#anyway whomp whomp

[ophernelia]

seeing the copying convo rehashed when i've been saying it's uncouth is so odd but like girl finally! like yes, we all have the same game for sure. but using the same shots, editing the same way, etc. is like over the threshold lol. and it's mad rude when you're doing it when a creator is actively in the midst of making their content. running their series. (be it an lp, a machinima, etc.) and again, i feel like this only applies to creators tho fr. if you're playing your game for your own personal enjoyment then cool. but if you're like specifically curating content, develop a personal style. it makes you as a creator stand out more. stop biting 'cause you see something's hot and it's working for someone else. when all you gotta do is brainstorm a little and i'm very sure you could come up with something just as hot too.

[o0o0thorn0o0o]

Heyoo. Not dead yet :P

Been in a constant “I’m too demotivated to draw because I hate the direction my art style’s going, but because I haven’t drawn in a while, my art’s gotten worse, so I’m even more demotivated”-rinse-repeat loop as of late, and it got to the point that I essentially had to refind my artstyle again, eheh. But, like, hopefully better? Somewhat? Haha.

Anyway, I’m quite chuffed with these two at the moment—especially Orihime; she looks very cute if I do say so myself ^^—so lemme post something before the year’s over, yeah?

[hptrash-lookaway]

Can’t stop thinking about how much that “your parents died in a car crash and that’s how you got your scar” lie would’ve affected Harry and his relationship with cars

And even tho he knew the truth finally, I still think it would’ve had some impact on him still when he and Ron crashed the car into the whomping willow

[alltheyoungmoons]

i know i just made this sideblog three hours ago and i may be showing my age with this but i think the younger marauders fans need to get on the wizard music agenda asap 🥸

[nocasdatsgay]

I’m not fishing for comments I legit am just letting you know this eggo is depresso and as soon as I see both my therapist and yet another gyno to try and fix my hormones, I should be back to normal and maybe writing again.

[zeemczed]

[tavina-writes]

So I started The Legend of Heroes and I'm a little lost. I don't really get how small gio jing killed meng ziyi's evil husband. Should I go watch a different version(2017?) or will all be explained in this one?

Hi Nonny!

So originally, this show was supposed to air in this configuration and order:

Part 1: Eastern Heretic & Western Venom (Ashes of Time): 8 episodes

Part 2: Northern Beggar & Southern Emperor: 8 episodes

Part 3: Sword Meet at Mount Hua: 6 episodes

Part 4: The 9 Yin Manual: 8 episodes <- where the backstory of how small Guo Jing killed Evil Meng Ziyi's Evil Husband happens for realsies instead of a brief flashback

Part 5: Iron Hearted Loyalists (Hot Blooded) <- where we are at the start of what we have currently been watching

They changed the order of airing from it's original configuration to I think Part 5 -> Part 1-4, so that's why some of the editing choices here don't quite make a ton of sense based on seeing only Part 5. I do think it helps a ton to have seen a version of LOCH prior to this due to the way that it's airing, but after all the parts have aired, watching it in the originally intended order will likely clear up a whole ton.

The reason there are five parts instead of just one 60 episode part is bc they're trying to explain to the censors that no really, this is five different dramas! not one drama wearing five trench coats trying to sneak past the censors! really! they've even got different directors and everything! ignore how uhhh all the same actors and yeah yeah.

I think because this is such a popular story in China, they figured it'd be totally okay for us to just see part 5 first without the other parts because part 5 had the most hype/excitement and is where the bulk of the novel is and that no one would be confused, but for people who have never experienced a LOCH before, they are, understandably, extremely confused!

The tldr of why small Guo Jing killed Meng Ziyi's evil husband though is that he tripped over small Guo Jing during a life and death fight with the 7 shifus, picked up small Guo Jing and went "what the fuck" and small Guo Jing stabbed him by accident in the one place he could actually be stabbed to death with a very sharp dagger. It was all kind of a dreadful mistake. And terribly embarrassing for Chen Xuanfeng honestly.

[oneluckygoose]

O'Knutzy Week 2024 Day 2

DAY 2, LETS GO! (Still a scheduled post, I'm getting excited for the future)

As always thanks to @lumosinlove for being amazing, and thanks to @oknutzy-week-2024 for doing all this!

Out comes part 2 of the fic I wrote for the Romance Novels category, this time with all three boys! Enjoy, y'all! (cough cough, I gave Leo a traditional SC/GA accent which is what I grew up around instead of a NOLA accent, cough cough)

Summary: Leo wakes up to find himself on his own, and he decides to spend his morning reading a very specific book that Finn and Logan recognize...

