MCCARTHY,

putting the caps in capitalist!

[missghou1]

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PISTOL PACKIN' MAMA! independent & private writing blog for genevieve mccarthy, an original character set in the fallout game & show universe. multiverse, with attention towards each of the mainstream console games. lore expanded further into the Deep South. inspired by the real - life radium girls. a study in: the aesthetics of doomsday, living ghosts, beauty as currency, and the immortal allure of capitalist gain.

dead dove, do not eat. psd credit: plutocomissions. written by octavia. 21+. discord: mccarthyist. (period included) CARRD. DC’S BUMBLEBEE

[missghou1]

EUREKA, MISSISSIPPI. SOUTHERN HEADQUARTERS OF THE ATOMIC ENERGY COMISSION, EST. [REDACTED].

REAL LIFE. the town of OAK RIDGE, TENNESEE, refined the ore used in the bomb that ended WORLD WAR II. it was established for scientists to live and work in the same place. this real life extension of the manhattan project also inspired a syfy show by the name of eureka that no one remembers but me.

before the 2060s, the culture of eureka was deeply passive-aggressive, as every scientist lived and died for the peer-reviewed accolades dangled in front of their faces. it was almost hell, as scientists worked in the town where they made a life and constantly had to see each other but were never allowed to leave. familiarity breeds contempt. the townspeople have killed alleged whistleblowers by testing their worst patents.

many of the best scientists were poached by the enclave since eureka was a government property anyway. any who were too old or too sick from radiation sickness were left to die in the bombs. eureka was a ghost town by 2070.

their research originally focused on all ends of nuclear science but eventually the people of eureka became the go-to focus group & guinea pigs for any company allied with vault-tec. many of the scientists believed that their being experimented on was, in fact, their research. this could have been coping through denial or genuine belief.

either way, it affected a horrific lack of ethics in human trials & a callous culture of exploitation for gain at all costs. they used each other, had children testing products, pets. everyone did whatever it took.

mccarthy's parents were a poster of this kind of cold belief where everyone is consumer and product, profit is everything. trust no one. it's the corporate ladder on an expanded, suburban stage.

it is the scientists of eureka that kept engineering new radior products, keeping mccarthy aglow.

[missghou1]

mccarthy will say the worst thing possible to a group and when they're looking at her crazy, she'll purposefully ask 'can I get a amen'

[missghou1]

graduation was so fun, I had a time and a half!! I'm writing replies in between babysitting because the grind never stops

[missghou1]

the cathedral was nothing like the churches back home. southern steeples feigned humility in their brick with only stained glass to betray their wealth. the image of piety was homegrown, compared to the manufactured reverend. mccarthy eyed the carved marble as if it may cut her with a glance. it gave her exposed arms chills, with the sleeves of her mechanic's overalls tied around her waist.

she embraced the freedom of a caravan guard now: danger was equal exchange for a new horizon every other week. far from her inner complexities. the caps she made were greater & keeping a gun close reminded her of home. it was a comfort against the impending doom of the children of atom. every sect made the hair on her neck stand at attention without grandiose architecture.

'come unlock this chain and let me out.' from god, @bottlecapping

she spun around to aim at the voice's source, lowering her rifle slightly at the nightkin. "most times ... i'd say if you wanna make a request, you call mr. new vegas." but this was her own measure of reparation: to give her fellow outsiders the benefit of the doubt. even while she eyed the ruined corners around them. the barrel pointed towards the open pews but scanned for signs of a trap. "you oughta say hello first. you look old enough to have better manners than that."

[supesprint]

GATHER YOUR WIT, TAKE A DEEP LOOK INSIDE: ARE YOU REALLY WHO THEY IDOLIZE? TO PIMP A BUTTERFLY!

independent & private writing blog for the canon character A-TRAIN / REGGIE FRANKLIN, exclusively within the canon of the amazon prime show with key revisions past season five. iconless & low activity. written by octavia (21+). inspired by themes like quick wits & reflexes, the deconstructed public persona, exploitation of image, fear & self-loathing, running from oneself, and running towards the fight.

[missghou1]

genevieve defied the bible belt as a woman with little religion. no need for another substitute parent who feigned listening. it was easier to accept one's cards & play the hand you're dealt. not even the bombs changed her resignation, where love had threatened to do so. it softened all her hard edges & hunter's instincts.

the gunman had one second on her to draw fire: long enough for her to draw a custom pistol, praying for true aim. long enough for his pipe gun bullet to pierce first. the vegas crowd disperse like rats as the man fell to the rising form of individual justice. but there were no policemen, no medical personnel.

