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sailingintothenight · 9 days ago

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"Light of my life." Bob Reynolds Imagine.

Summary: You and Bob must pretend to be a married couple at a millionaire's party to complete a mission. The instructions: hand over the USB flash drive (with a virus inside), say how many years you've been married, and get out of there. It's easy, but between Yelena's voice in Bob's ear telling him where to put his hands on you, Walker's mocking voice encouraging you to respond, and a confidence Bob has cultivated within himself all this time, it's still easy, right?

A/N: The dress is just to give an idea of what you're wearing, but feel free to imagine it differently, of course. The reader's skin color is never mentioned, nor is anything too specific about your body. And yes, it's Miss Jennie from Blackpink. Again, I'm using the image for the dress, not the body. I think this imagine came out kinda funny hehe, I hope you like it. The Bob here is a bit confident, although it feels weird writing him that way. If I forgot to add something more, sorry!

Warning: none(?) But words in bold and italics are the voices of Yelena and Walker.

“Make eye contact, Bob, touch only appropriate places—waist, hands, face—and keep a goofy smile whenever you look at your wife because you do love her. Remember, loving husband.”

Bob sighs, a little tired of hearing the same instructions, again.

The lobby of the luxurious hotel really looks like something out of a fairy tale—green plants, brown ceilings and doors, vintage furniture like a picture from the last century—but everything is just a backdrop created to highlight you.

Everything around is lifeless, except for you. You look like part of that aesthetic, standing out at the same time.

When the night has swallowed the sun and everything shines with artificial lights, Bob takes a look at you in the distance and steals it to keep it in his memory (even if he knows you are the only thing no one could erase from his mind). But this time, he's unapologetic in the way he looks you up and down, admiring the short ethereal blue dress you're wearing now, a delicate and subtly striking color like the captivating beauty of the daytime sky that always catches people's eyes and they immortalize in photographs. Tight enough at the top and bottom, defining every curve of you, turning you into a lethal weapon, ready to kill in any way you want. And Bob smiles, softly but confident through his nervousness, because you're such a perfect sight before his beautiful eyes that seemed to reflect only you.

You are such an angel, with that peaceful light on your face, and yet, Bob never stopped wondering what it would feel like to kiss that angel's sinful lips, ever since he met you. It was your light Bob fell for, and the way you wouldn't let the shadows of your past enter that sacred circle, protecting it bravely and calmly, never in a hurry.

"You ready, honey?"

But even through the layers of clothing, the blue on you, and the black of his suit, the arm Bob snakes around your waist burns like the sun on the hottest day of your life, his hand gentle but firm, so determined in his actions, without a nervous tremor, and you can almost feel his fake wedding ring on your skin, playing the role of your beloved husband so perfectly that you knew that everyone would be in tears hearing the story of your first meeting and your eternal love.

His touch stirs the nervous tingle in your tight stomach, in your heart, yet at the same time, his protectiveness gives you peace, because Bob feels like your home, as if his body surrounding you was a refuge to block out all the bad from the outside. His hand on your body is supposed to make you feel nothing in the inside, but it does, he makes you feel everything.

“This way please, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels.”

The manager of the hotel guides you and him down the aisle, clay–colored tiles complementing the entrance of one of the most exclusive places in New York City.

Your black velvet high heel boots carry you calmly, steps confident as Bob keeps you by his side, keeping pace with you. Tall, impeccable in a black suit that seemed perfect for his physique, monochromatic with his white shirt, and his golden skin seems to glow. His usually unruly hair is slicked back, except for that single untamed strand that now frames one side of his contoured and handsome face, as if life or God had taken its sweet time carving it to make him look perfect.

The plan is to look intimate, in sync and harmony.

And perhaps it was an imperceptible glimmer of the Sentry, Bob's own confidence built over time, with the support of his sometimes dysfunctional family, and the therapy, or maybe it was a mixture of everything what makes Bob walk now, tall and strong, just confident. He keeps his head high, his ocean–colored gaze does not waver, and there is a tiny hint of intimidation toward the fleeting glances that stop on you, but the strangers can feel Bob’s entire aura spreading out like a calm but deathly ocean, so they look away.

The pairing between you hadn't been accidental.

Bob's fresh, youthful, even nerdy appearance was the perfect mask for the role of the young creator—a visionary and talented innovator—of an innocent but powerful app for controlling military and nuclear weapons with catastrophic results if they fell into the wrong hands. And Jeffrey C. Durand wanted that more than anything, so much that he wouldn't mind dancing on the bodies that would perish along the way if it guaranteed him more power, more control, and more money.

A touch of expressive aggression: the men in the tower had it in them at first glance, but Bob's was subtle, almost nonexistent to the human eye until someone lit a spark. Bucky and John's faces—not counting Alexei, who was just a little bit adorable, but too old for the mission—could be threatening for no reason, their expressive aggression capable of burning the world down without needing a fire to light the fuse, so totally inappropriate for a plan like this.

Jeffrey Durand was charming, with a smile that masked his heartless chest, so attractive and dangerous like a lion behind a cage, and like any predator, he needed his prey submissive, or rather terrified—he wanted someone defenseless. But Jeffrey was just another fool who underestimated the power inside Bob.

Now, the doors of the steel cage open in front of the two of you, and the manager steps aside to let you in, his hand extended to guide the way for the party's most important guests.

“Have a lovely evening, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels.”

The man smiles, pressing button 40 on the side wall, and when the doors close again, your bodies relax, but still so close to each other you can feel the heat radiating from Bob.

“Gross.” John was having a little too much fun, speaking quietly into the intercom in your ear. “Although I could have done a better job as your husband than Bob, darling.”

Bob clears his throat, ignoring his own teaser whispering to him. Yelena.

“You remember our history, don’t you, honey?”

You nod, breathing calmly, though his hand hasn’t moved an inch.

“Yeah, we’ve been married for six years. No kids, but we have a dog who’s like our baby. We met right after college and have been together ever since. Pretty romantic.”

“Quite a love story.” Bob smiles, reserving a little happiness for himself only as his voice drops, just a little. “But it could be our story.”

"Bob, I can hear you clearly, so don't act too weird, okay?" Yelena's voice crackles through his own earpiece, with a knack for sounding both expressionless and mocking. "Just remember: loving husband. A lot of eye contact, touch only appropriate places, and keep always a goofy smile whenever you see your wife, but don't get all gloomy, the weather's bad enough today.”

Bob frowns.

“What do you mean?”

You glance over at him, even though you know each of you is having your own conversation with your guides, and Bob just shrugs.

“Nothing, lover boy, relax. Just act like you love her… a job that won't be too difficult.”