Characters: Leo Knut, Finn O'Hara, Logan Tremblay

Warnings: Implied/referenced sexual content, cursing, they're sad bois for a bit

Word Count: 2,609 (Preview of 352 under cut)

Leo woke up to the sun filtering through Finn’s thin curtains. It must have been later than he was used to waking up, especially with the early days of summer feeling like an endless well of time and… Leo’s arms flailed around, searching for Logan and Finn, finding the bed a vast sea of empty white sheets. Now that Leo’s consciousness returned more, he realized that the bed was cold without two heavy weights next to him. Leo sat up groggily, voice croaking out to call for them, but his words echoed into what felt like void. Panic started to rise in his chest, but he shook himself awake enough to squash it quickly. It had been the first time in almost a month he had woken up alone, and he found himself contemplating if the last year and a half had been a dream. The distinct smell of Logan’s cologne and the sight of Finn’s books piled on the bedside table made Leo groan in relief. It’s not fake, they’re just not here, Leo told himself, pressing his eyes closed tightly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching blindly for his phone and ended up hitting the books on the bedside table. Leo winced as books tumbled onto the floor, but decided to grab his phone instead of righting them immediately. Leo glanced down, blinking rapidly so his eyes could focus, and saw a text from Finn pop up from almost an hour beforehand at 9:00 AM saying he and Logan were going to go grab bagels and to call when he woke up. Leo stared at his background image for a moment. It was of Finn and Logan in the locker room after they had won the cup, champagne flying around them. They were standing with Finn’s head on Logan’s chest and Logan pressing a hard kiss onto the top of his head. Leo had never told them he’d taken it, but it had been the best moment in Leo’s entire life. Leo smiled and laughed giddily, before clicking open his phone and calling Logan.

[jishlerfics]

Harry can’t look away from the ribbon. He can’t process it, can’t hear his own thoughts over the roaring rush of blood in his ears. 

 “Don’t you look pretty?” Harry hears Louis’ voice as if from far away. 

Or: Harry and Louis go to a party. 

no one’s gonna know by jishler 💫

[teddywesworl]

my tendency to think through things best when I write them down VERSUS how much of a bad idea it would be to put my thoughts about something on the internet

[teazzle]

made a cardinal food sin and ended up with glass in my meal that i ate some of yesterday. so i got to uber myself a lunch today and will have to cook more food tonight. so i guess i will be leaving work at 3:30 on the doooot

[stick-by-me]

It's getting serious 💥

New follower sticker for: @m0ths0ft!

[slocumjoe]

I thoroughly enjoy your takes on the relationship between Danse and Hancock post-BB, with Hancock being the local cat and laying on Danse every chance he gets because He Gets Him. It's very, very sweet and it really seems like the kind of reaction I'd expect out of Johnny given his personality.

YOU FOOL, YOU GAVE ME AN EXCUSE TO TALK AT LENGTH ABOUT MY ENEMIES-TO-FRIENDS FANFIC ARC

Trigger warnings for suicide, self-harm, drug use, alcoholism, sexual assault/groping, and a mental breakdown. This is not fun.

Also this is insanely long. It's so long. This took me 4 hours to type with a single 2-Taco break. Is if fanfic if there's only, like, 5 bits of dialog? Is this fanfic? Oh my God what is wrong with me

Hancock's (and the others') opinion of Danse starts shifting sometime during the Minuteman arc, when Augustijn starts really greasing the wheels to get the Minutemen up and at 'em.

So, they've all had some time to get to know Danse on a basic level. Hancock, in particular, knows him enough to know he fucking hates him. Everything about him. The way he talks, the tones he takes, his goody-two-shoes speel when he's an asshole. Everything. Hancock cannot fucking stand him and is constantly going at Danse's throat, sometimes just because he's bored and it's so easy to piss him off, sometimes he's genuinely hoping Danse starts a fight that Hancock can and will finish.

But then they go through one of the settlements, one day. Hancock kind of wanders off. Not too far, but away from the gang. A few people see a ghoul on his own and try it. He gets swarmed, they're trying to make him throw the first hit thinking he won't but there's a lot more of them, and Gus and the others have moved on. So, Hancock's in a bad fucking way—

—until a big, metal hand blocks a bat aimed at his dome.

Danse gives the assholes one hard look, and very few wastelanders will look up at a T50 helmet and think they stand much chance. But Danse gets in front of Hancock anyway, arm still out and over him. His would-be attackers slink off quick.

Danse makes sure Hancock isn't injured, then asks he not wander off like that again, for that very reason. Not even angry, or annoyed, or derisive. Just genuinely worried about his safety. And walks him back to the others.

