Karma • 27 • she/they • queer af,plz look at my art and my cats, I rotate fixations in my head like rotisseries, and also I write essays in the tags. Current fixations are Fallout and Sonic, but I dabble in ffxiv and most animation
Pronouns are she/her or they/them no real preference for either
genderqueer ace lesbian, and some cocktail of neurodivergent, make of that what you will.
I reblog really anything, and love to ramble on in the tags. It's a lot of video games, art, animation, funny jokes. I'm here for good vibes and self indulgence. If you send me an ask, I will probably reply with multiple paragraphs and tuck you into my pocket and big my eyes at you in adoration <3
The current fixations have been Fallout and Sonic, but I do dabble in FFXIV and a handful of other fandoms whenever the microbes and goblins in my brain see fit
Here are some of my tags #mytags:
Art - #Karma draws
Writing - #Karma writes (I also have an Ao3)
Ocs - #oc
Cats - #Karma kitties
Things I'm brave enough to say outside of tags - #Karma talks
If you're here for my Fallout blorbos:
First of all, I love them and I love you for looking at them <3
Liz and Butch - #Vault Kids
General thoughts on the games or characters - #Fallout Rambling
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YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU CAN CRAFT A COMPLETE SENTENCE! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU USE THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF COMMAS! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOUR PROSE IS GOOD AND RIGHT! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! EVERYONE UNDERSTANDS YOUR VISION!
Another character trope that I fucking love: When the characters end up in a situation that's unlike anything they've ever experienced as a group, and as a huge plot twist the one who's been useless this whole time turns out to be in their element right here. Like not only does the pathetic whiny comic relief who can't do anything know exactly what they need to do here, they're terrifyingly good at it.
Especially if it also turns out that they're famous or even feared for this skillset they have, in these circles the protagonists have never ventured in before. And there's a huge clash in the level of respect that they and these new people have for this mf in particular. Having conversations like
"Holy shit you know the Red Duke? Like the Red Duke? The man who can predict how a battle will end, two years before it happens, just by looking at the opposing armies' expense reports?"
"Uh, yeah? He's been in our party for like two years now."
"You've travelled together? What is he like?"
"Well, he screams like a little girl and he never checks his sleeping bag before getting in."
"...What do you mean by checking it? Why should he be checking his sleeping bag in the first place?"
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Incredibly violent take of mine but I actually don’t think you need to relate to a story in any way to enjoy it. You can enjoy a story even if you can’t point at a character and insert some aspect of your personality or identity into them. In fact I would argue the need for a character like that to be present in every single story you experience is a sign of stunted growth.
i don't know who needs to hear this, but guilt, self-hatred and shame are not sustainable sources of growth and healing. you can't hate yourself into feeling better, or being better. you can't repeatedly punish yourself for your flawed humanity and expect wholesome results.
I’m watching that documentary “Before Stonewall” about gay history pre-1969, and uncovered something which I think is interesting.
The documentary includes a brief clip of a 1954 televised newscast about the rise of homosexuality. The host of the program interviewed psychologists, a police officer, and one “known homosexual”. The “known homosexual” is 22 years old. He identifies himself as Curtis White, which is a pseudonym; his name is actually Dale Olson.
So I tracked down the newscast. According to what I can find, Dale Olson may have been the first gay man to appear openly on television and defend his sexual orientation. He explains that there’s nothing wrong with him mentally and he’s never been arrested. When asked whether he’d take a cure if it existed, he says no. When asked whether his family knows he’s gay, he says that they didn’t up until tonight, but he guesses they’re going to find out, and he’ll probably be fired from his job as well. So of course the host is like …why are you doing this interview then? and Dale Olson, cool as cucumber pie, says “I think that this way I can be a little useful to someone besides myself.”
1954. 22 years old. Balls of pure titanium.
Despite the pseudonym, Dale’s boss did indeed recognize him from the TV program, and he was promptly fired the next day. He wrote into ONE magazine six months later to reassure readers that he had gotten a new job at a higher salary.
Curious about what became of him, I looked into his life a little further. It turns out that he ultimately became a very successful publicity agent. He promoted the Rocky movies and Superman. Not only that, but get this: Dale represented Rock Hudson, and he was the person who convinced him to disclose that he had AIDS! He wrote the statement Rock read. And as we know, Rock Hudson’s disclosure had a very significant effect on the national conversation about AIDS in the U.S.