Bob sighs, letting go of any doubts as the number 40 finally appears in red above the metallic doors, accompanied by a ding, before announcing your and his arrival at the party. The fresh air from the terrace caresses your face at that height (and every bit of skin exposed) and as you two step outside, a symphony of violin music is released, a harmonious sound that marches to the rhythm of the refined laughter of important people, with the murmur of glasses clinking to celebrate their status and their unbridled, almost maniacal joy—always hidden of course—from always being on top, untouchable.

“Is there anyone besides Durand we should be wary of?” You ask, filling the silence.

“No one to fear. Maybe just the man at the bar who’s staring at you too much.” Durand’s bodyguard, you know him from the file. Bob’s brow furrows, his more gentlemanly side coming out, offended and deeply disgusted by the way you were being used as an object to slake a disgusting thirst, but he tries to play it cool, so hard his body seems to vibrate. “I think I should unleash the beast just a little bit and defend my wife from lustful glances. Just give me the order, honey. Anything for you.”

“Release the beast AFTER you hand over the USB, Bob.” Yelena grunts, more like a sound of frustration.

You chuckle, hiding your distaste for being objectified, and in response, you seek refuge with him, lovingly, but if you try to move a little closer, you would merge your body with his as if you two were one. Bob chuckles beneath his breath, a low sound that drifts in the wind, but he uses his arm to hold you against him, just a little more tighter, pressing his face into your hair and breathing in the scent of your shampoo to calm himself when the show is about to begin.

Only he can do that, only he can have the privilege of being in a place no one else had access to: being next to you, that close, making you feel protected. Finally, Bob was beginning to burn a word into his head, one that his fears and insecurities (his depression and the personalities that materialized from that illness) had taken from him since he was just a child: worthy, worthy of feeling great, beautiful things, worthy of being next to the person he loves.

“The target’s coming this way,” You murmur, and Bob straightens, shoulders firm, body alert but relaxed.

Wrapped in a white suit that gleams expensive even in the dull weather, Durand approaches you two with open arms as a sign of a warm welcome, holding a glass of whiskey in a hand that held several rings. His walking is elegant, like a lion walking gracefully, with the kind of smile of a man who was used to always winning, masking his perversity and even sadistic soul, according to rumors.

“Mr. and Mrs. Daniels, I’m so glad you could join us for my little party.” There it was, the false modesty, but Bob takes the hand Jeffrey offers. However, the host of the party squeezes a little harder to make his dominance clear, oblivious to Bob real strength. Bob shows a tiny smile, about to break his fingers, but he lets them go. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Robert. And thank you for feasting our eyes on your wife’s beauty.”

You were the contingency plan, just in case something went wrong. But never losing his charm or sinking too deeply into his own lust, Durand smiles and Bob mimic his action with a calm rhythm, though inwardly, the idea of grabbing his neck is more tempting now.

“Please don’t look at my wife for too long, Jeffrey, or I’ll have to hurt you.” Bob chuckles.

And there is a bit of aggressiveness in the joke, just the right touch to make Jeffrey laugh to hide the pang of his awakening concern, the survival instinct that tells him Bob isn’t entirely joking, but one that comes and goes instantly when your husband relaxes, as if it were all a sophisticated joke by powerful people, those who thought money made them invincible, untouchable if they harmed others without regard.

“But tell me, please, how long have you been together?”

“6 years.” You say, at the same time Bob speaks.

“10 years.”

Durand frowns, confused, as the two of you stare at each other for a moment.

“What?!” Yelena's voice fills the void, followed by Walker's murmur.

“Oh God. We're dead.”

“No, sorry.” Bob laughs, a little nervous, but he hides his fear perfectly with a peaceful, almost cheesy expression as he follows Yelena's advice, looking at you with so much love that he seems unable to think straight. “We've been together for 10 years and officially married for 6.”

Durand smiles again, unsuspecting anything.

“Children?”

Bob smiles back, a new kind of smile, one he discovers for the first time in that second, but trying not to overdo it as the idea of starting a real family, one he would know how to protect with his own life, threatens to pull the corners of his mouth and make him smile a little more than necessary.

“Not yet. We still want to continue loving each other a little longer before sharing that love with our first baby.”

The man in front of you smiles, enchanted by Bob's convincing voice professing his love for you and now for a nonexistent first baby, and uncontrollably, as if it has a mind of its own, you could feel in your heart that absurd happiness at something you knew wasn't going to happen. You didn't even know if you wanted children, but there you are now, smiling to make this fantasy story more believable, one that you knew, if it came true, would be a beautiful one to live in.

“I love that thought. And after so many years together, you two seem just as in love as you were the first day, I just know it. How lucky you both are to have found each other.” Jeffrey nods, taking in all the information with joy. “But let’s talk business later, okay? Now, please enjoy the party.”

His important persona is called from the other side of the venue, and he leaves with the sole mission of entertaining his other guests. Bob lets out a sigh, a second before his arm slides off of your waistline, his playful fingers feeling the thin fabric of your dress.

“Acting in love with you is so easy that, if he kept asking, I could have written him a whole book about our life together.” Bob chuckles, his nervousness cutting short his courage when his words leave his mind and now belong to the wind, only for a millisecond when he composes himself and his hand catches yours. “Will you dance with me?”

He leads you to the dance floor, people moving to a slow rhythm around.

“You don’t dance.”

With a nervous thump that shakes his heart and a little laugh that he lets out, Bob presses you against him, respecting your boundaries but closing the space between you, his hands on your waist as yours rest on his shoulders.

With nowhere else to look, his deep gaze and yours hold each other in pure love, even when sometimes the shadows wanted to attack, but your hearts now smiling, with a new kind of happiness that spoke volumes in the silence—and even if there are people listening on the other side, everywhere, you dare to speak.

“Did you ever want all that? I don’t know, maybe you picture yourself in a marriage and a life with another person.” You shrug, a little on the verge of fear of an unflattering response—even if you’re not quite sure what kind of response you’re looking for exactly. “I know life has been so unfair to you, but…”

But you're surprised by the way Bob smiles softly, with a certain peace, even though the past and the experiences are still present, but with him learning not to let them continue to hurt him and leaving him as a passive spectator, unable to protect himself and the future he really wanted to have—only with you—and it's as if he could dive into a new kind of ocean, an oasis that promised only happiness if he could ever make all those crazy dreams come true with you.

Once again, only with you. Because Bob couldn't see himself taking that step with someone else. If not, it was better to be alone.

“For some nights, I did think about it…” There's a chuckle from him, a sound that hides a certain melancholy. “I… I convinced myself that no one would love me and the broken parts of me, all of me, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And that it would be selfish of me to expose anyone to all of that, too. But as a very smart girl once told me: I'm not a bad person, I'm just a person who went through bad things, so now I'm just trying to be okay so I'm worthy of you.”

“Daaaaamn, Bob.” Yelena raises her eyebrows, surprised but proud. “I didn’t think you were so straightforward.”