'i think i'm dying. jesus, i can't feel my legs.'

genevieve's cries push out of her body like expelling bile ⎯ all while pulling bobby into the alley, closer to their car. "baby, you're not dyin' so you gotta shut the fuck up, please just ... " a sobbing stream of denial & faith contrasts with the steady movements to pull a syringe out of her mink coat pocket.

med-tek's formula for morphine had been tweaked with their regenerative science. she taps the purple vial to activate while securitrons whirr towards more gunshots. "victor's gonna escort us when he finishes over there, okay?" in a shaking voice against the steady injection of proprietary med-x. "so i don't wanna hear that dyin' shit right now."

[missghou1]

doomsday hadn't stopped the world from turning yet. it loomed around every corner, in the nuclear drills or the subtle language of the end. atomic anxieties had everyone frantic & it kept vault-tec's economy booming: high profits meant a grotesque display of wealth to celebrate. genevieve was used to being paraded as a symbol of scientific innovation over her personhood. yet, this event promised much worse with all weapons contractors in one place.

"It's gonna be a 'bomb' weekend." , cooper

genevieve watched a protestor be shuffled out of the bar with cries drowned out from the band. fear of the future turned to a dark hope, despite the desperation of other's good intentions. the entendre made her smile but she rolled her eyes at its pointed nature, "yeah, i heard the department of defense can throw down on the dance floor. i bet big mt's got the new records for us."

with all a debutante's judgement, genevieve shifts her weight to pop her hip to the side. her attention falls to cooper in lieu of the party's usual extravagance. better than the dread of seeing a researcher from home. the boredom of a socialite turns to political interest with a careful eye. "you makin' a career change, @liftedrelics? this ian't exactly the academy awarded crowd."

[overmdb]

She didn't change. Still that same smile she would dole out in the face of potential danger, the quips she easily fit into negative space. The familiarity of it almost made him click his tongue—sardonic, but with a private delight and an even more private fondness. He maintained his resolve as the dancer led him through the smoke of the casino, focused not on her hips and their little clothing, but through the crowd to memorize his outs: which door led where, the faces of guards who would not test their luck, and, minutely, the establishment's somewhat tasteful design. From the glares that reflected back, it was obvious that he was making off with what seemed to be one of the Gomorrah's prized possessions. This alone would make his offering to their Leader all the more valuable.

Through the doors, the accompanying jazz of the loudspeaker was less of an afterthought and more part of any and all conversation. The temperature was cooler with less bodies and with less overhead light, the space was dingier. It was more suitable for talking business, if that's what one came to do, or further succumbing to pleasure. The line between the two wasn't much of a line at all in his line of work. The question made him think. "Are they not…ah, synonymous?"

He leaned his hip against the counter, booted ankle crossed easily over the other. He fished a flask of something out of his pocket and took a swig of it, letting a sigh surface when it entered his system. If she used a drink as a crutch, he would too.

"I want you to do that again," a gesture of his chin toward the doors they came from. He screwed the cap back onto his flask. "Just for me."

[missghou1]

attention was a currency she had a wealth of. caps or dollars, mccarthy knew the eyes on her translated to some measure of access. if just some illusion of power. envy swirled with a genuine fear in some eyes, unfamiliar intrigue in others. a night in her glow was expensive & it kept her on the floor: the shining beacon of the dangerously unattainable. mccarthy found the feeling blurred with all other memories before the bomb.

but new anticipation buzzed along the nape of her neck just with him close. even without the odd glance from one of the higher omertàs. they were out of sight & out of mind in the vip section, away from the rush hour crowd. "one involves a little more talkin' than the other." but she'd always find a lucrative business in pleasure, in the aesthetics of desire.

mccarthy looked him over & met his eyes with the request away from prying eyes or pretenses. an eyebrow raises at the boldness but it betrays her fondness at the core. she avoided the feeling of missing anyone for being too close to remorse. but something stirred in her body to the point of her needing to look away with a light scoff. "just for you. careful ... i might assume you got a little jealous down there."

her steps towards the pole are light despite the sturdy heel grounding her to the stage. gripping the metal, she swings her body to anchor her leg & lift her higher in the spiral towards the peak. always reaching to the stars. her aura flickers brighter than the overhead lighting to show off the warmth of her skin tone. the saxophones hit a blue note as mccarthy curves her body around the pole, gaining speed with every turn.

the usual helix spin transforms into a new performance: she swings her legs over her head & hooks her knee as an anchor to invert her body. a graceful extension of her leg dramatically reveals a perfect split. upside down, the world moves slower for a full showcase of taut muscle, poise in motion. her body, her worries, they all go weightless in her orbit.

