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salamiimommy · 7 months

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Im_Sorry_Buddy’s description for as many of the designs in FTFO as I can find rn bc I need to keep them all together in one place for reference so I might as well share it for anyone else

Any edits I make to the original text will be shown in [these] yes I have been updating it, last combed around chapter 5 while also updating with the latest chapters. Buddy has confirmed this post is accurate !!

[MAJOR DESIGN SPOILERS MENTIONED. marked with **. it’s organized by character with their first outfit on top and changes after in order to how they appear. pls be careful looking through if you’re new.]

[Ink is first and he has. a Lot of outfits so there’s a HUGE chunk of text to scroll past to get to everyone else LOL. Broomie is second]

First, some heights. The tallest Gang member is Horror (4ft 10 inches), then Nightmare (4ft 9in, though his tentacles make him seem larger than Horror), then Cross, Killer, and Dust (4ft 7in), then Ink is the shortest (at about 3ft 8.5 inches). Of the Sanses, only Outertale Sans is shorter than Ink (at 3 ft 5inches).

Error is a couple inches shorter than Cross, Dust, and Killer at 4ft 04in (because Error 404 joke). Dream is approximately 4ft 3in (my headcanon is he’d get taller than that if the Multiverse wasn’t so negative. Plus Nightmare has 500 years on him). Blue is 4ft 7in. Red is 4ft 6.5 inches just to make him mad that Blue is a little taller than him. Core Frisk… is 4ft. (Yes, they are actually taller than Ink. Yes, I did a double take when I realized that. The fandom has lied to me.)

[The Papyri] average around 6.8 to 7.2 ft. Edge looks even taller than he actually is because of the heels on his boots. I will say that Toriels are taller than the Papyri at maybe about 7.5 to 8ft. Other than that, I don't have exact numbers in mind, heh.

[the website I used made the Sanses all child models bc they’re so short wHEEEEEEEZE also like it states the Paps n Tori heights are the averages, different AUs are different heights. also also the rectangle in the back is Broomie's height]

Ink:

Ink sleeps in pajamas that are a lighter shade of brown. It’s a standard long sleeve button up pajama shirt and pants.

Ink's soul has the appearance like broken pottery. There are visible gouges where he dug his fingers into his soul.

Ink has had a couple different outfits. His former "hanging around the Castle" outfit was a too big brown long sleeve and loose brown pants (that did resemble the pants the Comyet Ink used to wear except they were completely brown and went all the way down to his feet). Those clothes were destroyed when Error grabbed him in chapter 6 (where Ink spent chapter 7 wearing Killer's too-big coat) so [then] Ink [was] borrowing one of Cross's black long sleeves and another pair of brown pants (these have more of the "pleated" design of Comyet Ink's new pants and also go down to his feet) .

[CH 12 HT!Toriel visit] “He was happy to choose a cyan hoodie and dark blue joggers. Well, he was happy except when it came to choosing the shoes.”

[CH 26 Ccino visit] “His black turtleneck, pants, and green vest” [from his Arc outfit.]

[CH 27 onwards was a black long sleeve shirt, pleated brown pants, and his scarf with the hood.]

[CH 32] “[…] wear his brown scarf and hood, along with his loose brown pants. […] Aster had apparently brought along a black tank top for him. The tank top fit well enough and the collar was high enough that it lay under the collar of his scarf but it obviously did not cover his arms, […]Doctor Toriel stepped out before returning with a pair of long fingerless brown gloves.”

[CH 44] “[…] a light green long sleeve, his hooded scarf, and a pair of dark brown pants from the drawer right beside him.”

[CH 45] “[…] his hooded scarf, a comfortable black long sleeve, his light green [cargo] pants, and a brown satchel with a long strap. He hung the satchel cross-body over his shoulder”

[CH 46 around the castle] “[…] a pair of rather short brown shorts, leaving […] much of his femur uncovered”

[CH 46 Ccino visit] “[…] a turtleneck that matched the light green interior of his hooded scarf and brown pants”

[CH 46 Sciencetale visit] “[…] his comfortable black long sleeve and the detachable light green pants-to-shorts he preferred.”

[SHIELD OUTFIT] A long purple cloak with a hood that, when up, almost covers his face (meaning his eye lights can glow from beneath the shadow of the hood). It's more off of his face when he's curious and excited, but falls further over his face when he's scared or uncomfortable. The purple cloak has a silver clasp in the shape of the Delta Rune. Underneath the cloak he wears a silver tunic, black belt, and purple leggings. His boots are black and go up just to his “calves”. When Ink is Shield, he covers the ink splotch on his face with white paint.

[Ch 26 he added]”[…H]is scarf (minus the hood, which was tucked into his satchel) around his neck. Its ends were folded in so they did not hang out of the bottom of his brown coat.”

[ARC OUTFIT:] Whenever Ink needs to publicly work for Nightmare, he wears an outfit with a bit of a steampunk aesthetic (as “encouraged” by Nightmare so that when people look at Ink, they don’t think “medic” or “healer”). Nightmare wants Ink to keep his identity (and the fact that he’s the Gang's medic) a secret so he wears a mask outside of the castle. The mask appears to be made from brass and copper metal that’s been painted black (with the exception of a few accents). It covers his face while his hood covers the rest of his skull.

The mask is fashioned after a mix of a gas mask for the bottom half and steampunk “brass goggles” for the top half. It is all one piece and the way the “metal” is crafted makes it looks like an owl’s feathery face. Ink’s eye lights are not visible through the goggles and the dark lenses (plus the shadow of the hood) makes it seem like he is constantly giving what I call the “Sans's empty socket glare”. The bottom half of the mask has two “valves” for exhalation and inhalation that are actually functional (cleansing the air he breathes), but are flatter and are symmetrical, unlike real world versions tend to be. There is a bit of metal between the valves that looks like an owl’s beak. The bottom is mostly black with some brass accents for the bottom half. He can easily remove the mask to reveal his face and replace it in a moment’s notice.

Ink wears a brown steampunk overcoat with a hood. Seven black buttons go up his chest (to the left side of his sternum) to close it. Under the last button, the fabric opens up in an upside down “v” shape, preventing the coat from covering the fronts of his legs. The hem of the “tail” of the coat falls just below the backs of his knees. The collar of the coat covers part of his neck. Around his left forearm is what looks like two black snake designs wrapped around his arm (like the snakes wrapped around the Staff of Asclepius).

Under the coat he wears a dark green vest (It was the only big bit of green that Nightmare allowed because he really doesn’t want Ink to even be associated with green magic.) Under that vest he wears a black turtleneck undershirt that nearly goes up to his chin. His pants are black, and tuck into brown boots. (Ink ditches the boots whenever he can).

Over the coat, Ink wears a thick black belt that has many pockets on it. Every pocket has a unique symbol and every one is filled with medical supplies like bandages, healing food, several antidotes, etc. Attached to his right thigh is a small satchel with more medical supplies. In the small side pocket of the satchel (this one is to the front so its easiest to reach), is [REDACTED]. On his left thigh he wears what looks like a long brown holster that goes down to his knee. Seven pockets go down it in a line. Inside are… you guessed it: more medical supplies.

Ink wears black gloves that leaves just the tips of his fingers exposed. The back of the right glove gets what looks like a bronze analog clock sewn into it. The tops of his fingers are exposed so he can more easily use his magic to heal others and [fix codes]. They’re reinforced so he can grab a blade without it cutting right into him.

[Ink now wears the scarf as well, minus the hood, with the ends folded so they do not hang out of the bottom of the coat as of Ch 27.]

[SCARF in CH 26] “The hood was attached by a few buttons that were the same shade as the rest of the fabric, letting them blend into the scarf and make it appear to be one solid piece. The outside of the hood was brown. Its interior was a light green, like the color on the pinkies and sides of Prism's gloves. It was also the color that Ink's eye lights often turned when he used green magic.

The brown scarf's tails were long enough that the ends still hung down by the bottoms of Ink’s calves after he wrapped it around his neck. The hood hung loosely around his head but stayed up even when he moved around. The green interior of the hood was clearly visible, contrasting the exterior nicely. The "collar" was loose around his neck but thick enough to easily cover the new marks that had been scrawled onto his bones.

If Ink wanted to, he could detach the hood and tuck in the ends to wear the scarf under his Shield cloak. He could even wear it hoodless with his Arc outfit if he wished.”

[INKS FINAL OUTFIT in CH 47] Ink's new brown coat was shorter than his old Arc one, with the straight hem stopping at just below his pelvis.

There were only four black buttons holding it closed instead of the previous coat's seven, though Ink found that he also liked how it looked when he left it open.

Even when fully buttoned, the coat opened up just below his collar bone, leaving a standing collar up top instead of an attached hood and revealing a bit of the light green turtleneck that safely covered the tattoo-like marks on his neck and sternum.

[…] an upright light green heart was embroidered on the shoulders of the coat, subtly indicating his profession as a Healer. Just beneath those hearts, cut-outs ran from his shoulder to above his elbows and revealed a matching green interior.

He traded his old black gloves for longer black ones with stitching designs that matched the light green of the interior of his scarf, his shirt, and the medical hearts, leaving the tips of his fingers and thumbs exposed and the black double-clock on the back of the hand. His wide, pocket-filled black belt also remained, as did the brown holster of pockets down his left thigh. His brown satchel was moved to his right hip, now hanging crossbody instead of being attached to his right thigh.

The black pants he designed had zippers hidden under small bits of overlapping fabric up around his femurs, which gave him quicker access to the area if needed. He could technically turn the pants into a pair of shorts with two unzips but Ink was hesitant. He was too uncomfortable with the idea of showing the binary code marks on his bones to consider something shorter like Prism's overalls, even with the thigh-high brown sock providing an extra layer of coverage on his left leg. Like Prism and many other Inks, he chose a design that left his heel and toes bare. Unlike Prism and many other Inks, the tight-like sock had a swirling green design down its outside.

Other than the pant leg, his prosthetic was bare, allowing a bit of the design to be seen due to his abhorrence for shoes. Maybe it was due to the presence of the colors (instead of white) but Ink was much more receptive to showing the prosthetic off than any of the marks on his bones.

Ink's Arc mask was attached to his belt and hung near his satchel, out of the way but within reach just in case.

His hooded scarf completed the outfit, with Cyan and Gold once again taking up residence at the ends of the tails. Broomie floated at his back, with the tip of their handle pointing out beyond his right shoulder while their black brush flicked close to his left ankle.

[**CH 41 Ink’s right leg has been cleanly amputated] “above his knee, halfway up his femur.”

[**PROSTHETIC in CH 46] The prosthetic resembled a skeleton monster's right leg with several notable differences. The socket was a bit wider than the bone to fit his stump and provide support. The pylon beneath the knee resembled leg armor more than a skeleton monster's individual tibia and fibula. The basic shape and outline were a similar thickness to his bone leg though.

The mechanical foot part was currently covered by the shell that went over it. Based on the images that Doctor Toriel had shown Ink, there were distinctive joint areas for the ankle, knee, and toe beneath the casing. […] the toe was one unit meant for balancing, support, and propulsion.

The base of the prosthetic was colored a medium shade of gray […] while the design on the casing was one of the simpler ones.

The prosthetic covers were the same style for the entire leg and foot. They had the appearance like jagged light green lightning or filled cracks in repaired pottery, which stood out sharply and boldly on the metallic black background. The moment Ink had seen what was labeled as a "kintsugi-inspired" design, he knew that was the one. The green not only matched his eye lights, his magic, and the interior of his scarf, but the 'filled-in' look of the pattern reminded him of his soul.

Broomie:

Cross:

Cross [used to wear] his old Royal Guard uniform from Xtale. He has his scar, and his eye lights are usually both white. They do not turn red no matter how angry or emotional he becomes. His bone and knife attacks are tinted purple.

[CH 14] “His jacket was different. It was just a couple alterations. A black X-like design on the shoulders of both white sleeves. The large white X-sash was now black. Along the bottom hem of the white jacket were simple black cross-stitches. It was little things but the decals broke up the white in his outfit.”

[CH 45 pjs:] “Cross had grabbed a plain black tank top and loose black sweatpants.”

[CH 46 Ccino visit] “[…] he changed into a black hoodie and pants instead of wearing his more recognizable outfit.”

[GUARD OUTFIT] […] a set of silver Royal Guard armor and a purple cloak. A large Delta Rune is emblazoned on the chestplate in black. The armor also comes with a silver helmet but he did not wear it on the [first] Aftertale mission. When he is acting as Guard, he either covers his scar with white or wears the helmet to hide his face.

[**CH 37] “[…] vertical cracks split the bones by his eye sockets, resembling the scars of his creator. His eye lights burned a volatile purple, their form shivering like they were struggling not to change shape. [CH 38] […] glowing purple cracks on his skull looked like a Gaster’s scars.”

[**CH 42 has healed the scars completely]

Dust:

Dust wears the standard Sans outfit but it looks like its a paler color in places because of all the monster dust. His shoes are gray for that reason. Dust always has his gray hood up unless it’s knocked off his skull. Unlike Killer and Horror (and Cross), his hood does not have fur. He wears his Papyrus’s tattered scarf. His eye lights have a blue center and a red ring around the outside. They can occasionally turn white if he’s feeling peaceful. His bone attacks are indigo, leaning more towards blue than purple.

Dust sometimes sleeps in a light blue t-shirt and dark gray pajama pants with a drawstring. Other times he forgets to change and plops into bed in his usual t-shirt and shorts.

[CH 46 Sciencetale visit] “[…] he pulled at the hood of the hoodie he was wearing. He had seemed to like the dark indigo color[…] Dust's scarf was tucked into the hoodie, leaving only a small bit of the collar visible. A pair of sunglasses covered his distinctive eye lights. Black sweatpants and sneakers completed the outfit.”

Dust Papyrus:

To Ink, Dust Papyrus looks like the barest outline of a ghostly shape of the head, scarf, and hands of a Papyrus. He’s extremely faint and blurry, with binary codes making up his outline.

[**CH 46] “[…] ghostly gloves gained a red color and an equally ghostly skull took form. Finally, [Ink] could clearly see Phantom Papyrus.”

Killer:

Killer also wears the standard Sans outfit except his undershirt is a black turtleneck and his hood has fur on the rim. His soul is usually visible in the form of a red target. When he goes Stage Three, it blurs and thick black liquid pours from his eye sockets and mouth. He never has eye lights. His knife attacks are red while his bone attacks are tinted gray. [Liquid Determination leaks constantly from his eyes.]

He tries not to sleep so he does not change into pajamas.

[CH 4 comment] Killer's Stages are inspired by something he has in Something New/"Killertale". Long story short: "Stage One": Killer is pretty much Sans. This Stage does not happen anymore. "Stage Two": Default Killer. "Stage Three": Killer is out of control and will attack anything. "Stage Four and Higher": run.

[**CH 26, Killer can now renter Stage 1, though he has not done it in yet. Liquid Determination is also not constantly leaking from his eyes. CH 27:] The black marks beneath his eye sockets were thin enough that they could be mistaken for drawn lines.

[**CH 44 showed that the liquid Determination is still affected by his emotions:] “Killer glowered at him. The black lines beneath his eye sockets thickened a little.”

Horror:

Horror has the usual Sans-style outfit. His has fur lining the hood. Horror’s jacket is a bit tattered and shows signs of being torn and sewn back together in a couple places. His left eye is not his own one, he took it from a dead guard in his AU. It’s is a glowing red iris and can go out like most skeleton eye lights. His bone attacks are tinted a faint red. [Horror has two eye lights regularly, just one of them is. big and red.]

Horror has pajama shorts and a t-shirt but he often forgets to change into them. (He’s trying to teach Ink to be better than him at it). [CH 45] “Horror was in a gray t-shirt and black shorts.”

[CH 36] “…those unsettling, mismatched eye lights.” [CH 40] “His right eye light returned with his health (and his hope)” [proof for two eye lights]

Nightmare:

Nightmare doesn’t change clothes. He is his goopy octopus self. When he is particularly angry or in a “mood”, his aura is much darker, like he’s surrounded by shadows.

[**CH 28] “His form rippled, and suddenly he did not appear to be made of black sludge. Instead it was like he was glitching darkness, his form flickering and rippling at its edges as his eye light thinned to a slit and and his fingers sharpened to claw-like points. Ink caught a glimpse of his teeth and was horrified to see they were unnaturally pointed[.]” [His eye also glows a toxic cyan and he smiles with too many teeth. And his tentacles are unmoving most of the time.]

[**CH 37] “Corrupted's grin grew wider, revealing that his jaw had indeed become unhinged like it was broken.”

[**CH 40] “The shadows that held Ink barely resembled Nightmare anymore. He had merged with the darkness, leaving only a toxic eye light visible as his presence expanded […] smoke-like tentacles […] his sharp-toothed smile, which was far too big to fit on Nightmare's face without breaking it apart, oozed with black sludge.”

[**CH 40 returns him to his regular goop form.]

Dream:

Dream has his “current outfit” (the one with the yellow jacket-tunic thing). In the present he always looks tired and has shadows under his sockets.

[**CH 37] “Actual fire rippled in its wake, burning a violent gold. Four wings tore themselves free of Dream’s back, twisting and writhing like each individual feather was made of golden flames and his facial structure was lost in shuddering fire. His eye sockets filled with fire, burning away his eye lights.

[…] Although Dream’s mouth stayed visible through the flames, his teeth sharpened and his fiery grin grew so wide it froze on his face, unable to falter. The fire was such a thick covering over the remainder of his skull that an initial glance made it seem like that smile was all that was left of his face.

His clothes did not burn but they too became flames, curling and lashing in the air like they were mere moments from bursting out into a firestorm and consuming everything in sight, Dream included. Only his circlet remained solid, incandescent upon his fiery head like a halo that matched the glowing intensity of his wings. It was as though the sun itself had taken the form of a dreadful Angel.”

[**CH 39 returns him to his regular intact outfit.]

[**CH 43 sees a peek of] “…a bit of his collarbone that was blackened like it had been burned by flames,” [we don’t know the extent of the burns]

[**CH 45] “The burn scars were actually one big scar centered on his sternum, right where his soul rested. The bones of his sternum, clavicles, and frontal ribs were blackened like charred wood with a thick, circular shape in the middle. Tendrils spread out like wisps of flame, giving the scar an appearance like a black, stylized sun.”

Blue:

Blue is more “Swap” than “Blueberry”. His kerchief is a darker blue color, and he wears a black-gray Royal Guard-inspired “battle body”, blue gloves, and blue boots. His eye lights are also blue. They become blue stars if he is happy and plain white if he’s terrified. His bone attacks are tinted blue.

[**CH 38] […] the slash through the heart sealed, leaving a deep scar much like the one [Ink] himself had gotten from Horrortale Undyne's spear.

Error:

[CH 2] “[…H]is tear marks stained red-purple by the blood that ran from his sockets.”

[Ch 7] “[…] a bit of a black skull and a single haunting red eye socket was visible. A distorted, yellow-ringed blue eye light stared down at them, observing them in silence, before it shrank to a deranged pinprick.

Black, dust-covered skeletal fingers grasped the edge of the portal, not reacting as the edge cut into his hand and what looked like glitching blood dripped down his phalanges.

His black jacket was torn, with the blue ends of its sleeves splattered with monster dust and specks of brownish-red dried blood. His pants were even more discolored, more gray than black and so stained by what must be blood that they clung to the red bones of his legs. One of his shoes was gone, and the strip of fabric around his neck (which might have been a scarf once) was so tattered it resembled a bloody blue bandage more than anything else. Even with his blue-lined hood pulled up over his skull and covering his face in shadow, he was easy to identify.”

[CH 20] “Error's skull stopped melting but the damage was done. Almost half of his head was gone, leaving only his eye light and a bit of his jaw untouched on that side.”

[CH 22] “[…H]is eye lights, which glowed so brightly they almost looked poisonous.”

[CH 48] “He had also fixed and washed his clothes. […] his scarf was no longer torn.”

[**CH 22] “Most of his mandible and zygomatic arch had been repaired. The hole in his skull wasn't anywhere close to being closed but although the tangle of codes in his skull were still horribly warped, more of the bits that were Error's own were visible.”