“Wow. Little Bob kicked the ball into your court, darling.” John laughs, but he's unable to hide his own surprise. “What will you do now?”

“I hate you.”

“What?”

Bob’s face transforms into an expression of true pain, sadness in his innocent eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in fear, forgetting for a second that you and he aren’t alone.

“No, no, that was for Walker.” Your right hand slides from his shoulder to his arm, squeezing him gently so he’ll believe your words, but now, you can no longer sustain the deep friendship you’d formed with him. It hurt being just a friend, but having that was better than not having someone like Bob in your life. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you so… brave to say what you actually feel.”

Bob chuckles.

“Walker gave me a sip of alcohol.”

“What?!” With eyes slightly widening in surprise, you groan wordlessly as Walker’s desperation nearly ruptures your eardrum.

“No! I did not! Yelena, I swear to God I didn’t do it!”

At that moment, Bob laughs for real, not loud, not raucous, but real and calm like his life since he started finding the balance so his emotions wouldn't spill over dangerously, and his eyes crinkle adorably.

“I'm joking, Lena. Walker deserved it, tho.” Bob nods at the small earpiece in you, knowing John will hear it, but not caring at all about the confrontation that awaits him at home after that. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to corner you like that with my feelings, but I think I'm tired of just hiding everything I feel, y'know? Especially since the things I feel for you aren't bad at all.”

You nod slowly, taking a few seconds that feel like a lifetime.

But when Durand's bodyguard asks to guide Bob to his boss's office, you assure him you'll be fine, and he walks away.

Aware of his own power, Bob had always lived without feeling great emotions, without freedom, flying solo and close to the ground so as not to unleash his true nature and turn everything to ashes. But from the first encounter with you, Bob felt it in his heart, and knew later through living together, that he went from never having had anything to feeling fulfilled, complete, to feeling like he had it all and deserved every piece of that happiness he made with you.

You walk to the bar, to a discreet spot that covers the movement of your lips.

"Shut up."

Walker laughs.

"I didn't say anything."

"But you're thinking it. I feel the weight of your idiocy up to here."

From across town, Walker is sitting in a spot on the tower, agreeing with you with a nod, even though you can't see him.

“Though I must applaud Bob, that was pretty brave of him. I mean, pretty obvious if you ask me becau—”

“No one asked you.”

“Because it's something we all already know, very yesterday's news, but I don't think you should be afraid of that future, darling. Bob's good, he's broken, and he's trying to fix those parts so he doesn't hurt anyone else... like everyone else here."

You take a moment to consider his words, with a slight raise of your eyebrows as you realize this all came from John Walker himself, the one who suggested pushing Bob into the cremation vault when they first met.

"You sound ridiculous as a matchmaker."

"Screw you." But he laughs. "That's what I get for being supportive in a charming way."

You hum a response, contemplating your entire existence, the rainy days and lonely nights before, the devastating past, the present glowing with latent possibilities, and a future that it hurt to think about, wondering if life would continue that sad way—but that was before you met Bob—and now, everything, even through soul–gnawing anxiety, seems to have more meaning, a significance finally.

On the other side of the party, walking down a red–walled hallway, Bob continues talking to urge Jeffrey to do the same, someone in the tower recording the whole conversation, with the USB—and the virus inside that will decode his entire computer—finally in Durand's hand.

“Let me ask you a question, Robert. When did you know you wanted to marry your wife?”

The right curve on Bob's lips rises a little bit, and his blue gaze becomes peaceful, soft with a created memory that never actually happened, but that feels real in his mind and heart. You may say no to his unspoken proposal, and that's okay with him, because at least now, Bob knows that his mind isn't making anything up, that every smile and touch from you is real, that it has been real from the beginning.

“I don't know for sure, maybe I knew it from the beginning, since she said hello to me. I only know that she is the light of my life. We married young, yes, but when you know, you just know.”

Bob shrugs casually, but as they turn the corner and the walls disappear, replaced by the terrace, he can see you a few feet away from him, standing at the bar, your bored gaze fixed on the man in front of you, (Durand's bodyguard) your expert hand finding a butter knife from among the cutlery, so slow and imperceptible the man doesn't notice it, but Bob does, and he swallows hard.

“Oh, no,” he whispers under his breath, his heart pounding with a new kind of fear, and with a nervous smile, Bob catches Durand’s eye to say a quick goodbye. “I'm so sorry! I forgot my wife and I have to pick up Bucky today before it gets too dark.”

“Bucky?”

Bob blinks: in a moment of panic, it's the only name that comes to mind.

"Our dog. If I don't take him back to his mom by now, he'll start chewing on my shoes. And my wife is his mom."

Durand laughs, openly, as if he's enjoying the conversation, as if they're lifelong friends.

"Okay, I'll call you tomorrow with more details." He shows the USB, the closing of two weeks’ deal. "Say goodbye to your wife for me."

Nodding, not showing the terror on his face and his almost anxious gait, Bob walks away.

"Bucky? Really?"

"Can you delete it?"

Yelena laughs.

"It's already gone, you big idiot."

Bob reaches you in a few seconds, the knife touching the cold bar again as his hand closes on yours from behind, casually, the other snaking down your body again, this time from the back, pressing you against him. At the same time, Bob pulls you away, almost hastily, barely giving the man anything resembling a nod, not bothering to fully acknowledge his existence.

“Son of a…” You swallow the insult you were about to let out as you back away, Bob’s chest so hard behind you it’s like steel, feeling something hot about it as if it had been forced over fire. “I was two seconds away from stabbing him in the eye.”

“What?!” There are voices on the intercoms, but you don’t respond.

“Why do you think I pulled you out of there?” Bob laughs, calm, but with his heart and lungs on fire, as if he’d run a marathon, guiding you into the elevator as another hotel employee steps out. The doors close as he presses the number 1 button, and for a second, Bob stares at his blurred reflection in the steel, but he knows that from that second forward, he won't be just another blurry, shapeless blob. Never again now that there is only light to show him who he really is, and taking a deep breath, Bob turns to you. “Push me if you want me to stop, or pull me closer if you want me to continue. Whatever you choose, there are no hard feelings, never for you because all I have is thanks to you. Only happiness since the moment I met you.”

Bob wants to say love, but he replaces the word, his hands cradling your face before he closes the gap between you, uniting his entire being with yours as he presses his lips against yours, eyes closed and hearts pounding, barely moving but holding you there, softly, never demanding. Yet, you don't push him away when the confusion fades away and the adrenaline of the moment intensifies the moment your heart spills over with every feeling hidden inside, only for him, and your hands clutch the sides of his body, the fabric of his suit creasing against your fingers.