Hancock has no fucking idea what to think of that exchange.

Danse sees Hancock wander off, he follows him, he sees he was in danger, he helps him.

Hancock would not have done the same for Danse. And it fucking bothers him that, despite everything, Danse still went out of his way, looking out for him. Next time they camp for the night, he has Isadora go ask the big guy about it. Fuck no, he's not asking himself.

Isa reports back that Danse just...thinks he has to. It's his job to make sure all of these civilians are safe. He does it for everything else, why wouldn't he then? Hancock was in danger. Danse is the guy who gets in front and takes the danger himself. It's that simple to him.

See, Danse is the dude in Power Armor. Danse takes the hits in a fight, because they bounce right off. Deathclaws? Danse gets in front. Mutants? Danse gets in front. And, apparently...bigots? ...Danse gets in front of those...too...despite...what the fuck?

If Hancock didn't hate Danse before, he certainly does now, because now Danse has gone and made shit complicated. He likes his jackasses nice and simple with nothing deeper than the skin, and...whatever that was, that was layered. And Hancock doesn't like thinking too much about people he can't stand. Especially not when he might just think they're not that bad.

The same thing happens with Nick, somewhere in Diamond City. Someone scared and mistrustful and thinking old Valentine went and turned coat, they attack Nick in broad daylight, take a shovel at him. Danse is there before they get a hit in. Nick. He goes out of his way to keep Nick safe. And where Hancock loathes him for it, Nick gets something of a respect for the guy.

Hancock talks to others, when its private. Preston isn't sure what to think of him, but Preston keeps his cards close to his chest, so who knows. Bobby thinks he's fine when he isn't talking. Piper gets irritated when he fusses over her, her recklessness. No one really knows what to make of this one fucking guy, beyond finding him pretensious and self-righteous.

So it's just Hancock, who's really turning Danse over in his head. But Nick, he's clearly got an opinion, got a read on crew-cut. He just doesn't share with the class. But Hancock thinks Nick sees something in him, because he takes utmost care to make coffee the way Danse seems to like it. Hancock confronts him on this, and the old bag of bolts just shrugs, says, "Well, he deals with things we don't want to deal with. We owe him that much, don't we?"

On Danse's side, Hancock isn't notable. Hancock is one of many in this motley group that dislikes him and wants him gone. Danse keeps to himself anyway, and is used to being the odd one out. To him, it doesn't matter. His job is to protect them and join Knight Reinier on his mission. What he thinks of Reinier's group is irrelevant. He does his job even if they don't want him to. What, is he supposed to let them die? Just because they don't like him? Abhorrent. Even if Hancock seemingly wants to gut him and is a nightmare to deal with, he is under his protection. Regardless how either of them feel about it.

Hancock notices this about Danse and fumes. He doesn't want to be taken care of by someone he fucking loathes. He hates debts. He hates morality and shit not making sense. He hates feeling like he doesn't have all the answers already.

This confusion...continues? Worsens? When Danse's nature is revealed.

Augustijn is off in the Institute, tentatively trying to broker peace, get Isadora the title of Director, when the gang gets the word. They're waiting at the Boston Airport at the teleporter. Danse was left at the Sentinel Site. Maxson storms down from his blimp, asks if any of them knew about Danse.

The Brotherhood is hunting Danse, now.

Haylen catches them as they leave to find him. Tells them where to go. Hancock can't stop making jokes and laughing. It's funny. It's ironic. It's a great joke to play on someone. It's perfect. It's the best punishment ever. It might just mean Danse finally—

Danse might—

The others, some of them saw it coming. Hancock didn't. If he did, he'd have rubbed it in Danse's face, stuck it in place of his name, spat it out at him with a grin.

They get to that bunker, Nick, Dogmeat, and Curie take the elevator down. X6-88, a courser who should really be trying to capture Danse, is off to the Institute to get Gus and Isa.

They wait outside. Nick and Curie don't come up the elevator. Cait wonders if Danse really did kill himself. She turns the thought over in her head, and says it seems fitting even if she hadn't thought of it before. Preston turns green where he stares at the setting sun and agrees. Says he always thought about it. Danse almost always took nightshift. So did Preston. They'd argue over it, insist the other one needed sleep more. "Most people want to sleep," Preston says, and by his face alone, Hancock really does think Danse is fucking dead down there.

He takes the elevator. He has to know.

