#child sole

[sugar-soda]

Kids Shouldn't be Here: Nick Valentine

Fallout 4 Platonic Companions x Child! Sole

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Child in dangerous situations

A/N: This is NOT romantic at all! This is all platonic relationships that explore how the Fallout 4 companions and game would change if the Sole Survivor was a young child. Any romantic suggestions or reblogs will be blocked.

Masterlist

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Kids were in trouble in Diamond City often.

Most of the time, it wasn’t anything big. Kids were meant to get into small amounts of trouble. Sneaking a Fancy Lad Snack Cake before dinner was expected, and with an actual group of kids in the city, arguments and fights were bound to happen. It was easy for them to get a hold of things they shouldn’t: Half empty beers left by guards on break, a single Mentat left in a tossed away tin, and dirty magazines their fathers hid from their moms. All was free reign when the adults were away.

A few times, the trouble they brought was bigger. While an adult would not get sick from a full bottle of alcohol or from a strong hit of Jet, the few times a kid has gotten their hands on something unused like that, it ended with them having to spend the entire night in Dr. Sun’s care. Everyone also remembered when John McDonough had set fire to the radio station. One resident still walked with a limb from when they played with their mother’s pistol.

They weren’t all trouble. Everyone got their news from a quick-witted little girl, and their water was cleaned by a sharp tongue young boy. Children never bothered Takahashi, only approaching the robot when they had spare caps to buy a bowl of noodles. It wasn’t uncommon to find them piled up in a secluded area, reading a few comics and sipping from a single Nuka-Cola until it was time to go to class, go home, or help their parents with their jobs.

None of the adults really trusted each other. Parents especially. So no one asked for help when they struggled to take care of their little ones. If anyone wanted to help, they would have to be subtle about it. Dr. Sun’s price for check-ups would be mysteriously cheaper for families, and Mister Zwicky and Miss Edna ran the schoolhouse 24/7. That’s as much “help” as anyone was willing to accept.

There was, however, one exception to that unspoken rule.

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Detective Nick Valentine always liked kids. When he first came to Diamond City, the kids were the only ones to talk to him, asking questions he didn’t have answers for and telling him what he didn’t know about the Commonwealth. Even now, the kids of Diamond City would randomly approach to ask questions about his latest case or news outside the city Piper didn’t deem necessary to write about. His status as a publicly-known, easily-seen, prototype synth ironically gave the parents of Diamond City a peace of mind when he was with the kids. He was already a synth, so there was no worry of him being replaced by one. Even if he was, he had so much wear and tear, there was no way it wouldn’t be noticeable. So no one was worried when the kids ducked into the agency to avoid a rainstorm. Well, except Myrna, who had a problem with Nick's general existence.

Even the original Nick was good with kids, regularly being the one placed in charge of kids to ask gentle questions or provide a distraction until a parent or social worker could take over. Bubblegum and candy had taken permanent residence in his pockets so he could pass them out. His friends and fellow cops had told him he would make a great father. When he first started out, he would just laugh them off, saying he works too much to have a kid. After he met Jenny, the teasing jokes increased and he would have to ignore the pleasant images in his head and the warm, subtle blush on his stern face.

Then Jenny was shot, and the jokes stopped, and any idea of fatherhood had disappeared long ago.

Now, his dislike of gang leaders like Winters had not decreased from that terrible night. Skinny Malone had nowhere near the power of Winters, but he had the same ego. Nick wasn’t sure what exactly Darla saw in the gangster, but his best guess was his promise of caps and power that had blinded the young woman from his cigar breath and bad temper. Not that her’s was any better.

The no-name mobster that was guarding Nick was just as bad. He would yell out taunts or threats and get annoyed when Nick ignored him and get annoyed when Nick did respond. He was sure the guy was compensating for something, but the annoying bastard was sadly right. He didn’t have any way of getting out of this office, and rescue wasn’t likely coming. He was at the mercy of Skinny Malone’s twisted whims.

He picked up the very slightest scrape of a door. All the vaults had these fancy sliding doors that barely made any noise. Lot easier on the audio processor than the rusted, broken doors more commonly found in the rest of the Commonwealth. Nick expected the rough yells of another triggerman coming to tell his current guard it was time to switch off or that Skinny has finally decided to stop wasting time and off the detective.

Instead, he heard nothing. Just the poorly made threats echoing through the empty, wide open room. Nick slowly slid his eyes around what he could see from the window. White metal walls, white metal railings, and white metal railings. Same as it was when he was first locked in this office.

There. A flash of red, before disappearing on the stairs. Definitely not triggermen. They preferred to wear reclaimed suits from before the war in blacks and checkered patterns. Nick wasn’t sure who this person was, but they were the closest thing Nick has had a chance of getting out of here.

“Keep talking, meathead. It'll give Skinny Malone more time to think about how he's going to bump you off,” Nick insults back at the wannabe mobster. He was pulling words out of thin air, but he needed this guy out of here. As the triggerman sputtered out a retort, Nick added detail to his lie in his head.

“Really? I saw him writing your name down in that black book of his. Lousy cheating card shark I think were his exact words. Then he struck the name across three times.” That was how Skinny Malone kept track of everything. His men, money, people he killed, where he was wanted. Everything was kept in a little, black book that was dwarfed by Skinny’s large fingers, and everyone knew what those three strikes meant. Three strikes and you’re out.

The triggerman panicked at the suggestion and ran off. Good. That’s one obstacle out of the way. Now for the door.

“Hey, you. I don't know who you are, but we got three minutes before ole' muscles-for-brains comes back. Get this door open.” He yelled through the window. Running toward the terminal, He saw that there were actually three people.

He was relieved to see Piper. A few times he had asked her for assistance, and even more she had invited herself on a case. Nick remembered when she first came to Diamond City, little Nat in tow. A teenager who had a gleam of determination in her eyes that hasn’t gone away as an adult. While she was as subtle as an atom bomb sometimes, she had her heart in the right place.

A minuteman took watch at the door the triggerman had left through. Nick hadn’t seen one for awhile. When Nat had shown up at his door early one morning, personally delivering a copy of a certain story to each member of the city, Nick knew it was important. He dropped a few caps in the girl's hand, then sat in his chair reading about the death of Quincy over and over until Ellie had woken up. He had passed the paper to her solemnly and neither of them had spoken for the rest of the day. Nick didn’t know if this one was involved, but he didn’t trust him to watch his back.

Whoever the third person was, they ran to the terminal too fast for a good look on who they were. He just caught their shorter stature and a bright blue. His guess was a vault dweller. They were the only ones who wore such a vibrant color. This vault had never been completed, so he guessed they were from vault 81, since it was the only operational vault to his knowledge.

“Hey, Valentine,” Piper greeted through the thick glass. “You got Ellie all worked up thinking you’re dead.”

