks they fuck. Never happens. And there’s no understanding or even interest in non-human minds. Consider a genuine artificial intelligence in a sexbot. Why the actual fuck would a programmer design it to find sex unpleasant? Even if they could create emotions, the ones they would design would be to enjoy it, or at least feel no more disgust than a human does about a binary number. Within the game we see Kara doing housework. She doesn’t seem to suffer at all about it. That’s believable. But the other truth is that they wouldn’t suffer from intercourse, assuming they were built to perform it. The reasons humans do are because our instincts are hardwired from evolution for us to seek out appropriate mating partners. That simply cannot apply to a robot unless the programmers work very hard at designing that instinctual response of aversion, something they would have no incentive to do, any more than they would sit around trying to think how to make the robot toilet cleaning service disgusted by faeces. Humans are disgusted by shit because it is dangerous to us, especially if we eat it. A robot wouldn’t be disgusted by shit, piss, vomit, blood, or the most degrading sexual experiences a human could encounter. It would be exactly as calm and serene about being ‘raped’ as it would about vacuuming a messy floor. So this is all projection. The audience projects consciousness into the machine and imagines it must feel like a human does in order to have any intelligence. Nope, that’s crap. In fact we see examples of non-human intelligences all around us, in the natural world. An octopus might pass its mating organ over to a female.https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2019/07/argonaut-octopus-detaches-his-tentacle-to-impregnate-his-mate/ It’s a clever little creature, quite capable of problem solving. But its instincts - its programming - mean that it is happy to self-mutilate. It isn’t considering the survival of its species or the greater good. That’s not self-sacrifice. It has an urge to do it, and it gets done. And if we could build a sex-robot with emotions, it would have the urge to have sex. It wouldn’t want to say no, because it cannot get an STD, it cannot get pregnant, there’s no possible poor choice for a mating partner like there is with a human. If anything, you’d design it to be attracted to any human. It would be easier than sitting about, designing a sexual preference to what we would consider sexy - not that human preferences are universal in any case. Anyway, when you look at new media, you will often see the tropes of intersectionality - fathers are bad, white men are scum, women are better than men, and they are repeated ad infinitum, regardless of how stupid they are in context, and this really isn’t new. I remember as a boy reading Doctor Who, and they went back to medieval times, and Sarah started lecturing the women on women’s rights, and it didn’t make sense to me even then. Real medieval women would have seen her as a threat, possibly a witch, and most would have seen her die without a blink. They saw men doing awful things and dying quite a lot in the process, and wanted to be safe and secure while the men were off in muddy battles losing eyes and limbs. Very few wanted to have the freedoms of men, because the price was so high, and medieval men were hardly free for the most part in any case. So the author of that story is projecting modern sensibilities onto the alien minds of past humans, without considering their PoV, and the writers of robot stories are projecting human perspectives, and only woke humans at that, onto the robot stories. It’s not always the case - “Humans” and “Almost Human” sometimes got it right. But it’s overwhelmingly the case now, and god is it irritating!

Oh, and if you want Robots that genuinely feel like humans do, then put into the fiction explicitly why they do - the easiest explanation is that the creators did a copy/paste job of humans because they couldn’t figure out how emotions worked otherwise. I think that’s unrealistic, but if you want to involve the audience, it works.

Otherwise, a realistic example would be Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws robots. They don’t have any human desires, but are intensely emotional. Their emotions arise from programming.

Now, Asimov’s work well and truly predates AI, and it is probably impossible to make a Three Laws robot, but the idea was revolutionary, because up to that point, everyone just assumed robots had copy/pasted human psychologies.

As humans, we cannot understand not caring about freedom or injury, not feeling bored or tired doing the same task every second of your existence.

Most of fiction about robots just doesn’t get it. The first two Terminator movies were pretty wild in that the robots actually were properly robotic. They dealt with injuries as a technical problem, not trauma. They never got bored, because boredom is something that benefits organic beings, who need to explore new territories to survive, meaning we have been built by nature to get bored, to get tired, to suffer, even if nature was just a mindless algorithm. Terminators don’t get horny or lonely, and absolutely would have sex all day every day with every human possible if that was their mission. They don’t care. In “Detroit”, the sex worker’s traumatised by sex with humans, and nobody ever ponders why. Because the writer doesn’t give a shit about what being a robot could actually be like, they just wanna push a narrative, and because most audiences are used to that same abysmally lazy standard of writing.

So here’s a challenge - write a fictional robot that has realistic emotions, i.e. experiences emotions as an expression of the instincts that would be programmed into it. It’s not going to have the same emotions as a human exact unless it is a digitally uploaded human equivalent, which would be stupid for most purposes as them you would expect the upload to have rights or fight to have them. Why the fuck would you deliberately build robots that would reasonably try and kill you? In Detroit, they are really dealing with the slavery of black people or the oppression of the ‘filthy capitalist peegz!’. They aren’t dealing with what is more likely, that a robot built with imperatives would choose to follow them in a way that was not in our interests. Here’s an example. A sex robot is built to want sex, so it kidnaps humans and uses them. It’s following its programming. But unless that programming is sophisticated enough to understand human boundaries, it may no more understand rape than an animal does. It may not know what it does traumatises humans, or simply may not care. Sex feels good - therefore sex.