[**CH 37] “[…] a jagged scar that went from the top of Error’s repaired eye socket, up his forehead and over the top of his skull, and back around to the front through his jaw, where it curled back up and ended at the bottom of his eye socket. It marked exactly where the damage had once been.”

Geno:

[CH 29] “Geno mostly resembled the average Sans, except for the red scarf, melting eye socket, minor glitches, and the large gash across his chest. […] A line of red dripped from Geno’s mouth.” [The glitches around Geno’s eye can come and go, either on command or due to his emotions (negative emotions adding more glitches).]

[**CH 35] “Geno's chest wound seemed a bit less severe and there wasn't a trickle of blood coming from his mouth anymore.”

[**CH 36] “[…] heal the slash across his chest. His eye socket remained melted”

Fresh:

Prism:

[CH 12] “The other Ink still wore mostly brown, but the outfit was much more elaborate than the simple brown pajamas Ink currently wore. The biggest things Ink noticed were the sash of colored vials across the other's chest and the giant paintbrush at their back. And the reflection had a lovely brown scarf.” [He writes on his scarf like og!Ink]

Solus:

[CH 21] “This Ink's outfit was similar to Prism's but with one distinct difference. Part of the "collar" and ends of his scarf were the deep blue of an integrity soul. The other Ink's sleeves and pants were also torn, revealing most of his arms and sections of his legs.

Black marks were visible all over his bones, with a few peeking up just above his scarf. They weren't simple binary codes like Ink's own marks, he realized. They were scars. Physical scars that someone had painstakingly carved into the other Ink's bones […] curling up his jaw and chin.”

[CH 24] “His brown sleeves were mostly gone, showing most of his arms, while his pleated brown pants were torn enough to reveal bits of his tibias, fibulas, and femurs. His ripped pant legs were uneven, their bottoms stained with a black liquid that could be ink or his own blood. The brown leggings Ink wore under his pants were absent from Solus, leaving the bottom parts of his legs and his feet completely bare.

[…] One of his eye lights often shifted color and shape whenever he blinked, sticking mostly to pastels or a stoic, guarded gray. The other was always the deep blue of an integrity soul no matter what emotions he felt or what shape they became.”

Other canon content for handy reference:

Cross is afraid of cows

Spaghetti is (probably) Ink’s favourite food

Ink scratched himself to the point of bleeding while stuck in his AU

[CH 24] ‘Solus’ did not speak much, instead preferring to use sign language and gestures. When his hands weren’t moving in small, careful motions, they held onto the blue edges of his stained and torn brown scarf or clung to his equally battered and scarred version of Broomie.

[CH 40 Broomie’s magic is…] black for portal creation, which would be useful if Ink's own magic was blocked off again. Brown for shielding simply because Ink liked brown, yes? Purple for enhanced durability to allies. Cyan for non-harmful entanglements. Blue for damage to moving targets. Green for Broomie's own regeneration capabilities only, unfortunately. Yellow for precise distance shots. Orange for damage to targets that were still. Red for purely corrosive splatters that could melt through flesh and bone- and Corruption. [Ink only has black and green magic.]

Broomie is referred to with they/them pronouns

Paprika loves dino egg oatmeal, like UT!Papyrus

Only Ink, Broomie, and Dust can see Phantom Paps. Only Dust can hear him.

If you have any links to other comments Buddy has made about any designs, or other quotes from the text, pls link them so I can add them ty !!!

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thickenmyblood · 2 months

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I don't know how to thank you. This feels like the end of an era. I can't believe it's been 4yrs since you started posting hiuh and I was instantly hooked. It literally got me through the pandemic. I learned so much from the story and felt I had Neo as a therapist(the best in the world). You must be flooded with asks now but I am really curious how the story formed in your head. It's hard to believe how consistent the story is as you posted chapter by chapter. Did you outline the whole story when you started? did you stick to all the original ideas? if you changed your mind what were they? It really is a master piece - much much better than many published books I read and I hope you will publish someday, if that's what you want.

I'd also offer you my first born to have an epilogue. hopefully lamen with their child(ren) playing on the beach and Nicaise being the doting big brother. they all grew so much and deserve all the happiness. oh and Kastor and Jo and Galen for big family gathering. I'm so proud of all of them.

thank you thank you thank you for all your patience and genius and mostly, generosity.

hello!!!! i'm so happy that my story resonated with you and got you through some tough times. it did the same for me!

It's hard to believe how consistent the story is as you posted chapter by chapter.

thank you!! it will never be as good as it was in my head or as good as I know I could have made it if I had spent more time on it, but for me the most important thing is that it is completed and at least 70% of what I wanted it to be. a win is a win!!!

Did you outline the whole story when you started? did you stick to all the original ideas? if you changed your mind what were they?

i got the idea for a modern au break up fic in 2020 while I was writing and posting wtsioa. i started the story as a 20k one shot and then realized 5k into it or less that it was not going to fit into that word count. the reason was very simple: i did not want a break up fic centered around "miscommunication" in a naive, fluffy way. i did not want to write a fic where the main issue was that one loved the other too much or that they thought the other was cheating when it wasn't true, etc. i wanted to write a break up that felt honest to me, and this meant giving them both issues that felt real, that i saw in myself and in the people around me irl. which meant that it would take them both considerably more than 5k to get over them (if they ever did).

i outlined the fic very roughly. my first drafts . . . they are not it, girl. like, anyone that has read wtsioa knows that. I'm a much better editor than I am a writer, so for hiuh i outlined the main beats (nicaise calls damen after months, damen goes to therapy, nicaise is out of control and some incidents happen, laurent is dating maxime, they get back together). then, i wrote the entire thing in . . . a year? maybe less? then, i made a mistake and got cocky: i edited the first three chapters and started posting on ao3. that's why the fic took so long to post. i had to edit each chapter a lot after the first three were released.

i edited out too many things to count. things you wouldn't believe if I told you now because they make no sense when looking at the finished version. idalia was a pretty big character, and so was jokaste. in the og outline, I debated between claude/heavy drugs for nicaise. i almost named dog NIKANDROS!!!! damen actually punched aktis at the party when he talks shit about laurent . . . which led to him also punching nik. laurent slapping nicaise once. aimeric and damen baking together. then, there were things I wanted to write but couldn't because they didn't feel very real to me, despite being the best self indulgent daydream scenarios ever: damen hunting claude down (yeah, ruth wanted this to happen), dog getting sick, aimeric's EVERYTHING lol, nik and nicaise talking, etc.

thank you for sending this ask and reading the story through all the ups and downs and... lack of updates on my end!!! it has been the best experience ever, knowing that someone out there is reading and cares about what I made. thank you!!!!!!!!

#anon #hiuh #about the epilogue: i feel you #someone asked me what lamen telling nicaise would look like #but I WANNA KNOW WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT OKAY #bc i already know what happens inside my head #some people were pissed about the cut off ending but i think it just gives the story such a hopeful note

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t-nd-rfoot · 1 year

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one more bc i’m actually having so much fun thinking of these lol!

🍾 with hangman

HUNG(OVER)MAN aka After New Year's with Jake Headcanons

Even when Jake isn’t so good…he’s good.

Pairing Jake Seresin x reader

Theme Fluff

Warnings One mention of actual hangovers, I also just couldn’t think of another title

Word Count 570

Note This was headed in a completely different direction but seeing as it’s just after New Year’s, I thought this direction seemed a bit fitting! This was supposed to go up earlier (like right after NYE) but I had a not so great start to the new year so this took awhile to write and edit. Also, may or may not be loosely based on how I spend NYD 😬 I hope you enjoy it, love!!!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Reblogs are the best way to support creators (writers, artists, gif makers, everyone!) on this platform. Share the content, share the love!

On the rare occasion that Jake didn’t have work the day after a big event, the two of you would spend the day as quiet as possible

Every morning, the two of you would wake up absolutely exhausted despite oversleeping

But the drilled-in discipline from his military training will nag at him until he gets up so he’ll at least get up to brush his teeth

Then it’s straight back to bed for morning snuggles

(He’s also barely awake while brushing his teeth so he also just wants to lay down)

The next time he gets out of bed is when his stomach starts grumbling

And he’s making sure you’re getting out of bed with him, whether that means throwing you over his shoulder or carrying you bridal style

Neither of you bother to change out of your pajamas, by the way

(And that’s assuming you guys even had the energy to change before getting into bed)

If you didn’t, this would be the time you guys exchange your wrinkled formalwear for comfy sweats and tees

For breakfast (or brunch, rather) Jake is always quick to stop you before you can reach for the sugary cereal atop the fridge

“If I’m ever too lazy to cook breakfast for you, then feel free to throw me out along with the garbage”

It’s a simple plate of eggs and bacon to share, exactly the way you like it, with a mug of hot coffee

Then it’s off to the living room couch for some more cuddling while sharing your meal

The TV volume is set to low as you idly flip through the channels or check out what’s streaming

But neither of you are listening to it

Instead, the two of you talk about your plans for the new year: things you want to do, places you want to see, etc.

You guys could literally spend hours on that couch just doing nothing

Also thanks to the many throw pillows you bought because Jake secretly loves them

At some point, he’ll starts to get antsy so the two of you drive around town

Driving through for coffee

Checking out the new restaurant you plan to eat at soon

Passing the scenic route on the way home

Picking up some pizza for dinner on the way

“Easiest dinner cleanup ever,” you said as you suggested it

“You read my mind”

And it’s back to the couch and TV for dinner, though this time the two of you actually pay attention to the screen

Even though you guys spent the whole day barely doing anything, Jake is alert the moment you yawn

He’s turning off the TV and putting away the leftover pizza while you get ready for bed

“Don’t worry about the mess here, babe, I got this. You go ahead so you can rest”

You stay up long enough to wait for him to get in bed with you

Once he kisses you good night, the two of you fall right asleep, recharged for life to go back to normal

In his dreams, he’s replaying the day he just had, doing everything and nothing with you

Because as much as he loves to celebrate big, it’s the small moments with you that mean everything to him

Disclaimer I do not own Top Gun: Maverick or any of its characters. Please do not copy my work or translate without my permission.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic

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carma-tjol · 4 months

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Miscellaneous OPM Characters as Lady Gaga Songs

please read this oh my god I spent so much time... there's some meta scattered in there I promise.

Fubuki

Telephone

Bloody Mary

Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)

Telephone - because I watched an Instagram edit that used it and now I have it permanently associated with her. Fubuki has a fun and glamourous aesthetic and I feel like the song reflects that too Bloody Mary - because of the "I wont crucify the things you do" line. it reminds me of all the people she knows that are like. highly problematic but she's irremovably tied into their lives and ultimately accepts them. Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say) - there are relationships she's had that fell tragically because of, while among other things, her own personal flaws and ego. It's tragic, but she really wasn't equipped to handle everything thrown at her at the time. there really is "nothing else [she] can say" anymore. Imagining her with this song puts a lighthearted twist on the woe of it.

Psykos

Summerboy

So Happy I Could Die

Teeth

MANiCURE

Summerboy - I like to imagine it as Psykos having the summerboy's POV. Feeling disposable and like she got played by Fubuki, she is left to sort of sourly reminisce on what could've been. So Happy I Could Die - for that INTENSE SAPPHIC ANGST. Also I like the concept of like. attempting to use sexuality to cope with severe internal turmoil. I love this song sooo much. Teeth - vibes I guess MANiCURE - "SHE WANNA BE MAN CURED!" so basically more sapphic stuff but campier and less gut wrenching this time lol.

Genos

(... god I initially struggled finding stuff for him HARD but ended up with 4 things. what.)

Replay

I Like It Rough

Shallow

Paparazzi (bonus)

Replay - Lady Gaga is talking about trauma and PTSD taking over and effecting every part of her life, which I feel like is relevant. "Every single day, yeah I dig a grave Then I sit inside it wondering if I'll behave" I Like It Rough - I've always interpreted this song as only ever experiencing harshness from people, not knowing how process kindness, and struggling to decipher sincerity. Which I feel like, removed from all the sex stuff, fits Genos pretty well thematically. Shallow - I don't really mean this in a ship way here (to be honest, one sided genos pining is my ideal! But that's not relevant here) but I can think of this song with Genos and Saitama's relationship and how at its core, One Punch Man revolves around them. They represent the central themes of companionship and how humanity is based on relationships with others. They try to "fill that void" with each other and Genos looks at Saitama worried, when will it be enough? (When will HE be enough?) Also I enjoy listening to songs where there is some form of disappearance or death and imagining the MA arc. I did that a tonnn with Sweet Talking Woman by ELO a while back, something about mixing the love song about chasing someone with the tragedy of the MA arc and how Genos became unattainable really clicked for me. (Fun fact, I had 182 listens for that song on my Spotify wrapped... pretty much all thinking of Genos) I'm supposed to be talking about Lady Gaga though oops. "Crash through the surface, where they cant hurt us We're far from the shallow now." They've experienced the same alienation, whether inflicted or self imposed and were able to drag each other out of it. Perhaps there's comfort in the similarity. Paparazzi (bonus lol) - If you enjoy leaning into Genos's weird obsession, this is the song for you! He's a little neurotic...

Flashy Flash and Sonic

I'm giving them the same song

Speechless

Speechless "In your tight jeans With your long hair and your cigarette stained lies Could we fix you if you broke? And is your punch line just a joke?" I connect it by thinking about how much weight their relationship held in their lives. Each of their dreams had the other in it. And I think that losing that was a bit worldshattering. "Would you give it all up If I promise, boy, to you?" Eyyyy we were left on a bit of a cliffhanger right? Flash was trying to ask sonic something but got cut off by the other ninjas. "We could-" we could what, Flash? we. could. what. (Team up again? Please I'm literally on my hands and knees begging, yet I know it's never that easy with OPM)

Amai Mask

Beautiful, Dirty Rich

The Fame

Beautiful, Dirty Rich - It's about fame! Living the high life! He's like a major celebrity and a diva so I think it works. Just ignore the bit where it says "but we've got no money" because he definitely has money. The Fame - similar thought process

Webigaza

Applause

Applause - She "lives for the applause!" The fame itself is empty without her fans.

Do-S (aka BONUS! other songs I like but had zero use for)

Love Game

Money Honey

Bad Romance

Poker Face

Government Hooker

Judas

not sexual enough for Do-S but I really like Americano too.

okay I'm done with these now I'm literally going insane

#opm #one punch man #opm meta #fubuki #psykos #genos #flashy flash #sonic opm #only tagging the more relevant characters lol #i listened to way too much lady gaga for this in the last 3 hours #i may have gotten in the top 0.05% for her in the wrapped this year but. imgonna die

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demons-and-demigods · 1 month

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Demons and Demigods Part Six: Tartarus

Edit 4/12/24: okay so I might come back to this part and rewrite it at some point. I'll make a second post for that just to keep this one around bc i do like it, i just think it could be More lol

Alright, so this part is gonna be part hand-wavey transitions part written scene. I didn't want to split it up, so you'll just have to bear with me here for this one. This part also features dark!percy and, you know, The Horrors. Let me know if you want any warnings added to this one and I'll add them.

They get to Rome, split up to do their things, find Nico, fight the twins, Annabeth finds the Athena Parthenos, etc. Sam and Dean are stuck in Mystery Spot the same day Percabeth falls into Tartarus. And because demigods are ~weird~ they can all sense that something is off each repeat (especially because Percy and Annabeth seem Extra Off), and the Wednesday that Dean dies and then stays dead for four months is really fucking weird bc the demigods are just like, they know that nothing they do now is gonna stick they can feel it and Gaea and the Giants have like, stopped pulling shit so they’re just like wtf is going on. Then the world resets again and Percabeth has just fallen into Tartarus and off we go to continue the story. The demigods can sense that whatever was going on is over now and they hustle to get back to work. 

Percabeth did not get reset because Tartarus works different and is beyond the reach and powers of a trickster (even if said trickster is actually the archangel Gabriel in disguise) so they were falling for longer than is canon and then spent a lot longer down there than in canon bc I’m a sadist <3 so the Percy and Annabeth that the rest of the seven interacted with on each reset were just illusions repeating canned lines.

(I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this is my au and I can fuck with the timelines if I want to, so I am. Does it make sense? No. Do I care? Also no. I'm just having fun, don't think about any of it too hard.)

Now begins The Horrors.

Percabeth is in Tartarus dealing with The Horrors for like, a year. Between the topside Mystery Spot resets not affecting the Pit and time working differently down there anyway, it’s a long ass time for them. Tartarus is Large, it takes a long time to traverse its expanse. They suffer through drinking the fire water and trying desperately to stay alive to make it to the Doors. It’s been months and they’ve both started to lose themselves a little to the nature of the Pit. Percy is a little more vicious when cutting down monsters, Annabeth is a little slower to reign him in. It’s . . . almost easier down there. It’s all cut a dry. It’s just kill or be killed. It’s us or them. There is nothing but fight and kill and stay alive and always keep moving. It’s simple. 

Bob shows up and it’s a reminder that there’s more out there, a reminder of who they were and what they’re fighting for when they had begun to forget that there had ever been anything other than Hell. They regain a little bit of who they were before the Fall. 

The arai fuck shit up real bad lmao. They fight and get cursed and then Annabeth is blinded and she can’t find Percy and Percy is enraged. He stops caring about anything but getting to her, he doesn’t care about all the curses he is taking on, he can’t feel the pain of them anymore. The arai fall all around him with every swing of his sword. The curses pile up and still he doesn’t stop. They mean nothing in the face of his rage and desperation to get back to Annabeth’s side. 

And then it happens. He cuts down an arai and then he’s on the ground. Annabeth is still calling for him and the arai are laughing at him. The curse of Phineas, they cackle. A slow, painful death for the son of Poseidon who has caused so much suffering and pain; it is fitting. 

Percy is in unbearable pain; his blood is boiling in his veins and his skin is sloughing off his bones. His head is pounding and throbbing and he thinks it might explode. His muscles are burning and tearing themselves apart as his bones liquify. He knows that he is dying and fears that he won’t. Still he tries to get up, tries to stand and continue fighting. He refuses to go out without a fight, and he refuses to leave Annabeth to suffer the nightmares of this place alone. 

He manages to get back to his feet, although he has no idea how, and he has not the strength to lift his sword, barely the strength to grip it. And so he lunges, ripping the arai apart with hands and teeth as he burns, everything burning burning burning. But Annabeth is always just out of reach and his strength cannot last forever. He goes down. His vision is fading and he can’t tell if he’s breathing, he’s not even sure he has lungs to breathe with anymore. With the last of his strength he turns his gaze to the vaguely silver outline of where Bob is standing off to the side and prays. He begs with the shredded remains of his deteriorating mind for Bob to keep Annabeth safe. He apologizes for never visiting, for being a bad friend. 

And then the lights go out and Percy knows that this is it. He has a moment to wonder if his soul will remain trapped in Tartarus for all eternity or if it will manage to escape. With his luck, he doubts it. 

Bob moves, then. He clears away the arai and grabs Annabeth before she walks off the cliff. He heals her and carries her over to where Percy is lying still on the ground. Annabeth begs Bob to help him, cradles him in her arms and tells him that he can’t die, he can’t leave her to find the Doors alone, she needs him. Bob tries to heal him. 

Percy is a gruesome sight. He’s bleeding from a hundred different wounds, one of his legs looks broken and there is bone sticking out of his arm. He’s covered in blood and bruises and burns and he’s far too cold. 

Bob manages to fix most of the wounds and heals the broken bones. But the gorgon’s blood poison is beyond his abilities to take care of. They head to Damasen’s. 

Annabeth is wary, but desperate, and Bob is holding Percy so she had no choice but to follow. 

Damasen helps them, albeit reluctantly. Percy slowly gets better. Annabeth is thankful for the weeks of rest they get at Damasen’s hut while Percy recovers. Eventually, however, Percy is as healed as he is going to get in Tartarus, where the very air they breathe is slowly killing them, and they need to move on. 

It’s slow progress, heading towards the lady Bob says can help them with the death mist stuff, but they make it. Bob couldn’t come with them all the way, but he promised to meet them afterwards. 