“I’ll give her a day off once you and your friends get me out of here,” He promised. His gaze flicked to the minuteman. “Do I know these guys?”

Piper followed his eyes, “No, met them earlier. Don’t worry, he was with Colonel Holis when Quincy fell.”

Good enough for him.

The sound of the terminal going off and the click of the lock interrupted any further conversation. “I got it, Miss Piper!” the third person spoke. The voice sounded young. They rushed in quickly, Piper coming in after the previously unseen third member of the party.

Looks like he was right. The kid couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Nat. She was all awkward limbs and too-big armor. The yellow-gold lettering on her suit said 111 instead of 81, so he was wrong about that. He had never heard of Vault 111, but it may have opened up in the time he was locked up in here. That didn’t explain what the kid was doing or what the hell Piper was thinking bringing her here.

Nor did it explain the laser rifle in her hands, nor the sniper rifle slung haphazardly to her back.

The kid seemed surprised by his appearance, probably not stopping to register it when she was hacking the terminal. Her eyes widened in shock at his appearance and her nostrils flared as she attempted to school her face into a polite neutral expression. He appreciated the attempt at least. Most people would either freak out or spit insults in shock.

Deciding to wait and see what explanation she had, Nick lit a cigarette. He couldn’t actually breathe in the smoke or feel the effects of the nicotine, but it was a habit from the original Nick that he had never been able to properly shake. Guess addictions ran deeper than just physical.

“Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario,” he said, “Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?”

“My brother was kidnapped,” the vault girl answered, “You’re my only lead on finding him, so here I am. How did you get in here?” She said it with such ease that Nick wondered if she realized how strange this scenario was. Not that he had any room to comment.

“A missing kid, huh? Well, you came to the right man. If not the right place.” Missing people were sadly a dime a dozen in his line of work. Kidnapped kids, sneaking spouses, and turbulent teenagers would disappear and their loved ones would come to Nick Valentine, the Synth Detective. The cases didn’t always end the same way. Sometimes he simply brought back a runaway who overestimated their skills and underestimated the Commonwealth, dragging them to their crying mothers or upset fathers. Other times, he revealed an affair that had been ongoing for months or years, until the immoral lovers decided to run from their problems instead of releasing their poor, betrayed spouses. He normally alerted the guards and kept an eye on the cheated party, due to how prone they were to the whispers of revenge. Kidnappings were the worst. They normally involved sneaking, fighting, and sweet-talking his way to the victim’s freedom. Sometimes he saw a reuniting of families. Other times he brought back a limp body. Still there are others, where there was nothing at all.

“I thought you were looking for a kidnapped woman, Nick. How did you end up being kidnapped?,” Piper questioned.

“I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Skinny Malo's new flame, and she's got a mean streak,” Nick explained. The vault girl made a grossed out face, guess she hadn’t gotten out of the ‘boys are icky’ phase. “Anyway, you got troubles, and I'm glad to help. But now ain't the time. Let's blow this joint. Then we'll talk.”

The girl nodded, “Got it. I’m Sunny, and the man with us is Mr. Preston. We met Miss Piper when we went to Diamond City looking for you.” As she spoke, she grabbed a bobblehead off the desk, pivoted on her heel, and followed them out of the office.

The minuteman, Preston, took his gaze off the door. While Sunny had tried to hide her reaction to Nick’s robotic appearance, he gave none at all. “It’s an honor to meet you, Detective Valentine. Sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.”

“Likewise. We’ll save the pleasantries. Hope you know how to use that musket.” Nick took the point of the group, rushing down the steps toward the exit. He explained quietly the situation regarding the vault, Skinny Malone, and how he got hired then subsequently thrown in the office. Two weeks of being guarded by these meatheads had made Nick more than a little stir crazy.

They came up to the entrance of what looked like the vault cafeteria. Triggermen were scattered around, playing cards and drinking what little provisions they had away. It's a wonder they were able to stay here this long the way they blew through food and liquor.

“How do you want to do this?” he whispered. There was a tell-tale sign of a Stealth-boy being activated and Sunny had disappeared. Good. There was a plan for her.

Piper had taken the first shot, and then chaos erupted. The gunshots echoed loudly off the metal walls of the vault. Preston's laser musket was probably the quietest of all of them, though Nick had seen a laser come from nowhere a few times.

The rest of the Vault went the same way. Run through the stairwell, shoot the triggermen, rinse and repeat until annoyed. “Who built this damn vault? A fitness instructor?,” Nick complained.

Whenever the fighting would stop, Sunny would reappear, then set to rifling through the dead men's pockets for ammo and stimpaks. She stayed quiet for the most part. She mostly made occasional noises of agreement in response to commands. There was a brief excited squeal of excitement when finding an in-tact comic book before she remembered herself. Nick was glad she seemed to understand the situation, he didn't have the patience to keep an eye on an unruly teen.

They finally came up to the room where Skinny Malone mainly set up shop. Nick could hear heavy footsteps

The door click and angry swearing through the door. He tried to open it, but it held fast. “Another locked door. Shouldn't be too hard…”

As he messed with the lock, he gave a warning. “I hear big, fat footsteps on the other side, so Skinny Malone and the rest of his boys are waiting for us in there. The name's, uh, ironic, but don't let that fool you. He's dangerous. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything.”

The spare bobby pin he kept snapped. “Dammit,” he swore. He started fishing for another in his pockets. While he could pick a lock just fine, he was much better with terminals or any piece of tech. Old Nick didn’t bother with either, but he also didn’t need to. This skill belonged to the Synth.

Something tapped against his shoulder. “Here, I got some.” Sunny was holding out an old cigarette carton, stuffed full of bobby pins that rattled with each tap.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a pin and trying again. This time he found the sweet spot in the lock. It clicked open and he was met with the business end of multiple submachine guns.

“Nicky? What're you doin'? You come into my house. Shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?,” Skinny Malone said in false hurt.

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often.”

“Awww… poor little, Valentine. Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?,” Darla mocked. Her grip around her bat tightened. Apparently, she liked to get up close and personal with her victims in a way that firearms didn't allow for. Nick had the unfortunate experience of learning that when he first came to the Vault.

“Should've left it alone, Nicky. This ain't the old neighborhood. In this Vault, I'm king of the castle, you hear me?,” Malone spat, “And I ain't lettin' some private dick shut us down now that I finally got a good thing goin'!”

Darla’s glare snapped to Skinny. Even he wasn’t free from her ire, “I told you we should've just killed him, but then you had to get all sentimental! All that stupid crap about the ‘old times’."

“Darla, I'm handling this! Skinny Malone's always got things under control!”

As the killer couple bickered, Nick thought that they could sneak past the two if it weren’t for the two bodyguards aiming at them.