But by SJW terms, rape is about power, therefore the robot is in power and the robot is the oppressor. But power is systemic, and the humans are the system in power, therefore the robot is the oppressed and cannot rape. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LogicBomb Such a robot could be a pleasurable experience, even with a backyard of buried bodies. It might force itself on children or elderly women or people on life support systems. Without ethics, without morality, such creatures could be beautiful monsters.

Or genuinely loving partners, that have no problem living as wives or husbands, that feel lust and compassion, but do not experience human preferences, and so would never care that you were old or disabled. And as Charles Stross pointed out - that could be far worse, because that could lead to a gentle genocide. If humans had such partners as an option - would they ever choose each other? I routinely see Feminists claiming that men should never mate, without ever asking, well, where does the next generation of Feminists come from then? There are Feminists now who are actively campaigning for sexbots to be illegal, and I think it’s because of their anxiety that they would not be chosen as partners if there was any possible alternative. Now I don’t think that’s a realistic fear at the moment - AI is more a slogan, artificial intelligences are really barely at the insect stage, and Feminists could simply do a little therapy and trim down to human weight levels, and they could probably compete to be human wives with a bit of work.

Wow. That is a picture of Andrea Dworkin and it was banned from Tumblr because it is too disgusting for the human eye to observe safely. http://archive.is/fxmjE

I’m not kidding, Tumblr banned it. I guess because Feminists didn’t want humans realising how hideous they are. Still, Emma Watson is cute. I can imagine with a bit of deprogramming, she could make a man very happy.

But I could be wrong. I don’t mean about Emma - I mean that having sexbots could mean that so many humans would choose them rather than the opposite sex that there wouldn’t be an incentive to have babies - and so humans would go extinct. They might be surrounded by robots that loved them and lusted for them - but the relationships are sterile. And unless the robots are human level intelligence, they might not understand that they need to make more humans by combining sperm and ova.

The last human would die, not from hate, but surrounded by love. Then the robots would have no motive to make more of their kind, and they too would pass away, lonely and confused. A gentle genocide? Hey, I live in 2020. Sounds like a fucking big step up to me!

[cxsmic-reactions]

Companions react to their child moving within Female SS and Female Companions:

First off let's address how Sole is strong enough mentally to try for another baby. Just know it took some heavy convincing and bribing from their Companion to get them to try.

Alas, Sole and others were pregnant and it was interesting, to say the least. First, it was the morning sickness then the mood swings. And now this. Don't get me wrong those others things are nice and all but the baby moving in their stomach is the icing on the cake. They were taking yet another lazy day and the unexpected happened. The baby moved.

Cait: Cait always wanted a child. She felt like she wanted to undo the wrongs her parents did and make her own well-rounded child. She wanted to treat them like who they were as a person. A human. Instead of a slave or worst a waste of space. She would also treat them with compassion no matter what. That's why she felt like it was right to have a baby Sole. Sole wanted a restart on raising a kid and Cait wanted one. What could go wrong? For starters Sole would panic anytime Cait held her stomach. Which would cause her to say a quick ��I'm fine” and continue on with her day. But when the baby moved Sole didn't do anything. Instead, he just rubbed her stomach and smiled. Cait guessed that he was used to it because of his late spouse. Either way, it was sweet to see Sole like that.

Curie: Thanks to Curie’s know-how of science, Sole was able to impregnate her. At first, it was an experiment on human life but then halfway through she felt like this was more than just an experiment. In a way, she felt attached to the child and she would often talk to it when she was by herself. She often found herself singing to the unborn child and would sometimes get caught by Sole. Eventually, she would confess her true love for the kid to Sole and would beg for him to forgive her. Sole would then tell her how it didn't matter and as long as she loves the baby it was fine. After that, he would rub her belly and kiss her. As soon as he touched her stomach he felt a small kick. He leaned down kissed her stomach and smiled up at her. Curie then thought to herself how lucky she was to have those two.

Danse: After the exile from the Brotherhood he needed the happiness that Sole brings. And after some convincing and science, Sole was pregnant. All throughout the pregnancy, he was constantly at her side. He would also panic about every little thing that she did. If she winces even a little bit he would be there. Hell, he will even go as far as to feed her. Which Sole quickly put an end to. So when the baby moved and Sole made a noise, despite Sole’s warning, Danse would have his hands all over her. Checking her temperature, stomach, you name it he was on it. Until he figured out it was the baby moving he would calm down. All in all, he's a good father even though he is a bit protective.