Maybe he's—maybe it's because of himself. Maybe Hancock remembers sitting in an old ruin, huffing poison, so desperate he actually prayed that it'd kill him. He hates Danse. Hates him. Does he hate him that much? Maybe its principle. I want to kill you myself, so you can't—

He gets down there. Hears Nick. Hears Curie. Doesn't hear Danse. But Nick is talking, addressing him, the situation, so he must be alive. Curie promises Augustijn should be there soon, please take a moment to breathe. Danse laughs and Hancock about shits himself because that isn't a noise Paladin Fucking Danse makes, and he never wants to hear that fucking noise again.

It takes so long. Nick talks and talks and talks, and so does Curie, and Danse barely says anything. Danse rarely talked, anyway. It's normal for him. He's a quiet guy. Keeps to himself. He never joined in conversation. Hancock liked that about him, he knew when he wasn't wanted. Hancock wonders if he would have ever spoken to them if they didn't try and fuck with him. Deacon would move his tools in garages. MacCready pestered him with inane questions to see how deep he'd scowl. Cait and Hancock both loudly discussed if he was a virgin.

It sets in, there.

Hancock tried to, too. Hancock went through with it and it didn't take. Danse was still going. He was letting Nick talk. Letting Dogmeat whine at his legs. Letting Curie check his arms, take his weaponry.

Danse had every reason to do it. Every reason, and no reason not to. No one would miss him, pity him. It was his job, anyway. He could have done it and Hancock would have thrown a party celebrating that the fuckhead was dead. But he didn't. He didn't. He wasn't going to. He fucking wanted to, God knows that, Nick never stopped talking him down, but Danse didn't do shit and Hancock didn't know if that made him a coward or—or—

Gus and Isa showed up. Augustijn threw himself at Danse. Isa told Hancock the old man, his baby? Shaun. Gone. Gone for good. They were at his bedside. Saw him off.

Hancock hears Augustijn sob, turns to peek into the window. Danse holds Augustijn like he himself has no problems in the world, like he's already forgotten he's a synth. Hancock leaves and Isa follows him out. Everything after that is a blur, save for Maxson showing up. Then things are a blur again. Danse tries to stay the bunker. Preston, shaky in the legs after his General tried to fistfight the Elder of the Brotherhood, says fuck no.

Curie and X6 took Danse back to Sanctuary. The rest of them got to watch Maxson and Desdemona agree, for once, as Isadora insisted they not blow up the Institute. Hancock remembers jackshit else.

The Minutemen take over the Institute with the Brotherhood and Railroad's help, and Isa gets her very own group to boss around. Synths get taken care off, the Institute stops being shitheads, the Brotherhood sticks around to make sure Isa keeps her promises.

Hancock pretends it didn't happen. He still torments Danse. He still pesters him. Danse reacts...better. He lets Hancock do it, doesn't defend himself. Hancock brings it up, teases him, regrets it immediately even if Danse doesn't react. He doesn't do that again.

They go back to Sanctuary. Augustijn is a wreck. Isadora is below ground, hard at work. Hancock finds Danse. It's like nothing happened. He acts the same. Seems the same. Augustijn frets over him before duty calls him away. Gus and Isadora are gone, trying to figure out the new political sphere of the Commonwealth. The rest of them take a well-earned break.

Danse kind of vanishes.

They know he's there, he's around. Just working. Always on guard duty, always performing maintenance. They don't see him. That's usually how it is, so Hancock thinks it's fine. He goes to buy more chems. Lady there says hey, that guy you always bitched about? I think he's loosening up, finally. Been buying grape mentats.

He knows he should say something and he doesn't. He likes chems. Its good that Danse is doing them, now. Its good. And grape mentats! Maybe he'll finally make friends, be tolerable. Maybe he'll even get laid. Next time Hancock sees him, Danse has dropped too many pounds. He tells himself its fine.

The wasteland gets its peace. The Institute is going to actually help, now. The RR and BOS won't go to war with anyone. To celebrate, they all go drinking. Preston and Curie drag Danse along but they all lose him in a corner pretty quickly. Hancock sends some shots his way but doesn't pay attention. No one does. They party and forget that Danse is there at all. Hancock turns around and Danse is gone. He asks the bartender if he noticed where he went. Out the door, he says. Got himself a friend for the night, looks like. Danse doesn't do that. Hancock trips and breaks his stool, he's out of that bar so fast. Finds Danse barely standing in the alley and his 'friend' is far too handsy. Cait deals with her. He didn't realize Cait was behind him but he focuses on getting Danse...somewhere. Fucker is pretty light. He shouldn't be.

Hancock ends up dropping him anyway. Sees his face and almost pukes because he knows that fucking look and this is his fault. He kept sending him shots. He didn't look at him once, or invite him over to the bar. He left him to chug alone in a corner when all of them were partying. Danse was in trouble and just like he thought he would, Hancock didn't do shit.