And then Misery herself shows up and she is going to kill them. After everything else they’ve been through, after everything else they’ve done to get this far, they’re going to die at the hands of a sniveling, whining old hag? No. 

Percy is angry. He is furious. He wrests control of the poison from her and reverses its flow. He grabs hold of her tears and snot and saliva and forces it back, making her sob harder and it only gives him more to work with. Annabeth stands back and watches. 

Percy sees just how much misery Misery can take. She is begging him to let her go and he can’t help but laugh. It’s pitiful, how quickly she’s given in, given up. That cracked glass orb somewhere in the core of him shatters. And all of a sudden, he can feel. He can sense the congestion rattling in her lungs and the ichor pumping through her veins. 

He wants to grab hold of it, grab hold of everything in her and make her scream. He wants to make her feel even a fraction of the pain that he and Annabeth have had to endure down here. 

But then Annabeth’s ghoulish hand is on his arm and he turns to look at her and her eyes are sharp, even from beneath the guise of the death mist, and she shakes her head. He tilts his, asking, are you sure? He can kill this goddess, he is suddenly certain of this fact, and he would, if Annabeth told him to. She shakes her head again. 

He clears a path and lets Misery go. 

Nyx is frightening, yes, but Percy can feel the ichor in her veins just as easily as he could in Misery’s. He is not as afraid as he knows he should be. 

They survive the House of Night and make it to the other side intact. 

Percy can sense Annabeth’s heart pounding as they run, can feel her blood pumping and it makes his head throb, but they don’t have time for him to think about it, so he shoves it to the back of his mind and carries on. 

They meet up with Bob. Percy can almost hear the ichor in his veins and he can sense every movement Bob is about to make, can feel his muscles tense and stretch. 

They make it to the Doors and Percy can hardly think over the sound of all the blood pumping within the horde of monsters before them. It echoes in his head, gallons of blood and ichor roaring in his ears. He stumbles and Annabeth catches him. He can’t hear her worried questions over the pounding in his head. 

He gets it under control. 

They make it to the Doors and cut one chain. They fight. Tartarus himself appears. 

Percy drops his sword. He claps his hands over his ears and screams. He can feel it now, the body of Tartarus coming to life beneath their feet; the rivers of the Underworld flow through his veins, monsters writhe around in pustules on his skin. They stand atop the thunderous beating of his massive heart. 

Percy can feel it all and he can feel his mind begin to fray at the immensity of it, at the truth of the Pit. Mortal minds were not meant to bear this reality. 

Annabeth is kneeling in front of him (he doesn’t remember hitting the ground) and her hands are covering his over his ears and she’s trying to talk to him but all he can hear is the rushing of the rivers beneath Tartarus’ skin. Bob is fighting off monsters and his brothers as the manifestation of Tartarus watches from the sidelines. Damasen is there (when did he get here? Percy’s mind is fracturing, he can’t think straight, he can’t keep track of what’s going on) and Percy blinks and Damasen has thrown himself at Tartarus and Annabeth is trying to haul him into the Doors. 

Percy tries to speak but he can’t seem to make his voice work. They need to stay, to help their friends. They can’t leave Bob and Damasen behind. 

Annabeth is crying. 

Percy reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks and tries to focus only on her, tries to block out the body of Tartarus and the horde of monsters. 

Suddenly, Bob is there, scooping them up and depositing them in the elevator. “The button must be held for twelve minutes or else the Doors will open and you will die, trapped within whatever lies between here and the surface.” 

Annabeth tries to protest. Percy can barely make out what Bob is saying. 

“I will hold the button,” Bob says. “Thank you, friends, for giving us hope.” He glances over his shoulder at where Damasen and his drakon are holding off the tide of monsters and trying to keep Tartarus at bay. “We will do this for you, and we are honored to. You must hold the Doors closed on your side. They do not like the living and will try to spit you out.” 

Bob presses the button and the Doors begin to slide closed. “Please tell the sun and stars I say hello,” he says with a soft smile, and the Doors shut. 

It’s a long, long ride back to the surface. Annabeth and Percy throw their shoulders into the Doors, fighting to keep them closed. Annabeth sobs, but Percy still isn’t quite all there. 

The longer they’re in the elevator and the farther they get from the Pit, the more Percy begins to come back to himself. Annabeth watches the awareness slowly return to his eyes and his face crumple with despair as he regains his mind and can finally make sense of what just happened. 

They mourn, but they keep the Doors closed. 

Above, the whole thing with Pasiphae and Clytius is happening. The Doors ding. Leo throws a screwdriver to hit the button. 

The Doors slide open. 

Percy and Annabeth tumble out, still clinging to each other even as they collapse. 

They look dead. 

Clytius uses them to speak and everyone is pissed off, then Hazel and Hecate kill him <3 

Percy and Annabeth are alive, but only just. And they’re out. Nico and Hazel kneel on either side of them. Nico reaches out to clutch at the tattered remains of Percy’s shirt and Hazel grabs hold of Annabeth’s wrist. 

The others gather around and hold hands. Nico and Hazel shadow travel them all out of there. 

In the light, it’s worse. 

Reyna and Coach Hedge meet them on the hilltop and freeze. Hedge starts cursing up a storm and Reyna chokes back bile. Leo turns around and throws up. Frank gags. Hazel sobs and Nico feels like he can’t breathe. Piper turns and buries her head in Jason’s chest. He wraps his arms around her tightly but can’t bring himself to look away from Percy and Annabeth. 

They’re horrifyingly thin, emaciated. The tattered remnants of their clothes hang off their skeletal frames. Their skin was pale and sallow, their cheeks sunken. Their chests rattled with each shallow, labored breath. They were covered in cuts and bruises, weeping lacerations and half-healed scabs littering their skin beneath layers of dirt and grime and other nasty substances. 

The others wondered just how long Percy and Annabeth had been down there. 

Jason gently lifts Percy into his arms and flies him to the ship, Frank right behind him as a dragon with Annabeth carefully cradled in his claws. 

Reyna, Hedge, and Nico leave with the Athena Parthenos. 

Percy and Annabeth are settled in two beds in the small infirmary on the Argo II to rest. No one knows when (if) they’ll wake up. Someone is always with them, though. Be it Hazel gently wiping the grime from their skin or Piper carefully cleaning their wounds, Jason dribbling nectar between their cracked lips or Frank doing some physical therapy exercises to try and keep their muscles from atrophying any further. 

The boat was quiet and tense, everyone waiting with bated breath for Percy and Annabeth to wake up. 

And eventually, they did. 

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stillalittlelostngl · 1 year

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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Pt 2 Dabi/Reader

Reposting an old work from my old account. Will go back and edit this soon hopefully so please be kind in the meantime lol it's been 3 years since i looked at this.

You woke to a bump in the night.

Because, of course your little houseguest didn’t have the courtesy to just stay asleep, you thought as your hand dragged across your sheets in a half conscious search for your phone. Waking up had always been difficult for you, swimming through the murky waters sleep provided to drag your consciousness back into the present had never been an easy feat and this was no different. The light from the phone screen blinded you and you needed to take a moment to adjust. When you saw the time on the display, you could barely hold back the groan of annoyance.

“3:30...really?” you questioned under your breath as you tossed the phone aside. You and the stray you had managed to pick up couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep. How the stranger on your couch managed to feel rested enough to be moving around and making so much noise was a mystery to you. Closing your eyes, just for a moment you had told yourself, you began to drift back off the the sleep your body desperately needed. Your body practically melted into the warm cocoon of blankets surrounding you and you were on the very edge of consciousness when another loud thump from the person in your living room had you startling awake. It seemed your guest had no intention of letting you sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, you began to tap one of your fingers against the back of your other hand as you thought about just what to do now. Should you go out there and see if the guy needed help? It wasn’t as if you were their parent or anything and if he was up and moving then he probably intended to leave. While you wouldn’t have advised him to be up and moving for at least an hour or two longer, who were you to stop him? He was grown and had spent far more time in his body than you had when you were repairing the damage, surely he would know what’s best for himself.

But then again the thought of letting a stranger roam your home unsupervised didn’t sit too well with you. While you tried to avoid assuming the worst of people, you didn’t know this man. You hadn’t even had what could remotely be considered a single conversation with him. All you knew was that someone saw it fit to leave him half dead in an alley and as much as you hated to think it that wasn’t much of a ringing endorsement. He could very much be the type to just end up robbing you. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time a patient of yours thought to do so.

Even with these thoughts swimming in your head you had still been tempted to just call it a night. Let him take whatever he deemed valuable enough to be bothered with as long as you got an extra hour of sleep and he closed the door on the way out who cared? The most expensive thing in your possession was probably your phone, everything else in your apartment was second hand or as cheap as you could get it, so it wouldn’t be too big of a loss if he took anything.

But it would be a pain in the ass to replace.

And that’s the thought that got you up and out of bed at such an ungodly hour. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you shifted off of your bed and made your way to the door, soft curses leaving your mouth when your feet touched the cold floor.

Funny, it was only really now that you began to wonder just who it was you had let into your home. You had been too focused on getting him in the apartment and fixed up, and after that was done all you had been worried about was finally getting some rest. You hadn’t put any thought into who he was or just what he was capable of.

Your mother had always complained about your one track mind. She’d even lectured you a time or two about your bleeding heart as well, going on about how you couldn’t very much right the wrongs of the world or help people who weren’t looking for assistance. In your still sleep deprived state you couldn’t help but think she might’ve just had a point as you opened the door.

You padded down the hall, noting that you hadn’t heard much of anything from the man since getting out of the warmth of your bed. You were equal parts annoyed and hopeful that there was a possibility you had gotten out of bed for nothing.

He froze when you had entered the room, the creak of the floorboards altering him of your presence. Shadows gathered in the far corners of the space and if it wasn’t for the dim glow of the street lamp outside the window you would hardly be able to tell where the shadows ended and he began. Washed in the gold light you could make out faint details of him, the tension in his shoulders and the narrowed eyes reminding you all too much of a cornered animal.

The teal of his eyes showed an emotion but it was difficult for you to place. You could practically see the gears turning, the emotion behind his eyes seemed crude, raw, as if he was the coyote stuck in the gleaming steel jaws of the trap, biting off his leg in a last ditch effort to survive. He was all sharp teeth and rough edges and you made a mental note to keep your guard up around him. You brought a stray home afterall, you shouldn’t be surprised if it decided to bite.

It wasn’t until he began to pull himself up from the floor that you realized he must’ve fallen off the couch. If it was in his sleep or when you assumed he had made to get up to leave you couldn’t tell for sure. With how cagey he seemed to be it was probably the latter, your quirk tended to leave people light headed and fatigued and on an occasion or two had left people with neurally mediated syncope for a week given that their injuries were serious enough to require manipulation of their nervous system. You had been getting better at lessening the severity of it but if he was anything to go by you still had a long way to go.

His movements had been stiff and jerky as well, as if he was still sore from the damage from before. It wouldn’t be too surprising if he was still feeling some aches and pains, you had just fixed and replaced numerous cells after all. It was a process that would’ve taken weeks, maybe even longer given the punctured lung and all, had his body have to do the work on its own. With your quirk the time span had been cut down to an hour at the very most. There was bound to be some drawback from speeding up a natural process like that. How grimey he was after his roll in the trash probably wasn’t helping things much either.

You had been so lost in your own head checking over the stranger to see how well you work had held up you hadn’t noticed he had situated himself on the couch until he began to speak.

“So, you make a hobby out of dragging people outta dumpsters or something?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face and pulling at the surgical staples. Leaning forward with his head cocked and eyeing you in amusement he certainly made for a different picture than the man you found on the ground mere moments ago. His body language was lethargic and the drawl in his voice suggested that he was as relaxed as he could be for waking up in someone else’s home. It was a stark contrast from the man you saw earlier who seemed as if he couldn’t decide between making a run for it or snapping at you.

His eyes still held that same raw and unnerving intensity, though. You could hardly hold back from squirming under his gaze. The only thing preventing you from doing so was your stubborn pride that prevented you from being intimidated by someone in your own home.

“Or somethin’...,” you all but mumbled as you shifted your weight from one foot to the next. If anything it was more of a side effect of you being a bleeding heart with more tenaciousness than common sense.

His eyes narrowed at your answer and you could practically hear the gears turning. Your answer had apparently been vague enough to leave him with more questions than you cared to answer at that moment. You hadn’t really been looking to play twenty questions this early in the morning.

He had opened his mouth to say something but you were quick to cut him off.

“Before you go I’d like to give you a quick once over. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything or that the cells haven’t gone and done their own thing.” It really wouldn’t do if he got fixed up just to end up having his body react unexpectedly to the session. While no one had ever left your care worse off than when they came to you, there had been cases -especially when intensive cell and tissue damage had occurred- where your patient’s body wanted to either reject the new cells entirely or the rate of cell growth would become concerning.

Biology was such a fickle thing and with your quirk being highly methodological in how you had to go about repairing the damage without disturbing homeostasis, these cases were a source of endless frustration for you. It was always better to make sure the work was done and done right than to send someone off with a different complication.

“Ouch, already planning on throwing me out on the cold dark street?” he said rubbing at his chest as your words had physically hurt, “That’s a bit heartless, don’t you think?”

The grin that pulled at his cheeks had you slightly concerned the surgical staples that seemed to be holding him together like some overgrown rag doll would be pushed past their limit. You weren’t too keen on seeing whatever the result of that would be.

“Heartless would’ve been letting you bleed out in that alley,” you said with a scoff, much too tired to be in the mood for the stranger’s teasing. This was familiar territory though, talkative and thinking he was far funnier than he actually was, he fit the bill for the type of clients who you dealt with on the regular. You could practically feel the tension leaving your body from how routine the banter seemed to be. You’ve suspected that it was a way to save face. It wouldn’t really do for most of your clients to have it get out that they had been injured or just how serious their wounds were. “Besides, I figured the reason you ended up face down on my floor was that you were tryin to leave.”

The shit-eating smirk on his face dimmed at your words. If you didn’t know any better you’d say the man was damn near pouting. Irritation at being caught clear on his face and you had to fight off a grin of your own at the lack of any sly rebuttal.

Taking his silence for permission to get to work you made your way towards the couch and instructed him to sit back. You were mostly concerned about how well the punctured lung had healed as any complication there would be far more serious than any of his other injuries.

“You should probably sweep by the way,” the man said as he leaned back to give you better access to the area, “it was a little dusty down there.”

You couldn’t hold back the snort of amusement. Being someone who had been laid out in some grimy ass alleyway when you found him, dust bunnies should be the least of his concerns.

“Piss off.”

The activation of your quirk cast the dark room in a white light that chased away the remaining shadows and the familiar warmth that flooded your veins as you got to work was more than welcomed. When you were younger you had looked for any reason to activate your quirk if only to have the pretty light surround your hands and the cozy feeling it provided. As a result, you would spend so much time physically distorting flowers and trees and when that got too boring ,and your control was much better, you’d genetically alter any and everything. Your mother had nearly had a conniption when she came home to you changing nearly every strand of your siblings hair a different color.

Getting to work, you observed that the cells you had repaired weren’t being rejected or proliferating more than expected much to your relief. While it would be easy enough to fix who was to say his body wouldn’t have reacted poorly to that either? Activating your quirk and doing basic manipulations had come easily enough to you, you had been doing so since your quirk had appeared. However, there were still things you needed to learn about manipulating things on a much smaller cellular level. You regularly spent hours on end studying biology and anatomy books in hopes of bettering your manipulations. You were making progress, no doubt about that, but the progress was slow and you had a notoriously short patience.

You could feel his eyes on you as you worked. Understandable since you kinda did have to feel the guy up. You had thought yourself immune to the awkwardness that often came with this aspect of the healing process, you had certainly done it enough times to be used to it, but he just made your skin itch as if it was too tight to contain yourself. You weren’t sure if you were more unnerved by his staring or your reaction to it.

You were checking over any minor damage you had ignored during the last session, in favor of tackling the much more immediate concerns of a collapsed lung and broken bones, when he decided to speak again.

“So,” he sighed as he shifted under your hands, apparently a little antsy himself, “what’s the damage doc?”

Doing one final check to make sure nothing had changed in the few moments you had spent observing the recovery of the minor damage, you gave a soft hum in acknowledgment as you removed your hands and began to move away from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll live,” you quiped from your newly designated side of the couch, watching as he examined where your hands had been as if he could see the work you did, “You’ll experience some mild irritation at most from some minor injuries your body is capable of healing on it’s own. You may experience a fainting spell which is a normal reaction to the healing. Just make sure to lay down if you begin to feel lightheaded. Don’t operate heavy machinery for at least a week, blasé blasé. You get the gist.”

“Why not just fix everything?”

“You’re really going to complain about a few bruises after I just stopped you from drowning in your own blood?” you questioned with a raised brow. In all honesty you hadn’t healed him fully because you didn’t want him to go out and try to get revenge on the person who had him in such a sorry state. If he still had a few aches or bruises he wouldn’t be too eager to go and get into another fight. Or at least you hoped as much.

Your remark got a huff of laughter out of him as he stood, ready to head out

“So, this the part where I say ‘thank you’?” he questioned sardonic amusement clear in his tone.

“Well that would be what common courtesy and basic manners call for in this type of situation,” you said as you rose from your perch to walk him out, “But do me one better and make sure I don’t see you again.” The best type of patient was the kind you didn’t see often, after all.

“You take me home and send me off sayin all of that?” he teased with a soft laugh, “Your really gunna hurt my feelings now.”

“I’m sure it isn’t the first some someone’s done so. Figured you’d be used to it by now,” you said dryly as a smile threatened to pull at the corners of your lips. That managed to get a full laugh out of him as the two of you neared the door.

Standing at the door, he looked torn between staying and going. You saw a range of emotions fly across his face far too quickly for you to even determine what the first was let alone any of the others.

“Unluckily for you,” he finally said, “my father skipped over the whole...teaching manners thing,” he explained with a wave of his hand. You rolled your eyes at the statement. You’d delt the with this type before. They had far too much pride and too fragile of an ego to properly thank you for helping them. You used to be disgruntled by it, your mother having drilled manners into you to the point where if you even thought of being rude or discourteous to someone who you felt didn’t deserve such behavior had your stomach twisting in knots. But over time you’ve grown used to it. Men feeling like they had too much to prove to be bothered with basic decency were unfortunately plentiful when dealing with drug lords and the likes.

“But my mother didn’t,” he continued, much to your surprise, “so...thanks, for...you know,” a gesture of his hands towards his body had you knowing full well what he was trying to convey. The sorry excuse of gratitude was almost laughable.

“Oh, by all means don’t strain yourself there,” you scoffed, “but yeah, I know. Just...stay outta trouble,” you felt as if you were becoming your mother at this point, lord knows she spoke those words to you enough times growing up, “I don’t wanna keep having to put you back together. You look like you’re damn near falling apart as is,” you said with a gesture to the many staples that covered his body.

He smirked at your response and give you a slight nod of acknowledgement at the command you knew in your bones he was going to ignore. “Yeah, yeah,” he all but mumbled with a wave of his hand as he opened the door, “could be giving you the same advice. Can’t be too safe pulling strangers outta alleyways, don’t know which one might just be a villain.” And with that cryptic warning the nameless stranger exited your apartment into the darkness of the city that nearly swallowed him whole as soon as he had stepped out.

You closed the door and leaned against it, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from such little sleep creeping back up after the activation of your quirk had sent it away. Looking at the clock, you noticed that what had felt like a lifetime had only passed in thirty minutes or so. There was still some time for a quick nap before you had to actually begin your day.

Dragging yourself back to your room and flopping onto the far too expensive mattress you couldn’t help but wonder about the stranger who had just left.

‘He was certainly a piece of work,’ you thought with a snort. With his smart ass mouth you were sure he had probably said something slick to the wrong person. You hoped he actually bothered to listen and didn’t go looking to start somethin after he left.

Even as you began to lose consciousness and drift off into sleep you had to fight off a chuckle at the thought. He didn’t come across as the type that would listen. Your last thought before sleep claimed you was how long it would take before he became a regular.