It appears that no one has made the connection between Dale Olson the publicity agent instrumental in the AIDS debate and Dale Olson the 22-year-old first openly gay man on TV. So I thought I’d make it. For Pride month, an unsung gay hero.
when a man and a woman in a piece of fiction get to keep having a delightful friendship dynamic instead of losing all their interesting traits to become the 580000th het couple ever
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When a black person states that something you did was racist, chill the fuck out. Its annoying dealing with you panicking trying to dissociate yourself from racism. If you're not black, black people already assume youve said nigga or its variant at least once in your life. If they're interacting with you and bringing something up, its because they want you to stop doing that so they can still interact with you(if ur already friends)
You WILL be racist. You WILL do racist things. You have ALREADY done both. Learn and move on. There's no ideological purity you can hold on to, i promise. Proving you can take the criticism without making it a big deal and practice what you preach is better than any clean slate.
Be the kind of person black people don't have to gamble on. Shut up and lock in
Since my writing has gotten positive feedback here before, and this is too short/disconnected for AO3 just yet, I'm just gonna post it here.
I've had this scene stuck in my head, mostly because everytime i think about Butch and Liz running into Amata years after they're all put of the vault, all i can think about is how Amata would be oblivious and want to reconnect. Liz would want absolutely nothing to do with her after being forced out of the vault a second time. And Butch would be full on agro and protective on Liz's behalf. (Ive also just been looking for excuses to compare Butch to a loyal attack dog)
So uh, if you like my fallout bullshit, please enjoy :3
"I'm not telling her whatever dumb shit it is you're about to say."
The counter top was cold under Amata's hand, her weight still in the process of shifting from it, to the splintered stool she'd chosen to sit on. Florescent light flickered from a single bulb swaying above the bar, and the soft sound of the radio played a familiar tune from off to her right.
Butch occupied the bar stool to her left, a beer bottle tilted against his lips as he looked straight ahead, almost as if he was pretending he hadn't just spoken to her.
Unfortunately, there was very little chance he'd been talking to anyone else.
The bar was otherwise devoid of patrons, and the next closest person to either of them was Gob, who was minding his own business as he cleaned a glass behind the bar. And there was no chance that he hadn't noticed her taking the seat directly next to him.
"Who said I was going to ask you to?" She huffed, ignoring the fact that he was right, and deciding to look at anything that wasn't the small scar that nicked the edge of his chin.
She made eye contact with Gob, and gave him a nod that meant she wanted her usual.
Butch just let out a sharp, halfhearted laugh. "Oh please. As if there's any other reason you'd talk to me."
"I didn’t talk to you." She pointed out, since he'd spoken first.
"You were going to." He retorted, annoyingly accurate.
It was then that Gob set an open Nuka on the bar in front of her, and Amata pushed a grateful smile onto her face for him. "Thank you Gob." She said, putting on her cheerful voice.
Gob hummed and nodded in response. "We good over here?" He asked, eyeing the two of them like they reeked of trouble.
Which was a fair read of the situation.
But, as if it were nothing at all, Butch shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "Nah man, I'm just fine."
Amata frowned at him, and Gob looked entirely unaffected. "Alright. Just keep me out of it, and keep your blood off of my counter."
Butch pouted slightly. "Man, one time. You know that wasn't my fault!"
The ghoul shrugged, "Kid's got a killer right hook, and I remember you were asking for it. Either way, it was still your blood." he hardly looked at either of them as he counted Amata's caps into the till.
He then retreated to the back room without much if any fanfare or farewell, and Amata figured she might've done the same if she were the one behind the counter.
Instead, she rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink, imagining Butch getting his face caved in by some wasteland brute half a decade ago. Probably from running his big mouth. "God, you haven’t changed at all." She scoffed.
Butch looked at her directly then, sneering slightly. "Yeah? Guess neither have you, since you seem to think you know shit about me."
Amata did know Butch.
She'd known him their whole lives, and he had never been anything but obnoxious, pig headed, and entirely self centered.
A total jackass.