He tries to pick him up again. Danse takes one heaving breath and drops his face in the dirt and cries. Hancock looks at Cait and she's off to find Nick, or Curie, or anyone who doesn't hate Danse.

He doesn't know what to do. He just pats his back awkwardly. Danse, whenever one of them was upset, always offered a hug. They usually took it. MacCready took it. Isadora took it. He even hugged Curie, the first time she couldn't save someone. Danse admitted, once, that he just never knew what else to do.

So Hancock pulls him up and hugs him. Tries to. Danse is heavy even if he's dropped a third of his weight and Hancock goes stumbling down against the wall, with a drunk, hurt Danse in his lap. He thinks its working, having his arms around him, until Danse starts babbling.

It's exactly what you would expect and yet Hancock isn't ready for it. You hear it from yourself, its normal. You hear it from someone else and its the worst thing you've ever heard. But the worst part is that Danse keeps saying sorry. Sorry for crying, for being drunk, for being heavy, for being awful, for being alive. He's sorry, a million times he's sorry.

Hancock never once wanted it. Not before, when he really did hate him, and not now, not like this. He tries to quiet him down, tell him its fine, but then Danse starts begging him to kill him. Thats when his heart starts beating so loud he can't hear anything else, when everything gets blurry again.

Nick shows up. Helps drag him to a hotel room. Shushes him when he begs for death because he can't kill himself, he promised Augustijn he wouldn't, and just flops him on the bed. Hancock throws up in the bathroom.

Nick says he'll stay and keep an eye on Danse. Hancock digs through Danse's coat, finds the key to his apartment somewhere in the Concord district.

It's not as bad as he was expecting, but worse in a different way. There's a present for Piper's birthday half-wrapped, a box of her favorite lemon candy that's so expensive, she doesn't even look at it when they find it. A photo album of his time in the Brotherhood. Booze everywhere. No decor. It's lonely and small, like Listening Post Bravo. What worries Hancock is that there's weaponry. He finds an empty box and shoves all of Danse's kitchen knives in, his forks and spoons too so he can't stab himself or scoop out his eyes. He even debates taking his coffee machine. They're like toasters, right? Could he kill himself with one? But then Hancock says fuck it. He isn't letting Danse stay here period. Not like this. The knives and forks and spoons can stay. He takes the coffee pot anyway, because it made a truly rancid noise when he unplugged it and it stinks of burnt circuitry. Danse deserves better.

He finds Nick the next morning and tells him everything. The mentats, the weightloss, Danse's shitty apartment, everything that Hancock's been worried about and then some. Nick tells Hancock that he already knew about the mentats. Danse woke up in the night and puked and it was purple. Neon purple.

Hancock laughs at it, tells Nick he kept sending Danse shots when he was on chems and wonders when he'll stop being a shitty friend. Nick claps him on the shoulder and tells him shitty friends don't care about coffee pots.

He goes to see Danse, first thing when the sun is up. Big guy's face down on his pillow, face pickle-green and scrunched up as Curie lists off various coping mechanisms in place of alcohol and drugs. Hancock shoos her away. Danse asks Hancock if he's willing to tell him what the fuck happened. Nick won't. Curie doesn't know. Cait only said she 'dealt with it' and 'it won't be happening again' and 'they'll never find her' and 'she had pineapple gum on her, do you want some?'

Hancock tells him, and over the retelling of the shitshow from last night, comes to appreciate just how expressive Danse can be. His scowls were always incredible to watch, like his very skull was scrunching up. The thought is all he has to get through it without...puking again? Crying? Grabbing him by the shoulders and screaming at him for the love of fuck, we don't hate you?

Danse blinks owlishly. Clicks his tongue. Shrugs, slaps his knees, and stands to leave. Says it was unfortunate and he won't be doing it again, he's so sorry for the inconvenience—wait, why do you have my coffee pot?

Hancock looks at the fucking coffee pot under his arm, and looks at Danse, and gives it to him straight. He's too exhausted for anything else. He has it because it's shitty. Its a shitty coffee pot from a shitty apartment in a shitty part of Sanctuary. Danse is a fucking tech genius, or whatever, if he wanted a good coffee pot he could make one. He could spend money on one, and not lemon candy for Piper. He could borrow one, or get coffee at the little Cafe down his street that gives it free. Its a shitty machine and its shitty that he puts up with it, just like he puts up with all of them being shitty, even long after he arguably deserved it. He doesn't deserve shitty coffee. Nick got that before anyone else did. Danse doesn't deserve half of what he's ended up with. Hancock hates him but he hates himself more, so that just means he fucking hates that Danse is ending up the same way Hancock did. Burying everything in chems and booze and acting like nothing is wrong, or if it is, it doesn't bother him. He hates that he got what he wanted, Danse miserable and hating himself as much as Hancock does and one bad day away from killing himself. Most of all, he hates how little he could blame him if he did, and he hates how Danse really did end up being the better, bigger man who had to decency to feel bad about it all.