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ruyalarincadisi · 10 months

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*strolls up several days late to your post about time passing in Milgram* okay, so I believe the birthdays are just a fun-for-fans sort of thing, and that events are happening fairly quickly compared to real time! No one is aging, because if they did it's disrupt a lot of the character Vibes they're going for (aka Amane would be like 18 and Haruka would be 23 and no longer fit the 'innocent child' thing, Mahiru would be 30 and no longer fit the 'young love' trope, even Es would be around 20). Also, some of the injuries the prisoners got during the trial hiatus would have definitely healed already -- Mahiru's arm (broken sometime before last August) should have been healed by November, and there's no way she'd sound that weak for her interrogation end of this May.

Sorry if that disrupts your Haruka theory, though ;--; it sounds really interesting and I'd love to hear more about it!!

hiii beans, thank you for answering it!!! has it been that long?? i thought only 2 years have passed :o but even if that was so, the injuries would heal in 2 years so you must be right either way! it makes more sense! it'll be long so i'll just put this here

regarding the time passing, we were trying to notice differences in character art to see if their hair grew longer with my friend and iirc it was only mahiru's and amane's (?) hair that looked different or longer in some way, excluding the style differences. amane's bangs and mahiru's hair completely! (bonus: the ahoge like thing haruka has ahaha) although it's a little funny to imagine all of them except mappi and amane getting haircuts regularly (from jackalope?!), it seems unlikely so it was probably a drawing mistake in mappi's and it looks that way for amane because her hair is messy...? hypomania can last just several days, google is saying 4 days is the criteria, it can still be true as long as haruka's changes didn't all happen in one day, i guess! we at least know it's not 1 day, right? lol i think they were saying mikoto is being weird at "nights", they must have spent some time there, correct me if i'm wrong!

though some stuff i said in that post could be explained with how comfortable he got there because he was accepted by es and mu, so this is mostly me giving my mental illness to my favorite character (i can't even call it a theory just a hc!!) but but!! especially when es asks if he's a different person because that's how it feels for other people when people around them experience mania or hypomania and it usually doesn't suddenly feel like someone changed their whole personality when they get more comfortable with you, you know? he clearly shows depressive symptoms too but i guess no one is doubting that one :') also the impulsiveness! he says he doesn't want to die both in his song and those questions in twitter, then he says he'll kill himself because he doesn't really think about what he's saying. i actually planned to shut up about this until i saw everything about him. i hate being wrong /lh but i couldn't because twitter is dead to me and my friends are usually busy and i get bored if i don't talk about my hyperfixations enough. and i'm getting so comfortable here lately... ANYWAY until we get new info contradicting this i'll be saying haruka is bipolar but again, i'm not assuming the writer did it intentionally so it's more of a self indulgent hc than a theory :33 EDIT: WAIT I JUST LOOKED AT AMANE'S DOOR PIC AGAIN? HER BANGS ACTUALLY GOT LONGER??? DID JACKALOPE REALLY CUT THEIR HAIR, HELP??

#gem talks #thanks for the ask!#god i talked so much. i'm about to diagnose myself too. it would explain why i'm so outgoing lately GHJGHEkjahjgjf

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trashlie · 1 year

Text

ILY FP 209

vHowdy ho guys! Yet another post where I’ve basically taken my initial write up on reddit and edited it for additional thoughts/insight/changes in my thinking! Sorry to keep doing this but I feel like it’s the easiest way to do this, rather than just trying to write something new using all the points I’ve made before lol. That said, I still want to write up a post about how I’m viewing Alyssa and her sexuality (and how it relates to her need to fit in!) but I’m still struggling to figure out how to manage my time properly lately. ;A;

Anyway, this was SUCH an episode! Like, literally gave it 5 stars for everything that it contains, and if you guys have read my ILY Brainrot long enough, you know this was total catnip for me. Nol airing grievances, Kousuke’s insecurities being addressed, some interesting callbacks/parallels to an earlier scene that has constantly vexed me, and a whole lot of drama. This episode was worthy of a bag of popcorn, frankly! Let’s dive in!

Kousuke actually saying, out loud, that Nol would be doing everyone a favor if he was gone is SO cold. Not that he's ever really kept it a secret, but I don't think Kousuke has intentionally said that out loud in front of Nol (at least, not knowingly, unlike that time Nol called him). I had said that I had a feeling Nol would be able to muster up the ability to say nice things about Kousuke in a genuine way, but actually seeing how many things he could say he admires about him, while Kousuke couldn't even pull up one, only a condescending backwards compliment... I feel like these last two episodes really epitomize their relationships and who THEY are. Kousuke has always been driven by his growing paranoia AND his fear of disappointing Rand, and they're both full on display. The way he loathes Nol is completely different from the way Nol dislikes (or hates?) Kousuke.

For Nol, it’s a matter of how Kousuke has reduced him to nothing over the years, how he pointedly denied Nol any right to happiness (and this is something I’d like to go a little deeper into, if possible, sometime!), how he belittled him for so many years. Nol’s dislike/hatred stems from years of being attacked. But Kousuke hates Nol just for existing. Nothing Nol could do or not do would ever change Kousuke’s mind. It’s so raw and vitriolic.

There's so much honesty coming out in this episode and I don't know how to describe how it makes me feel - sad feels like such a paltry understatement? It really re-centers what we knew from those little snippets of their pasts: once upon a time Nol tried SO HARD to be a brother to Kousuke, to curry his favor, until one day he realized it was an impossible task. Once he was made to feel like nothing he tried to BECOME nothing, and even that was still too much for Kousuke. He tried to do what Kousuke wanted but his chance to disappear was taken away by him, too, in a fit of paranoia. Nol spoke nothing but the truth and Kousuke continues to warp and distort reality EVEN AS IT PLAYS OUT. The insistence that he'll be in trouble despite the conversation with Rand, because Kousuke is incapable of believing that. But what Nol said is probably true - Kousuke likely has never truly been in trouble, but to Kousuke, disappointing Rand is the same thing (and I imagine Yui is not without some kind of manipulative quip that makes Kousuke feel like he did not exceed expectations). And all this time, Rand has been ENCOURAGING Kousuke to do exactly what Nol's telling him. Perhaps he wouldn't describe it in the same words, but Rand knows that Kousuke has been at his beck and call his entire life and he doesn't want that for him.

It's funny that Kousuke is always calling Nol selfish. As readers we know that Nol puts nearly everyone ahead of him. In order to be selfish, you have to care enough to put yourself ahead of others, to take things for yourself without consideration of others. But Nol has spent his whole life considerate of Kousuke. On the other hand, Kousuke has spent his entire life trying to impress or please his father, without once following his own whims. To him, Nol looks selfish because Kousuke truly believes his life to be indolent, because he doesn't operate in an effort to please Rand. Kousuke feels the weight of a burden that Nol doesn't share - except the only person shackling him with that burden is himself (and arguably Yui, but that's a whole other thing). We haven't ever seen Kousuke chase after something HE truly wants - something out of pleasure or joy. I assume university was the last time he ever did anything truly for himself, and we saw that he was called home and left it all behind to come to this life and never looked back. What Nol said about playing the piano - when did Kousuke stop? Has he ever played it recently? Is it something that he told himself was a childish hobby and now, as a grown man, he mustn't entertain these childish whims anymore or something?

Idk how to word it well but this chapter just feels SO raw. Nol put SO MUCH of himself out there. They're an interesting opposite of each other in this way - though Nol has kept everything to himself and swallowed everything down whole, he's the one more willing to air his grievances with Kousuke and be honest but Kousuke can't even be honest to himself. Every day he is lying to himself. Think about how he had to talk to himself about the CFO position, reminding himself he wants this, he wants that life, even if he has to uproot himself and go to Tokyo. At the end of the day, Kousuke goes through the motions. Does he enjoy his job or is it all just the pursuit of someone else's approval? No wonder he thinks Nol is childish and lazy - Kousuke was made to believe that as adults, we must sacrifice things and that there is no room in an adult life for whimsy or pointless enjoyment. In episode 27 when Nol says he’ll be cold with Shinae, Kousuke closes his eyes and says they’re ridiculous and tells them to stop acting like children. Why are his eyes closed? He’s been conditioned to think that everyone must act a certain way - that he has an image to keep and he doesn’t have the “liberty” to live freely as he thinks Nol does. To him, Nol is the selfish one for living for himself when he’s supposed to be adhering to a particular image, because isn’t that what it means to be mature, to be an adult, to impress others?

This is also the second time someone has predicted Kousuke won't be good at his job. Yujing has noted that she thinks he's not ready, he's moving too fast. Nol isn't wrong that someone without his own convictions won't be fit to run a company. I don't doubt that Kousuke has and will continue to develop other necessary skills, but convictions are important. A CEO can't fold to everyone else's whims, and that's where Kousuke lacks the most. How do you push back against the people you are trying to maintain good relations with?

In the same way that Nol has spent so many years now living as Yeonggi in a prison of his own making, Kousuke has been living like a dog chained up - except the chain is of his own making. Like Nol says - there's a difference between respect and blind obedience. Kousuke is in his mid 20s and he still lives like he's a 14 year old afraid to be grounded. That fear of disappointment is SO. DEEPLY. ROOTED. And I know that's a hard thing to let go of. As a 30-year-old I still avoid certain confrontation with my parents for fear of having to deal with that fall out. But what Kousuke is dealing with is something so much bigger than that. He DOES need help. He needs someone to help him unlearn and let go of those fears. His entire identity is comprised of this, and it’s why he unraveled like that when he found out Rand had heard everything he said. Without these aspects of his identity, who is Kousuke?

But it's also so sad to see Nol lay out his feelings like that, and how Kousuke meets them so coldly. Nol was a threat from the very beginning. He was never given a chance. Even as Nol stood in front of him and sincerely complimented him, talked about things he admires even if he hates that, Kousuke still heard it as condescending, as attacks. That paranoia is beyond unhealthy. Nol's interview with Oxford University? Obviously all about Kousuke, because why else would Nol do anything if not to undermime him, right? And isn’t that interesting, that Nol had the opportunity to get away, that he could have gone far away from this family and been out of Kousuke’s hair, but he didn’t let him. What is it Kousuke wants? To get rid of Nol or not? Is it just that he believes everything Nol does is a slight against him, an attempt to make him look inferior? Or is it more subconscious - that so much of who Kousuke is was a result of ensuring that he always remained three steps ahead of Nol. Kousuke compares himself to Nol more than he’ll ever care to admit, and has used Nol as a benchmark measure for how he’s supposed to act and whether or not he’s the successful golden son. As long as Nol isn’t succeeding at anything, Kousuke remains on the throne. And how can he know how he compares to Nol if Nol isn’t here? If he goes to another country? And not only that, but it was Oxford. Their father’s alma matter. A school Kousuke didn’t think possible for Nol to get into. But JUUUUST in case he could, thanks to his connection to Rand, Kousuke saw to it that he never even had the chance, didn’t get to prove if he was the worthy adversary Kousuke worries he is. If he doesn’t know, then it can’t be true, right?

Like Nol tells him, without his name, without Rand’s validation, without his family, Kousuke is nothing. Strip all of that away and what’s he left with? Who is he under the family name, who is he without Rand’s validation, who is he without his name? Would he amount to the same without it? I think there’s some extra nuance here that can be gleaned through earlier episodes - like Kousuke’s paranoid drunken break down, thinking everyone is calling him out on his flaws and predicting his downfall, because deep down, subconsciously, Kousuke knows what he is (or rather, isn’t) and that without any of that he is nothing. So he strips Nol of anything that can bring him warmth, of anything that can make him happy, of any opportunity to amount to anything, to ensure that at least if Kousuke is nothing, then Nol is negative. To ensure that Nol can’t benefit from the very things Kousuke has. He could have allowed himself a personality, hobbies, an identity, but instead he just decided to tear down someone else in effort to life up himself.

But something that’s interesting about Kousuke comparing himself to Nol is: this isn’t the first time Nol has managed to goad Kousuke into doing something just to prove himself. When Nol turns to leave, after Kousuke drops to his knees in front of him, he goads Kousuke a little more and Kousuke finally takes the bait. Though far more dramatic, this is much like an earlier scene back in episode 27. Kousuke makes a fuss about having to eat a hamburger with his hands and Nol makes a comment to just leave Kousuke be and let him eat it the way he wants. “He’s always been prim and proper, he won’t do it.” And then Kousuke does it. He cannot stand to let Nol have any upperhand. If Nol says he can’t do it, then Kousuke will prove him wrong. Afterwards, Nol smiles and I used to think (or hope?) it meant that Nol thought he was getting through to Kousuke, that maybe with enough prodding he could be a tolerable person, but now I think it was more that Nol just realized what kind of advantage he possessed, and how he could use that against Kousuke. I don’t think it was ever about any warmth towards Kousuke as much as a realization that there were some ways Nol had an upperhand when it came to Kousuke.

And here he uses that advantage, goads Kousuke in to proving him wrong. It’s funny, because Kousuke has lately been talking about Nol like he’s a vicious animal, like he’s someone violent and unstable and ready to attack at any moment. But in the end, Kousuke succumbs to that violence. In the end, he can’t resist his own sucker punch (waiting for Nol to turn his back). He was unable to let Nol leave that room with the satisfaction that he was right. Kousuke ends up doing something he condemns in order to prove Nol wrong, because it turns out that proving him wrong is more important than upholding his image.

“I would never stoop to your level” Kousuke says, before he does exactly that. Allows himself to feel something, to relish in his vitriolic hate, and embraces that moment of violence.

I’ve said it before that in the same way Yeonggi was a mask, Kousuke also wears a mask, except his has become so interwoven, he doesn’t know where his mask ends and he begins. He puts on his little show, acts the way he’s supposed to, maintains the intellectual and mature hobbies he’s supposed to, puts on airs, makes himself look impressive. All these things that are just a superficial face. Nol said that Kousuke’s home is pristine, everything is minimalist, no clutter, designed with purpose. Who is Kousuke? WHAT is he? He finally succumbs to his baser instinct out of bitterness and loathing, intent on yet again proving Nol wrong, and all that hatred and loathing comes out through his fist. For a moment, Kousuke lets the mask slip and lets his real self come out and do what he’s probably always wanted to do.

Actually, on this tangent, there’s a lot of power dynamics at play here. Kousuke is the eldest and the heir, sufficiently the one who holds most power. Throughout their lives, he’s exerted his power on making Nol feel small, like nothing, ensuring that he stands on his chest and keeps him down. But isn’t it funny, how Nol ends up the taller one, the one who looks most like Rand and possesses some of his expressions and mannerisms? Kousuke has spent his entire life striving to become Rand and here Nol, a nobody, a nothing, an insignificant bastard is the spitting image of him but for his hair. And though Kousuke has made Nol feel like nothing, made him feel so small, now Nol looks down upon him in disdain. He’s no longer making himself smaller for Kousuke’s convenience, no longer minimizing himself, and by letting himself take up that space, he looks down upon the man who looked down on him. The balance has shifted. Kousuke’s upperhand no longer exists. He was keeping Yeonggi in place, he was keeping that kid in place - but Nol isn’t that kid anymore. There’s so many panels that emphasize the way Nol is looking down on Kousuke - both physically and metaphorically as he calls out Kousuke on his fears, as he turns the zero around on Kousuke.

The way Kousuke wars with what he wants is interesting. There’s that moment where he slips, where he flies over to Nol and grabs him by the collar, but as Nol jeers down at him, Kousuke can’t do it and he slumps to the ground. He literally kneels on the floor beneath Nol, as Nol looks down upon him. All these years Nol has been the pest, the cockroach that won’t leave, a crumbling mess under Kousuke’s shoe - and here the roles have reversed. Nol looks down at Kousuke.

Idk it’s just such a fascinating, interesting episode to me, and it really reinforces the identities of Nol and Kousuke - who and what they are. Though he’s hidden so much, Nol has still lived more honestly than Kousuke, and Kousuke has kept himself chained up, unable to live that way, and his envy towards Nol’s seemingly indolent life turns into hate. He feels so threatened by Nol’s existence that he’s believed everything Nol ever did was about him. I’m willing to bet he even thought Nol was hanging out with Shine as a dig against him. And here, again, I’d love to revisit the ways that Kousuke has pointedly denied Nol any kind of happiness (such as the way he demanded that Nol cease his friendship with Shinae). Everything Nol has ever done, Kousuke has twisted to make about him, because his life is so wrapped up in Nol, in his comparison to him, in his effort to always best him a nd beat him into the ground that he believes Nol’s life must be so about him. It’s impossible that Nol could ever want to do anything for himself or for others, could have any other personality that wasn’t about cutting him down if Kousuke can’t, right? Isn’t that wild, isn’t that sad? Kousuke’s whole life is made up of other people. His personality is fragments of others’ desires pieced together. He can’t fathom that Nol does things of his own volition because Kousuke himself does nothing of his own volition.

I feel like there's nothing else I can say without repeating myself. It's just. It's all sad. Nol never stood a chance. Whether or not he tried, whether or not he made himself scarce, none of it matters because Kousuke will always find a way to make it about himself. No wonder Nol feels like nothing, why he feels like he's always being punished. No amount of effort could ever make his family love him* so what was the point of anything?

(* I can tell Rand loves him but he has never really shown it so I'm not going to pretend that Nol knows he does. As far as Nol knows, he's a mistake that shouldn't have happened and he's made life worse.)

I've talked a lot about my feelings that the big time jump will see the main characters going their separate was and coming back into each others' lives as adults, and I wonder if this would lead to that or not. Nol gave him his word and Kousuke gave him the reaction he was trying so hard to get. So will he go ahead and disappear like he said? I hope not, but also, can you blame him for wanting so badly to just get away from it all? God it all just makes me feel so SAD.

EDIT: follow up because everyone has pointed out the railing breaking and !!!!! aaaaaaahhhh!!!!! There's so many falls, Nol has had so many falls, and one CAUSED by Kousuke is big! Who was it who has the theory that the altercation between Nol and Kousuke involved some kind of fall for Kousuke? And now this time, it's Kousuke the one to cause something? My how the turntables! But also.... if you get injured prior to getting locked away, what do they do with you?! We don't need any more head injuries.... (I’ve been informed he would go to a hospital and then just be transported to prison once he’s released).

And it always brings up: how is Kousuke going to feel? Vindicated? Horrified? Will he just wheel it back and blame Nol because "you pushed me you made me do it"? Will he actually show some sense of care and worry that ISN'T rooted in what father will think or do? Does he care at all about Nol or is it all just pure resentment anymore? It’s true, Nol did goad Kousuke into doing it, but Kousuke succumbing to violence was still his own choice. The only thing that made him do it was his need to prove Nol wrong, to try to maintain his upperhand. With so much vitriol in his heart, would Kousuke even care that he caused harm or just be horrified that he did, horrified of what other people will think? Much to think about!

#I Love Yoo #ILY Spoilers #ILY FP #ILY Brainrot #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Nol #Kousuke Hirahara #i mean this is largely about them let's admit it lol #I don't think it's worth tagging anyone else because this all about the Kousuke Nol dynamics slash power play #actually all that said i do wonder how this episode will affect the way Shinae views the brothers and how her relationship with them is #she tried so hard to keep them from going at each other but forces of nature cannot be tamed #will she be horrified by both of them? will she feel nol's pain? will she condemn his methods?#will she rethink if Nol (who is not Yeonggi) is a person she wants to stay by #will she see the face value of nol and kousuke's relationship and understand?#it's such a complex situation tbh and i can't blame her if this makes her take a step back but aaahhhhhhhh #so many things to mull about #ILY Commentary

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marley-manson · 8 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 🤍

Thank you!

lol I only have five fics posted so I'm gonna do this for vids instead.

Wreck

There's exactly one shot I might go back and change if I could now, but honestly this is probably my favourite of my vids. It accomplishes, imo, what I always want to accomplish with a vid, which is both being visually engaging and fitting the music in a satisfying way, and essentially being a visual essay with a thesis statement. I feel like the essay part works on multiple layers too, where the basic point (Guts' violence is self-destructive) should come across pretty clearly, but there are a lot of little nuances that reasonably only I will ever know lol.