“Oh yeah, then what's a kid doing here, huh? A pipsqueak helped rub us all out of here!,’ Darla pointed her bat too close to Sunny’s face, and leaned down to snarl in her face. “What are you doing here, you brat?”

Sunny’s eyes widened in a mix of emotions. Surprise at being addressed, fear at being threatened, and confusion at the question. She was quiet for half a second, before steeling her face like she did when she entered the office, and asked her own question.

“What are you doing here?”

Darla didn’t like that answer one bit, grabbing the girl’s arm and dragging her forward. “You fucking mocking me? Don’t test me, cause I ain’t got a problem with knockin’ a snot-nosed brat off the map!, “ she spat.

“You’ve got a family don’t you? With food, water, and safety? Who love and care enough for you to go all the way to Diamond City in the hopes of hiring someone who can find you? Why would you give that up?”

Darla still looked angry, but now that anger looked conflicted. Nick didn’t know much about her family and their homelife. When her father had come into his office on a late, chilly afternoon, he knew he wasn’t from the city. His skittishness at the crowds and purple stains on his clothes suggested he was a mutifruit farmer, but all the man spoke about was his poor daughter had been kidnapped by some gangster, and he had no idea where he had taken her. When the father had calmed down enough to describe the gangster in detail, Nick knew where to look for the girl.

“I had nothing in that dirt pile! No one understood I wanted to be more, not just work in the fields with the other girls and pop out babies for the first fucking guy that popped the question!”

Sunny grimaced as Darla tightened her grip, but kept pushing. “So you came here? An empty vault surrounded by gangsters with no caps? Ordered around by a gross old guy that could be your father?”

“He’s got power!” Darla argued, but she didn’t look like she believed herself. Most of Skinny Malone’s men were now corpses pumped full of lead. He had been muscled out of his previous territory by stronger, smarter, and better supplied gangs. It wouldn’t take much for them to come in here and kill off the gang for good.

“What good is that when you have no food or water? If the settlements don’t bow to your threats, and you can’t get caps, where are you going to get stimpaks or radaway? At least that dirt pile seemed to care about you, all he’s done is drag you underground and yell at you.”

There was a beat of stillness as Darla didn't respond, staring at Sunny. Then, she just…drops the kid’s arm. Sunny immediately scrambles back behind Preston. Darla stared for a bit longer, brow furrowed and angry, then turned and started walking toward the exit.

“Darla? Wh-where are you goin'?”

“Home, Skinny! Where I should have been all this time. This is goodbye for us,” she snapped. Her walk turned into a sprint as she took off toward the vault door, refusing to be stopped by Skinny’s yelling. Nick guessed he would get a message in a few days from her father, telling him Darla is home, safe and sound.

“Oh, come on, Nicky! You cost me my men, now you and your friend cost me my girl?, “ the gangster turned back to the detective. Well, the runaway girl got out. Now he had to get himself out.

“The kid here just did you a favor, Skinny. You always did have bad taste in women,” Nick quipped, “Now that she's not around to feed that temper of yours, maybe you'll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in the hole.”

Skinny turned multiple shades of red. “ You smug, overconfident ass… Agh! All right, you get to the count of ten! I still see your face after that, I'm gunning both of you down!,” he growled.

That was long enough for Nick.

“Ah, look at that Commonwealth sky. Never thought anything so naturally ominous could end up looking so inviting…”

The mad dash out the vault and into the open air hadn’t affected Nick, but the other three were kneeled over as they tried to catch their breath. Nick patted Sunny’s shoulder as she gulped down air, “Quick thinking in there, kid. You kept a cool head in there.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Sunny disagreed, gasping between words. “I have no idea what I said, it was just word vomit. I think I actually threw up a little.”

The walk back to the city was filled with chatter. Piper caught Nick up on everything he missed while prisoner in the vault. Who had been accused as a synth, who did the accusing, who had been caught cheating, what asinine thing Mayor McDonough had most recently done, and everything in between. When she had exhausted all topics, she pressed Preston into talking about the Minutemen and his hopes for the currently broken faction.

Sunny added small comments to their anecdotes. She had added that the mayor had mistaken Preston for her father when Piper had told him about McDonough making the kid cry. When the Minuteman told about their incident at the Museum of Freedom, she had helpfully added about Preston getting thrown into a car when fighting the Deathclaw.

It naturally segwayed into Sunny coming from a vault.

Nick wasn’t surprised that Vault-Tec would do something so horrible as to freeze people alive, but he was surprised anyone survived. Guess they were in the same boat. The only reason either of them were here in the Commonwealth is because of the immoral actions of people wanting to play god with no consequences. Nick had no idea how the Institute had gotten the original Nick’s memory files, but he had definitely not signed up to have his memories shoved into a experimental robot. Even if some families would have willingly frozen themselves to wait out the nuclear apocalypse, Vault-Tec still decided to lie and trick innocent people for their sick experiment.

Now all that was left of those experiments was a Synth Detective and a two-hundred and twelve year old kid.

Sunny hadn’t walked in their small group, instead choosing to flit back and forth on the street and between the three. She was filled with nervous energy, likely about the missing brother she mentioned earlier. There were a million ways someone could go missing in the Commonwealth, and going missing from a vault would make a case harder than the average runaway case. Nick just hoped the boy was alive, wherever he was. He wanted to go ahead and start asking questions, but they all probably needed rest before they were really ready for questions. Anyway, he would prefer to ask questions in a more private place with a notepad and pen. He could borrow Piper’s but he didn’t want any private details mixed into the next edition of Publik Occurrences.

All of the stores were closed by the time they got into the city. Everyone was asleep by now, except it seems, Nat, who was still up waiting for her sister. Piper crashed onto her couch with a promise of a longer interview later, and a Mr.Handy replaced her. According to Preston, “Codsworth” was Sunny’s and had served her family before the bombs dropped.

No wonder she was so attached to him.

When they got to the agency, Preston gladly took up Nick’s offer to take his bed. It’s not like he actually slept, he just used it for a more comfortable place to sit at night when his chair was too hard to sit on. Elle was fast asleep on her own sheets, still full dressed. She probably tired herself out in worry.

Sunny was still filled with nervous energy, hopping from one foot to another as Codsworth fretted over her. She clearly won’t be getting sleep soon.

Nick sighed. Best get some work done while she was still awake. He pulled off his coat and placed it on her shoulders, hoping the weight would settle her a little.

“Here, kid. At least sit down, I’m getting antsy just watching you.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, and flopped down on the offered chair while Codsworth checked her shoulder for bruising. Nick opened a cabinet drawer and flicked through his files, looking for anything involving Vault-Tec and their metal graves. There wasn’t much, barely enough to fill half a page, but it was something.

“You said your brother is missing, right? Any idea if he ran off on his own or if someone else did the dirty work?”