[tngerinedream]

[missghou1]

RADIOR BEAUTY, PROUD PARTNER OF THE VAULT-TEC CORPORATION

REAL LIFE INFLUENCE. Between 1917 to 1926, the United States Radium Corporation (USRC), originally called the Radium Luminous Material Corporation, extracted and purified radium to create luminous paint. Female workers in watch factories commonly used their lips to refine their brushes, while owners and scientists carefully avoided exposure. The USRC's time of operation aligns with the period where women consistently contracted radiation poisoning from this practice, giving them the moniker of Radium Girls.

Radior Beauty was a ( real - life! ) company that touted radium as a life-giving, health-purifying substance encouraged for regular use. Dull, lifeless skin would be given a youthful glow, thanks to the radioactive treatments. The Radium Girls incidents in the New England area made Radior a relatively cheap acquisition for Vault-Tec during the 2040s. Vault-Tec vehemently denied any involvement with previous reports of women glowing after 4-6 months of using Radior cosmetics. While the products were never safe, Vault-Tec used the company to profit off their copious amounts of nuclear waste. Radior's catalogue expanded from bath solutions, serums, and shampoos to suppositories, facial cleansers, moisturizers, face masks, and more. Vault-Tec Girls of Tomorrow, like McCarthy, were expected to market Radior to their friends and family members like Girl Scout Cookies.

Beyond McCarthy's chronic radiation sickness since birth and Nuka-Cola overconsumption, Radior products are a large factor in her lifespan and altered progression of ghoulification. She used nearly every product in the Radior-Vault-Tec catalogue and tested products that never reached the national market, resulting her face associated with the product at large. The initial stages of becoming a ghoul, in comparison to others, had begun gradually before the bombs fell.

[jamsmemes]

(     *     EVIL DEAD.

a selection of dialogue prompts from the movie evil dead (1981). feel free to change pronouns / details as needed.

'jesus christ, just tell us already, will ya?'

'damn it, what the hell was that? you trying to kill us?'

'the damn thing jerked right out of my hand.'

'aw, eat shit and die, will ya?'

'hey, what's this place like, anyway?'

'these mountains seem familiar.'

'ooh, you're gonna get it. when you least expect it, you're gonna get it good.'

'what's wrong with the woods? they can't bite ya.'

'it's gonna be a bomb weekend.'

'hey, this place has a dungeon.'

'hey, look at this!'

'what're you drawing?'

'will you relax, i'm just kidding around.'

'as a greek friend of mine once said, "nis-hat-nis-fert- dis-ruben-tu-tar-im."'

'whatever it is, it's still down there.'

'i don't like cellars, let's close it up.'

'that's the stupidest thing i ever heard in my life. jesus christ.'

'maybe it is just some animal.'

'i'm not going down there!'

'okay, okay, you coward, i'll go.'

'you're crazy if you go down there.'

'why don't you wait until morning?'

'what melodrama! what courage! a kiss, my brave hero.'

'get me a flashlight.'

'what the hell are you doing down here, jerking off?'

'how come you didn't answer me?'

'i didn't hear you.'

'hey, what'd you do that for? it was just getting good.'

'you just don't know when you're carrying something too far.'

'big deal, it's just a joke, shit.'

'it'll be better tomorrow. things'll smooth out, you'll see.'

'it's just that ever since we came up here, things have been a little too tense.'

'what'ya we stay up for a while and listen to the storm?'

'is anybody out there?'

'i know someone's out there... i heard you.'

'help, help, let me in. open the door!'

'please, someone please! help me, help me!'

'it... it tried to kill me.'

'what's wrong with you?'

'did something in the woods do this to you?'

'the woods themselves... the trees, they're alive...'

'i'm not staying here. we're leaving this place, we're leaving this place right now!'

'there's nothing out there.'

'trees do not attack people.'

'will you drive me into town or not?'

'i don't care how it sounds.'

'if you don't want to stay, i can't make you.'

'it's not gonna let us leave.'

'why are you slowing down?'

'wanna play some cards?'

'guess, i'm going to see if you're psychic.'

'you know, i always thought i had some sort of extra sense. you know, like e.s.p. or something.'

'you will die. like the others before you.'

'we will take you one by one.'

'we've still got a few hours before morning.'

'everything's gonna be alright.'

'what is, uh... what are we gonna do?'

'do you have everything?'

'if i find a way out of here, i'll mark it and then come back.'

'you're a good man.'

'soon all of you will be like me.'

'i think i'm dying. jesus, i can't feel my legs.'

'you're gonna be okay. you're gonna be just fine, you'll see.'