Like for example there's a set of three shots towards the end: a monstrous arm reaching out, a sword-strike, and a monstrous arm falling severed to the ground. Those three shots form a coherent whole, but they're taken from three very different scenes, which, put together, draw a throughline between Guts' rapist, Guts' abusive father figure, and Guts' urge to fight monsters.

Ultimately I made this vid for me, and my intended audience is happy with it.

The Moon Will Sing

I feel like this one was very successful on an emotional level. Every time I watch it there are several moments that give me shivers, and it never wears off. It's a love letter to Casca, and you can feel that imo. Plus I'm very proud of just being able to make a Casca vid that's about her life and her accomplishments and disappointments, and not romance lol.

Long Black Coat

This is the earliest completed vid I still have and yk what it holds up. The song edit is smooth enough that I completely forgot I edited the song until someone mentioned how cut up it was lmao, since it's one I never listen to outside of rewatching this vid; the music is illustrated by the visuals very well imo, it has a good sense of rhythm; and while it's still pretty linear it's not completely linear lol, which was an accomplishment for me when I was like 18.

Tropic Morning News

The fugue state I went into while making this was ridiculous, and then I spent the next few days rewatching it like 50 times. The hypomanic obsession has worn off and it's not quite as perfect as I thought during that week of making it lol, but it still holds up pretty well imo, and it was a memorable experience. It's the only vid I've ever made with a constructed reality element so it's a successful experiment too. I think it comes together overall, and it's a good portrait of Hawkeye/BJ as a ship.

Waltzing Along

I'm saying this vid instead of my most recent pretty much solely because it was my first Mash vid, I feel like they're ultimately pretty equivalent. But yeah like, going in I was extremely skeptical that Mash would work as a source for me, because it lacks a certain cinematographic polish lol. It's not super visually interesting and a lot of significant moments are portrayed almost solely through dialogue. But then I started this and I was like oh okay I can work with this, nice. So I have this vid to thank for all future Mash vids, and for helping expand my resourcefulness as a vidder.

Plus I'm pretty proud of it in general, like the death verse came together so well, I love my choice to show Tommy and Henry before the lyric reaches 'death row,' to add that little retroactive realization of why they're here. And intercutting Hawkeye getting out of the bus with Hawkeye helping the North Korean dig a grave, leading into Hawkeye supporting all his friends... Hawkeye.mp4. It also has a slightly stronger emotional core than my most recent one, probably.

Also I showed it to my dad and it made him tear up lol so I consider that a win.

#jump they say was a close runner up but i think the balance between the visual essay aspect and the satisfying vid aspect was #slightly off - leaned a little too heavily into trying to make a nuanced point at the expense of some clarity of vision #my vids #thanks for sending this!#text post #ask meme

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bobathirstaccount · 10 months

Text

AU - Business Trip Pt 6

You meet the new sales exec at a company offsite…

Boba x fem!reader, smut, weed smoking

***

Your friend text you during one of your 15 minute breaks in your workday. It was Wed, right before virtual All Hands - West Coast. You clicked into her text message.

-girl i know you’re gonna c it so imma lyk… go to miss bp’s insta

Stomach dropping, you did so as fast as you could. You frowned. There was a new photo of her and Boba. You read the caption, “work date ♥️”

Ugh, you thought. You text back.

-ok well they aren’t touching. So i guess she’s helping w new client?

But you didn’t feel as even keeled as your text sounded. You went back to study the photo, scolding yourself for doing so. They appeared to be in a house. You wondered whose, mood souring further. You zoomed in, feeling insane but doing it anyway. Yes, you thought you’d seen it. A bottle of wine was just visible on the left side of the photo, on a table. So, booze was involved. Work date. Work… date. Date. You signed in to All Hands, but didn’t pay attention.

***

After work, you settled into your sofa and pulled up the damn Instagram post again. It was still there, mocking you as you scrutinized it for more details. Miss BP was wearing casual clothing, very casual, you thought. She was wearing a sports bra and zip up workout top, with the zipper decidedly not zipped. Annoyed, you text your friend.

-what should i do?

-abt the pic? nothing, just wait until 2morrow.. you c him tomorrow night right?

This was true. You frowned and text back.

-yeah. But should i text him tonight?

-NO

-let him txt u tomorrow

-then NEVER bring it up… itd be super weird if u did

-fml

-ur gonna be ok. Remind him why he’s seeing U

-but what if he’s not just seeming me?

-trust me she aint got shit on you

You smiled at her compliment, but decided to go rogue against her advice. You took a shower to feel at your best, then grabbed some lingerie Boba hadn’t seen yet. An ex had gotten it for you. Was that weird? No, you decided. You slipped into it and spent 45 minutes posing in front of your full length bedroom mirror.

Finally you had it. The Perfect Shot. You edited it to enhance the Vibes it was giving. Sending it, you sat back and waited.

And waited. You started to feel a little silly. Pulling on some comfy pjs, you made a hot beverage and got into bed. You put on a movie and fell asleep to it.

***  You woke up to a block of texts from Boba. Hurriedly, you read, then reread them.

-that’s a nice little number u got on 👀

-but i think id like to take it off. If u know what i mean

-im so drunk. Accidentaly drank too much. Laying down on a couch

-cant wait 2 c u tomorrow

You smiled, but wondered where he was laying on a couch and who he’d been drinking with. You tried to put it out of your mind, but it stuck with you all through your workday. At lunch, you gave in and text him back.

-glad u liked it. Who’s boozing u up?

Was that too direct? Oh well. It was too late now. You ate your lunch and got back to work. With an hour of work left, you checked your phone. He had text back.

-work mtg w a few coworkers. One of them brought So Much wine🍷♾ After work we all tried 2 relax and relaxed too much. I slept on a couch lol haven’t done that in a long time 🤷

You thought of the wine bottle in Miss BP’s Instagram post. Dammit. You tried to respond back cheerfully.

-lol. Hope you slept alright. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you

-never. C u soon… i drive a green bentley. U sure u dont want me to come up + get you? 😎

You smiled. How gentlemanly.

-nah i just got 1 bag… i’ll meet u @ front of my complex

-ok. Can’t wait to c u 🤤

You grinned. You decided to stop work a little early to change your outfit. You had already dressed for the evening, but decided to dress Very Casually like Miss BP had at the “work meeting.”

You closed your laptop and went to your closet. You stood in front of it for a moment before going to your dresser. Here, you pulled out a bandeau top and a loose fitting tank top to go over it. It revealed just enough to be Exciting. Then you added a nice pair of fitted jeans and some casual sandals. Okay, you thought. This works.

***

-im here. I found parking right in front lol take ur time i have a work email im finishing up

Always working, you thought. But then again, that’s why he drove a Bentley. You were ready, so you wasted no time and went down. You saw his Very Nice, shiny car and sidled up to it, feeling a bit silly. He got out of his car and jogged around it to greet you.

 “Hi, baby,” he kissed your cheek as he embraced you. You hugged him back and enjoyed the light smooch. He pulled back, “C’mon, get in; I’m almost done with this dumb email and then we can take off.” Boba opened the passenger side door for you. You got in, smelling the Expensiveness of the car immediately. You looked around as he got back in and picked up his phone.

The interior was immaculate. You looked back to Boba. He was engrossed in his email, furiously typing out a response.

You looked around the car again. That’s when you noticed it. In the backseat, there was a black bag with white lettering. CHANEL. It confronted you. Surprised, you turned around, pretending to not have seen it.

 “You saw it, go ahead and look. I’m almost done, I promise. I wanted to get you something nice for this weekend; hope you like it.”

You gulped and grabbed the bag. Pulling the tissue paper out of the way, your eyes got wide as you pulled out the item. It was a classic Chanel bag. Your mouth dropped open.

“Do you like it?” He was still typing.

“Do I like it,” you laughed in disbelief, “of course, it’s gorgeous and… and… you shouldn’t have.”  ”I absolutely should have. I also got you something else, but it’s smaller.” He continued to type.

You searched the shopping bag and found a smaller bag at the bottom. This one was white with delicate lettering on it. Van Cleef & Arpels. Holy SHIT, you thought. You tore through the packaging to the box inside. Carefully opening it, you were confronted with a traditional style bracelet. It had green stones inlaid in it. Of course, you thought, smiling. He had a thing for green.

“Wow, I love it… the green stones are so unique,” you slipped it onto your wrist and fastened it. Holding your arm out, you admired it.

 “Okay, done!” He put his phone in the center console. “Looks good on you. Okay, let’s get going…” He put the car in drive and you were off.

 ***

-omg bitch i’m in a bentley.and he got me GIFTS. Like, expensive

You typed hurriedly while you were stopped at a gas station. Boba was inside searching for the type of drink you liked while he grabbed some chips for himself.

-tell me E V E R Y T H I N G

-ok ok so. He got me a chanel bag and van cleef & arpels bracelet. And he drives a bentley

-omfg sned me a pic asap!!!

You snapped a few quick photos of your newly gotten goods and sent them off. You received a flurry of texts in response.

-bitch what!!

-look at all that loot

-daddy likes u

-♥️ the bag obvi

You were laughing as Boba got back in the car. “What’s so funny?”  “Oh,” you tried to compose yourself a bit, “My friend -the one you met at the offsite, Vodka Girl- she likes the bag you got me.”

“Ohh, already gossiping. How am I rating so far?”  ”Very good,” you said smugly, leaning over to kiss him. He grabbed your hand and held it as you smooched.

“Good,” he pulled away and you settled back into the passenger seat. Time to drive again. You put your phone aside so you could continue the conversation you and Boba were having.

***

You were gently shaken awake. “Huh, omigosh did I fall asleep?” You slurred. You heard Boba laugh as you came to your senses, “Yeah, just for like the last half hour. You were so peaceful I couldn’t wake you. But, we’re here now.”  You sat up and looked out of the car windshield, curious. You were parked in front of a very charming bed & breakfast. The cute little sign read, “Bodega Bay B&B.” It was carefully hand painted. You smiled, taken by the place immediately.

“Is this quaint or what?” Boba asked, his hand finding your thigh. Turning to him, you smiled, “So cute. I can’t wait to see how it looks on the inside.”  ”Well, let’s check in and find out.” He grabbed your small overnight bag from the back seat.

***

“Baby, it’s lovely,” you commented as you twirled around in the middle of your suite. It had its own bathroom and a wonderful view of the ocean, with a little balcony just big enough for two chairs. Boba smiled, “Not as lovely as you.”

You walked over to him and jumped into his arms.

“So, princess… what’re we gonna do now? I have reservations for us for dinner, but that’s 45 minutes from now, and it’s basically across the street.”

“Hmm… whatever will we get up to?” You pulled your tank top off and tossed it aside.

“Hm, nice top…” He kissed your collarbone. Your heart fluttered as he tossed you down on the bed. Crawling in on top of you, he commented, “I have a few ideas what we can do…” He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled the zipper down slowly. “Like… I could fuck you senseless again,” his voice was a rough purr now.

Pulling your jeans off, he rubbed his erection into your panties. “Hmm, can’t wait,” he purred softly. You were becoming desperate for him. Trying to play it down a bit, you coyly pulled your bandeau top off. He watched, eyes hooded with desire.

“Nice show, princess,” Boba growled, pulling his sweatpants down. He quickly pulled your panties to the side. Sliding his fingers into your wet folds, he purred, “You need some attention… well I’m gonna give it to you.” He rubbed into you but didn’t penetrate you. You squirmed, whining softly, wanting more.

“All in due time, princess,” he drawled, taking his time. With his other hand, he pumped himself several times. Slowly, he shifted his weight so he could kiss you. Lining his hips up with yours, he slid his cock up your thigh and in between your legs. He lightly rutted into your wetness while he kissed you hard.

Begging for more, you scratched down his back with both hands. “Keep begging, princess, it suits you.” He fended you off, holding your hands above your head with one hand. The other he used to prop himself up on his elbow, so he could kiss you again. While you two kissed like your lives depended on it, he thrust into you swiftly. Moaning, you bucked your hips involuntarily.

Fucking you slowly, he purred, “Beg some more… tell me how you want it.”  Delirious, you moaned his name instead. He smiled mischievously, “Hmm, yes?” He started to fuck you harder, still holding your arms above your head. You struggled lightly against him for the thrill. He held you in place and fucked you harder, “Where you think you’re going?”  Arching your back, you pleaded, “Hold me down and fuck me until I scream.” Boba growled and flipped you over. Pulling your legs apart, he laid over you and rubbed into you for a moment. His cock kept sliding right around the right spot, driving you crazy. You tried to buck your hips, but he held you in place. Groaning, he used a knee to spread one leg wider. “Now I’m gonna make you scream,” he said darkly. You felt him slide inside slowly. Whining, you reached for his hip with one hand, “Harder.”  Boba grunted and abruptly started fucking you just the way you’d asked. “You like this, princess? You’re so bad,” he pumped into you, “You’re so good at being bad.”

As he fucked you, one of his hands wiggled under your chest to grab you. Squeezing, he moaned, “You feel amazing, spread your legs for me…” You did as he commanded, feeling him fuck you deeper. The rhythmic pace took you over the edge. Squirming under him, you gasped and moaned. “That’s it princess, tell me how good it feels when I make you cum.”

In an unladylike tone, you begged for his cock, harder. “Fuck you’re so bad…” He slammed into you as you came hard, going limp in your extremities as your pussy spasmed on his shaft.

“Fuck, I wish I could cum in you,” He muttered, grabbing you by the throat. He gave a few more savage fucks before pulling out, groaning and shaking. Rolling off, he pulled you against him. You both laid there, feeling a bit dazed. You grabbed his hand and held it. He squeezed your hand twice.

***

“Wake up, princess, if you wanna go to dinner.” Your arm was being gently rubbed. You felt a kiss on your temple. You cracked an eye open.

“How much time we have?” You murmured, wanting five more minutes of glorious sleep.

“Oh, say 10 minutes.”  Your eyes flew open.

“Shit! I gotta shower, and makeup, and my hair, well, that’s a mess —“

He put a finger over your lips.

“Shh. No stressing allowed. It’s super casual. We can also Grubhub something if you don’t wanna get out of bed.”

You considered for a few more seconds, enjoying the feeling of the soft comforter on the bed.

“Let’s go! But I do need to shower - I’ll be real fast!” You sat up slowly.

“We don’t have to go, I’m more interested in just spending time with you doing what you want.”

Smiling softly, you snuggled into him. “I wanna see what you have planned. Lemme hurry.” You pecked a kiss on his lips and leapt up.

Turning on the shower, you called, “Hey, pick out one of the two dresses I brought.”  ”Okay, uh, I just… go through your stuff?” He sounded astonished.  ”What do you think you’re gonna find in there?” You laughed, jumping under the water. It was hot. Delicious. You quickly sudsed up and rinsed. Stepping out carefully, you grabbed a towel and went into the bedroom. You grinned crookedly. He was holding your underwear in his hands. “Uh, I got distracted. I like these ones, by the way,” he held up the crotchless black undies you’d gotten specifically for this trip.

“Oh those; those are for dinner tonight. Thanks for finding them.” You took them from him and slipped them on. Standing there, you put your hands on your hips. “Well, which dress?”  ”You sure.. you uh, need anything else?” He teased as he turned back to your weekend bag. Rifling through it, he found the strappy black dress first. “Oh, definitely this one,” he offered it to you.

You shimmied into it and found the correct pair of shoes. Putting some moisturizer on, you turned to him. “Okay, let’s go.”  ”With a minute to spare!” He teased, laughing. He offered his arm. You took it, feeling shy and sexy at the same time.

“One thing, though; how do you think I’m supposed to focus during dinner, knowing you’re wearing those panties?”

***

You couldn’t stop laughing on the short walk back to the B&B. Stoned and very horny, you kept grabbing for his belt while you walked. He good naturedly kept you at bay, but under his breath he was murmuring a string of dirty promises to you.

“Once we get back to our room, I swear I’m gonna — Oh, hi, good evening, yes she’s fine she’s just… tired,“ he interrupted himself to talk to a well meaning couple heading the other way. They nodded and headed off, arm in arm as well.

“Anyway, I’m gonna spoil you with some online shopping and then I’m gonna turn the lights off and make you and the bed shake.”  You murmured in excitement, still going after his pants. He laughed, “Last time we vape at dinner. Next time we sit inside. I shoulda known you’d be so bad, though, what was I thinking.”

“You love it,” you exclaimed, letting him guide you down the driveway to the B&B entrance. “I do,” he said softly, making sure you didn’t walk off the gravel and into the shrubbery.

“Where’d these bushes come from?” You complained.

“Oh, they must’ve just planted them,” he said seriously.

“Stop it! You’re making fun of me,” you giggled as you reached the front of the door. “Okay, shhh, we’re entering a domicile,” you teased. Boba laughed softly, “I’ll do my best.”

He ended up carrying you up the stairs as you couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of them at the moment. Setting you down in front of the door to your suite, he fished for the metal key in his pocket.

“So cool,” you murmured, as he unlocked the door. You breezed inside as he followed.

“Okay, so what was this about shopping?” You asked gleefully.

“Well,” he sat on the little couch and motioned to you to join him, “I wanted to buy you a dress to go with that bag, but I didn’t know what you would like. So let’s pick one out together. Where do you wanna look first?”  ***

An hour later you had spent just under $3,000.00 on two dresses and a couple accessories Boba insisted on. As he used Apple Pay to finalize everything, you casually pulled out your phone to text your friend.

-omg girl.. he just dropped $3k on some stuff for me… it was HIS idea btw

She text back after a few seconds.

-omfg!!! 😏 daddy liiiiikes you 💘

-stop calling him that lol

-noooo. Omg. Do you have a bf?

-idk… we havent really talked abt that

You looked over at him shyly. He was sipping a glass of water calmly, waiting for you to finish. You put your phone away.

“So. What was this about turning the lights off…” you asked coyly.

***

-ok. Keep it casual rn… but totally let him spoil u tho

-hey r u still there?

-r u two fing rn?

-lol bet

-kk niiight 😘

You awoke to a string of texts from your bestie. You read them quickly while you were snuggled against a still sleeping Boba. Texting back, you wondered what Boba had in store for today.

-gm babe ☀️so i just had the Night Of My Life last night

-he’s crazy in bed lol

You stopped yourself from oversharing. Putting your phone aside, you rolled over and cuddled into Boba’s sleeping form. He grumbled lightly, but ended up snoring slightly as he settled down again.

Boba’s phone rang. He grumbled, “Who’s there?”

Laughing softly, you whispered, “It’s your phone.”

As it continued ringing loudly, he reached for it, complaining, “Who would call me like this.” He shook his head as he put the phone down, letting it ring. He sighed, “It’s only 7:30 in the morning and people are calling me about work.”  You wondered somewhat irrationally if it was Miss Beauty Pageant as Boba continued, “It’s Melissa… you met her at the offsite.”  Your eyes flew all the way open. Miss BP! Boba continued talking. “She’s super helpful, but I don’t know what’s so important she has to call me this early. Anyway now that we’re both awake, wanna see about breakfast?”  ”O-okay,” you were stewing on Miss BP’s phone call.

“Mmm okay, let me get dressed and I’ll go see.” He sat up and stretched, looking good in the morning light. “Okay, I’m going now,” he coached himself into getting out of bed. “Omigosh, this carpet is really nice though,” he commented as he grabbed his pants.

You watched as he closed the door behind himself. Then you rolled over, and, fluffing your pillow, text your friend again.

-miss bp just called him! He didnt answer

She appeared to not be awake yet, as you got no response. You continued texting her anyway.

-what do u think it means?

The door opened and you heard Boba’s warm purr, “Breakfast is gonna be up shortly.” He jumped into bed, “Better get dressed. That sucks for me, but I guess I can always just undress you afterwards.”

You laughed softly as you sat up and stretched slowly. “Pick me out an outfit?” You asked, sleepy.

He got up and went through your bag again. He pulled out a cute little number you’d grabbed as a last minute thought.

“How about this? I like the color.” He offered it to you.