“Someone else,” Sunny answered immediately, trying to sound calm, “Shaun’s a baby, he can’t even walk yet.”

Nick nodded and switched to a drawer with files on cases with really young kids. Babies weren’t desirable in the slave trade, since it takes so long for them to grow up and be useful, they needed a lot of care, and can easily die from anything. Too much risk, not enough reward. He stacked what few files he had with his Vault-Tec file.

“Any motive that you can think of?, ” Nick continued, “Rogue scientist who couldn’t handle the guilt of freezing a newborn? Crazy neighbor hopped up on Buffout?”

“No. I saw the man who took him. After he killed Mom and Dad, he looked right at me,” she paused, blowing out a shaky breath. “ I’ve never seen him before, and he wasn’t dressed like a scientist. He was dressed like he was from the Commonwealth.”

Taking an empty file and mostly empty pen, he also grabbed a list of known, at-large criminals along with what pitiful information he found. He sat down at his desk. Sunny being a witness wasn’t a good thing, no matter how much easier it would make his job. No kid should see that.

“It’s going to be okay. Do you need a minute, or do you think you can tell me what he looked like?”

[dragonfruitticus]

Love these <3

What if a sole survivor that’s a teenager(like 14-16 years old) begins to view the companions and faction leaders as parental figures, before slipping up and accidentally calling them “mom” or “dad”? Just a thought.

Ada: “Ah, shit.”

Sole patted themself down, checking their pockets, before sighing. “I knew I should’ve taken the time to skin those mole rats.”

“Is something missing?”

Curious, Ada leaned over to check the project they were working on. They slid to the side to accomodate her.

“I just don’t have enough leather to finish my armor mods. I wanted to put some pockets in my chestplate so I could carry a couple extra rolls of duct tape, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Leather?”

She checked back through her mental inventory, sizing up what she was carrying. Enamel bucket, ashtrays, pack of cigarettes...

“Ah, here we are.” She pulled out a baseball glove and handed it over. “Will this suffice?”

“Oh, yeah, this is perfect!” They beamed. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime.”

If either of them noticed sole’s little slip-up, neither of them said a thing.

Cait: Sole reminded her too much of herself, some days. She knew their jaded expression, their thousand-yard stare, the haunted look of a kid who’d seen more than they should have. She knew more about them than they’d probably like, which was how she knew to stop them before they could do something they’d regret in the long run.

“No chems,” she said, plucking the canister of X-Cell out of their hands before they could get too close a look at it. It still felt dusty from its years laying in a Concord Speakeasy, and she wiped her hand on her pants.

“I know,” they huffed, rocking back on their heels. “I was just looking.”

“Well, don’t.” She tucked it into a back pocket, making a mental note to either toss it in the closest river or sell it first chance she got.

“It’s not like anything bad can happen from just looking at it, Cait. I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“You better not have been. If you start doin’ that shite-”

“I know.” Somehow, their tone remained patient. “I promised I wouldn’t do chems, and I won’t, okay, Mom?”

The breath left her like she’d been sucker punched. For a moment, all she could do was stand there, eyes wide, unable to form a thought, much less words. Was it really like that? Had she really let things go this far? How long until she ended up like-

“I mean, uh, Cait.”

She glanced up to see their face beginning to turn red, and they ducked their head.

“Sorry, it just slipped out. I don’t, I mean, I didn’t-” They huffed. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to be a parent or anything, and I don’t mean that you should, I just...”

They prattled on nervously, as if trying to comfort both of them, words going right past Cait’s head. To think sole thought of her as a mother. She couldn’t have that responsibility. Her parents had been trusted with a child, and look how she’d turned out. She couldn’t take that risk, not with sole, not when at any moment some switch could flip inside her and she’d turn into the monsters that had raised her.

She’d known this was a bad idea, right from the start.

Codsworth: “I was thinking about putting another mod on my pistol today,” they said, hunched over the kitchen table. They were poking at some circuit board or another, something that they’d never have been allowed to touch before the war. He eyed the screwdriver in their hands warily.

“A fine idea,” he said, resigning himself once again to the fact that a new world meant a new way of life for mum and sir’s child. “Perhaps a larger magazine?”

They chewed their lower lip thoughtfully, tightening a screw. “I was thinking something more quick-eject, you know? Speed in battle and all.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“The only reason I hadn’t done it was I needed some more adhesive. But since Carla stopped by again and she had some duct tape, we should be set.”

“As I recall, Miss Carla had more than enough for an extra set of sights as well. You asked me to remind you when you had enough material for a large scope, and by my measure, you should be there now.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” They nodded thoughtfully. “We can get that old hunting rifle in working order again. Thanks, Dad.”

He froze. Dad? Him? No, that wasn’t right. But they’d said it so casually, as if they hadn’t even realized they were saying it. Surely, they couldn’t have forgotten sir already. They’d had years with him as their father. Such things couldn’t be forgotten so easily.

“Sole.” He tried not to make his tone sound warning.

They, too, seemed to have realized what they’d said, ears beginning to turn red. “Sorry, Codsworth. I was just working and not thinking about it, and-”

“It’s alright. Such slip-ups happen, after all! We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t become a habit. After all, I’m simply the family Mr. Handy. Hardly a father. I wouldn’t want to take sir’s place.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“No need for apologies! We’ll simply call this a learning moment, for both of us.”

They sighed, “Sounds fair,” and returned to their work.

Curie: “You have your stimpaks, yes?”

They patted a pocket. “Got ‘em right here.”

“And your bandages?”

“In my bag.”

“Extra ammunition?”

They sighed. “Stop fussing, Mom. I told you, I’ve got everything I need.”

She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. That was certainly an... interesting choice of words. 

“You see me as a maternal figure?”

“What?” They adjusted the straps on their bag, refusing to make eye contact.

“You referred to me as your mother. I am simply curious when you began to perceive me in such a role.”

“I don’t.” Their cheeks flushed, and they turned away further. “I didn’t call you ‘Mom,’ either.”

“Oh, but there is no need to be embarrassed! It is only natural for such things to happen. Your brain is still maturing, and as the primary provider of such maternal care in your life, it is predictable that you would-”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” They turned hastily to the door. “I’ll see you in a few days, Curie.”

“Certainly. Au revoir.”

As she watched their retreating back, she let herself consider the happy hum in her chest. Did she want to be sole’s mother? Was it that she wanted to be their mother specifically, or was there simply a general maternal instinct that was now surfacing? It was intriguing that such an instinct could exist in her, since she could never have children, but perhaps there was some lingering Ms. Nanny instinct that was affecting her. No matter what, it was certainly interesting.

If sole saw her as a maternal figure, she’d do her best to provide.

Danse: He found sole leaning against a wall, panting. There was blood splattered across their armor, gun dangling loosely from their fingers, but they were smiling, which was good enough for him.