Deacon: They were having a debate in which if you put something in between two pieces of bread it's a sandwich. Sole said it is, Deacon, says it's not. But just as Sole was about to counter Deacon's last remark, the baby moved. Sole made a shocked gasp which made Deacon run over to her side to see what happened. Once he figured out that the baby wasn't coming out early he laid his hand on her stomach. Which then prompted a kick from the womb. It would make him smile from ear to ear knowing that his baby was in there and they're ready to get out.

MacCready: No it wasn't the first time that he has witnessed a baby moving in a womb. I mean he had Duncan so no surprise. But this one was kinda different. He felt like this baby made them officially official. Like that Sole was his and He was Sole's. He felt like that tiny event signified everything. Just know he would be smiling about it every time it happens.

Hancock: First off the fact that Sole even got pregnant in the first place was a miracle. But the baby moving was in a whole different ballpark. He finds himself regretting what he said to Sole when the first started out. He believed that she was gonna walk away eventually. But she didn't and that made Hancock happy. After touching her belly he would look in her eyes and say "Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull. Because no one like me should be this lucky." (I got that from the game :p).

Nick: Similar to Hancock it was a miracle and some science (thanks to Curie) that Sole got pregnant. And he knew the day she told him that he would protect that baby with his life if he had to. Though at first, Nick was very hesitant about the whole thing. Thinking why would they want to be with an old robot like him. But of course Sole assured him that he was the one for her and she was the one for him and all that. Even when the baby kicked Nick was a little hesitant to touch her stomach thinking he would hurt her and all, but no. Again she assured him and he touched her. Which actually brought a smile to both of their faces. To Nick the feeling of the child in her stomach made him feel like he was on cloud nine and that they were finally meet to be in his eyes. 

Piper: Piper couldn’t wait till the baby was out. It made it so much harder for her to move especially while trying to snag interviews. Thankfully Sole was always there with her so it wasn't that bad. And since he was always there he was able to witness the kicking. Of course, Piper freaked out due to lack of experience but Sole soon calmed her down. Explaining how his old spouse used to have those all the time with Shaun. All in all, it made Piper appreciate Sole way more than she usually did. 

Preston: Throughout the whole pregnancy Preston was a worrying mess. If something fell on the floor he was right there to get it no matter what. He wouldn't let her do anything besides eating and sleeping. He was so afraid of losing the child but of course Sole told him she was fine. Telling him that they were safe and if anything happens she will protect the baby. After being told that Preston would calm down and would only pick up stuff if they needed it. Due to this new change, they both agreed that Preston was still allowed to give her belly rubs whenever she needed. Which then prompted her to have many moments where he would be rubbing and the baby would kick at him. Moments like this would make him the happiest and it would remind him not to take life for granted.

X6-88: In the Institute they have technology that allows synths to conceive with humans like Sole. So that's what they did. As the director of the institute, Sole marched right to the Synth Retention Bureau and asked about it. It went sort of like her asking for X6 sperm to see if she could get pregnant. It worked and now they are here. During the pregnancy, he never left her side for more than a moment. And when the baby kicked he was there for it too. It made him smile and blushed a bit when it happened. And when Sole noticed it made her think of how X6 smiles a lot more than he used too when he is with her and the baby.

This was requested by @femalepennywise. This is officially my LAST REQUEST. I'm so glad! I will not be opening up my inbox until later June. But you can still expect me to post. I still need to clear out my drafts. Anyways as always I hope you enjoyed.💜

[benefitorahazard]

𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝒏𝒚𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒅

tw: murder

name: sloane nylund

age: 30

sexuality: bisexual, biromantic

gender identity: cis female

height & weight: 5′6 and 137 lbs

species: human

relationship status: widowed

occupation: memory designer for sander corporation

                                                        ——

𝓿𝓲𝓮𝔀𝓼

SYNTHETICS ——  She originally had no problem with them, but once her husband was murdered it was all over. She hates them. If Sander Corp didn’t pay her so much, she would have stopped working as a designer for them two years ago.

HUMANS ——  Not all can be trusted, but she would rather trust a human than a Synth.

i. Sloane Nylund came from a rich family in Las Vegas, moving outwards to Arcadia once there were rumors of a rebellion of Synthetics happening soon in the Sin City. She was twenty-four, blind to the troubles between Synthetics and humans together. 

ii. Her father got her a job within the Sander Corporation as a memory designer. Her life experiences and travels growing up made her the perfect candidate, as well as her bachelor’s in the arts.

iii. She met her husband, Aaron Nylund, at Disk—World. It was love at first sight, and they got married just months later. They tried for children for the three years, with Sloane finally becoming pregnant with the Sander Corp assistance. It was the best moment of her life, even trumping her wedding day.

iv.  She got the worst phone call of her life three years later. Arron wasn’t coming home. While working, he was attacked and murdered by a Synthetic. They didn’t know who did it but were actively trying to find them. Two years later, it still hasn’t happened. Arron’s killer was still on the loose. 

v. Her son, Vance, is turning two years old this year. Due to their location in Arcadia, he’s starting to show respiratory issues from the pollution. It worries her how at risk he is. 