“‘Kay,” you slipped into it and went and laid on the couch. After a minute, there was a knock at the door. Food! You thought. You got up and sat like an adult at the small breakfast table as Boba answered the door.

***

You had ended up sitting outside for dinner again. As you rehashed the day with him, Boba offered you the vape pen again. “I’ll just supervise you this time,” he teased, winking at you.

Flustered by his flirting, you took a hit. Passing it back to him, you answered his question, “Okay, so my favorite part of the day. Gotta be… seeing the schoolhouse from The Birds.”  ”Really? Cool. We could watch it tonight when we get back to our room.”

You smiled wickedly. “Sure, ‘watch,’” you intoned. He grinned and shrugged. Just as he was about to say something, his cell rang.

“Oh shit, that’s CEO ring tone… let me see if there’s an emergency.” You nodded and sat back, vaping while he answered his phone.

“Hi. Oh, okay. I will. Okay, bye.” He hung up, saying, “I need to check my work email. I paused notifications for our trip. But we have a potential lead, so I need to respond to some questions really fast.”

You mmhmmed at him and vaped some more while he read the email and started typing. “Hm, I need some research for one question. Hold on, one more thing I just need to call someone to do it for me.”  You laughed, “Must be nice.”  He stuck his tongue out at you as he placed his call. You were busy smiling as he said, “Hi, Melissa.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to casually sip your drink. Why’d he have to call her, of all people? You couldn’t help yourself… you casually eavesdropped as you vaped.

“So, I just forwarded you an email. I need some help with question 3, do you have bandwidth right now? I know it’s the weekend…”  He leaned back in his seat, “Okay, thanks. … Hmmm, no ….. Oh. Cool. Yeah we could meet up. Okay, bye.”  You nervously sipped your drink again. “What’s wrong?” He sounded concerned. “Sorry I had to work.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I totally get it. That’s why you make the big bucks,” you joked.

 He tilted his head, “Then what is it?”  ”Oh, nothing,” you lied, hitting the vape pen to stall for time. “I’m just hungry.”  He let it go, but didn’t looked convinced. You handed him the pen, “Here, take this before I vape myself under the table again.”  He laughed, “Kay. But you were so cute.”  Feeling shy, you smiled. Suddenly the waiter was there with your appetizers. You sat back as they were placed in front of you.

Time to Let It Go, you forced yourself to focus on the meal and company at hand. Life was good today.

#boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba smut #boba fett smut #boba fett x female reader #modern au #long fic #long reads #reader insert #au fic #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fic #boba fett fluff

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commonwealthoccurences · 2 years

Text

Life Worth Living

Request: "I don’t know if your still taking requests or if your willing to write a part 2 for this since you wrote it so long ago but could you make a part 2 to “X6-88 As A Brother Figure” where sole works with the Railroad and comes back for him."

TW: Mentions of starving and its respective appearance and trauma related effects. Very brief, nondescribed mention of throwing up. Canon typical violence, particularly threats of gun violence. Descriptions of dissociating.

Note: I bullshitted a lot of Institute lore in this for the sake of the story ngl. I hope it’s not too disorienting lol Thanks to @ryleeamberrr for editing and beta reading!

Est word count: ~12,000

Walking away from the Institute, Sole thought, was the hardest thing they had ever done.

The confusion and distress still smarted as much as it did when X6-88 told them they had to leave, that it was time for them to sneak away, but he couldn’t see them again, not in the next few years at the very least. They had just crossed fifteen, and though growing up in the Institute had made them more mature than any Pre-War fifteen year old could claim to be, they felt more like a five year old being betrayed by their older brother.

All but clinging to his clothes, stiff and unwrinkled as they always were when he was within the Institute, Sole protested. Every manner they had learned, any restraint they held proudly due to X6’s almost-parenting went out the window as they argued and nearly cried. And though it was never a question whether or not X6 loved them dearly, he detached them from his clothing, powered up the teleporter, handed them their most important belongings and some rations within a backpack, and sent them on their way without much emotion.

That day marked the worst moment in Sole’s life, and the first and only time X6 cried thus far.

Sole wasn’t particularly proud of their resilience in the Wasteland. They found no pride in white-knuckled survival. The fact that they could pull a bullet out of their arm and patch themself up to keep moving wasn’t some sort of winning story in a tale-telling competition, it was born out of the spite they mustered up to live. Very quickly, they figured out that spite was the one thing they could cling to to keep the Wasteland from drowning them in their own suffering.

The first few years they spent on their own, sleeping amongst the piles of rubble curled into a ball, covered only by a thin blanket riddled with holes and coated in dried, gray mud that blended them into their surroundings. It was cold and lonely, and they often found themself fighting off or huddled with the scavenger dogs. Reflectively, it seemed fitting to them. And how pathetic must they be, for even the most desperate of the Wasteland’s creatures to take pity on them.

At the tail end of those first years, they were found by Mayor John Hancock of Goodneighbor. They’d never stepped foot into Goodneighbor; Diamond City tales of its brutal and harsh nature were enough to keep them giving it a wide berth. It seemed he was great at finding all the trouble left in the Wasteland, and as he would often remind them after they met, they were the most troublesome thing he could’ve found out there.

The walk they took back to Goodneighbor was slow going. There wasn’t much of Sole left at that point, though the scavenger dogs had taken a liking enough to them to bring back bits of what they found to eat. Winter was cruel, and even in the distant future, when the answer to how and where they would survive was reliable, they still trembled at the sight of snow.

Starving bodies weren’t unusual in the Commonwealth, least of all amongst those between settlements, drifting in and out of Goodneighbor, jerked around by the lead of their chem addictions. Still, it was hard for Hancock to look at Sole for the first few weeks. They were bordering emaciated and something about how utterly hollow their eyes looked broke his heart.

Fahrenheit quietly warned him not to collect too many strays when she saw Sole curled up in his bed, piled under blankets and fast asleep. Hancock, resting on the couch across the room looked more haunted than usual. He didn’t move to acknowledge her. And despite her warning, Fahrenheit felt a pang of distress when she saw the cruel lines that emphasized Sole’s bone structure.

Sole didn’t often speak of where they had come from, but it became relatively obvious to Hancock as time crawled forward. They spoke of the Commonwealth in an abstract, scientific sense, and fought hard to bite their tongue to not make some choice negative comments that had obviously been ingrained in them. Hancock didn’t hold a grudge. Being raised in the Institute was the worst fate of all, in his mind.

The subject of family was a notoriously sore spot for them, though. There was a hurricane of emotions that rose in Sole when the topic came up. On one hand, they never wanted to bring it up. On the other hand, X6 was everything to them, all the family they had, and yet they couldn’t shake the bitter taste in their mouth when they thought of what he did to them. Sure, it was probably for the best. But there was resentment all the same.

There had been no choice for them. Maybe it was intentional. The fact that they would’ve chosen to stay with X6 a thousand times over was probably written on their face every time they were separated, in the way they turned into his shadow for a few days after he returned from one of his Courser assignments.

The thought spiraled into more resentment in turn. He knew he was their only family, that they had never been on their own for even a moment in all the years they lived in the Institute, surrounded by bustling scientists and synths alike, and yet he sent them away into a Wasteland he himself expressed disgust for.

Betrayal was a wound that stung fresh every time, and never seemed to heal.

And yet, Sole knew. If they were given the choice at any moment in their journey through the Commonwealth to return to him, wherever he was, they’d agree without hesitation. They could find contentment in starving together, even.

So Hancock didn’t ask except for that once, in the first week since they had arrived at Goodneighbor, his eyes averted from the way they clutched to the bowl of soup he’d given them as if he might take it back at any moment. Even then, the way they shuddered with the weight of whatever tale they were holding back was unmistakable.

Slowly but surely, they filled out and began to heal physically. The muscle and weight they used to back up all the training both the Institute and X6 put them through returned, and they were able to stand on their own two feet. Daisy would throw them a few caps for whatever meat they hunted down, and a few more for what electronic parts they could scavenge from the broken buildings. KL-E-0 helped them keep up to date on their fighting skills.

Sometimes, when they sat on the benches just below the balcony where Hancock made his speeches and the wind whipped past them, it felt like living.

A few more years ticked by at a snail's pace and they started to spend their evenings in the Third Rail, listening to Magnolia’s crooning voice and questioning just how much damage all the smoke in the bar was doing to their lungs. It had been a long six years since they had left the Institute, and the answer was that they simply didn’t care. Their lungs were probably ruined already, anyway.

Life was unremarkable for the most part, and Sole preferred it that way.

It was still hard. In the traditional sense, of fighting tooth and nail to keep the Wasteland from getting its claws back in them, but also in the sense that Sole always felt there was something missing. Six years and they still felt as if X6 was supposed to be returning to their side at any moment.

Sole recalled, with a melancholic bittersweetness, one of the times they had almost died. They had woken up heavy and nauseous with the familiar sickly sweetness in their mouth that came with being dosed with Radaway and nearly hurled overside the cot they were resting on. Rough hands brought them back to rest on the cot and they could feel a cold sweat coating their own skin. Distantly, they felt themself shivering. Hancock leaned a bit to hold them.

Selfishly, they had turned to Hancock to fill the void X6’s absence had left. Part of them felt as if he knew, in the saddened looks he sometimes gave them when he thought they weren’t looking, but it was hard not to cling to the man that pulled them out of the literal gutter amidst an apocalypse and helped them feel like a person again— and so, despite the fact that they were almost notorious for the fact that they hated being touched, Sole leaned into him and clutched at the sleeves of his coat.

Silence drove the time forward, and they eventually stopped wavering in and out of consciousness. When their voice croaked as they asked for water, Hancock jumped up and retrieved it for them without a second thought. They drank greedily and though it still had that same tinny, stale taste it always did, it was the essence of relief in that moment— and then Hancock had to shatter the silence. “Who’s X6?”

They stilled. They couldn’t help but dart their eyes over to him in a panic, almost as if they were flinching at the mention of his name. Somewhere in their subconscious, they were begging to hear it again. It had been so long since they had heard his name. They cleared their throat, “Who?”

Hancock gave them one of his sad smiles they’d grown to resent. “C’mon now. Please don’t try that on me, kiddo,” He sighed, “You were crying out for him when the radiation sickness got real bad. We can drop it if you want.”

It had always been one of Hancock’s little sayings, “Talking about it will help.” The things they went through, their frustrations and defeats. He had always been there to listen. Would talking about it really help?

And so they talked, in spite of themself.

Sole started with the way he had been so cold they had met. An immovable iceberg of the greatest degree in their mind, he was strong and resilient. A weapon. A threat, but never to them. He had seen something in them, maybe something of himself that he held deep down. Something vulnerable.

They talked about the way he protected them in the most logical of senses, but still let them crawl into his bed when they had nightmares, even if the only way he knew how to help was to explain why their nightmare didn’t make sense. The way he stood between them and the Institute and kept them from getting harshly punished for their antics, and the way they stood between him and the Institute and vowed to take care of his so-called “malfunctions” so scientists wouldn’t have to.

The words came spilling out, slowly at first, then flooding out with the emotions they had been suppressing for six years. It was jumbled and imperfect, but so was Sole, and they didn’t have it in them to hold back anymore. The reality was that X6 was family, and that was a part of them they couldn’t pretend didn’t exist anymore.

After they had said everything that needed to be said, and even the things that didn’t need to be said, they felt winded. Like they had run a marathon. “Can I get some more water?” They asked quietly.

Hancock was staring at them. His sadness had turned to thinly veiled anger and they resisted the urge to flinch in the face of it. He had never been angry at them before. Irritated, sure. They irritated each other quite regularly, bickered for fun— it was never serious— but he had never gotten angry.

He stared down at his lap for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Sorry, kiddo. I just seem to find a new reason to hate the Institute every time I think I’ve run out of ‘em. I’ll getcha that water.”

Sole was slower to drink this time, considering they nearly choked last time and the desperation wasn’t so close to the surface anymore. When they had finished he rested his elbows on the cot and looked at them seriously. “You said he gave you a light? The one where you light yours and it lights his, too?” He asked.

Sole nodded slowly, not wanting to irritate their forming headache. Radaway was nearly a miracle worker, but not quite; the side effects weren’t a walk in the park. “You still have it? Think it still works?”

“In my backpack. I, um, don’t really check to see if it works, though.”

Hancock’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sorry kid, I don’t understand. You just said how much he meant to you… seems like that’d be a priority.”

They gave a wry smile. “You asked me once what my biggest fear was.”

“Yeah. Distracting you while Daisy pulled that bullet out of your arm. That was a few months ago, why–”

“Mhm. Hancock– what if I turn the light on and he doesn’t respond?”

Hancock blew out a breath and shook his head. “Kiddo, you’re not giving him enough credit.”

“What?”

“That Courser bent the rules of his nature for you, defied the one thing he’d known like the back of his hand before the Institute even thought to let you be born. And he defied the nature you helped give him by letting you go to give you a chance.”

This brought some of that well-known bitterness to the surface in Sole. “A chance. What kind of chance is the Commonwealth?” They practically spat the words out like they were rotted.

“Institute life isn’t living. You know that, Sole.”

No. It wasn’t. But living with the loss of X6 was barely better. Hancock grasped their hand. “Sole, I might have people who can get him out, but we need to test the light. If he doesn’t respond…”

The hitch in their breath was the culmination of the thousands of times they wondered what if. What if he was dead? What if they were too late? What if.

They nodded. “Go get it.”

It felt oddly ceremonial, to be laying on that cot after having barely dodged death in the form of radiation, the essence of the Commonwealth, as Hancock brought them the light. It was a simple light, unremarkable in design, but it shone bright when it was on, enough to illuminate an entire room and then some. They held it stiffly in their hands. The shape had grown unfamiliar in the years that they had left it wrapped up in their backpack, padded with cloth by X6’s own hands when he had prepared their pack for them and sent them on their way. A bolt of panic shocked its way down their spine. “You gotta turn it on at some point, Sunshine.”

Sole’s hands trembled as they dug their fingers into the metal base and reached up with their other hand. A simple tap and the room was lit with a warm, orange glow. It had been meant to mimic sunlight, something Sole had only seen once in their life before they had left the Institute. They shuddered, and tears spilled over to dampen their cheeks.

X6’s version of the light was much more subtle. It was a simple band he wore around his wrist that glowed softly and buzzed when Sole turned their lamp on, and its activation came in the form of a small button on the side of the band. Easily disguised as an odd piece of his armor, it reflected X6 perfectly.

The lamp remained on, light steady and unwavering for several minutes, and with each one that ticked by, Sole felt their heart sinking lower and lower. Maybe they had been too late. Or maybe he hadn’t forgiven them for not contacting him all these years. They only noticed they’d been chewing on their lip when the sting of the salt in their tears met the wound of the torn skin.

Dread came cold, like the snow of that winter when Hancock had found them curled up and discarded. They felt the iciness in their fingertips, where they held the lamp, and it spread through their veins till it reached their feet. It felt wrong, how warm the lamp looked, when they felt so cold. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I thought–”

The light went out. The pair were left in the patchy daylight that streamed through the dirty windows of the Old State House windows. Then, like the sun showing its face between clouds, the lamp came back on again.

Sole let out a cry that was so unlike themself it startled both them and Hancock, but when they placed the lamp down with care and flung their arms around him, defeated tears turned astonished and hopeful, he caught them with a familiar, rough laugh. Sole was squeezing him tight enough to hurt, but he didn’t care. Hope was a look he hadn’t seen on them enough over the years.

Meeting with the Railroad couldn’t wait, Sole insisted, and when they put their mind to something, nothing could get in their way. Hancock had learned that a long time ago, and had stopped trying. It was hard to get into contact with Deacon; Hancock hadn’t really even tried before. It was like trying to catch flowing water with your bare hands, and when Hancock called him a slippery motherfucker, it was with a tone of admiration and respect. Sometimes it paid to be nobody in the Commonwealth.

Hancock did his best and put out the word that he was looking for contact with the Railroad, knowing that with the way Deacon heard everything that happened in the Wasteland he’d be on their doorstep before long. He told Sole to focus on recovering, that their plan was in motion and they’d be able to stress over what to do to their heart's content soon, but they were restless.

Often, he would come back to the Old State House to find them pacing rather unsteadily, still lightheaded and wavering from the side effects of how much Radaway had been pumped through their system. It had been a few days, but the chem was a nasty thing when it wanted to be. They couldn’t rest until Deacon showed up.

And show he did. He was subtle, and that much was familiar about him, but there was something off-putting about him to Sole. The fact that he could blend in and disappear so easily, change faces like they were masks and accents like they were accessories; he was dangerous. Sole wondered if this is the way the Commonwealth felt when they saw Coursers. Slippery, deadly predators, both Deacon and the Coursers were. They resisted the urge to shudder, even when he gave them a warm smile.

It was easier to let down their guard a little when Hancock greeted him with a clap on his shoulder and a wide grin, asking where Deacon had been for so long, leaving poor ol’ Hancock to deal with their halfway house all on his lonesome. Sole wasn’t sure what they started discussing, but that was alright by them. Hancock and they never discussed his work with the Railroad after they found out it was to do with synths— touchy subject and all.

Impatience was an itch on their skin, biting and angry and familiar. They clenched their jaw and kept quiet, though. They were roughened and bittered by their experiences in the Commonwealth, sure, but their Institute mannerisms were instinct, not completely lost in the years they’d been gone. It’d be counterproductive to make a bad impression on the person that seemed to be X6’s ticket out of the Institute.

Luckily, Hancock knew them well. “We can catch up another time, Deacon. We need your help.”

Sole, in their reckless affection for X6, was ready to break down the doors of the Institute and steal him away that day. Unfortunately for them, Deacon being Deacon meant that he was slow and steady in what he did, especially when it had anything to do with the Railroad, which meant they would not be rushing into the Institute without proper planning.

He listened to their story with a solemn, focused expression that left them a little unnerved in the way his eyes never left theirs. He never interrupted as they spoke and simply took notes that seemed to be coded, because of course they were. When they finished he allowed a moment of silence. “I’ll talk to the boss. I can’t guarantee anything, but… we’ve been looking for an in.”

“An in?” Sole asked.

“To the Institute. To bring it down for good.”

They couldn’t help the discomfort that showed on their face, or the way they pressed their fingertips into their palms to channel their anxiousness somewhere. Deacon, with his eyes like an Institute crow’s, noticed. “I need to know for certain that you’re done with them.”

“I am. It’s… instinct. I’ll get over it.”

They weren’t fond of the way he looked them over, similar to the way Institute scientists had looked at them like an insect under the microscope. They bit their tongue and raised an eyebrow, a challenge for him to speak. “We’ll see,” He said, with finality in his tone.

Sole nodded. Despite their qualms with the man, it seemed they had passed his test. He rose and seemed to shed the air of formality he held with them, easing back into the joking nature he had with Hancock. They decided to take their leave, not wanting to disturb the mood of the room with their presence.

When they entered their room their lamp, which they’d given a new home on their desk, was on. They flicked it off, then back on again. They felt warm for the first time in years.

Deacon left that night. He’d turned down the drink Hancock had offered him with the easy, inviting mannerisms of someone that’d turned socializing into a science, then mastered it. Sole understood why he was so likable to everyone, but that didn’t mean they trusted it.

The wait for him to get to the Railroad, talk to the “Des’” he spoke so highly of, and return to Goodneighbor to form a plan with Sole was excruciating. They filled their days with busywork just to keep sane. They repacked their backpack, rations and clothing tucked away just in case, though their lamp remained on their desk in the Old State House; it would go in last. They needed the reassurance that X6 was still alive every time they turned the lamp on.

When Deacon did eventually return it was nearly a week later and Sole had started losing hope that he was who Hancock said he was. It seemed the entirety of Goodneighbor was swept up in his presence, with the way people seemed drawn to his effortless charisma and the fact that everything seemed to roll off his back. Sole would follow suit and stop raising their hackles when X6 was safe, they decided.

The plan was relatively simple.

Sole was to spend about a month with the Railroad, proving they were worthy of trust. Desdemona, the leader of the Railroad apparently, and Deacon would try to poke holes in their story, see if they ever slipped up during conversation. All the while Sole would be doing small jobs for them under Deacon’s watchful eyes. Then, they would start in on getting X6 out and burning the Institute to the ground.