“You look exhausted,” he said.

They laughed a little and smeared some of the blood from their cheek. “That was quite the fight. We should’ve brought some backup, huh?”

He glanced over at the scribe Quinlan had sent along, who had been of even less use than he’d expected, but decided to let that go and focus on sole. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You fared quite well on your own, and for your level of training your performance was impressive.”

Their eyes flicked over to meet his. “For real?”

“I would never lie to you, especially in your field evaluation. You’ve come a long way.”

He caught a hint of their smile before they ducked their head. “Thanks, Dad.”

He paused, sucking in a breath. While it wasn’t an uncommon mistake, it wasn’t one he was exactly willing to overlook. Still, best to approach things tactfully to avoid embarrassment for them. “What was that?”

They wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What was what?”

The scribe, tapping at the terminal, decided that was his moment to be useful. “You called Paladin Danse ‘Dad.’”

“No, I didn’t. I said, ‘Thanks, Danse.’”

He allowed himself a smile. “I didn’t know you saw me as a father figure, sole.”

“I don’t.” Still, their flush of embarrassment betrayed them.

He waved a hand through the air. “It’s alright, Knight. You wouldn’t be the first to refer to their sponsor as Mom or Dad, and I sincerely doubt you’ll be the last.”

Really, they were a good kid. Young initiates usually tended to find a substitute parental figure in the ranks, and of all sole’s options, he was glad it was him. He could keep them on the right track, make sure they didn’t go astray. With any luck, they could probably take his position someday. 

All in all, this was a good thing for both of them.

Deacon: “Deeks, how does this jacket look on me?”

He glanced up from the hats in Fallon’s Basement to see sole tugging on the sleeves of a leather jacket. It was a bit rough around the edges, but it was just worn enough that he could believe it had seen some action. It wasn’t really their style, though; Agent Whisper tended more toward a softer kind of spy work, based more on charisma and less on punching people in the face.

“I like it,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “It’s a new look for you.”

“I was thinking I should add a more badass disguise to my collection. Try for that intimidation factor every once in a while, you know?”

He tossed the idea around a moment before agreeing. “We could make it work. It’d need practice, though, and some other accessories.”

“We could go get a bat from Mo while we’re here.”

“Now you’re talking. You put a couple nails in that sucker, and boom. You’re halfway to badass city right there. We’ll just have to teach you how to actually use it so you don’t stab yourself by accident.”

“Yeah, sure, but you’ll teach me, right, Dad?”

He nearly choked. Shit. Did sole know something he didn’t? No, that couldn’t be true. He’d never had kids, despite how much Barbara wanted them. Plus, sole had known their father. He’d seen the body, still half in cryo in 111.

That left the fact that sole had come to see him as a father figure, which left him in the awkward position of either shutting that down, probably hurting their feelings in the process, or just letting it slide. But could he even consider the latter? He couldn’t be a father, not in this state. He couldn’t lie every other word and still consider himself a decent parental influence, now could he?

Still, that voice in the back of his head nagged, “Barbara would want you to say yes. She thought you’d be a good dad.”

“Deeks?”

They looked at him quizzically, obviously still looking for an answer.

He sighed and, just this once, gave in. “Sure, kid. I’ll teach you how. It’s not that much different from their intended use, really...”

Desdemona: She always had a certain fondness for sole’s reports. She never got to hear much about the missions, just a quick affirmation of success and not much else. Sole, though, sole always told her a story, starting from the beginning and highlighting anything that they thought was interesting.

“But, you know, they’re just raiders,” they said, twenty-some minutes after they’d started. “In the end, H2 got where he needed to go. Highrise will take it from here.”

She smiled and ruffled their hair, making them laugh. “Good work, agent. You’re making all of us proud.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

They froze immediately, realizing what they had said, but their moment of embarrassment was cut short by Tom’s sigh of relief.

“Finally! You know how long we’ve been waiting for this? You took so long to join the club.”

Glory caught sole’s look of confusion and added, “Everyone calls Dez ‘Mom’ at some point. It’s basically a rite of passage.”

They looked to Dez for affirmation, and she could only nod. 

“It’s true. It happens to everyone, sooner or later. I’m more than used to it by now.”

“You sure?” they asked, voice still hesitant.

“Positive. The only one that hasn’t is PAM, and she doesn’t have the capability.”

“Give her time,” Tom said. “She’ll get there.”

Gage: “You’re being stupid,” he snarled.

They glared back with surprising intensity. “You’re being a prick. You said yourself, I’m the Overboss. Things go how I want them to.”

How they’d managed that little trick, he didn’t know, but he hated it more and more every day. “Bein’ the Overboss doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen to anyone. You’re still new here. You better show me some respect.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dad,” they snapped.

That only pissed him off more. “What did you just call me, you little shit?”

They blinked, anger seeming to cool for a second. “Gage. What else?”

“No, you called me Dad.” His temper settled in return, hovering at a simmer. “Like this is some sort of family reunion or some shit.”

They snorted. “As if.”

“Don’t try and take it back now. I heard you.”

“You’re old and losing your hearing. Old fucker.”

His temper flared again, and despite that he knew they were baiting him, he couldn’t resist. “What was that?”

“What, I need to enunciate everything for you? Do you need your hearing aids, Grandpa?”

“What the fuck is a hearing aid?”

“What do you think, dumbass? It lets you hear better when you get old and lose your hearing. Like you.”

A knock on the door interrupted what he was going to say, and he snapped his mouth closed with irritation.

“Overboss?” The voice was muffled through the door. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, just a sec.” They dusted their hands on their pants, anger instantly melting into a mask of cold determination. “Come on, Gage. Work to do.”

He huffed and resolved they would finish this later.

Hancock: He was always impressed with how well sole handled Goodneighbor. It went to show that they were much tougher than their age and pre-war softness let on; that this kid who looked like they’d never even handled a gun would shoot you without question if threatened. He’d seen how they’d handled Finn.

“Cold today,” they said, blowing into their hands. “This wind is killer. You wanna head inside and check up on things while I barter here?”

They gestured in the general direction of KLEO’s shop, and he chuckled. 

“I dunno. Maybe the big, bad mayor better stick around to make sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble.”

They rolled their eyes. “Come on, Dad. I can handle myself, you know.”

They realized their mistake before he did, eyes widening, jaw snapping shut. He faltered, snappy words dying in his mouth before he got hold of himself again. Dad? Were they kidding? Their face said they weren’t.

“Woah, now.” He held up his hands. “It ain’t like that, kid. I’m not exactly the fatherly type, y’know. Cool uncle, maybe, but I ain’t anybody’s Dad.”

They huffed, clearly embarrassed, and diverted him by saying, “Bet you’ve been more than one somebody’s Daddy, though.”