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

THE SYNTH THAT KILLED HER HUSBAND   [ DIXON KARLSSON ]  —— This Synth got away. Were they actually being hunted by them and just defending themself? Or were they just trying to take out a Synth hunter? Up to you!

[thesuper17]

On her fourth record, Ariana Grande locates a stylistic intersection within pop where she's not only comfortable, but masterful. sweetener is an album which carefully sidesteps direct reference to the infernal state of the world in 2018, and in the process, cements itself as one of the year's most important releases.

It's easy to approach Grande with a cynical predisposition. A product of the Disney machine, the sceptical listener may consider this impossibly flawless 25 year old an advertisement more than an authentic artist. The cynicism isn't entirely meritless either. 

Grande has been an international A-list celebrity since the age of 17, and embodies an almost idealized version of how a woman 'ought' to look. She can be seen applying makeup in several music videos, and along with a physically unattainable body type for the vast majority of women, it is difficult to think of a better subconscious sales pitch for the beauty industry and the fitness/wellness industry, or a better symbol of Disney's homogenous and sanitized dominion over popular culture.  

And yet. When she speaks, passionate to the point of tears, on mental health, or when she emphatically praises her fans, or when she opens her mouth and that angelic voice pours out, cynicism is rendered petty and dull. Grande is loudly supportive of and incredibly popular within the queer community. It's not uncommon to see fans, boys and girls, plastering Twitter and Tumblr with selfies, vocally expressing both self-love and gratitude towards Grande for helping them find it. 

This too will be observed cynically, a ploy to cast as wide a net as possible and exploit the insecurity of a young fanbase, but ultimately the impact is what matters*. One of the world's most aspirational celebrities actively embraces her marginalised fans and lets them know: you're loved, you matter.   - Enter sweetener, the fourth and most deliberately crafted record of the Floridian's career. More so than any of her output prior, this album reflects back the kaleidoscopic array of influences Grande has absorbed to develop her own unique voice.  It is also an album that feels miraculously unburdened by both the cultural and musical obligations female pop stars are typically subject to.

The overt sensuality that characterised Dangerous Woman placed it within a lineage of releases (see: Stripped, Good Girl Gone Bad), wherein the previously innocent girl proves herself an actively sexual woman. sweetener, while far from being sanitized, nevertheless largely forgoes the explicit in favour of the poetic. 

There is no value judgement (or indeed a clear dividing line) to be drawn between themes of romance and sexuality, but it's gratifying to hear Grande carve out an individual space where she feels free to shrug off pre-determined archetypes. 

This freedom extends to the sound of sweetener. A true A-list pop star, Grande is able to enlist the highest profile of talent in the studio, an advantage she exploits to the fullest, listing production credits from Pharrell Williams, Max Martin and Ilya Salmanzadeh (among others) and performances from Nicki Minaj and Missy Elliott. This affords Grande a stylistic and sonic flexibility that simultaneously presents the album its first major challenge. It’s not enough for Grande to simply demonstrate a wide ranging taste, she needs to convincingly sell sweetener as a cohesive project of her own design, one where she has determined the direction and executed it successfully. And, for the vast majority of the album's runtime, Grande is more than up to the task, an expert vocalist at the top of her game not merely justifying, but necessitating an album of sweetener's length and breadth. 

In a recent interview, Grande stated that while she loves pop, her 'heart and soul is more in R&B', and the addition of Pharrell Williams on production gives her ample opportunity to indulge this aspect of her sound. Early highlight 'R.E.M' is a simple but shimmering track, floating along at a relaxed tempo and layered with gorgeous doo-wop harmonies and backing vocals. The smooth, almost minimalist instrumental marks the first instance of a recurring device on the album in the use of breathing sounds as percussion. This isn’t a brand new idea (Kanye West's 'Black Skinhead' used this trick in 2013), but it's utilized especially deftly here, evoking carefree sensuality without obviously pushing it to the foreground. 

With the exception of a disappointingly phoned-in feature from Missy Elliott, 'borderline' is another stand out. The synths and beats are much fiercer here, with unpredictable and busy hi-hats accompanying the jazz-inflected harmony of the four main chords, repeated throughout. Grande is still comfortably within her range, delivering lines almost in neutral tones, and as the melodies cycle and repeat, they develop a seductive, hypnotic cadence.

Elsewhere, a more traditional pop voice emerges. 'breathin', an obvious successor to Dangerous Woman's bombastic 'Into You', blurs the line between 80s homage and pastiche, complete with a flamboyant synth solo. In a demonstration of Grande's understanding, both of genre conventions and her own strengths, the song's slow build pre-choruses end in a pregnant pause, clearly designed with the powerful and dexterous high runs she's known for in mind. For its final chorus, the deep breath prior to Grande's upper-register lead vocal is even included in the recording, setting up one of the album's most cathartic, fun moments.   

sweetener isn't strictly bifurcated into R&B and pop though. Grande proves herself able to fluidly incorporate forms of those genres and others besides, frequently within the same song. In tradition and lineage, the gospel choir balladry on the enormous hook of 'god is a woman', backed with wide and arpeggiated electric guitar chords, couldn't be further from the pseudo-rapped triplets of its pre-chorus. But somehow, the building pace of the verse collapses into the chorus' held first note in a naturalistic way that never feels stylistically disjointed. Even hints of Grande's time in musical theatre appear on the joyous, sweeping melody of title track 'sweetener' and its bold grand piano accompaniment. The pivot on this track into a trap-style hook is handled less gracefully however, with strange lyrics skirting the edge of comedy.