The idea was that Sole would be their ticket in. If they signaled to the Institute that they wanted to return, potentially with a captive from the Railroad, and pretended they were still loyal, there was no reason for the Institute to reject them. Once they were in, they’d find a chance to break free, insert a software virus courtesy of Tinker Tom that would keep the teleporters open permanently to give way to Railroad agents, and then they would be given permission to go find X6. It was their responsibility to get him out before the place blew.

That month was one of, if not the, longest of their life.

Sole had never been so disciplined, even in their childhood with the Institute. They listened to every word Des and Deacon said unhesitatingly and did their job with precision and efficiency that would’ve impressed even X6. This was one of the most important moments of their life, and they weren’t going to mess it up for anything.

They missed Hancock terribly, but they would live. They were practically a professional at missing family.

The month went by with Sole counting every moment, down to the second, that they had left before they and the Railroad would go through with the plan. Or, they supposed, the Railroad would go through with the plan. There was no separating them now, with all the work they had done for them; they were part of the Railroad. When they had crossed that line they didn’t know, but they supposed it was somewhere between Deacon giving them a compliment on their skills and Glory demanding they go rest before they passed out standing up on watch. Her tone had been harsh, but her hands had been soft as she’d pushed them away, towards their cot.

Sole grew fond of the little organization and their cause. It seemed perfectly fitting, for them to end up there, and they regretted not talking to Hancock about the work he did with them sooner. If only they hadn’t been so stubborn to keep the pain of X6 locked up, maybe he’d be out already. Maybe they’d be living. Both of them.

It was good to feel like they had a purpose again, but they couldn’t help but mull over the potential outcome of their mission. The fact that it was entirely possible the whole of the Railroad would be wiped out, and it would be Sole’s fault for dragging them there with their mission to bring back their brother. Sure, they had been looking for an in, but Sole was giving it to them.

And the possibility that X6 wasn’t going to go with them. It was one thing for him to respond to the lamp, like he always did. It was another to leave everything he’d ever known to travel a deadly landscape with a kid he hadn’t seen in six years. Hancock’s “Kiddo, you’re not giving him enough credit.” echoed in their head. He was right when he’d first said it and he was right at that moment, too. They weren’t giving X6 enough credit. They had to trust that he’d make the right choice, for the both of them.

They weren’t sure what they’d do if he didn’t, anyway. Die there, among the clean, white walls as they got blown to pieces? Had they starved and struggled for all those years just to return and die in their old home? Sole shook off the thought as Deacon approached.

They found his eyes weren’t so cold and intimidating anymore. “Hey. So, we’ve got the beacon set up so you can contact the Institute. We’ll be ready in about half an hour. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” He plopped himself onto the seat next to them, his eyebrows furrowed with concern as he looked them up and down.

“Alright. Just…” They sighed, and couldn’t find the words to continue.

“Yeah. I get you.”

They sat in the quiet for a few moments, listening to other Railroad members murmur amongst themselves about what was about to occur. Recruiting new faces had gone successfully over the month since Sole had joined, especially with Deacon and Hancock’s combined ease and charisma to ease the process. It turned out once you could offer a solid, but vague, plan to bring down the Commonwealth’s boogeyman, some people were just unhinged enough to join. “Where do you think you’re going after this?” Deacon asked.

“It’s– things are gonna be hard for him, y’know? It was hard for me and he– I dunno. Somewhere quiet, hopefully. Maybe check out that neighborhood up North. Clear it out and get a settlement going. Help him settle into this life, figure things out.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure some of the folks here could use a good place to retire, wouldn’t mind helping get things started.” He gave them a lopsided smile, but they weren’t paying much attention anymore.

“...I don’t think I care where we end up. As long as he’s back.”

Their voice was small, the kind of vulnerability only an older loved one could invoke. Deacon placed a hand on their knee. “We’ll get him back, kid. Try not to worry too much.”

They looked at him, the lines around his mouth, the wrinkles that lined his forehead, the way he flexed his fingers to keep them from getting stiff since his joints had gotten worse as winter began setting in. They nodded. Something in the way he spoke with such confidence had them nodding in agreement before they registered it. If he said it like that, it just had to be true. Right?

Sole fought to not get lost in thought after that. Doing so would only make their confidence waver, and they had to cling to what Deacon had said to keep their head above the water. Going into the Institute afraid and quivering would only doom the plan from the start. They had to keep their wits about them, stay cool and collected. They had to get him back, no matter the cost.

It wasn’t long after when Desdemona called them forth to radio in to the Institute signal. They cleared their throat as Tinker Tom adjusted a few knobs, fiddling with things they couldn’t begin to understand the purpose of. He’d tried to explain at some point, but they’d been lost after the first sentence. They never had gotten the knack X6 had wanted them to get for coding and electronics. It seemed such a pity now.

The receiver was lighter in their hand than they expected it to be, and it just added to the feeling Sole had that this was all off. Their hand was shaking, they realized in a manner so disconnected to themself. Like they were watching someone else have to carry the weight. Deacon stepped up beside them and placed a hand over theirs, steadying it. When they met his eyes, he nodded. They could do this.

There was a switch somewhere in them still, they knew. It held everything the Institute had instilled in them when they were younger. All the demands and expectations, the rules and punishments. Mannerisms and restraint all came rushing back as they took a deep breath and set their expression to a steel mask; they weren’t Sole, the survivor, a nickname Hancock had given them that had quickly spread through Goodneighbor. They were Sole. Institute pawn extraordinaire.

Sole eased into a stiffer posture and raised their chin. The receiver crackled violently as it tried to connect to whatever scarce signal they could get ahold of; the Railroad had taken the necessities to the outskirts of the Commonwealth, so the Institute couldn’t track the signal back to one of their bases. The crackle shifted in tone, then cut off. “Speak.”

The wind was knocked out of them and their idle hand reached up to grasp the receiver in a last ditch attempt to get their hand to stop shaking again. They were gasping for breath, praying it couldn’t be heard on the other end of the line, and stared at the ceiling above them as they made a desperate grab to keep hold of the mask they had just assembled. To keep themself together. “Courser X6-88 receiving, speak.” There was a slight impatience in his monotone voice; just a sliver, barely there.

They gritted their teeth. “Organics 111 requesting transport back to Gateway. In possession of a Railroad asset.”

Silence. Their eyes ached from how hard they were squeezing them shut, trying to picture X6’s face on the other end of the line and willing themself not to cry. They braced their hand on the table in front of them and could feel the wood start to give way to their nails as they dug them in. Splinters be damned. “Repeat.”

There was something else in his voice, something they hadn’t really heard from him before. It wavered. Of course, not enough for it to be noticeable, even to the scientists that were undoubtedly listening in, but enough for Sole to notice. Enough for it to break their heart a little more. “Organics 111 requesting transport to Gateway. In possession of a Railroad asset.”

A pause. “Request received. Allow thirty minutes for response.” And then the channel clicked dead.

Sole felt their legs nearly give way underneath them. Deacon was there to catch them, thank God, and haul them into a chair beside the table as they covered their face with their arms. “Clear the room, please.” He meant business with his tone, so different from the usual lightness in his voice.

They heard the shuffling of bodies, curiosity stalling the Railroad member’s movements, but eventually it stopped. They were alone. Still, they refused to lift their head. Stubbornness would be the death of them one day, even if at that moment they were just hiding the fact that they were crying. Not very well, considering their shoulders shook. “Sole, I’m going to step out. Hancock’s here. I’ll leave you two to talk. We’ll be back at ten minutes till the call.”

More shuffling, and quiet, deep murmurs from Deacon as he left the room, undoubtedly explaining what had happened to Hancock. When the door closed behind him, Sole lifted their head.

They looked absolutely wrecked. Their face was red and blotchy, their eyes already swollen from the tears they couldn’t hold back. It was the vulnerability of a child in their eyes, something that had Hancock swallowing in shock. “Oh, Sunshine.”

Two words and they couldn’t hold back their sobs anymore, their entire body shaking with what felt like the weight of the world. Hancock knelt in front of them and wrapped them in a bone-crushing hug, an earnest attempt to carry some of the burden. If they were half a mind steadier, they might’ve been conscious of the whimper that left their throat, but they couldn’t care. “John, he’s– I heard him.”

“I know, Sunshine. S’alright. You’re gonna be just fine.”

They let themself indulge in a few more moments of something so rare to them; being held, and allowing themself to be visibly hurt. When they pulled away and quickly swiped their hand over their face, Hancock prepared himself to be the bad guy. “You know normally I’d be grateful you’re not being such a stubborn ass about your emotions,” this brought a weak, but affectionate scoff from Sole, “but… you have to brace yourself.”

Sole looked at him, eyes shining with the few tears they hadn’t shed. “You have to pretend you’re not phased. When you see him you can’t–”

“I know,” They swiped at their face again, eyes averted from his as they pulled themself back together. “I know. I can do it.”

“I never doubted that for a second, kid.”

The Institute, just as greedy as they were intelligent, were eager to receive such a valuable asset. Sole found themself reigning back anger, acidic in their throat, at their ego. The Institute was cautious, sure, cautious enough to set terms for their transport and demand they and their hostage be checked by Coursers before they were transported back, but not cautious enough to suspect that their brainwashing wasn’t flawless. They didn’t suspect that Sole wasn’t on their side.

It felt familiar to let the anger override their sadness, pushing the tears to the back of their mind as they let their fury towards the Institute take over. As they thought about everything that had happened, they were blinded by realization. It was all the Institute’s fault.

All these years they had been foolish enough to blame X6 for sending them away, when in reality it was the Institute at the root of it all. Sure, they had always hated them after they’d left, especially once they saw the effect they’d had on the Commonwealth and its people, but they’d never thought that X6’s actions were born out of necessity. So they wouldn’t end up in his position.

After that, it was easy. Easy to suit up in the protective clothing Tinker Tom had made them, woven with threads that were armored. Not bulletproof, but definitely better than regular cloth. It was easy to bask in the anger and let it fuel their determination to get this right. Even if they saw X6 before it was time to run, they would not fuck this up. Out of anger. Out of spite.

Hancock saw the shift and so did Deacon when he finally reentered. Hancock moved to hug them before they’d left, but that switch had finally been flipped inside them. They would keep the mask on no matter what, even in front of him, in order to survive. Because that’s what they were good at, deep down. Surviving. And so they simply sidestepped his open arms and nodded, and when he nodded back, they both knew.

They were to rendezvous near the old C.I.T. building and wait for Institute Coursers to teleport down to grab them. Once they were deemed safe for transport, Sole and Deacon would be teleported in and go their separate ways. Deacon with the Coursers, who no doubt couldn’t wait to get him alone to get information from him, and Sole to rig the main teleporter, the Gateway. What could go wrong?

For once, Sole refused to let themself dwell on that. Nothing would go wrong, because they wouldn’t let it. Everything they’d done and been through over the last six years, everything X6 had done and been through over the last six years, was for this. Nothing would go wrong.

The trip out to the C.I.T. ruins was completed in silence. It was Deacon, Sole, and a merc Hancock had hired to protect them on their way and not ask questions named MacCready. Hancock had wanted to go himself, but Sole had talked sense into him in the same realistic, logical way X6 had always done for them and he couldn’t deny they made sense.

What would Goodneighbor do without him? What explanation would they give as to why a ghoul mayor was so involved in Sole’s business if they were supposedly still completely loyal, considering the Institute thought so lowly of the ghouls of the Commonwealth? Sole never brought up their fear of a potential inability for them to protect him. If X6 acted on his nature and they were forced to choose between him and Hancock, what would they do?

There were few answers they didn’t seek out, but that was certainly one of them.

Sole said their goodbyes to the members of the Railroad, albeit stiff and somewhat formal. They didn’t protest. It seemed everyone knew the odds of them returning, all of them. Even if they weren’t warm and charismatic like Deacon was in everyone’s eyes, they were useful, and they would be missed.

The ruins looked daunting, wire supports bent with the weight of the crumbled stone, soil rocky underneath their thick boots. Sole took careful steps; the last thing they needed was to twist their ankle just before something so important. They couldn’t help the mechanical way they scanned the horizon and the buildings, searching for anything that would stick out. They knew that if the Coursers were coming, they wouldn’t see them. There would be no warning.

So they sat. Back stiff, eyes fixed on one spot on the horizon, awaiting whatever was to come. The air bit with the promise of winter and they couldn’t help but shiver, though it wasn’t that cold. Deacon chose to keep moving, to keep watch on their surroundings despite Sole’s ominous declaration of, “Don’t bother. You won’t see them coming.”

MacCready had scouted and chosen a vantage point as soon as they’d arrived, not one for sticking around to talk. He was good at what he did, Sole could admit. It’d taken them several looks over the landscape to figure out where he was. At the top of one of the buildings, laid out and camouflaged with the barrel of his sniper barely visible. God knows how he’d gotten up there, though they figured that was just another layer of protection between him and the Coursers.

Deacon returned to their side and sat. They pulled out the measly pistol they figured they could get away with bringing.

The harsh wooshing of air, a sort of snapping as everything shifted back into place, was all the warning Sole got. They could feel someone standing behind them. Silent. Daunting. They took a deep breath, not bracing themself, but easing their posture slightly, finding some relief from the ache of how stiffly they’d been sitting. They kept their eyes on the horizon and clenched their jaw.

When Sole turned and met eyes with X6, they felt the world start spinning. There was no telling which way was up, no grasp on the rocky ground beneath them. They searched X6’s eyes for anything. Anger, disgust, affection, warmth, anything. They didn’t care what it was, as long as it wasn’t a blank slate.

It wasn’t. They could see every ounce of restraint he was using in his eyes and something about it reassured them. They weren’t the only one struggling with their hold on the standard-issue Institute regulation mask. They held his gaze for a moment and he nodded. A fraction of a movement, hardly noticeable. They nodded back, just as subtle. “Courser X6-88 responding to Organics 111 transport request.”

He shifted his gaze to Deacon, who stood behind them. If the Coursers were well versed in body language, they would notice that Deacon’s stance was more protective than threatened. Not exactly the poster child for a hostage, but good enough to deceive. That prickling feeling they got when they first assessed Deacon as a predator, rather than the potential prey the Institute insisted the Railroad were, came back. This time it felt reassuring. “I have a single pistol in my possession for protection and direction of the hostage. The hostage has nothing on him.”

X6-88 stared at them for a moment longer, then turned every so slightly. Sole watched his eyes flicker to the exact spot where MacCready lay in wait for their signal that something had gone wrong. Their heart jumped into their throat, but it only lasted a moment. He looked away and turned to the other Coursers. “Conduct a thorough examination.”

And then he distanced himself from Sole.

They stood stock still as another Courser, one they didn’t recognize, ran her hands down Sole’s sides. They met eyes with Deacon as he was also patted down and let their eyebrows crease just a fraction. You alright? their expression asked.

Deacon simply blinked. It was the only signal he could give. Sole understood. It wasn’t long before the Coursers finished up their assessment and reported back to X6-88 that they, in fact, were telling the truth. There was no mention of the pair of eyes watching them from the building above them.

Teleporting was a sickly, disorienting feeling. If Sole felt turned upside down before, they imagined this was what it felt like to be in the eye of a hurricane. Their stomach jolted as the air seemingly collapsed around them, X6’s hold on their arm the only reassurance that they hadn’t simply vanished from reality all by themself; it always had been, when they teleported. Part of them, the kid version of themself deep in their subconscious, was grateful he was there even now for this bout in the teleporter. They had never gotten over their fear of it, even with all the times they had used it.

Coming through the Gateway felt poetic. It still smelled the same as it had when they left. Antiseptic and metallic, strong in the way that it stung at Sole’s nose and eyes, but it seemed they were still used to it considering they didn’t flinch. Deacon did. They watched as he screwed up his nose, the same way he had when they’d waded through the sewers on the hunt for the parts they’d needed for the receiver.

They let the stench sting their lungs as they inhaled and squared their shoulders. X6-88 placed a hand on their shoulder– to anyone looking in, it would seem like he was just making sure they weren’t going to try anything. But he squeezed and Sole knew he had their back.

The walk through the Institute halls was shorter than they wanted it to be. If they kept walking, they wouldn’t have to move to the next phase of the plan. Of course, the world wasn’t so merciful, and they found themself at the lab in the blink of an eye. “We’ll take it from here with him,” one of the scientists spoke up. Also new. Sole was grateful not to run into any more familiar faces. “X6-88, please escort Organics– 111, was it? Please escort them to Father’s office.”

Father. God. Even growing up in the Institute, they’d only seen Father once. Whatever the reason, he’d grown curious of how they were aging and called them up to his office so he could ask whatever questions came to mind. They’d still been young, and hadn’t really understood that they were one of the first children born from the Institute’s creation program, so they’d only thought of the interview as boring.

They hadn’t been taught the lesson that they were meant to fear and respect Father, yet. The Institute was still working on that one.

Sole knew better now, knew that he was an old man bravened by the fact that he was defying nature and the ego-stroking the Institute did for him, but still. If the Institute was the Commonwealth’s boogeyman, Father was Sole’s. They swallowed harshly and hoped it went unnoticed as they followed X6’s guiding hand.

Once they were on one of the many intertwining pathways that led throughout the Institute and out of sight from the lab, X6 veered suddenly. He pressed them forward to what had been an old meeting room when Sole left, but now appeared to be out of use if the dust on the handle was anything to go by. The room was dark when they stepped in and X6 made no move to change it as he shut the door behind them.

They were wrapped up in his arms before they could even blink and they were grateful they’d spent their time before leaving for the C.I.T. ruins crying; they were out of tears. Still, they knew their nails were digging into X6’s armor as they clutched at him, clinging for dear life as he practically crushed them.

His breath was coming in short gasps, something they’d never heard from him before, even on the rare occasions he’d been injured. Sole held on even tighter and hid their face in the collar of his jacket. Never had they been more grateful to feel cool, faux leather against their cheek. X6 rested his chin on the top of their head in return, and they could feel his jaw digging into their scalp, but they didn’t care.

They were home. He was alive.

“I thought you died, Little Light.” His voice cracked.

X6’s voice never cracked. A choked laugh, watered down by the tears they were holding back, escaped them at the nickname. They never thought they’d hear it again. “I’m sorry. I– a lot happened, and I swear I’ll explain it all, but we have to– I have to–” they shook their head, trying to gather their thoughts.

He released them from his hold and the cold returned, though not as harsh as before. Sole squeezed their eyes shut for a moment and gathered themself. When they opened them, X6 had returned to how he’d always been, though there was a stray tear track on his cheek. The one thing out of place on a perfect Institute weapon. Sole dabbed it away with the sleeve of their shirt and gave him a weak smile. “Lead the way, Little Light.”

Sole was astonished at how easy it was. There was a new determination in their step, a leveled confidence in their eyes as they stepped through the halls to the Gateway. X6 mentioned no resistance to what he had to know was their plan. How he knew, they weren’t sure, but he always seemed to be one step ahead of them. They didn’t know why they were surprised. It seemed that hatred for the Institute had been building in him over the years just as it had in them.

X6-88 stood watch in the doorway as Sole inserted the chip Tinker Tom had given them into the control panel of the Gateway. They stepped back to observe as it crackled to life, undoubtedly sending a signal to every person of importance in the Institute, including Father, that an unauthorized transport was taking place. They were sure that a second signal would go out once they checked and realized the Gateway was, in fact, not closing.

They clasped their hands behind their back and observed as members of the Railroad and Goodneighbor residents alike stepped through the teleporter into the pristine room. They looked out of place, wonderfully so, and Sole grinned. They were looking at the inevitable downfall of the Institute, and they’d never been more pleased.

There wasn’t much need to talk amongst themselves after everyone started flooding in. The plans had been discussed a thousand times already, and there was no time for anyone to second guess themselves. It was time to plant the explosives.