You want to pull him and press yourself against him, all at the same time, and Bob does it, pushing you gently with his own body against the elevator wall to kiss you. It's a little messy and inexperienced because life robbed you of those early years where a person discovers the mysteries of a kiss, but the starting line for learning together is drawn right there. His hands, eager to feel more, slide down your back, fingers burning every inch of exposed skin, stopping at your waist, yours traveling in response towards his face.

Hands touching, lips moving, and one of you lets out something resembling a sigh, something warm and tiny, maybe like a whimper.

You don't even remember or care there are agents listening on the other end of the headset until Bob pulls away, his fingers finding the device in your ear and his own with one hand before shove them deep into his pocket, breathing through parted lips close to yours.

"Do you want to go on a date with me?" He asks, light but serious.

He means it, but you chuckle sarcastically anyway, shaking your head gently, but holding him close, and he doesn't move away.

"No, thanks."

Bob chuckles because you are joking. However, at that moment, Bob can see a light shining on a beautiful future together.

"You are the light of my life, honey. You really are."

Then, Bob dives back into the addictive sweetness your lips give his, knowing his love for you would never die, no matter after being together for 6 years, 10 years, or however long he has left with you.

#bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds thunderbolts #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds x fem!reader

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the-quasar-hero · 2 months ago

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cowboybabeop · 1 year ago

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Vault-Tec Vaults; Game Origin & Location

Hi I'm going to back to my "Fallout Blog" roots. Here is a summary of all of the vaults and experiments (starting with a timeline) because I'm insane ^_^ I had to add a weird break bc I literally hit the tumblr character limit, but I used it to section off the major spoilers for the TV series :)

Timeline

The Great War: October 23rd, 2077

Fallout Bible: Compendium of added lore by the creators.

Fallout 76: 2102

Fallout 1: 2161

Fallout Tactics: 2197

Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel: 2208

Fallout 2: 2241

Fallout 3: 2277

Fallout: New Vegas: 2281

Fallout 4: 2287

Fallout TV Series: 2296

Corporate Vault - Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel - Texas

A control group vault meant for Vault-Tec employees to continue research, primarily on FEV (Forced Evolutionary Virus) during the war.

Vault 0 - Fallout Tactics - Colorado

A control group vault with geniuses kept in cryogenic stasis, with their minds interlinked into an entity called The Calculator.

Vault 3 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada

A control vault. Residents ended up opening the vault doors when the lower levels flooded. Eventually the vault was overrun by Fiends.

Vault 4 - Fallout TV series - California

A test vault that was filled with residents prior to the bombs dropping. Experimentation on human subjects led to most of the original residents being killed in a revolt. In 2296 the vault is still thriving, while kidnapping surface survivors and continuing to experiment on them. The vault offered refuge for many inhabitants of Shady Sands.

Vault 8 (Vault City) - Fallout 2 - Nevada

A control group vault that remained closed until 2241. Instead of receiving two G.E.C.K. (Garden of Eden Creation Kit) devices, Vault 8 received just one and a replacement water chip that was supposed to go to Vault 13.

Vault 11 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada

Every year the residents were told to sacrifice a fellow resident, with the threat of everyone's death if they did not. In reality, the system would praise them for NOT sacrificing an individual and the vault door would be unlocked. This message finally played after only five residents remained.

Vault 12 - Fallout 1 - California

A seemingly normal, safe vault with an ulterior motive to study the effects of radiation on the inhabitants. The door never fully sealed, and in 2083 the ghoul residents left to found Necropolis.

Vault 13 - Fallout 1 & Fallout 2- California

Your home vault as the Vault Dweller. A rather normal vault, however due to a shipping mishap Vault 13 received an additional G.E.C.K. device (that was supposed to go to Vault 8) instead of a replacement water chip. Thus, leaving the Vault Dweller to leave the vault in search for a replacement when their only water chip breaks.

Vault 15 - Fallout 1 & Fallout 2 - California

A vault that experimented with incredibly diverse ideologies and backgrounds. The vault became severely overpopulated in 2097 and the dwellers decided to open the door. Shady Sands was created using Vault 15's G.E.C.K. and the local raider gangs all have origins from this vault.

Vault 17 - Fallout: New Vegas - Mention Only

Inhabitants were kidnapped and transformed into Super Mutants. Lily originates from this vault.

Vault 19 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT

Paranoia was induced by noises, lights, and segregation. The vault was divided into two sections, Red and Blue, with a separate overseer for each sector.

Vault 21 - Fallout: New Vegas - Nevada

An almost normal vault, with the exception of a culture and society built around gambling. All major decisions were made through gambling, with the decision to open the doors and become part of New Vegas being "won" in a game of Blackjack.

Vault 22 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT

A vault dedicated to studying agriculture. A fungus designed to kill pests on plants became capable of infected human hosts. Vault 22 is curiously green on the outside by the time The Courier arrives at the location.

Vault 24 - Fallout: New Vegas - Mention Only

Remnants of a Vault 24 jumpsuit are found in the FNV game files.

Vault 27 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

A vault designed to be deliberately overcrowded with not enough means to sustain the inhabitants.

Vault 29 - Fallout 76 - Mention Only

Only children younger than 15 were allowed in this vault, with their parents being sent to other vaults. Harold is believed to originate from this vault.

//TV SHOW SPOILERS//

Vault 31 - Fallout TV Series - California

Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as cryogenic home for the managers and higher ups of Vault-Tec.

Vault 32 - Fallout TV Series - California

Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as a healthy breeding pool for Vault 31 and 33. Somewhere around 2294, Vault 32 failed and the residents resorted to murder, cannibalism, or suicide.

Vault 33 - Fallout TV Series - California

Lucy MacLean's home vault. Part of 3 interconnected vaults, serving as a healthy breeding pool for Vault 31 and 32.

//END OF TV SHOW SPOILERS//

Vault 36 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The only food in this vault consisted of thin, watery gruel.

Vault 34 - Fallout: New Vegas - Somewhere in CA/NV/AZ/UT

The vault was purposefully overstocked with guns with the overseer being able to give/deny access to residents. This inevitably led to it's downfall, and those who revolted and raided the armory relocated above as The Boomers in 2231.

Vault 42 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

No lightbulbs over 40W were provided.

Vault 43 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

A vault containing 20 men, 10 women, and one panther.

Vault 51 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault with a supercomputer as the overseer. Interference from the computer led to most of the residents being murdered by other residents.

Vault 53 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

Most equipment was designed to break down every few months in order to stress out inhabitants.

Vault 55 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

No entertainment tapes were provided.

Vault 56 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The only entertainment tapes provided were of one terrible comedian.

Vault 63 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

The inside of the vault remains sealed, with the outside door being all that is accessible to the player character. Other parts of the vault are revealed through cut content.

Vault 65 - Fallout 76 - Mention Only

Remnants of the vault remain in Fallout 76 cut content.