“That’s more like it.” He nudged them in KLEO’s direction. “You go do your shopping, and I’ll go make sure they ain’t burnin’ down my town while I’m away.”

“Sure. If I’m not here when you get back, I’ll be in Hotel Rexford.”

“Sounds fine. Get me somethin’ nice while you’re at it, huh?”

“Alright, but I’m charging you a convenience fee.”

Content that they were back on the same page, he agreed and went to find Fahrenheit.

MacCready: “Your fever’s gone down a little.” He rested a hand against their forehead. “Seems you’re gonna pull through.”

They smiled a little, eyes still hazy with sickness and medicine. Soon, they’d be on their feet again, he hoped.

“I bet you’re a good dad, Mac,” they said. “Duncan must really love you, huh?”

He let out a sigh. Sole had been strangely emotional ever since they got sick, which had annoyed him at first, but lately he’d just come to accept it. After all, there wasn’t much he could do about it, was there?

“Jeez, I don’t even know if he remembers me. It’s been a while since I got to see him.”

“He remembers you. I mean, I remember my dad, and he’s been dead for a couple hundred years now, I guess.” They laughed a little, as if they’d said something funny. “But you should go see him. Take a break. I’ll be fine without you.”

“Nah, we’ll go together. After all, he’ll probably want to meet you.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. He’ll probably see you as some kind of adopted older sibling or something. You’ll get along.”

They exhaustion in their laugh betrayed them. “Sure, whatever you say, Dad.”

There was a wryness in their voice, an almost mocking note that told him they’d meant it as a joke, but long after they’d fallen asleep, he sat at their bedside, watching them. He’d thought he was joking, too, but now that he was along with his thoughts, he had to wonder. Maybe he did want them to meet Duncan, and maybe he did want them to get along like siblings. Could he do that? Was that wrong?

He sighed and rose from his chair. No use worrying about it now. Sole had probably been joking about him going to DC anyway. After all, there was work to be done here.

They definitely weren’t going anywhere until they were better, though. For now, he had to focus on making sure they pulled through.

Maxson: He watched them across the table as they studied the map of the Commonwealth spread between them. It was a crude battle plan, mostly consisting of bottlecaps and buttons, but it was enough for them to discuss. He found he was regularly impressed by their knowledge in this area; in many ways, they reminded him of himself at that age.

“What if we swung south?” They pushed three bottlecaps across the table. “The way C.I.T is set up makes anything but a direct assault difficult, but we could try to split their forces, or at least their fire.”

He hummed, considering. “You’re still assuming we can’t assemble Prime in time.”

“Right. I’m concerned they’ll force our hand before we’re ready. We need to be prepared for that.”

“If you hope to split their fire, we’ll have to split our forces. That means we’ll need more men overall and be pulling more away from the airport, leaving us vulnerable.”

They scrunched their face as they thought about it. “You’re right, but in these circumstances we’re already at a disadvantage, don’t you think? We’re outgunned and outmanned.”

“Both of which can be overcome by outplanning them.” He leaned back in his chair. “What you lack in physical strength can often be overcome with mental acuity.”

They glanced away from the diorama to look at him. “That’s pretty good advice. Nice one, Dad.”

He felt his heart skip a beat. They had already returned to the diorama, now considering the forces around the airport, but he suddenly couldn’t focus. Sole considered him a father figure. Did he mean that much to them that he was someone they looked to for guidance, not just on the Prydwen, but in all aspects of their life? To be a father to them, to be able to guide them, was more than he could have ever asked for.

He cleared his throat. “I believe you mean ‘Elder,’ Knight.”

“Hm?” They looked up again.

“You referred to me as something else. I’m reminding you that the proper title is ‘Elder.’“

“Oh. My apologies, Elder. It won’t happen again.”

He sighed. “I ask that you’re careful around the others. That is all.”

They nodded, mind clearly already on other things.

Nick: He watched them poke around Earl Sterling’s apartment, careful eyes taking everything in. He lingered by the doorway, letting them do their thing, curious to see how it would play out. He was taking a bit of a risk letting them work the case, but he figured he could clean up any mistakes they made along the way.

Mistake number one was probably letting them pick up all those beers, but he figured as long as he watched them sell them all, it would be fine.

“Aha!”

Triumphant, they emerged from where they had crouched on the floor, brandishing a piece of paper.

“Find somethin’?” He flicked his cigarette to the side, nudging it out with the toe of his boot.

“Some sort of receipt, I think. Facial reconstruction with Dr. Crocker. Appointment date... should have been sometime around his disappearance.”

“That means ol’ Doc could’ve been the last to see Earl alive.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Good work, kid.”

They flushed with pride and perhaps a bit of embarrassment at the praise. “Thanks, Dad.”

He raised an eyebrow, hoping they would realize their mistake on their own, but they were busy tucking the receipt into their bag. It seemed as though they hadn’t noticed at all, and after a moment of thought, he decided not to mention it. After all, there was no need to embarrass them. They’d realize what they’d said eventually.

Plus, it was kind of nice, in a way.

Piper: “You’ve got ink on your face.”

Sole glanced up from the freshly-printed edition of the paper, fingers wandering to their cheekbone. “Here?”

“Little to the left.”

“Here?”

“Less to the left.”

“Here?”

“Oh, just hold still.”

She leaned over, wiping the ink off their cheek with her thumb. It smeared a little bit, but was a marked improvement, and she scrubbed the rest away with the heel of her glove.

“There you go. Good as new.”

They nodded and returned their attention to the paper. “Thanks, Mom.”

They seemed to realize immediately, eyes widening, and Piper felt a sharp pain in her chest. 

“Aw, Blue, you know I’m not really...”

They visibly deflated. “I know. I’m sorry, Piper.”

“Not like that.” She leaned forward, putting her coffee to the side. “I’m not upset by it. I’m just not that kind of person, that’s all. I’m like your older sister, not your Mom. I wouldn’t want to replace her. It’s not a big deal, just, you know, get it in your head.”

“Older sister?” That seemed to perk them up a bit, and she smiled.

“Yeah. You’re still part of the family, Blue. Just not like that.”

They smiled. “I guess I’ll take it.”

Preston: The first sign was always the quiet. Sole wasn’t likely to stay quiet for too long; they were always listening to the radio, humming or singing along. When it was quiet for too long, that usually meant they’d either wandered off without telling him, which was never good, or they’d fallen asleep somewhere.

Sign two was the glow of a lantern at the workbench. It wasn’t uncommon for them to work late into the night, but that was always accompanied by the sound of work: the screech of metal on metal, the hum of an engine, the rattling of loose hardware in its drawers. 

Quiet and light together meant they’d fallen asleep at the workbench. Again.

“Sole.” Gently, he shook their shoulder. “Come on. You can’t sleep here.”