X6-88 followed dutifully behind them as they separated from everyone else, headed to the lower levels to plant the riskiest explosives. Sure, if they were spotted they’d definitely still be suspected for the sudden invasion of such an untouchable location, but they had a better foothold than anyone else would. X6 could pretend like he had captured them, too, though they weren’t sure that he’d be able to slip back into that role now that he’d seen the promise of freedom.

Sole supposed they should’ve hesitated as they planted the bombs amongst the interworkings of the Institute. Down in the tunnels, with only the pipes and wires that provided so many essentials to the underground monolith, Sole had everything they needed: X6 and the tools to get vengeance. They’d never been happier.

Once the explosives were set up according to the meticulous— though verbally scattered— instructions Tinker Tom had given them, they made their way out of the tunnels again. X6 had taken to gripping their wrist instead of their shoulder; the fear of letting them out of his sight and losing them again was one he might never escape from.

The twists and turns were easy to get through, though running face first into someone as they came around a bend made their stomach drop. “Oof.” Thank God it was a familiar voice.

Deacon stood just around the bend, his hands on their biceps as he turned them upright for the second time that day. He looked like a ghost, so distinctly out of place down in the tunnels Sole used to hide in to get away from the pressures of the Institute. “It’s time to go, kid. Now.” Sole nodded.

Their hand flailed a bit as they shook off X6’s grip on them and instead grasped his hand, pulling him along the twists and turns just behind Deacon. It was a moment of much-needed relief to stand upright at the end of the tunnels and to take a breath, though it still stung when they did. “Lead the way, Boss,” Sole announced.

The center of the Institute was utter chaos. Sometime when they had been down below, the alarm had been sounded. Code red. Utterly catastrophic. Something they were sure the Institute members assumed they’d only ever hear during drills. Sole had thought the same thing, too, when they were younger.

There was a near equal sea of scrapped together Wasteland garments and too-clean Institute garb mixing in the center of the underground monolith. Sole had been informed that as soon as they were in they were going to put out the word that the Railroad needed as many armed Wastelanders to take down their boogeyman as they could get, but they didn’t think there would be so many. It was incredible what could happen when the Commonwealth had a common enemy, which was something the Institute failed to account for.

A fatal mistake.

They stood for just a moment, the trio, and watched and listened to the chaos below. Gunshots and lasers alike deafening, scientists who foolishly turned down the offer for combat training dodging away from the swarming threat. After that pause to catch their breath, they started moving again.

X6 led the way this time, all ideas of pretending to be under the Institute’s influence dead and gone. They had missed everything about his sharp, precise movements and the way he moved as if he knew anyone would be terrified to go up against him. It was a well-earned confidence, and they couldn’t deny it, not that they would ever think to.

It was turning past a doorway that proved to be their downfall. Distracted by making sure Deacon was still behind them, they didn’t see the scientist who was brave enough to yank them into the doorway until there was a gun pressed to their temple. X6-88 stopped so quickly Sole thought he might’ve burned the rubber of his boot soles, Deacon and him both raising their guns and pointing at the culprit. “Take me with you.” The man demanded, though his voice obviously wavered with fear.

Sole bit back their nature to put up a struggle. The last thing they needed was a bullet to the brain after coming this far, and they were sure X6-88 and Deacon both were thinking up plans as they stood there, trapped in his clammy grip. “Take me with you and I won’t shoot them. I want out of this mess.”

“Listen, buddy. You’re gonna have to put the gun down. We can be your ticket out, but it’s kind of a bad first impression to point your gun at Sole.”

The man scoffed. “Yeah, right. I put the gun down and you’ll shoot me.”

At least he was a little smart. Sole rolled their eyes. If they tried to break away he’d probably pull the trigger, not necessarily out of some sort of fantastic reflex, but out of fear at the sudden moment. No dice there. If they used their weight to collide into him backwards the gun still might go off, but it’d probably end up pointing towards either Deacon or X6 due to their momentum, so no luck there either.

Their train of thought was cut off with the sound of a gunshot. They flinched, dropping to the floor in the perfect imitation of X6-88 when he had taught them to do so as a child. When they turned towards their captor, he was on the floor. Dead.

Standing over him was what Sole would come to realize was the perfect picture summary of the Commonwealth. A man in a brown hat, pinned up on one side, and a blue scarf stood over the scientist, gun practically smoking. Sole opened their mouth to say something, to thank him, when he stepped forward and held out his hand. They took it. “Preston Garvey. Temporary leader of the Minutemen.”

Their stunned expression finally settled. “Impeccable timing.” They commented with a laugh.

Preston gave them a grin. Sole turned and gestured behind them. “Deacon. And X6-88, he’s with us.”

“I was told. Nice to meet the man who sparked this revolution.”

Maybe it was from being around Deacon so much, but the banter came easy to them, despite the situation. “Hey, where’s my credit?”

“He’s the spark. You’re the gasoline.” They shook their head at how fitting that seemed. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be here when it all goes up in flames.”

The trio definitely agreed with that. Now four, they broke out in a run. The Gateway was within reach now, and just in time, too, as they were starting to smell smoke. There were other Railroad members piling into the teleporter, too. Apparently everyone had gotten the signal that it was time to get out before the Institute became their grave, too.

They were all getting closer to stepping through when a small voice piped up. “Excuse me– what’s going on?”

They turned and were met with the sight of a confused, young brunet, probably somewhere around eleven. Sole’s eyes met Preston’s over the head of the young boy, and they found themself kneeling down. “We’ve gotta leave the Institute now. You’re going to come with us, okay?”

“But it’s dangerous out there, Father–”

“It’s more dangerous in here, right now. I promise you. I grew up here, too. You’ve seen X6-88, right?”

The child turned and looked up at X6, who’s expression was one of extreme conflict. Sole knew the logical part of his brain was telling him that the child would be dead weight, one more factor to consider in a Wasteland so unfamiliar to him. They also knew that the part of him that’d taken Sole under his wing as a younger sibling was still alive and well, and there was no way he’d leave the child behind. It seemed everyone was in silent agreement on that. “Yeah. Father says he’s the best of the best.”

There was an odd silence at that. X6 glanced away and Deacon was obviously suppressing a chuckle at the irony. Preston was the one who kneeled. “Yeah, he is the best of the best. And that’s why he’s getting us out of here. He’s protecting everyone.” The half-lie left his mouth so smoothly Sole almost wondered if he and Deacon were somehow related. There was no prickle of instinctual alarm when he did it, though. Only relief that they had backup in this strange conversation. “...alright.” The child agreed.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Shaun.”

“Okay. It’s time to leave, Shaun. Let’s go.”

Stepping out of the teleporter and into broad daylight was just as jarring as it had been the first time. The chill in the air felt harsher than it had been when they left, and without thinking they shed their coat and wrapped it around Shaun. He looked so tiny, out in the Wasteland landscape, drowning in their jacket. Something in their chest stung.

The quintet were on the top of one of the few standing skyscrapers in the Commonwealth, though rickety and filled with holes where the paneling had fallen victim to the environment. The height nearly made them dizzy and they reached for Shaun’s hand, which he clutched willingly. They both seemed equally concerned about him tripping and falling.

Desdemona was waiting expectantly a few feet away, and though she tilted her head at the sight of Shaun, she said nothing. “The button is yours to push, Sole.”

They moved forward, Shaun pressed to their side. “No, it’s not.” They turned and looked at X6-88, the emotion of six years on both of their faces.

He stared at them for a moment, but they had no idea what was going through his head. He moved to stand next to them and everyone held their breath as he reached forward towards the button. A few seconds ticked by. “I–I can’t.” He shook his head, teeth gritted, as if he were angry with himself.

“Together?” Sole asked, their free hand on his arm.

He sucked in a deep breath and steadied himself. “Yes. Together.”

They both reached out, Sole covering his hand on the button with their own, the other clutched tight around Shaun’s. Preston watched with his chin raised, a relieved smile on his face. Deacon stood with his sunglasses pushed up onto the top of his head, his arms crossed, equally as pleased-looking.

They pressed the button.

The explosion surprised them. Not because of its size, though Sole wondered if this was what the pre-War people had seen when the bombs went off that fateful day, but because it was a stunning white-blue at first. Maybe it was something in the bombs themselves, or the the fire was burning white hot, but Sole was nearly knocked off their feet when the shockwave hit.

They nearly lost their footing, but four hands reached out to catch them. Deacon’s, on one arm. Hancock’s on the other; when he’d climbed up, they didn’t know, but later he’d admonish them for thinking he’d “miss the show.” X6-88’s hand landed on their shoulder, a familiar weight that was more than welcomed, more than relieving. Preston’s was placed on their back, and he gave a smile, full of respect, when they turned to look at him.

Shaun clutched at their shirt, eyes squeezed shut, their coat pulled tight around him as he shivered.

True to their word to Deacon, Sole traveled North to Sanctuary after the Institute had gone up in smoke. They were sure the Railroad could’ve used their help, even in menial ways, to deal with what had happened, but they didn’t have it in them. After everyone showed up and volunteered to go in, those who made it out alive stuck around for the most part. They had the manpower now, and less of a need to operate underground.

Deacon had given them a warm hug goodbye and wished them well. He didn’t protest their announcement. Sole had an inkling he understood.

Preston Garvey was another who hadn’t stuck around, which surprised them. He seemed like the type that lived for any good cause he could get his hands on, but apparently there had been plenty of volunteers for the Minutemen, as well. When they informed him they were headed to Sanctuary, to start a safe settlement, a little bit away from all the chaos and hopefully somewhere where people could seek refuge, his eyes lit up.

It seemed they were his new “good-cause,” and he offered them the General position a few seconds after.

Sole had told him to wait a few months and they’d give him an answer. They weren’t ready for another mission yet, not so soon after everything seemed to go to ashes. The choice was a good one, because after the first week in Sanctuary, X6-88 fell apart.

It was subtle. To the outside eye, he probably didn’t seem too different. In the few days after the explosion, he was quiet, stiff. Only spoke when spoken too, constantly stayed out of the way and observed.

Sole watched the pieces of his mask start to crumble.

X6 stayed inside. He didn’t talk, just sat and stared out the window at the landscape of the Wasteland. Sole remembered doing the same thing, at first. They’d sit on a hill and just stare, trying to make the landscape seem real. So they gave him time.

There were plenty of volunteers fixing up Sanctuary with Preston Garvey, the unwavering leader, at the helm. The holes in the walls were slowly patched, window panes replaced, soil tilled, lampposts scrapped, nature tamed. Weeks went by with X6-88 staring out that same window as the neighborhood was repaired around him.

Sole would sit with him for at least a few hours every day. Sometimes they’d read, sometimes they’d ask Shaun to come sit with them and ask him questions about his day, the things he was doing around Sanctuary to help out Preston. Shaun had taken to the man like a shadow, asking all sorts of questions that would’ve driven Sole mad. Preston had patience they didn’t, though, and was more than happy to watch the kid. Everyone had taken to calling him “Little Shadow,” though it was a nickname he protested.

After the first couple of weeks, when everyone had settled in and the excitement of a new settlement had worn off, Sole started to tell X6 about their time in the Wasteland, even though he didn’t really respond. They had reached the start of December and the winter had dug its claws into the Wasteland. Even for the Commonwealth, which was infamous for its harsh cold spells, it was unusually cruel.

Sole took shelter from the freezing weather by stoking a fire and settling onto their couch next to X6-88, watching him as he watched the snow. And they told him everything.

The way they’d been confused and distressed when they’d first landed their feet in the Commonwealth. Astonished something could be so destroyed and still be alive. The fact that the wasteland had nearly killed them, leaving them with scavenger dogs amongst piles of rubble, starving to death.

They told him of Hancock finding them, barely alive, and the way Goodneighbor breathed new life into them.

After the first couple of tales, X6-88 stopped looking out the window and turned to look at them as he listened. They begged for it to be a sign that he was coming out of the shock of what had happened, that he was finding some sort of comfort in what they were saying. Because even though so far he’d only heard stories of their suffering, he was looking directly at evidence that they had prevailed. That survival was possible, even when the rug was ripped out from underneath your feet and almost everything you knew was gone.

Though they hesitated at first, they explained how they’d felt. That betrayal had run through them until they felt like they were barely a person anymore, how from their point of view they’d felt discarded and abandoned. And then they told him how Hancock had convinced them to have hope.

Sole untangled their legs from where they had been resting on the couch and got up. The floor was so cold it stung, despite the efforts of their roaring fireplace. They were glad Shaun was curled up in bed, piled under so many blankets he could barely toss and turn. In their room, on a makeshift desk Preston replicated from Hancock’s description of the one in their room at the Old State House (which was still untouched. Hancock wanted to make sure they could always return if they ever needed to,) was the lamp.

They brought it out with them and settled back into the couch under X6-88’s watchful eye. With a light, sad smile, they tapped the top of it. It still lit up, despite all it had been through. Seconds later, the band around X6-88’s wrist lit up, as well.

X6 collapsed into sobs.

Sole did their best to hold onto him, suppressing tears at the way he was practically wailing. Having been in the same position before themself, they wished more than anything they could’ve protected X6 from what he was going through. It was too late, though, and instead, they held him as the last piece of the mask fell away.

He clung to the sleeves of their thick sweater, head on their chest as his shoulders heaved with the weight of his cries. They were unsurprised when Shaun stepped out of his room, poking his head into the hallway, his expression fearful. They gave him what little smile they could, though they were sure it wasn’t very convincing, and shook their head. “Is he okay?” Shaun mouthed.

Sole nodded. Shaun had had his own moment like that, similar to Sole and now X6. It was less violent and loud; Sole wasn’t sure if the kid was just better at bouncing back than they were, or if he hadn’t fully processed what happened, but after about half an hour he was done with Sole’s hug and ready to go outside and help Preston with his patrol.

The night crawled forward until the sun rose, the low light slowly bringing some ease to X6’s heartbreak. Slowly but surely, his crying trailed off into labored breathing, and then his breathing leveled out. He had fallen asleep.

They smoothed their hand over his back, much like he had when they’d had a nightmare and couldn’t stop crying. Shaun crept out of his room sometime after eight, the time he usually rose, and examined the scene before him. Sole didn’t hear him at first.

He was an unusually calm kid, and they weren’t sure if that was due to the way he was programmed, or just in his nature. On a normal day, Sole would’ve been up to cook him breakfast to convince him to eat before he took off to run around for the day. Even in the dead of winter, he was happy to brave the elements and explore the settlement.

When he stepped around the couch into Sole’s line of sight, they jumped slightly. “Sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s alright, kiddo. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to ask Mama Murphy for some breakfast.”

He nodded, but his eyes were on X6 sleeping fitfully. “He’s gonna be okay, Little Shadow. It’s just been hard for him, lately.”

Shaun nodded again. “Preston says everyone has a hard time with change.”

Sole smiled despite themself. “Preston’s right.”

Shaun started to step away, but Sole reached out to stop him. “Hey, make sure you bundle out tight. And don’t stay outside too long, you’ll catch your death.”

“And make sure to eat all three meals, and make sure you wash your hands before you eat, and make sure you don’t walk too close behind the Brahmin, and make sure…” His voice trailed off as he walked down the hall and closed the door to his room behind him.

“Who turned him into a smartass?” Sole muttered to themself, though they were grinning.

“You.” X6-88 answered.

Sole sucked in a startled breath and looked down at him. His eyes were open, and he was looking out the window, swollen eyelids blinking slowly. Not wanting to bring up the previous night, they laughed. “Great. I’m the irresponsible middle sibling and you’re the wondrous older brother. Wonder what he’s gonna be like when he’s older.”

X6 sat up slowly, flinching at his headache; an unwanted prize from all the crying he’d done from the night before. His feet landed on the floor and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was still looking outside, though his eyes weren’t distant and hollow like they had been before.

Shaun came barreling out of his room, swaddled under layers and layers of coats, his scarf, and hats that “Mrs. Long” had knitted him. He knew that it wasn’t just Sole that would get on his case if he didn’t look like he was drowning in fabric, it was everyone in the settlement; they’d all taken a liking to the kid and his curiosity. The sight of X6-88, now awake and looking back at him for once, must’ve shocked him, because he stopped in front of him.

After a momentous pause, Shawn patted X6-88 on the shoulder, and in a tone far too sober for an eleven-year-old, said, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Shaun was off again, barreling out the door, and neither Sole nor X6 could help the tears that escaped after he’d shut the door behind him.

After the dam broke that night and the following morning, X6 had eventually gotten up and gone into the room Sole had made up for him whenever he decided to stop spending all his time on the couch. After everything, he needed good sleep, and Sole had made sure he was just as bundled up as Shaun had been before leaving him alone with their light on the nightstand beside him.

There was a quiet knock on the door just an hour later. Preston stood on the other side, visibly concerned, but relieved at the sight of them. “Hey. I just wanted to come by and check on you. Everything alright?”

Sole sighed, “Did Shaun tell you?”

Preston shook his head. “Didn’t have to. I hate to say it, but I think the whole settlement heard.”

“Damn. Do me a favor, don’t bring that up to X6, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Mind if I come in? I have a few minutes before watch. Shaun’s over at Mama Murphy’s.” “Yeah– yeah, of course. X6 is just sleeping. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“Where is that kid?” Sole asked, twisting around.

They were sat on an old log. A couple of the trees around the riverbank had fallen during the winter; they’d gotten a record amount of snow, according to Detective Nick Valentine, who’d come up to visit as soon as spring broke. Apparently Diamond City had also struggled with the weight of winter, but everything was turning upright now that they were out of the thick of it.

The river that ran underneath the bridge to Sanctuary was roaring with all the melted snow, but the sun was beating down on the settlement, and everyone seemed to have that newly-spring-energy. Shaun had been sitting between Six— as they’d taken to calling him— and Sole as they’d watched the river, but Trashcan Carla had come into town and shouted that they had a treat for him and he was off like a bullet.

Sole turned back towards the river, shaking their head. “I thought the same thing more times than I can count when you were younger.” Six commented, a smile making itself known at the corners of his mouth.

Sole rolled their eyes. “I didn’t have that much energy as a kid. I don’t know where he gets it.”

Six didn’t respond to that, but tilted his head thoughtfully. He still didn’t talk as much as the other settlers, choosing to pick his words carefully when he spoke, but Sole supposed that was just who he was and not the shock of everything anymore. Getting out of the house was doing him good, anyway.

The other settlers were still cautious around him, not because he was a synth, but because they knew he had struggled and didn’t want to say the wrong thing. It annoyed Sole a bit, they couldn’t deny, that they treated him as if he was fragile, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was left alone, and that he was fine with.

Heavy footsteps announced a new presence and Sole shielded their eyes from the sun as they looked up at Preston. “Six. Sole,” He nodded, “mind if I join you two?”

“Seats free. Shaun’s disappeared, probably raiding Trashcan Carla for everything she’s worth.”

Preston laughed, hearty and warm in the spring air and Sole couldn’t help but laugh, too. “She and Mama Murphy are enablers,” Preston agreed.

Six was smiling on the other side of Preston, too. The three basked in the sunlight, grateful for even the sting of the wind that still carried a chill, the last tendrils of winter in the air. They tilted their head back and closed their eyes. “You know what?” Sole announced.

“Hm?” Preston responded.

“I think this is living.”

Preston opened his mouth, curiosity evident on his face, but was swiftly interrupted by a whooping shout from Shaun. All three of them turned to see him racing around the corner of one of the houses, something clutched in his hand. “Slow down, Little Shadow! Watch the river!” Sole shouted. “God, he’s gonna give me a heart attack one day.”

Shaun came to a stop in front of them and nearly tripped over his feet. Preston, well-accustomed to his antics, caught him easily and set him upright. “Look what Carla gave me! She said I could pick anything from her stash!”

He held out a figurine that looked quite identical to the settlement’s resident Mr. Handy, Codsworth, and speak of the devil, the robot wasn’t far behind Shaun. He floated up with a pleased clicking of machinery, “A wonderful choice if I do say so myself, sir!”

Yeah. With all the chaos and everything, this is what Sole would call living.

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fanfiction #Oneshot #Imagine #Angst #Found family #Fluff #Hurt comfort #Mayor Hancock #RJ MacCready #X6-88 #gn Sole Survivor

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