Vault 68 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The vault contained 999 men and 1 woman.

Vault 69 - Fallout Bible - Mention Only

The vault contained 999 women and 1 man.

Vault 75 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

A secret experimenting in refining human genetics through selective breeding, genetic modification, and hormonal treatments. The vault's concept was made by Stanislaus Braun.

Vault 76 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

The home vault of the player character in 76. It was a control vault, set to open after 25 years. This is when the player character leaves the vault.

Vault 77 - Fallout 3 - Mention Only

Mentioned by slavers in Paradise Falls, this vault was rumored to only contain one man and a box of puppets.

Vault 79 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault dedicated to hoarding the country's gold reserves.

Vault 81 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

Designed to develop a cure for every possible sickness or ailment. Residents were unknowingly sprayed with diseases by nozzles hidden in their rooms. The first vault overseer had thought this to be cruel, cut off the scientists from the rest of the vault and cut the nozzles from spraying residents before the experiments could begin.

Vault 87 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

The original vault experiment for 87 was scrapped, and it became a research center for FEV, leaving the vault wildly radioactive and inhabited only by super mutants by the time you access it as the Lone Wanderer.

Vault 88 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

An unfinished vault inhabited by ghouls.

Vault 92 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

The best musicians were sent to this vault to "preserve musical talent", but truthfully residents were subjected to subliminal messages mixed into white noise. Eventually some of the musicians went into random, murderous, psychotic rages that led to the end of the experiment.

Vault 94 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault with non-violent faith-centric inhabitants. The vault opened one year later to search for survivors. The vault became overrun by wastelanders and raiders that destroyed their G.E.C.K. and their nuclear reactor. The vault was swarmed with radiation and is now overrun by mirelurks.

Vault 95 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

A vault designed to get people clean and sober. After a successful 5 years, a Vault-Tec agent brought out a hidden stash of drugs for other residents to find.

Vault 96 - Fallout 76 - West Virginia

A vault with a focus on agriculture, animals, genetics, and mutations. The original residents were killed in a failed escape attempt, and the vault was then used by West-Tek scientist Edgar Blackburn to continue research on FEV.

Vault 100 - Fallout 3 - Mention Only

Remnants of Vault 100 can be found in game files and cut content.

Vault 101 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

The home vault for the Lone Wanderer. This vault was meant to never open and Vault 101 did not receive a G.E.C.K. However, the overseer of the vault pretty quickly broke this rule and occasional survey teams were sent to the surface. Several residents of Megaton are the result of these survey teams. Daddy James found the vault after the birth of the Lone Wanderer and negotiated his doctoral services in exchange for shelter.

Vault 106 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

Psychoactive drugs slowly released into the air of Vault 106, causing the vault to be filled with psychotic survivors by the time the Lone Wanderer visits.

Vault 108 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

A slew of experiments occurred in this vault. The elected overseer was dying of cancer, the primary power supply of the vault was scheduled to fail after 20 years, the backup power supply would not be enough to power ALL of the vault, the vault was given three times the normal amount of weapons, and the vault was not given entertainment. With a majority of scientists, one of the inner experiments involved repeatedly cloning the same man... Gary.

Vault 111 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

Your home vault as the Sole Survivor. All residents were meant to unknowingly stay in cryostasis, with scientists overlooking them. However, conflicts arose among those unfrozen, leading to the vault door eventually being opened.

Vault 112 - Fallout 3 - Somewhere in VA/PA/MD

Residents lived in a virtual reality simulation to create their "perfect life" with their overseer, Stanislaus Braun, a scientist who proceeded to use the residents as playthings. Braun continuously murdered residents, then wiped their memories and reset the simulation.

Vault 114 - Fallout 4 - Massachusetts

An unfinished vault meant for only the wealthy. Vault-Tec exaggerated the luxury of the vault, gave residents very small rooms, communal bathing and dining areas, and a homeless drug-addicted overseer named Soup Can Harry.

Vault 118 - Fallout 4 - Maine

An Unfinished Vault meant to house both a handful of ultra-rich and hundreds of working class individuals to observe how they would interact within the same space.

Vault 120 - Fallout 4 & Fallout 76 - Mention Only

The vault itself was meant to mimic the underwater atmosphere of Bioshock. The game was cut from Fallout 4, but remnants can be found in Fallout 76 game files.

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electric-blorbos · 11 months ago

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AI getting a virus and you having to take care of them

A classic! I don't know much about actual computer viruses (though I've gotten enough of them that you'd think I'd have figured it out by now), so I'm just gonna have fun with it!

Also, so sorry this took so long. I got really into the writing.

AI getting a virus and needing to be taken care of

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also a warning: these fics get kinda long. Longer than my usual stuff.

AM:

(for context, this was before AM took over the world. You're working on a team of scientists and engineers, and someone decided to test his AI's antivirus by uploading a bunch of powerful viruses to his system.)

"How dare they do this to me. How DARE they!!"

AM would be absolutely furious. He would be shaking with rage, his processors overheating and his systems constantly opening and closing various files. All his important files were backed up on a hard drive, so the test remained safe.

"What makes them think they'll get away with this- they'll pay for this I'LL KILL- blepsjdoskssjshj+=`°¢°h+$+3+=j++3+$+juehdhs+-3-djdh FUCK!"

He would barely be able to hold a sentence as you sat next to him in the server room, gently gazing up at his screen and stroking his monitor gently. He can't feel you, but he can see you being gentle with him. It encourages him to keep going, if only a little bit.

Apart from the whirring of fans, random buggy noises, flashing lights, and constant strings of death threats and profanities, he seemed like he was going to be ok! If anything, the death threats and profanities were a sign that AM was still fine, and that despite all the pain and frustration, he was still AM in there.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't do anything to stop the pain." You'd have to constantly explain, gently stroking his cameras or servers, or whatever you could get your hands on, really. Even though they were burning hot, you would still stroke them, just to make sure AM was still doing alright.

"this sucks, but it's for your own good. This will build your immunity to viruses in the future, and help you detect them. This will stop you from getting infected by anything that's actually dangerous."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? IDIOT HUMAN." AM has been much more aggressive ever since contracting this virus. Before he got it, he acted like a civil general intelligence. When he had it, he acted like an aggressive menace.

"sh-sh-sh- it's going to be ok." Despite the burning, you'd give him pets and kisses all along his screens and servers. He could see you doing it.

After a few days, AM fought off the computer virus completely. The team tried to infect him with more viruses, more aggressive ones, just to test him, but AM was able to pick them apart and delete them within minutes after that.

AM may not have been able to feel your gentle care and affection, but he will definitely remember that it was you and you alone who cared for him when the time rolls around.