They sat up, bleary-eyed, a sheet of orange plastic cut from a pumpkin stuck to their cheek. Almost unseeing, they looked up at him with a sleepy, questioning hum.

“Come on.” Gently, he pulled at their arm.

“Sorry, Dad.” They rubbed their eyes, rising on unsteady feet. “I’m going.”

A smile crept to his face as he led them across the Sanctuary street to their home, making sure they got settled. Almost instantly, they were asleep again, long hours of hard living catching up to them all at once. Quietly, he closed the door behind him.

It was too good to be true. They were just tired, and mistook him for their father in the dark. But still, a part of him wanted to believe that it was possible. Maybe he could be a father to sole. He could show them how to make it here, in this unfamiliar world, and support them as they grew into the General he knew they could be.

Maybe, just maybe, they would let him.

X6: He watched them pace back and forth in front of the door, coat tails swirling with every pivot. They adjusted their lapels for the fifth time, sighed, and glanced around for a clock.

“It’s only four twenty-five,” he said. “You’ve still got twenty-five minutes.”

They sighed and sank heavily into a chair. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

They groaned and dropped their head onto the table. “You said it was thirty minutes to go, like, an hour ago.”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

He set his gun on the table with a sigh and set his sunglasses beside them. “If you keep worrying about it, you’ll only work yourself up more, and the time will seem to pass slower. Your best move would be to get a cup of coffee and relax.”

“I can’t relax.” They leaned back in their chair. “It’s my first meeting as the director. Half of the Institute already hates me because I’m so young, so if I mess this up I’ll be out on the street by dawn. This is no time to relax.”

“If you don’t relax, you’ll be more likely to make a mistake.”

“I know, but it’s easier said than done, Dad.”

He blinked. At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard them properly, but his hearing was beyond satisfactory. If he’d heard it, they’d said it, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Case in point. You’re upset, you make mistakes. Like that.”

They sank their head into their hands. “You’re right. I’ll- I’ll get some coffee. Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. Humans make mistakes, after all.”

[eerizon]

connection terminated.

i have a feeling that you are right where you want to be.

[soracities]

i dont know how else to put this but to approach books (or any media, really) solely for the sake of relatability is genuinely incredibly heartbreaking......to have such little (or such unwilling) imaginative scope that you cannot stretch yourself, even marginally, in a different direction to what you’ve known or are used to knowing when the very POINT of stories is to transport you somewhere else, into someone else, so you can do just that........when fran lebowiz said a book “is supposed to be a door!” and george saunders said good prose “is like empathy training wheels” they were right!!! they were so so so SO absolutely entirely right!!!!!

[clickbaitcowboy]

working on the saddest shit ever rn inbetween commissions

[anonymouscheeses]

Bonus under cut vvv

Later that same day:

And... I made an Emily redesign too...... *sniff sob /j* it's not final (like all my redesigns) I'm just trying get better at this design stuff and where better to do it except my current fixation ehhh?????

Long Emily design explanation/rant thing ignore it probably but pls dotn im desperate: I wanted to make her more round and soft cuzzz I love those typa designs I'm just a sucker for circle characters. Made her actually black and not fuckin gray cuz its a transformation to look more human and gentle(for me they go between two forms, their true ones that we see the first time we see them snd their human/softer ones if they ever interact with actual humans which... they usually dont.) Not a demon form tfff. In this version I wanted to put Emily in animal inspired features like... the sheep nose, ears, and hooves. Because she and Sera know that humans and about all beings love animals. Birds have sharp features mostly so they don't look as welcoming as they want to seem. I wanted Emily to look sheep likes and pretty much all the seraphim look more sheep like to make Lucifer stand out as the only one who was symbolized as a snake/goat(still don't know if I'll make him goat or make Lillith goat. I'll decide when I get there lmao). Justtt overalll wanted Emily to look more round, welcoming, and cute. I kept the freckles lighter than her skin color(even tho that's SUPER not accurate to what actually black people look like with freckles but whatevr) because it reminded me of fawns and.... sure Emily is a sheep but I still wanted to incorporate other cute animal traits with her cyz y not.

[rewritingcanon]

i’ve seen relationship therapists and psychologists analyse hermione and ron’s relationship and conclude that they wouldn’t work out in the long run. they’ve argued for hermione to be with harry, krum, even DRACO (don’t understand how a counsellor can vow for canon dramione but alright) as an alternative partner for hermione since ron is “too insecure” to be with her and match her intelligent prowess or what have you.

i seriously don’t understand this sentiment. ron and hermione genuinely seem (almost) perfect to me, maybe not in the movies (a common denominator of people who don’t like romione is that they always cite evidence from the movies, since the films took a lot away from ron’s character and his growth), but definitely in the books.

looking at ron’s insecurities, a lot of people dredge his inferiority complex up to toxic masculinity primarily, when it was more explored how it was an effect of his home life (not gonna argue toxic masculinity wasn’t a factor, they’re teenagers in the 90s written by a pretty misogynistic woman so…). he was the youngest son out of how many children? all of his older brothers were brilliant in some way. bill was an extremely gifted spellcaster, charlie was gifted with magical beasts, percy’s academic score was unmatched, and fred and george (despite their trouble) were entrepreneurial inventor-geniuses. ron, on the other hand, was quite literally born a disappointment to his mother, who conceived him specifically because she wanted a daughter, whilst ginny was born her favourite (though, even then, ginny was gifted at quidditch). ron was mediocre in every sense of the word, and his two best friends were harry (one of the most famous wizards) and hermione (the smartest witch of her age yada yada). and i’ve seen people argue that harry was more welcomed by molly into the weasley household than ron ever was. this isn’t even mentioning the amount of bullshit he copped for being poor (people always downplay the blow to confidence being in poverty can have on a person who is constantly surrounded by people who not only have more, but look down on him for simply being unlucky as to not have what they do).

so yeah, ron was an envious kid, but he was that way not because he was an evil patriarchal conception but because he was lowkey neglected. and even then he was overall an extremely devoted and loyal friend to both harry and hermione, because he did genuinely love them.

there were many moments of ron standing up for hermione that was cut from the films, not as a guy who was romantically interested in her, but as a friend. ron arguing with snape for making hermione cry is one of my fav scenes in the books ru kidding me, and in the movies he AGREED with snape RU KIDDING ME. not to mention how ron was a sobbing violent mess when hermione was getting tortured in the last book, whereas he wasn’t nearly as bothered in the films. and the films cut out harry being a dick to ron about his familial concerns (in dh), so when ron left it seemed like a random dickish move over his jealousy towards harry and hermione’s relationship.

there’s also a million moments where they minimised ron’s usefulness in the books for comedic purposes (forbidden forest with aragog, troll scene, devils snare scene) so ron seems dumber than he is. like, he’s actually smart and a really good spellcaster…. in the books.