They stare at each other for a minute.

Hancock throws the stupid fucking coffee maker across the room and stands and screams we never fucking hated you either! They just didn't know him! He never let them! They never let him let them! It was an endless cycle of Danse being stand-offish, so they'd keep away, and then he'd take the hint and stand even farther away, so they'd keep fucking doing it, and look where it's led, you're so far away, we don't even know where the fuck you are to reach out and fucking help you!

Danse asks why Hancock should feel bad. He looks at Danse and asks how the fuck he ever got that T50 helmet on, having a skull that fucking thick. Danse was a shithead but so were all of them, so was Hancock. And then the big idiot shakes his head, looks like a kicked puppy, says he never hated them, did they all think that? He was hard on them but he never meant to—

You'd think he'd spoken in tongues, or grown his nose back. Danse looks a mix of hurt, confused, and guilty. Hancock doesn't want him to be any of that, he wants him to fucking understand. He wants him to see that it isn't just Augustijn who's scared for him. And he doesn't know how to make him see that, if Danse could ever see that.

Danse just...looks at the corpse of his coffee machine.

And again, apologizes for the heinous fucking crime of not doing a good enough job at powering through the worst time of his life for all of their comfort. How dare he bother them. Hancock wonders if this is how people feel looking at him, listening to his bullshit. But at least Hancock can look people in the eye while he does it. Danse stares at that broken, thrown away piece of garbage with a lump in his throat and looks like he wants to crumple into a ball and die on the floor.

"I know you're weird about the ghoul thing, but seriously, man, do you need a hug?"

"...pardon?"

"Do you want a fucking hug?"

His eyes water and widen and he flinches like he's been shot, and Hancock decides fuck it, if he doesn't like it, he can chuck me across the room.

Danse...probably likes it? He does—well, he doesn't do a lot of crying, he cried everything out last night. But there's crying. Buries his big stupid head in Hancock's shoulder and clings to him like a kid does a teddy bear after a nightmare. Hancock has always been a hands-on, touchy guy. He doesn't mind cuddling this asshole if that means he won't hop off a bridge come lunch. But his spine doesn't like the weight of Danse nor being bent to accommodate his height. Tall asshole. Hancock just kinda...shoves him at the bed. Makes to sit down. Sitting down becomes laying down. Hancock accepts his fate. He didn't sleep last night anyway.

Later, Curie re-enters and finds Hancock underneath a cried-to-sleep brick shithouse of a man. She only barely manages to not smile.

Once Danse wakes up, Hancock has made note of three things: Danse is very cuddly and honestly, is a top-tier cuddle-buddy, warm as hell; Danse is very pliable when he's just woken up; he's accepted that maybe he and Danse aren't so different, and if Danse is as stubborn as Hancock, getting him to knock off the destructive shit will take bartering.

Danse is not an easy man to barter with, Hancock knows. And he'll catch on if Hancock starts at 50, and if 50 doesn't cut it. Hancock goes right to 100 and tells Danse he'll cut way back on chems if Danse starts taking care of himself again, or at least lets himself be taken care of.

If there's anything that can get Hancock to do something, it's vindication. Danse has always been iffy on Hancock's liberal chem use. Of course the idea of getting his way, of winning that little battle, would be too tempting. Danse takes the bait. Hancock resigns himself to chem use only on weekends and holidays, and takes some pride in having convinced the prickliest cactus to let himself be vulnerable.

Augustijn comes back a week later. No one sees either of them. But the next time Hancock does see Danse, he's put some pounds back on. The chemist says he's stopped coming in. Hancock siccs Piper and Codsworth on Danse's apartment to decorate it. Piper finds her birthday present. Danse spends two hours scrubbing her red lipstick off his face, complaining about the surprise being ruined the whole time.