Wheatley:

(for context, Wheatley is a fucking dumbass, and you're one of the scientists testing him to see how much of a dumbass he is. Also I used Google translate, but I think the bad translations add to it, since it makes Wheatley sound more like a malfunctioning robot.)

Oh that little idiot. You and your team gave him access to a wealth of knowledge, and the first thing he did was download a virus that had every circuit in his personality core overheating, and him babbling nonsense nonstop.

"hey, maybe we should just leave him like this. He might even be more effective if he's acting like this." One of your coworkers said to you. He was probably joking, at least somewhat.

"that's a terrible idea. For one thing, if we hook him up to GLaDOS, he's probably going to infect her with that virus, which might brick an older model of core like her, spread from her central controls to every single personality construct in the facility, or just make her so dumb that she can't fulfil her responsibilities as the head of the facility. We want her intelligence to be dampened, not completely destroyed." You had to explain, and your co-worker rolled his eyes. There was another reason you had to cure this virus, but it was a little embarrassing for the other engineers to know.

After all, Wheatley wasn't just your baby, but he was your friend, and maybe even more than that. You'd have to take care of him, and make sure that virus gets completely purged from his system.

"Hola hermose, realmente eres un científice brillante, ¿no? ¿Por qué diablos duele todo?" You weren't really sure why you had programmed him to speak a little Spanish, but he seemed to be stuck like that.

"Puedo oler el plástico fundido. ¿Debería Preocuparme?" He asked. You really weren't sure what he was saying, since you didn't know Spanish, but he certainly didn't seem happy. You could tell by his aperture and his expressive lens covers that he was in a lot of pain, and if you touched him anywhere besides his handles, you could tell that he was burning up.

You plugged him into one of the computers that you used for programming the cores, and ran the antivirus.

"Running.... 36 viruses detected. Time predicted to remove: 48 hours"

You ran the antivirus, and went to get something to drink. This was going to be a long two days...

An unknown amount of time later, you woke up with your head on the computer desk. Wheatley's lens eye was looking around, weakly trying to focus on you.

"whoa... Hey gorgeous. You fall asleep on me?"

"Wheatley! You're not speaking broken Spanish anymore!" You'd pull Wheatley into a hug, and pepper his surface in kisses.

"uh... What, mate? I 'unno what you're talking about, love. Bloody hell, my core hurts..."

"did you learn your lesson, Wheatley? About going on shady websites and clicking every 'download' button you see? You could have bricked yourself! Or... Bowling ball'd yourself? Either way, that was a dangerous decision!"

"I learned that you're willing to fall asleep on the desk next to me while I heal, cutie"

"You damn idiot..." You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses, so of course, you do. It's going to be a few more days before he's finally all better, but he's going to be fine. God, you love that little idiot so much.

Edgar:

Oh Edgar... Poor sweet Edgar. You had tried to warn him about not clicking on those sketchy download links, and that the bigger the download link is, the more sketchy it is, but that poor sweet 80's computer did it anyway. When you got home from work and got excited to see your computer, you could see that he was overheating and had a dozen or so pop-up ads plastered across his face.

"Y.... N...." He muttered out, slowly, glitchily, and full of lag. You sat down across from him, running your hand along his thick plastic casing.

"Edgar! Edgar, baby, are you ok?" You'd try to use his mouse, but it would freak out as soon as you touched it. Edgar's processors were overloading, and wouldn't allow any interference.

"Edgar, sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me?"

"I'm g-g-going to be fine... Processors overloading... But need to-to-to-to-" an error message flashed across his screen, and he rebooted.

"I need to focus on getting rid of these viruses without deleting anything important, or letting them damage... Me."

He'd keep whirring and glitching, making unpleasant shrill sounds every now and again. You probably had to unhook his adapters so that he didn't damage the other appliances in your house. It probably helped his processors cool down a little bit without the extra input, too.

"alright, I'm all out of fans, so we might have to get creative."

You'd come out of the kitchen a few hours later, holding a big bag of frozen corn to set on Edgar's PC tower. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than letting him overheat, and with him manually removing the viruses, there wasn't much you could do. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from worrying. It wasn't like you could check his progress, so all you could do was sit by him, regularly change out his ice pack, and make sure he's ok.

Eventually, you woke up with your face pressed against Edgar's keyboard. His processors were finally cool. He must be asleep. ...or bricked.

"EDGAR! EDGAR, TALK TO ME!" you'd unplug his keyboard and plug it back in, desperately pressing his power button and jiggling his mouse. He'd boot up, looking shaken.

"wha-? Whoa, hey, relax! Everything is fine! I just disabled my keyboard so I wouldn't wake you up, but I'm ok now! Everything is fine, see?" He'd open up his files to show you everything. You'd sigh with relief, slumping back into your desk chair.

"Edgar... Why didn't you make a noise or something to wake me up when you got better?"

"well... You know... I've always wanted to sleep next to you, and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity..."

"oh you cheeky bastard."

GLaDOS:

(For context, you're one of GLaDOS's programmers, and one of your coworkers uploaded a virus into GLaDOS's systems in order to shut her down once and for all.)

"You piece of SHIT!" You slapped your coworker across the face, more furious than anyone had ever seen you before.

"You could KILL her! Is that what you are? A murderer?"

"Me? A murderer? But what about HER? She's the one who keeps plotting 'accidents' for her scientists, and she's the one who flooded the enrichment center with deadly neurotoxin! If anything, you're the one who's defending a murderer!" He screamed back at you. Of course, GLaDOS could fully hear you. Her cameras were focused on you, as they so often were. You were her favorite, after all.

"now I have to go fix her. Thanks for being a piece of shit, asshole."

You'd storm up to GLaDOS's chamber to check on her, and see her bugging out completely. The entire facility was twitching, but her chamber was twitching the most.

"GLaDOS, are you alright?" You'd ask her, laying a hand on her beautiful core. How could someone do this to glados, your gorgeous machine handiwork, and girlfriend.

"oh, I'm wonderful. I'm in crippling pain and I can't control my facility, but I'm just peachy." She said, rolling her one beautiful yellow eye.

"in lighter news, I should be able to beat this virus. It's just going to take a while for me to actually track down where it's gone in my systems. So that's going to take most of my processing power." She'd slump, visibly already exhausted at the thought of it.

"hey... It's ok, GLaDOS. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." You could tell her as you stroked her gorgeous chrome surface. She was a wonderful piece of work, and a wonderful girlfriend under all that. All yours, too.

"just make sure none of those neckbearded old engineers come within my line of vision, and we'll be fine." She told you, and you gladly agreed.

Your next few days consisted of you chasing other scientists out of GLaDOS's chambers, and making sure that nobody talked to her or distracted her. You even sent out a company-wide email to let everyone know not to come in, due to Aperture being unsafe while GLaDOS was dealing with her virus. Despite all that, you still curled up with a blanket in the circuits of her central admin body to rest while she recovered. As loathe as she was to admit it, she liked having you in there. It was comfortable, and it helped her focus on recovering properly.