"Bet you think you know shit about Liz too." He scoffed, and his words stoked at something in the pit of Amata's stomach in a way the first part hadn’t.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He clicked his tongue and took another drink before he spoke again. "It means that you don't know how the fuck to take a hint, and stop sticking your nose where it's not wanted sweetheart." His tone was laced with condescension, and underlined by an air of severity that Amata wasn't entirely familiar with.
He almost sounded protective, like a mutt growling at a threat who'd stepped too close to it's territory. She was pretty sure the dog that had been with Liz before had even glowered at her the same way.
"Look," she groaned. "I know she's mad at me, and you hate me, but if I could just talk to her-"
"Yeah?" He cut her off. "And what? You think if you just, talk to her, and tell her you're soooooo sorry, that it'll just, make it all better? That she'll just forgive you?"
Amata could feel her blood running hot under her skin, his mocking tone causing her heart to race faster than her brain. "I mean… yeah." The words fumbled out of her, less gracefully than she would've preferred.
She really had not missed tripping around Butch's bullshit.
Unfortunately, she didn't have anyone around to shut him up for her anymore. So he sneered, and shook his head, and continued talking. "Well tough tits buttercup. Because if that's your plan? Then you are even more delusional than I thought."
She felt like something was going to snap inside of her.
A tight energy was building up underneath her skin as she fought the urge to up and walk out the door. "What would you know? She was my best friend our whole lives. I think I know her well enough to know that she's way more reasonable than you've ever been."
The only reason she didn't leave, was because she didn't know how else to get to Lizzy.
"If she'd just listen to me, and hear me out for a minute," She scoffed indignantly. "instead of being off god knows where, running around with you of all people! And here you are, acting all high and mighty, because what? You were around? She let you tag along for a few years, so now you're out here acting like you know her better. As if you'd ever give a shit!"
The words spilled out of her like alphabet soup. Every thought that floated into her mind dumping out of her mouth, lacking any forethought, because she was too flustered to make sense of her own thoughts.
And he laughed.
A deep, harsh sound, as he doubled over slightly onto the counter. Like she'd told some kind of horrible joke. "Oh that is rich!" Despite his laughter, there was something sharp at the edge of his voice made Amata's shoulders tense. "I mean, fuck! Do you actually think that?"
Something was off, something about the taughtness at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. How his free hand balled into a fist, and she suddenly felt an instinctive urge to run. How his words oozed malice.
When he looked at her, with blue eyes that cut straight through her, she realized her mistake.
She'd struck a nerve.
He was angry, in a way that she couldn't remember ever seeing before.
"I-I don-" she stammered hopelessly, suddenly grasping for an answer.
He didn't wait for one, slamming his beer bottle on the bar next to her so hard that she was stunned when it didn't break. She'd definitely flinched.
"You don't know shit." His voice was low and dangerous as he leaned in close, encroaching on her space as he bared down on her from where he'd stood, his face mere inches from hers.
"You may be a prissy little bitch who's always looked down on me, but that has nothing on the shit you put her through." He bared his teeth as he spoke, voice dripping with loathing. "You. Your fuck ass dad. And everyone else in that fucking hole we crawled out of."
He hadn't laid a finger on her, but his rage still gripped at her throat. She felt frozen in place, and her breath caught in her chest. Every nerve in her body was firing, and she felt like a prey animal staring down the maw of a predator.
The tightness of his voice told her that his anger was much bigger than just some childhood grudge, and she wondered briefly just how much he was holding back. If he might actually hurt her.
Then, he backed off.
And she could breathe.
He pulled onto his stool, and slammed what little remained of his beer.
"I don't know how it never occurred to you that shit might've changed in the last seven years, but it's been a long time since she last cried over you." She could almost feel the weight of every word that he wanted to say. His arms twitched like he wanted to punch something.
Then he stood up with the force of a cocked pistol, leaving whatever words that lingered in his mouth unsaid.
"Just, do us all a favor, and fuck. off."
And then he left.
Amata remained shaking in her seat, grip tight around the drink in her hand.
His threat lingered in her muscle fibers, with her heart racing and her breaths coming out shaky and uneven. Even in his absence.
Butch DeLoria was warning her not to fuck with Lizzy.
The same jackass who'd tormented them for their entire childhood, was treating her like she was some sort of threat, to someone who'd been her best friend longer than either of them could even remember.
It made her head spin and her stomach churn.
It was so backwards.
But one thing had been made abundantly clear.