Shit gets weird when the little synth kid shows up. Given everything with Shaun, and who Augustijn is, just as a person, that kid was always gonna be weird and messed up. Danse takes to him immediately. If the kid isn't with his dad (adopted dad?), he's with Danse, in the garage, at the river, down at the farms, walking Dogmeat. Hancock thinks its a good look on him, a kid on his shoulders, in his arms, holding his hand. Even more so when Danse gets back to his old weight. And then a little more. Then quite a bit more, especially in the chest and thighs. And then Danse starts smiling, gets laugh lines. Cait and Deacon make a drinking game out of swatting away the 'honeyflies' whenever they start surrounding. Something about a big, bulky man being fatherly to a skittish kid just drives people fucking wild. Danse develops a taste for ugly ass button ups, and not even his fashion sense scares them off.

Hancock takes him for beer, occasionally, through it all. Buys him dinner just to be sure he's eating. Watches how Danse changes bit by bit. He puts fat on in the legs before anything else, then the stomach, then the arms. His cheeks fill out quickly, too. He makes a lot more jokes than Hancock thought. They're just delivered so straight, you don't notice if you don't know to look for them. Once Hancock starts looking, they're everywhere. He wonders how many he's made that Hancock took as an earnest remark, and gave him crap for. He asks. Danse just grins, all shit-eating.

They go out for drinks. It starts as Hancock just wanting to check up on him. It turns into Hancock's favorite part of the week. He finds him fascinating. Danse is a history nerd, of course he is. He's wistful for simple pleasures, like live music, or fishing, or sports, if only for the fact that they're symbolic of peace. He has strong opinions on mirelurks. He actually isn't a virgin and admits that his first and only time was so his at-the-time squadmates would stop giving him shit for not having sex. He has reoccurring nightmares about his best friend, and he still misses the guy so much, he doesn't want the nightmares to stop because they're all he has left of him. He has it bad for Gus but he loves Theo so fucking much, he feels like the kid's Pops whether he gets with his dad or not. He's better with the synth thing, what really bothers him is how he acted and treated others, and how it took being one of them for him to see it was wrong.

Hancock finds him sweet, dorky, heartbreakingly sentimental, underneath all those scowls and grumbles.

He has to admit that he likes this guy.

What really sells him on Danse is how much he'll let you do, if you're close enough.

Hancock is touchy. Hancock is always cold. Danse is very warm and, having gained a lot more weight than he lost, very soft and comfy. Danse is touch-starved.

Danse becomes his travel mattress, portable chair, teddy bear, space heater, pillow, et cetera. Giant soft thing filled with fluff and warm. And Danse lets him. Danse lets Hancock play with his surprisingly soft hair, rub his shoulders, tuck under his chin, lay across his shoulders like a scarf...

It's a cosmic joke.

It's more of a cosmic joke than Danse being a synth. Hancock could have been using this fucker as a bed the whole goddamn time. He'd seen Danse be cool with ghouls before. Wiseman at the slog. That ghoul kid near Quincy. Kent. Even fucking Daisy, hell, Daisy liked Danse. The whole time, the whole fucking time, Hancock could have had a giant, warm, soft teddy bear. But no. But no. The teddy bear had to go through the the fucking wringer first.

He tells Danse as much. Danse laughs, loud and rosy-cheeked, in a flamingo print shirt, and says it fluffed him up.

[phosphorescentspaceman]

sick fic - yogscast fic

Honeydew sat up in bed, casting a bleary eye around the room. Lalna, who had slept incredibly poorly, was grateful the older man was conscious. The other man - dwarven constitution and bullheadedness combined to disastrous effect - hadn’t realised he was sick until he’d passed out next to the forge. Xephos almost had a heart attack and had been tending him all night, alongside an increasingly peaky Lalna. He was pretty good at it, but his knowledge of medicine was either purely biochemical or (concerningly) surgical and he’d been pesting Lalna with questions until Lalna had had to hurl, upon which he’d gone full mother-hen mode and pushed him into bed alongside a snoring Honeydew. He looked fine already - Lalna was sure his fever and the high temperatures near the forge had just caused his blood pressure to drop and he’d already slept off the fever as only a dwarf could. Lalna, on the other hand, could tell he was settling in for a few days of creaky discomfort and runny noses. Xephos had left some time ago, ostensibly to get some fresh water and fever reducer, but he hadn’t come back in a while and Lalna was starting to feel miserable again. 

“Glad you’re alive, mate. How are you feeling?” Honeydew scratched the back of his head awkwardly. 

“Fine, so much for my dwarven constitution, fainting like a little girl and all that.” He paused, before frowning. “Where’s Xephos?” 