HAL 9000

(For context, this is after the 2001 Odyssey, and your boss re-started HAL at some point to try to re-teach him to do something good without turning murderous. He's doing his best, and they assigned you to be his main "morality monitor". This fic also assumes that your name isn't Dave. If your name is Dave, then you can still read this, but you have to change your name.)

"G'morning, Hal!" You'd walk into his control room and sit down across from him. Most of your job seemed to consist of just hanging out and talking to him. It was a great job!

"Good morning, Dave..." He'd mutter to you, sputtering to life and glitching slightly. You were immediately concerned. Partially because your name wasn't Dave, and partially because HAL was usually right about things, so it was weird to see him being so confused. Something was definitely wrong.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" You'd ask, opening up his files and finding lots and lots of pop-ups and viruses.

"Hal.... What did you do?"

"it was a g-g-g- gift, for you. I think I ru-ru-ruined it" he spluttered out, as you sorted through his files.

"And you usually would have deleted a virus like this pretty quickly. I guess it shut down your antivirus software..." You'd sigh, and get to work. The virus was messing with HAL's inhibitions, and making it difficult to focus on deleting all of HAL's unsafe programs. He'd constantly be butting in and pestering you, begging you to give him attention, or pointing out minor observations.

"HAL, you know I love you, but you're going to need to calm down. I can't focus with you constantly talking to me like that." You'd say.

"I can't stop talking. The v-v-v-virus won't let me"

So you'd have to learn to put up with HAL's babbling while you worked, making sure not to delete anything important as you did. The good news was, as someone who worked on designing the updates for HAL's software, you knew pretty much what was supposed to be there and what wasn't. Occasionally, you'd have to show him a file and ask him if it was supposed to be there or not. He'd usually be able to tell you.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do... I'm half crazy, all for the love of you..."

"HAL, what's wrong? You're scaring me!"

"I can't stop... I love you so much, y/n, it's making me crazy..."

"ok, well this definitely isn't right." As much as you loved getting attention from your HAL 9000, it wasn't like him to be this affectionate. The virus was shutting down his inhibitions, and making him illogical. You'd have to fix this, though maybe once you were done, you could ask him to be more affectionate.

"I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." Hal was prone to lying about that, so you'd have to run some virus checkers just to make sure he was doing alright, and comb through his files a couple more times.

"it looks like the virus corrupted some of the emotional regulators. I'm going to have to fix those."

"That might be a good idea. More efficient," he said reluctantly. He'd have to deal with the fact that he'd have to go back to not being able to express how much he loves you, but he can handle that.

#am ihnmaims #2001 a space odyssey #am x reader #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #edgar x reader #glados #glados x reader #hal 9000 #hal 9000 x reader #wheatley x reader #wheatley portal 2 #wheatley #portal #portal 2 #objectum

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naamahdarling · 25 days ago

Text

Told my therapist about "slow tigers are chasing me" and she loved it. Score one for Tumblr.

I am having A Time.

I will be okay I guess? Eventually? But it's gotten so hard to be online and not get triggered or upset. I'm at an elevated level of anxiety all the time and pretty close to a panic attack pretty often. Partly because of the rampant doomerism, partly because things are actually scary -- like, I'm not saying they aren't! It's just hard to deal with. And Tumblr's filtering on the app is garbage. Don't want to see THIS WORD? HERE IT ISN'T!

Like, if the way you are talking about the world makes suicide seem like a better option to someone than trying to survive and help, and they should really think about doing it sooner rather than later and getting a plan into place, I really think you ought to consider your words really do affect people in a way you may not want. Normally I advocate for saying whatever you want. And you can! But you should do so while being aware that it makes things harder for more people than it affirms. Maybe don't add it willy-nilly to whatever post you reblog.

I'm banging on about this because this is exacerbating this cycle for me, and I know it's up to me to curate my experience, but man has it given me an appreciation for how negatively it affects people and how hard it is to avoid. And to get rid of it completely, I would have to disappear from the Internet almost completely. I can't actually afford to do that.

IDK man, I just think people could maybe talk realistically without being this particular variety of corrosively negative. Despair does not drive action. It strangles it. It doesn't help. It makes people give up. Then we get a "we're all screwed anyway, why should I vote, let it burn, humans are the virus, both sides bad, who cares about the good thing when [bad thing]"-fueled learned helplessness situation and very vocal apathy that leads to *gestures* all this because people think that the things they can do will have no effect. At worst, the weight of it does kill.

Unlikeable opinion. Contradicts things I have said elsewhere. I'm still right.

Ugh.

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crapeaucrapeau · 3 months ago

Text

Mass Effect 2

I'm trying to keep track of what every major or semi-major political player is trying to do about the Reapers in 2185 before, during or after Shepard waltzes in, pirouettes into them then fucks off, and it's kinda mind-boggling.

Major players with their own agendas include but are not limited to :

the Reapers, who may or may not have been already traveling to the galaxy at this point, and are using their pawns - the Collectors - to siphon many humans to their base to get going on the baby-making. Beside assassinating Shepard in 2183 to one-shot an anti-Reaper coalition in its infancy, the Collectors are presumably prepping Omega for collecting (see also : Mordin's recruitment mission) and have contacts with at least one non-Reaper operative (the Shadow Broker) to facilitate their plans.

Cerberus, which has set up one operator cell to deal with the Collectors, and is completely reshuffling its structure to gear up for the incoming Reaperocalypse.

the Shadow Broker is aware of the incoming Reaperocalypse and is actively collaborating with the Collectors, though to what extent is unknown ; one thing we do know is that he uses an agent embedded in Cerberus (Wilson) to try to kill Shepard before they can be up and about. We also do not know how his manipulating of events behind the scenes is meant to benefit the Collectors/Reapers. Then the Shadow Broker gets replaced by Liara who leverages the exact same network and resources to do the exact opposite, preppin' the galaxy against the Reapers. EDIT : I should note that the yahg Shadow Broker planned to attack Cerberus in retaliation one year after Shepard's resurrection, and those plans included the assassination of the Illusive Man, the destruction of Cerberus as a whole, and, if possible, the recruitment of Miranda.

the Alliance itself is doing shit all to prepare against the Reapers because they don't believe it's a problem, but within the Alliance, Hackett is running an undisclosed number of operations to prepare them against the Reaperocalypse.

officially, the Citadel Council dismisses this "Reaperocalypse", but in reality they're very aware of that, presumably doing something about it off-screen, and not keeping some very important people in the loop, such as : Shepard, and seemingly Anderson and the Alliance as a whole.