Amata was far further out of her depth than she'd realized. And she was starting to think it was her own fault.
I had such a fun time writing this from her pov. Cuz I think she thinks that she cares about Liz and what happened. But she very much made the choice to focus on being the overseer, she assumed Liz would be ok and waiting for her when the vault eventually opened. She never considered Butch much at all.
And I LOVE the friction that causes.
I love that she's confused, and blind to Butch's growth because in her mind he's still the immatureasshole he was in the vault. If I write more I wanna focus on how she's also in denial about how Liz has changed. Because Liz has been through so much, and changed the most out of any of them. She is not the same person Amata misses, she is not the person Amata wants to reconcile with, and I don't think Amata would know how to handle that
And that doesnt even touch on the absolute mind break that Amata would have when she realizes Butch and Liz aren't just traveling together, but that theyre together together. And that Liz is happier than when she and her were together
been thinkin about the dynamic of these three after Amata opens the vault and our beloved dumbasses return to the Capital Wasteland
Conclusion: Butch is the biggest hater
i just think its so funny, like. imagine Amata's POV
your Dad exiles your best friend/gf.
then she comes back a battle worn badass and saves your home and stops your dad's insane power trip.
then you nicely force her back out to keep the peace as the newly appointed leader. She leaves with your mutal childhood bully that neither one of you can stand
skip a couple years, you lead your people out of a hole in the ground, into a sprawling wasteland. Surprise! That friend you forced out? Yeah shes a local ledgend so prolific and well known that shes literally become a folk hero. and also shes straight up gone. Wandered off into the wastes a few years ago, no one knows where to.
THEN SHE COMES BACK. AND SHES MAD AT YOU FOR KICKING HER OUT? AND SHES BEEN DATING/FUCKING THE BULLY FOR THE LAST LIKE. SEVEN YEARS?????
its been bouncing around my head all day. I think theres so much potential there. like i really really wanna explore Liz and Amata's relationship more as one that was unintentionally one sided and like. destroyed Liz, while Amata was just. Oblivious. (haha its def not cathartic for being based on a friendship i had in the past)
also. Butch having had character growth, and caring so much about Liz's happiness, and being the worlds biggest ass to Amata cuz shes the toxic ex, and he'll be damned if he lets that bitch do any more damage to his girl's happiness (yes i have at least one writing wip on this)
"But it's not FOR them!!!" The biggest military power in the world belongs to a christofascist nation overseen by a felon found guilty of 34 federal crimes and has greenlit a gestapo with more direct funding than the entire military of Canada for the purpose of ethnic cleansing. Let Hetero Jessica throw some biodegradable glitter at a municipal parade
At this point if anyone is trying to exclude anyone benignly pro-queer from a pro-queer space I'm just going to assume you're a fed or something idk like something something destabilize the movement from within or whatever
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you can download current and past hi-res versions of these over at my ko-fi (ok to print for personal use): https://ko-fi.com/mxmorgan/shop/freedownloads
you can also snag shirts here which go to various orgs: https://mxmorgan.threadless.com/collections/pride
these get reposted a whole lot from here to reddit to twitter to tiktok and on and on, and i don't personally care whether or not i'm credited. i made these for everyone to use, enjoy, and find meaning in them. i appreciate folks who do credit me, but if able, please at least link to the threadless shop in the previous post - folks can get an official shirt where 90% of earnings go to trans led orgs focused on mental health (which is an important matter in general, but very personal to me) and not from a scam bot site selling AI-churned maga garbage where you probably won't get one anyway. i also suggest downloading the files from my ko-fi - they are free/PWYW and you can use them to make your own shirt, patch, embroidery project, whatever. tips are always nice, cuz i do like a pizza now and then, but never required for download.
final thought - breaking the pride tradition and more than likely won't make a new piece. the top one from TDOV is all i'm making this year. i have my focus on other projects currently and i don't want to force a poster design. these came from a specific head space and my current head space is Very Tired lmao so i wanna work on other things. 👍
added a section for my pride posters on my site. i noticed a lotta folks properly crediting me when finding reposts (thanks!) so here's a handy little spot for em with official links.
probably will rewrite the blurb soon. brain has been really foggy lately.
This post isn't about how insane john lennon was its about how Google has spent gazillion dollars making a machine that lies to you about john lennons mpreg fantasies!!!