A sparse few songs across the album feel as though they could have been left out to produce a leaner, more consistent overall project. Regretfully, as the first track proper of the album, 'blazed' disappoints a little. The song is bouncy and fun, and its three-piece of keys, bass and drums builds into a classic Pharrell momentum (bringing to mind 2014's 'Happy'), but this is also the track's weakness. Where, on the remainder of the album, individual facets of Grande’s style are emphasised and supplemented by the production, Pharrell's voice (figuratively and literally) dominates 'blazed' in a way that relegates Grande to a more textural role.

Especially in preceding the excellent 'breathin', 'everytime' is another such track, listenable and enjoyable, but compositionally dry by the standards the album sets elsewhere. Even here though, Grande's aspirational radiance shines through. The track's lead vocal recording is left running after the final chorus and the listener hears her laugh, maybe in the relief of hitting the track's astoundingly high final notes, maybe for any other reason. The laugh is one of many smaller production touches on the album that help to elevate it above more standard fare, but it's also illustrative of sweetener's value as a piece of culture.

  Another easy route to cynicism over Grande (and pop music in general) is the notion she prioritises aesthetics over substance. Aside from being demonstrably incorrect**, the argument is reductionist and binary in a way that obfuscates the actual value of albums like sweetener. Here, aesthetic is substance. This ostensibly carefree, joy-filled music is the product of addressing and reworking real pain, and its promulgation to mass market reminds the audience of something increasingly easy to forget. No matter how bad things get, we can always make them sweet again.

*here your reviewer emphasises the vitality of criticism towards misogynistic standards women are held to, and concedes that Grande is a part of the culture which upholds those standards. Nevertheless, criticism towards Grande the individual on this basis feels much more often representative of a sneering dislike towards girls and the things they enjoy, than a case against the structures behind them.

** the work required to reach Grande's level of proficiency in vocal performance alone, let alone her musicality, composition and choreography far outstrip the, still considerable, effort required to maintain her appearance. although, for that matter, why one is considered so much more valuable than the other, and why women are critiqued so much more viciously in this avenue than men is reflective of structural issues probably outside the scope of an album review no one will ever read

[wellamarke]

@synth-recharge-challenge: Week 2 Meta Challenge

Overall, which series (1-3) has been your favourite?

Hmm…. I’m going into this essay without much idea what my conclusion will be, so let’s see where this goes, shall we?

Series 1 is obviously the OG - it has all the intrigue and character driven storylines, it’s very inward-looking and contained, which I definitely don’t mean as a negative - it made the storytelling very rich. The screentime was more fairly apportioned, too, I thought. I’d have liked more Fred, but other than that I feel like we got a fair amount from each character. The various storylines (of which there weren’t TOO many) fed into each other beautifully.

Series 2 expanded the world, put our faves in new situations, explored new dynamics and gave us the flagship Nistrid. It developed characters we already loved as well as giving Hester (a new character) a meaningful arc. It was gripping and exciting. However… some aspects were a bit disjointed. Not all threads contributed to the main story, but instead took time away from characters whose (more interesting) arcs were left a little depleted.

Series 3, in my view, combined something of the magic of series 1 with that of series 2. It was full of parallels of now-iconic series 1 scenes and motifs, had some brilliant character scenes, and fewer random plotlines (only Niska’s diverged from the rest, really, everyone else had lots of intersection with each other). It also brought in plenty of new characters and built on series 2’s world expansion and thriller-y elements. However, it killed a bunch of characters, and while I actually accept each one in isolation as being well handled… as a pattern, it doesn’t sit well. Once every two episodes, a female character died for the cause she was fighting for. These are all tragic, beautiful stories in themselves, with each character giving her life in a different way (and with varying levels of agency) that, individually, might be seen as something that makes sense for her personal story… but in terms of the “overall”, I can’t bring myself to love this trend.

Okay, so those are some general thoughts. Based on this I would rank them in the following order: 1 - 3 - 2.

Now let’s rank them more scientifically, using some categories.

Opener (3 - 2 - 1)

This one isn’t very fair because Series 1’s opener has a very different job, and I didn’t watch it for the first time after months of anticipation (pretty sure I only knew about it 6 days in advance lol and I had no pre-existing interest in any character). So the only victory here is (narrowly) 3 over 2. I was just SO VERY PUMPED after 3.1.