'we're all gonna die here...'

'we're not gonna die!'

'i don't want to die. so... so lonely to die like this.'

'you're not gonna leave me, are you? are you?'

'i'm scared, i... i can't feel my legs.'

'listen to me please, for god's sake.'

'don't let them take me away again, please, please, please.'

'help me. let me out of here. i'm alright now.'

'come unlock this chain and let me out.'

'don't you recognise me?'

'why are you doing this? why?'

'i don't want to die, but... but i can't stand this pain.'

'gimme something. gimme something to put me out.'

'i know it's bad. but i can't be alone now, i can't. i'd lose my mind.'

'there is no tomorrow!'

'you're delirious, i... i'll get you some water.'

'now, now the sun will be up in an hour or so and we'll get out of here... together.'

'wouldn't you like to be going home? you'd like that i bet, wouldn't ya?'

'stay back.'

'please, if you can still hear me, keep away.'

'cmon, c'mon, get it over with, why are you torturing me like this?'

'not another peep, time to go to sleep.'

'this kinda looks like your old girlfriend!'

'what, are you crazy?'

'i'm gonna smack your face!'

[missghou1]

how y'all doinnnnnnn

[overmdb]

Among the quarry of patrons in the Gomorrah who thought to hide their sin beneath a suit and, for some, a stupid little hat, our Dymic stood out in militant gear—the garb he wore when hunting something or someone, and how grand he looked when he did it. Leather pants. A beret. Red paint once ceremoniously streaked over his nose bridge now smudged from the day's exertion, from the goggles. They were off, of course, when he watched the ghoul descent from the pole.

He could kill everyone in this joint.

Conversely, he could get her alone.

It was difficult for him to discern which thought was more exciting—until she sparkled towards him like a gift.

The guest pulled his half balaclava down his chin, revealing that five o'clock shadow and a mustache grown full. A small, private smile hid beneath it. Having her in his lap was the last thing he expected, and his thighs tightened under the regrettably welcome weight of her. One right angle of her knee and she would feel that he was armed, well concealed.

"...Blasphemous, ha?"

His fingers grazed hers, intimate in how he helped her handle the Nuka Cola bottle. The traction of his glove made for an easy twist-off. The resulting bottle cap made for an easy distraction. He turned it over forefinger and thumb, the performative act throwing the focus of unwanted eyes and distracting from the movement of his lips. It would also keep him from looking at her costume and all the glowing skin between it.

"Why don't we get away from these ugly fuck-ers? I have paid. Handsomely."

He couldn't be seen on the Gomorrah floor for too long. After all, he had a reputation of his own to uphold.

[missghou1]

like a bull in a china shop. entertainment was still such a delicate business, the dance between convention & taboo was an easy waltz in news vegas. mccarthy embraced the familiar steps of the old world in the club: down to all the tailored suits, seams threatening to unravel with age.

his uniform cut into the sea of pinstripes — the abrupt scratch of a record in the building. interrupting the air of pretense with all the stoicism of conviction. it broke through the hazy feel of mindless enjoyment in gomorrah & made her aware of the breeze flowing along her bikini line.

fear wasn't the thing making her hair stand at attention. probably should've been. denial had her so certain the church could just forget about her hitching a ride with the traveling merchant. "you never seemed like the type for all this." naivete kept her from thinking the grapevine of rumor wouldn't grow outside the city line & wind itself around the enforcer's ears. the same way her legs draped over his lap.

"but there's big business in blasphemy." another retort faded upon the gentle brush of contact before he opened the bottle for her. taking a drink gave her a moment to her thoughts. nothing was distracting her from the movement of his lips, before he mentioned payment. few bounty hunters pay to kill someone. still, an eyebrow raised at his remark. "must've been some good sundays."

no conversation worth having in the mojave was a public one. so her heels hit the ground with a soft clack. thirsty stares from the other patrons felt like an intrusion now. the walls had eyes & ears. mccarthy grinned down at the enforcer, her mind reflecting to their last haircut. "let's go, d," said as she took the hand that opened her bottle.

an omerta guard nodded them towards the brimstone rooms, as if he'd be able to do anything about it. the door closed to relative silence against the bar & casino lobby. it allowed her to hear her own heartbeat now, standing next to the bottle service table. "you here for business or pleasure?" eyeing him from a distance made it harder to decide which she wanted to expect.

[spxnglr]

NOT WHAT YOU EXPECTED TO FIND WHILE GROCERY SHOPPING, HE SUPPOSED. Then again, he was having to learn rather quickly that nothing behaved like it normally did around here.