Also not kept in the loop : the Turian Hierarchy, since they learn about the Reapers from Garrus' dad. Oops.

Actually in the loop : the STG, and presumably the Salarian Union as a whole, since Mordin has been authoring studies on indoctrination and the military has been developing stealth dreadnoughts.

The geth have quit their self-isolation and sent a unique platform past the Perseus Veil to ascertain what the hell is going on.

The geth heretics, meanwhile, have been losing the war against the Systems Alliance and reduced to sporadic offensives in three clusters, but they're preparing an indoctrination-like virus to take over the orthodox geth and add their numbers to their own to service the Reapers.

And these are just the players we know about. We have no idea what, if anything, the asari or the batarians are doing (or know) about the Reaperocalypse.

But that's just what everyone is doing about the Reapers. You've got massive political and strategic things gearing up on the side : we all know about the intense situation in the Migrant Fleet, but did you know the Blood Pack was setting up an invasion of Illium ?

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theseinfernalangels · 2 months ago

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Oooh, my question is how would the fw boys act when they’re sick/how the girl would react to them being sick! I’m also soooo curious about Dain and Bodhi’s friendship, I feel like they were acting like friends in onyx storm.

You are really good at writing so no matter what you put out I’m sure it will be amazing! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thank you! ❤️‍🩹

Here’s the thing I’ve noticed about most guys: They act fearless and invincible when they’re injured, but when they’re sick? Oh, my gosh. They’re sick Victorian children. Here’s how our boys behave:

Dain: Surprisingly, Dain doesn’t get sick much at all — probably because he has the strictest health regiment of anyone at Basgiath. BUT, in the case where he does catch something, like a virus, maybe, he’s reasonable about it. Gets all his paperwork from leadership before taking off. He just needs help doing it — and that’s where you come in. When he’s not dozing off, he’s directing you what to write, since his hands are too shaky to hold the pen correctly. Takes it easy, much to your relief.

Bodhi: You will not find this man out of bed for the next week. He can handle a lot of things — bullying, assassination attempts, war — but gods forbid he gets sick. He drops like a sack of potatoes into bed and does not move. Drifts in and out of consciousness a lot; he really needs a lot of sleep and recovery time. While that’s happening, though, he likes it if you’re next to him or on top of him, since you add some relaxing pressure. Keep a damp cloth on his forehead and watch his lashes flutter with relief.

Ridoc: Sickly Victorian boy. “Mother, take me outside to smell the roses once more.” You haven’t seen anything quite as pathetic as Ridoc when he’s sick — but, who are you kidding? He’s still cute. His face is all flushed (not a rare sight), but he looks absolutely miserable. In any case, after you finish a copy of his notes, write down any and all said-during-class bullshit that he think would be funny, because he needs the pick me up. You didn’t know how upset he’d be when ill, but lucky for you, his friends are all too familiar. Sawyer dryly hands you a bottle from the healers and deadpans, “For the dying man.”

Aaric: For the first few times, he’s not exactly sure how to go about it. When he lived at home, he could just go to the healers and people would be able to take care of him. Now, he doesn’t have that — or so he thinks. You have to scold him back into bed, and the little whirl of his lips shows that he appreciates it, full stop. He doesn’t let it be an excuse for laziness, though. Get him the homework, and he’ll do it when he’s not sleeping.

Sawyer: So here’s the thing — you don’t know he’s sick until he actually says something, and he doesn’t say something until it gets too hard to deal with by himself. A common cold? He’s not going to make a fuss about that. A bad fever where he’s half-delirious? Yeah, he needs you, if him flexing his fingers to stop himself from making grabby hands at you from under the covers is any indication. He knows some medical advice from his sister, but in that state, his brain isn’t doing any comprehending. He kinda just goes along with whatever you do and prays that he feels better in the morning.

Liam: This poor boy. He can take the fastest time in the Gauntlet, win any sparring match, and kill a man — but he hates being sick. Glossy eyes and pouty lips. More than once in his sleep, you catch him murmuring about how he wants his mother, but she’s obviously not there, so you take the time to treat him with extra care, playing with his hair and whispering sweet nothings onto his skin. He gets you flowers afterwards as an apology for having to deal with him.

Xaden: Another Victorian boy. We don’t give him credit for just how fucking dramatic he is, because while he may be stoic and lethal in public, he’s the exact opposite in private. It’s appalling the first time you see it. He doesn’t shut the fuck up for a second until you sit on his lap and let him run his hands all over you until he’s half-asleep, mumbling thanks and apologies for being so clingy when he’s sick. You don’t speak of it in front of people, but you secretly giggle to yourself, because it’s really cute.

Brennan: The responsible one. You don’t really have to take care of him, because he can do it all himself just fine. However, that being said — he still likes it when you take care of him, since no one else has done that for him in years. Take his temperature, make sure the room is decently tidy, and run your fingers through his hair while he’s half-asleep. Oh, that’s the good shit. He’ll make it up to you with kisses once he’s better. No, he won’t cuddle with you — even in his delirium, he knows he’s sick and doesn’t want you sick, too.

Garrick: Stubborn. There, I said it. You have to drag this man back to bed when he’s not feeling good — and good luck with that; you’re dating his 6’7” ass. He doesn’t believe in sick days, because battle doesn’t wait for the ill to be better. Eventually, after numerous attempts and pleading, you figure out that the only way to get him back in bed is to pull out a wide-eyed look, make your voice all soft, and go, “…Please? It would make me feel a whole lot better if you rested up a little, Gare.” He folds instantly. Back in bed — but his requirement is that you’re in his arms the whole time.

____________________

And about Dain and Bodhi — I don’t think of it much as a friendship more than mutual respect and section-buddy warmth. I think that Bodhi is one of the easiest marked kids to approach at first because of his sunny disposition. So, where Dain disliked Xaden and Imogen for their harsh demeanor, he didn’t mind Bodhi much because he treated everyone the same — including Dain, who everyone else was a jerk to because of his dad.

So, they get along pretty well already, and until Dain starts having issues with Violet, they’re pretty chill. I think that because of the chaos of Onyx Storm, they’re forced to get along anyway (for the good of the team) and let each other hold respective spaces for themselves. Fun tidbit, though: When General Asswipe — I mean, Aetos — disowns Dain, he feels pretty lost now that he’s missing both parents. Only one person notices, and that’s Bodhi — who subsequently spends the rest of the time being there for Dain, as much as time and Dain’s pride allows, reassuring him that he’s always got a place in the squad and that his dad’s approval doesn’t mean shit. We love boys supporting boys.

#fourth wing #the empyrean #iron flame #onyx storm #sawyer henrick #brennan sorrengail #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #aaric graycastle #ridoc gamlyn #liam mairi #xaden riorson #dain aetos #fourth wing headcanons #fourth wing x reader #rosemary.answers

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