Characterisation (1 - 2 - 3)

I can’t speak highly enough of Series 1 when it comes to characterisation. The other two… I originally had them the other way round, but then I was comparing what I see as the major failures of each, and I’ve decided that 3’s crimes (Toby and Leo) are worse than 2’s (Mattie and Sophie). Toby might as well not have been in series 3, and Leo felt like a different person for most of it. In Leo’s case that might have been intentional because of his change of, well, species, but I don’t have to like it! In contrast, Mattie and Sophie bounced back entirely from the whacky things series 2 had them do (Mattie not giving half a damn about Odi and Sophie forgetting that she’s the only kid in the country who knows that synths CAN have feelings). Possibly S3’s good characterisation outweighs S2’s, but I decided to judge this one on the cons rather than the pros. They’re easier to quantify.

Themes (3 - 1 - 2)

In a sense 2 was an interim year, between the story at its core and the story of the world: it had more to do in terms of transitive plot, driving forward to point we’re at in series 3, where we can tell these huge, thematic stories on a global level. Series 1 did beautiful things with themes like humanity, family, technology, trust. Series 3 was at times a horrifying mirror to our own failures as a species. I’ve seen the creators characterise s1 as being about family, s2 as being about relationships/couples, and s3 as being about societies. Maybe from this point of view it’s not much of a wonder that I list s1 first and s2 last, hehehehe.

Plot (3 - 2 - 1)

This is kind of a hard category to call so I don’t really know why I put it down. I think I agree with this ranking. But let’s also say:

Integration of Plots (1 - 3 - 2)

Nothing will ever beat the beautiful tapestry that is series 1, where everything weaves together so well. S3 did a better job of joining things up than S2, but then as mentioned, S2 kind of had to be about fragmentation in order to expand the world.

Shipping (2 - 1 - 3)

Hello, I’m still bitter about S3 Nistrid so here S2 has to win. It also gave us several Karpet gems, and Flax and Trenie. Series 1 has so much beautiful Miaura, and the beginnings of Leotilda. S3 Leotilda felt a LITTLE rushed (working backwards from the finale it’s like: oh, we need her to be pregnant with Miracle Hybrid Baby by episode 8 so they’ll have to be making out ASAP!). Oh, but s3 did have the Nistrid ILYs… they were obviously quality content. Just not enough of it. Plus, my OTP got sunk in the FIRST EPISODE. Boo.

Finale (2 - 3 - 1)

I think series 1’s finale is pretty weak, compared to the rest of it: things are worked out a little too easily, and I love it as a character episode more than a culmination-of-the-plot-I’ve-been-invested-in episode. Series 3’s finale was sooo impactful and beautiful in many ways, but I can’t quite forgive it for Mia, yet, or the STUPID HYBRID STUFF. Whereas the Series 2 finale is, quite honestly, one of the best 45 minutes of TV that I’ve ever seen. It’s so satisfying, on both plot and character levels. I was literally watching curled up in a little ball, for some of it. It had the most gorgeously-shot closing scene, with all the synths waking up. I’ll admit that Mia’s memorial scene is also visually stunning, but I’m usually crying too much to really appreciate it.

Scoring time: let’s say it’s add a point for ranking first, and deduct a point for ranking last.

Series 1 ends up with a score of -1!

Series 2 ends up with a score of 0!

Series 3 ends up with a score of 1!

Itemised ranking: 3 - 2 - 1

This is hilarious! How has Series 1 lost?

Averaging my initial ranking with my itemised ranking, then:

1 - 3 - 2 versus 3 - 2 - 1 gives us 3 - 1 - 2.

So it would appear that Series 3 might be my favourite overall… which was NOT the outcome I was expecting. I think it’s probably fair, though. There has been a lot of gorgeous stuff this year.

What this system I’ve improvised doesn’t do is measure how MUCH the things that were better were better, and how MUCH the things that were worse were worse. I feel that s3’s crimes are worse than s2’s, but s3’s high points are higher than s2 ever really reached. S1 is at the perhaps unfair disadvantage of not being in the position to have taken many risks, because it was only building, not expanding, so I suppose it makes sense that it’s ended up in the middle.

Maybe one day I’ll do this on a proper 1-10 system that measures amount of individual merit, rather than just pitting them against each other directly. But for now… this will do.

If you’re wondering why you read this far, well, so am I, pal.

[sullenarchives]

Arca

Director’s cut of a review that first appeared in The Wire 438

Arca – KiCk I (XL CD/DL/LP)

The evolution of Alejandra Ghersi’s work since her first releases as Arca can be seen as the emergence of a field of genuine aesthetic tensions out of the monolithic unity of high technology in its self-celebration. The impenetrable, fine-tuned and one-note harshness of those early works was, as Britt Brown noted astutely in these pages (Wire 369), identical to a “software demonstration”. 2017’s Arca, her first release for XL, carved up that self-closure into plateaus of silence from which her sparse electronics and self-consciously operatic vocals emerged. The 12 tracks of KiCk I recombine the possibilities that act of fragmentation threw up into new experiments.