❝ Sorry. ❞

REGARDLESS, IT HAD NEVER BEEN HIS INTENTION TO OFFEND. So, having heard the stranger loud and clear, he'd prepared himself to disband...only for her visage to grasp the frayed edges of his curiosity. Easy to achieve, and notoriously difficult to relinquish.

❝ ...I don't think you should be glowing like that. Are you alright? ❞

[missghou1]

mccarthy was her own nuclear deterrent. satisfied with his answer, her attention tried to stay on selecting the perfect produce. yet the eyes on her felt like they could bore a hole straight through. are you alright? concern was a sweeter alternative to the dubious, silent stares she'd been used to. "maybe you shouldn't be glowin' like this," clarified in an attempt towards semantic humor. it twinkled in her eyes with all the dusty green aura surrounding her. "but i've been doin' it for a while with no problem."

aside from the lack of appetite most days, that lingering burn in her footsteps. mccarthy slowly nudged the shopping buggy towards the canned section. none of the side effects ever registered to her anymore. she leaned casually over the basket & shrugged off the question. "it'll be fine ... it's kind of you do this little welfare check on me. or do you work here?"

[bettingonhouse]

Robert had told him to go fetch her, bring her back home. Bobby would of course, but didn't mean he'd have to do it at Robert's pace. He walks alongside the vehicle, his lips already smoking on a cigarette as he moves to sit along side her now on the tailgate.

He nods but then shrugs a bit, he's been to the South yes, but, never really got to appreciate or enjoy it.

"I've been...But I never got to appreciate it..."

He admits softly to her as they sit on the tailgate. He can smell the alcohol on her and he smirks around the cigarette. His hand taking hers and he scoots back on the tailgate more. taking off his suit jacket to use as a pillow he puts it under his head as he lays back and looks up to the stars. His hand then pulls her gently to him. So she could rest on his chest and stargaze with him.

Bobby hasn't looked to the stars in so long like this, his arm wraps around her to hold her to him as his other hand still holds hers. The moonlight and the stars were gorgeous.

"Out of all the stars, I still think you are my favorite."

Bobby looks to her with a bit of a smirk, teeth gripping the filter of his cigarette with an prideful ego only reserved for her husbands. His thumb rubs over her knuckles as he holds her.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly, wanting to make sure she was indeed okay. Knowing she's overwhelmed...He can't blame her for running away, for the vices. He's in her same boat afterall.

[missghou1]

"you gotta get out in nature to really appreciate the south. with how hot it is up here, you'd be like a fish in water." genevieve felt the same kind of comfort as the tailgate dipped with bobby in tow. going back would be inevitable but she didn't care to tell time with the stars. their hands intertwined, she followed him scooting back into the vehicle & laughed to herself as it rocked underneath them.

laying in the truck bed, the night wind was barely a thought. genevieve burrowed into his side & enjoyed the new warmth with constellations so different from mississippi's. her heart pitter-pattered steadily to the beat of home — the tempo picked up with his compliment. "you are too much." she smiled up at him in spite of herself & blushing all the while under the moonlight.

"doctors got a name for everything. I heard this is called claustrophobia." the word felt clumsy in a drawled accent. "I just feel all boxed in when I stay in cities too long. this is the most time I ever spent in a city."

genevieve let the honesty hang for a moment in the silence as a shooting star crossed their vision. she rolled over so that she laid on top of bobby, centering his sights on his favorite star. "I just needed to get out, see some horizon for a minute. then I got lost 'cause I don't know deserts." her head tilted to the side, resting on his chest. "what about you? how you feelin'? were you lookin' for me too long?"

[missghou1]

give it up for gomorrah's glowing star! mccarthy's reputation before the bombs was nothing compared to her rumor mill in the mojave. the mysterious east - coast ghoul arrived blood-stained & shrouded in a stolen robe. no care for questions surrounding a face much like hers, adorning a side wall near ultra-luxe. the showgirl ensemble glittered against her skin with the house lights & her own ambient glow. her body spun around the metal pole like a vine curving, making a space its own.

the mojave's mirrorball descended slowly to everyone's delight. caps clattered in praise, hoots & hollers filled the space as she landed into a split. it took that long to recognize the eyes staring at her through dark curls. fuck. mccarthy's consequences held her gaze as she lifted onto her feet again. for a moment, she lost the concentration to stay graceful. the next introduction boomed against high ceilings & fell on deaf ears. even the envy of other patrons went over her head when she sat on his lap.

"outta all the gin joints in the world," said while taking the unopened nuka cola on the table. to hold it would hide her hand shaking from unease. "you're still pretty."

@overmdb