“He was playing nursemaid to you all night, kept asking me questions and bustling about - he may have just fallen asleep on the way back.” Honeydew looked pale before heaving himself out of bed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Whoa there, you aren’t ready to go running around yet - probably - settle back -” 

“That idiot!” Lalna startled backwards, not ready for the real frustration pouring from the dwarf. He turned, near dragging Lalna from his bed. “If he's drowning in a puddle of sick somewhere I’m going to kill him myself! Idiot! He should have hid on the other side of the base!” Lalna felt dizzy as he was tugged along the halls, the stop-starting as Honeydew kept checking every cranny rattling his brain in his skull. 

“What do you mean? If he gets sick it’ll be miserable but -” Honeydew stopped short, glaring up at him. 

“Some kinda Doctor you are - he’s from fucking space! He got a cold from a snotty brat one time and died!” 

“Space?!” 

Honeydew looked at him strangely. “Yeah? What, you think I call him spaceman for shits and giggles?” 

“Yes, actually! Neither of you ever talk about anything personal!” 

He huffed, looking away. “Not much of it is worth talking about.” Lalna’s head couldn’t help but spin. Xephos’ immortality was quite simply the only reason the man hadn’t long died from some childhood illness - he must be so unadapted to the local diseases, to say nothing of the fact Lalna hadn’t even thought to see how respawning affected the creation of memory T cells. 

“Shit - shit shit. You’re right - why doesn’t he wear a mask? Why didn’t he quarantine when he saw you were sick?” The both of them were frantically checking over rooms, both of them remembering various times the other man had slinked off into a corner to bleed out rather than receive medical attention.

“Because he’s a soft hearted idiot! - Fuck - Xeph!” Lalna rushed over to where Honeydew was already crouched next to a deathly pale Xephos, the glow of his freckles near totally absent. His breath was rough and wheezy, and it looked like he’d partially aspirated. Stamping down his instinctual panicked flailing, Lalna pressed his fingers firmly to Xephos’ radial artery, staring at his watch as he timed his pulse. It was weaker than he’d like - sitting at about 125 bpm which was. Not at all good, but not imminently fatal. They didn’t have anything to set up an IV drip but he was pretty sure had had a few vials of amoxicillin-clavulanate laying around. It’d burn going in and he’d have to deliver it slowly, but it should stop the aspiration pneumonia he could hear in Xeph’s rasping breaths from getting any worse. Their infections themselves were viral, so there wasn’t anything he could do other than give fever reducers and keep him hydrated, just like Xephos had been doing for him and Honeydew last night as Lalna had whined about how rubbish he felt. 

He felt real fucking rubbish now. 

“Honeydew - Lalna.” Xephos’ voice was rough, and his eyes hazy. He pressed himself into the both of them, shivering slightly. “‘M cold. Tired. Sorry I forgot the - the stuff.” Honeydew had grabbed a washcloth from gods knows where and was wiping the bile and sweat from Xephos’ feverish face as he sat there, placid but whining softly at the cold cloth.

“Well?” Honeydew looked at Lalna who startled out of his internal dosage calculations. “Is he -” 

Lalna sighed, not taking his fingers from Xephos’ wrist. “He's rough, and I’m going to have to give him some strong antibiotics, but he’s not deathly ill. It might actually have been better that he was running around when it happened, if he’d been laying down and as weak as this he’d probably have drowned.” 

Honeydew swore, face paling. They were immortal, but - well. Dying couldn’t be nice. Xephos clumsily pet Honeydew’s face, frowning at how upset his friend looked. “ 's ok. I just - I need a drink and. And a sit. I’m ok, friend.” Honeydew just thumped his head heavily on Xephos’ shoulder, the other man petting at his messy hair. “Don’t - don’t worry, friend. Don’t worry.”

Lalna pulled himself to his feet, feeling like he’d aged a few years over the last 10 minutes. “‘Dew, can you get him back to the room alright or do you need a hand? I need to grab some stuff from storage but it can wait a minute if you need the help.” 

Honeydew shook his head, lifting Xephos with a practised ease that could only come from hundreds of adventures. “He’s a twig, I’ll be right.” Xephos let out a soft whine as Lalna turned to go, fingers tangled in his lab coat. Lalna’s heart did something complicated as he carefully removed his hand before brushing a palm over his forehead, cool against Xephos’ fever. The other man sighed before relaxing into Honeydew's hold, muttering something incomprehensible into the dwarf’s neck that made him chuckle. 

“Come back quick, right? I don’t need to go running around looking for you too.”

[digitaldollsworld]

Ok I’m home from work (have been for a couple hours now) and I’m going to take A NAP if I’m not awake by 2 PM Central Standard Time then other bash my head in with a rock or play some Extremely Loud Noise directly in my ear . Thank you 😁👍🏾

[quietrobots]

number one cloudy 2 Flint defender until the day I die sorry guys

based on this trend