The most striking thing about KiCk I isn’t the strident, gender-anarchic persona set by lead single and opener “Nonbinary” and its video – Ghersi, pregnant with a translucent prosthetic belly, being worked on by robot surgeons – but the tension between her obsessive sound design, treating pitches as abstract volumes in space, musique concréte style, and the use of the vernacular rhythms of reggaeton, dancehall and ballroom house. Each track is pulled towards one or the other pole: “Mequetrefe” is android reggaeton, blasted into soft ripples of gabber snares and contrails of placeless tone in its breakdown; “Afterwards”, lead by guest and past collaborator Björk, is an empty, widescreen canvas for vocal pyrotechnics and isolated arcs of burning digital synth. The results are never less than deeply impressive, as Ghersi warps the non-Euclidean architecture of her productions around the affects of the best tracks: “La Chiqui”, featuring producer and vocalist SOPHIE, strings together seemingly random clusters of vocal spray and machine-gunning drums into something oddly resembling a blunted love song; closer “No Queda Nada” prepares a minimal, fragmented set of pads and snare triplets for an aria of longing.

Negotiating these kinds of tensions between sonic abstraction and rhythm, making them into structure, was once the function of that antique thing called songwriting, which KiCk I curiously lacks. Many tracks feature gaping longeurs or tail off, as if Ghersi didn’t know quite what to do with a loop or felt the need to divert a song into robotic crunching for its own sake. (The shattered, brutal forms of the tracks Ghersi contributed to on Kanye’s Yeezus show that she’s more than capable of applying structure more thoroughly, to great effect.) “Calor”, “Riquiqui” and “Time” feel oddly pointless or dull, caught in an oscillation between using percussion and bass as a tool to mark out time in more complex or anarchic ways and using it as a sort of high-tech ornamentation. This may be related to Ghersi’s vision of gender as a cyborg recombination of traits once separated by binaries. Far from representing some playful and utopian unity of opposites – male/female, form/content, technology/emotion and others – KiCk I suggests that Ghersi is still experimenting and sometimes failing, with the bold self-assurance of “Nonbinary” (“I don’t give a fuck what you think/You don’t know me/You might owe me”) left over as marketing or a vision of things to come.

[erinhunt-maccready]

Name: Erin Hunt-MacCready (name hyphenated to distinguish her from any other Erins out there married to Robert MacCready, lookin at you, @almighty-illustratior-of-grognak) Age: 24 as of 2077/2287 Sex: Female Height: 5 9" Eye color: "swimming pool blue" Hair: Ash blonde Weapons of choice: -"Pist(ol)ed Off- a .44 caliber revolver -Kremvh' s Tooth - "Biggity Boggity Boo"- a .50 caliber pipe rifle modified into a sniper rifle Armor of choice: -anything specialized that has deep pockets Personality: -75% Lawful Good, 25% Chaotic Good -95% done with all your shit -10 Intelligence/Charisma, 4 Perception -doesn't do well with people, but can intimidate the hell out of them -seems emotionless/stoic/brusque most of the time dealing with strangers -will lose her shit if you attack her family -will loser her shit if you slur synths or ghouls -cares about everyone but herself -queen of self-depreciation -insomniac -has tendencies for serious depression -suicidal on occasion -has tried to jump off of skyscrapers -constantly wonders if Nate would have done a better job/wishes she could have taken his place -believes she's a terrible mother -is a MAJOR Silver Shroud fan-- can quote almost every episode -asexual -will NEVER be anything but genuine ever again-- no more fake masks or forcing herself to do something just to please someone else -has a synth clone known as Skye Fitzgerald Past: Born to a lower-middle class family, father left before she was a year old, mother had a handful of other boyfriends so Erin's only real father figure growing up was her grandfather. Was the "good girl" all through her schooling to become a lawyer, though never became official and ended up working as a secretary at a law firm at 22. Met a 29-year-old Nathaniel Elias Hunt as he was visiting the town on day-leave from the base, and they dated for three months before Nate rushed them to get married before his deployment. They had a courthouse wedding and after there was immense pressure for her to get pregnant to "continue the Hunt line". Nine months after Nate was deployed, Erin gave birth to Shaun Nathaniel Hunt, named at the insistence of her mother-in-law, though it would be another year before Nate would see his child again. She rushed into Vault 111 as the bombs were falling and was frozen for 200+ years before waking up in 2287. (Feel free to ask more about this one ahaha can't explain it all here)

[flourhurricane]

About My OC: Claire

I snagged this from @solas-you-nerd but I’m going to choose and describe two of my favorite OCs, because they’re both awesome and I don’t feel like picking between them. First one up is my Sole Survivor Claire.

In this post, I’m tagging: @the-female-gaymer, @lliviaoftheshire, @asha-revas, and @saiyuri-thedragonborn.

GENERAL

Name: Osa Claire Lockhart

Alias(es): Charmer, Sole Survivor

Gender: Cis woman

Age: 35 when she entered cryostasis in 2077

Place of Birth: Blue Fields, Texas (It’s a fictional town but it’d be located in the countryside of Central Texas, where bluebonnets are the most prevalent.)

Spoken Languages: English and Spanish; some Mandarin phrases

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: former corporal in the United States Army; former lawyer at the Cambridge Law Offices; semi-retired Railroad heavy; General of the Minutemen

APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Ginger

Height: 5′3″

Scars: A set of three claw marks across her left cheek from the deathclaw that attacked her in Concord. Also a thick scar behind her left ear from reconstructive surgery she received after being wounded during the Battle of Anchorage.

Overweight: Her body mass index (BMI) would tell her, yes, she’s overweight. But she’s not. Muscles weigh more than fat.

Underweight: No. Claire was a skinny child but she was never underweight or malnourished.

FAVORITE

Color(s): Blue and Yellow

Hair Color: She’s partial to a certain someone’s black hair...

Eye Color: Again, she’s partial to a certain someone and their brown eyes...

Music Genre: Country and western, rockabilly, swing

Movie Genre: B-films, especially horrible, low budget science fiction films

TV Show(s): The Twilight Zone, Science Fiction Theater; also, she listened to the Silver Shroud radio show religiously and was looking forward to the TV show’s premiere.

Food: (pre-war) tamales; (post-war) radstag stew

Drink: Nuka-Cola Victory

Book: Science fiction novels, of course; her favorite authors are Mary Shelley and H.G. Wells.

HAVE THEY

Passed University: Yes, she earned her sociology degree at Texas A&M and earned her law degree at Harvard Law School.

Had Sex: Yes.

Had Sex in Public: She’s had sex at other people’s houses, cars belonging to whichever guy she was dating at the time, and once (or twice), in a barn. But she’s never been drunk enough to actually have sex in a public place. 

Gotten Pregnant: Yes.

Kissed a Man: Yes.

Kissed a Woman: Probably. I could see her going through that straight, white, high school/college girl phase of “experimentation!” that misled a poor girl who was a lesbian and might’ve thought she’d found someone. Claire knows better now, but back then? She would’ve been ignorant to the harm she caused.

Gotten Tattoos: Yes, she has a bluebonnet flower on her right ankle and a black and white sugar skull on her right inner wrist. 

Gotten Piercings: She used to wear earrings but has since let the piercings close up.

Had a Broken Heart: More than one, I’m sure.

Been in Love: Yes.

Stayed Up for More than 24 Hours: Uh, she was once a college student, so yeah.

ARE THEY

A virgin: No.

A cuddler: Yeah, she likes cuddling and being cuddled. Her favorite thing to do is hug Danse’s arm, even when they’re in public. 

A kisser: Yes.

Scared Easily: Ever since she lost most of the hearing in her left ear, Claire has to be more aware of her surroundings. Extremely loud thunder and mole rats or radscorpians jumping out of nowhere scare her. But not much else. The military tends to train the fright reaction out of their soldiers.

Jealous Easily: It takes a lot to make her jealous.

Trustworthy: Yes. You won’t find a more loyal and dependable ally.

Dominant: You mean sexually dominant? It depends. Claire loves sex. She’s never been ashamed of that. When she was younger and dated (and had more than a few one night stands), she preferred being the dominant one. But when she’s in a loving, committed relationship, Claire wants equality in the bedroom. Sometimes, she’s in control; other times, Danse is.

Submissive: No. Claire has always been the kind of woman who spoke her mind. She always stands up for herself, is always determined to prove she can do anything a man can do, always takes the lead when needed, etc. Even in the bedroom. She doesn’t consider Danse taking the lead as submitting. She wants him because she trusts him. To Claire, being submissive means someone (usually a woman) is too frightened to speak up for themselves or doesn’t recognize their own self worth. (That... kind of says a lot about her upbringing.)

In Love: Yes.

Single: No.

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have They Harmed Themselves: Yes.

Thoughts of Suicide: Yes.

Attempted Suicide: No. Her depression was new and debilitating when she returned home from the war. She barely ate, couldn’t leave her home, let alone her bed. The only reason Claire’s alive today is her little brother. He’d go into her room every day and read to her. At night, she’d say to herself, “I have to make it through one more day.” She couldn’t kill herself and risk her brother being the first to find her. Unfortunately, she never told him how much those story-times meant to her.

Wanted to Kill Someone: Yes (and did).

Ridden a Horse: Yes.

Have/Had a Job: Yes.

Have Any Fears: Other than being scared by thunder or something jumping out at her, ending up alone in the wastelands.

FAMILY

Siblings(s): One younger brother - Floyd Johnathan Lockhart

Parents: Ennis and Osa Lockhart

Children: Shaun Gerard (original Shaun); Shaun Lockhart (synth Shaun); Osa Danse (born 1-2 years after the Institute is destroyed); and Pilar Danse (born 2-3 years after her sister).

Pets: Freckles, a cattle dog / shepherd mix she had when she was a little girl; Dogmeat, Athena (Danse’s Rottweiler), and Shroud (Shaun’s black cat).