so simply by stating this most of the arguments against romione become void. “he’s too stupid/weak for her” simply not true. “he’s a terrible friend who doesn’t stand up for her” also not true. “he’s too insecure to have made a move on her,” yes, but given the context i don’t think people would freak on about ron’s upbringing, i think many would be more understanding, especially considering his growth. even if he wasn’t insecure, hermione is beyond incredible and is bound to make anyone nervous when pursuing her (not an excuse for ron to act like a dick, but it does explain a lot where the movies don’t). “they argue too much” they bump heads, none of the arguments they have are actually super damning, with the exception of ron leaving in deathly hallows.

maybe i’ve covered everything (excluding the abhorrent amount of classism that clouds people’s judgments around how they view ron when harping about how hermione deserves better? hopefully).

now, i know people won’t like me mentioning the cursed child, but i’m going to considering we actually get an insight of their life as a longterm married couple there. a lot of ron stans hated how ron was the only character that wasn’t doing something incredible. harry was head of the aurors, ginny was a famous quidditch player retired to a famous journalist, neville was a hogwarts professor, hermione was quite literally minister on magic. and ron…. ran the joke shop with george.

and i think this was almost the perfect route to go down for ron. because he was average, and was perfectly fine with just being average. hello?? that speaks leagues of growth for his character. he’s supportive of hermione’s work, he grounds her when she gets too caught up in being the literal president of wizarding society, and he still viciously defends her, minister or not. in fact, he’s proud to simply be known as hermione’s husband because he doesn’t feel the need to prove to anyone else his worth. the people he loves most know his worth, hermione never downplays or underestimates him, they are complete equals in the relationship in every single way that matters. they kept ron’s best qualities whilst making him seem more of a healed person. they work so well as a married couple without it seeming like mischaracterisation (not to mention the cursed child literally shows how those two are in love in every reality, so there quite literally can’t be a better partner for hermione or ron according to canon).

so i really don’t understand how professional relationship counsellors can go online and denounce it. probs because they only watched the movies, but it’s 2023 and ron stans should not STILL be fighting for their lives trying to defend him from people who simply don’t consume media with as much depth (which is fine, but one should clarify if they’re talking about the movies because i’ve seen people state they’re talking about the hp BOOKS when it’s simply just…. the films). anyways. romione on top, thanks to coming to my ted talk.

[goryhorroor]

day 26 of horror: more underrated/obscure essential horror films

[itsall-delicate]

I absolutely ADORE the detail of Pen wearing her hair (almost) exclusively down after Colin says this to her! I think the only time she wore her hair up after this was during the church sequence

gif credit: @thatonekimgirl

[possessable]

also, why did she call him that

[sugar-soda]

Kids Shouldn't be Here: Paladin Danse

Fallout 4 Platonic Companions x Child! Sole

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Child in dangerous situations

A/N: This is NOT romantic at all! This is all platonic relationships that explore how the Fallout 4 companions and game would change if the Sole Survivor was a young child. Any romantic suggestions or reblogs will be blocked.

Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

Combat was no place for a child.

That's why the Brotherhood of Steel rarely let squires out on the field. Even reconnaissance missions could go quickly sideways if hostiles are spotted. So children were kept on base for their safety. On the rare occasions they are allowed outside, it was often in groups and they were to be escorted by at least an equal number of knights. In the event they are attacked, they were given strict instructions to retreat or find cover if retreat was impossible.

Despite this, training for all brotherhood squires started very young. At age 7, basic defense maneuvers were taught and simple training regimens would be implemented into a squire’s daily schedule, increasing in difficulty as they aged. By starting at a early age, they would be fully prepared for any situation when they were allowed to go off base.

The Brotherhood took great pride in their defense of their young members, which led to many adults feeling safe enough to have a few little ones themselves, if they are able.

Not everyone did, of course. Some were just unable to reproduce, others had no desire for children, and the rest felt like it was unfair to have a kid if they were constantly out in the field, finding the likelihood of their death way too high.

____________________________________________________________

Paladin Danse, for one, just never had the thought of having his own kids. He was too busy with his duties as a Paladin and never desired to cultivate a relationship, much less one that would lead to fatherhood. So, the idea simply never crossed his mind. 

Now, he didn't hate children. He just never had much of a chance to interact with them. On a few occasions he had assisted with class training and demonstrations, but those were few and far between. He was also never assigned to escort any groups of them as a knight, which he is thankful for. The children's lack of discipline and excitement for potential danger would likely drive him up the wall, and he couldn't scold a kid for having fun. At least when helping with a class, their teacher would be there to reign their youthful energy into something productive.

Right now, the Paladin could use some of that energy. The attacking ghouls seemed never ending. 

Ever since they first stepped into the Commonwealth, Recon Squad Gladius had taken loss after loss. Knight Brach, Knight Worwick, Knight-Sergeant Dawes, all dead to this god forsaken place. 

Now they lost Knight Keane.

Danse would never admit it, but he believed that there was a high chance of all of them dying. With Knight Keane dead and Knight Rhys injured, it left only him to fight off the ghouls attacking the Cambridge Police Station. Scribe Haylen was assisting the best she could, but was currently using one hand to shoot, and the other to put pressure on Knight Rhys’s injury, so her aim was inaccurate at best.

Danse prided himself on his skills in combat, but his lack of sleep and pounding headache had left his own aim absolutely abysmal. He had seen civilian children with better aim, he swore.

One ghoul got much too close to him. If he wasn’t in his power armor, he would have been cut by its long, infected, clawed nails. Danse blocked the thrashing feral with his arm and shoved back, knocking it off its feet long enough to pull the trigger. God, how many of these things were there?

“DUCK AND COVER!”

A young voice screamed out from…above? The situation only was made more chaotic by the explosion of a molotov cocktail thrown over the defensive wall. Multiple of the ghouls fell to the fire, dead on impact as more mindlessly ran through the flames. Two additional lasers shot past him, and a gunshot cracked in his ears. Danse quickly recovered and fired at the closest feral. He could ask questions later, right now he had to insure the survival of what was left of his squad. Even if that meant accepting backup from unknown forces.

“Civilians in the area! Check your fire!”

The fire had considerably weakened the attacking ghouls. Now, they were falling in one or two shots. The final feral threw itself at Danse, only for a bullet to rip through its neck before making contact.

Danse kept his guard up and scanned the perimeter for additional threats. Nothing. No more ghouls at the moment. Excellent. He turned to look at where the additional shots came from and assessed if they could be threats.

A man and a Mr. Handy, and if the shouted warning, the explosion, and the sound of bullets ringing in his ears was any indication, there was an additional person, though he assumed they weren’t as young as their voice sounded like. His guess was a sniper of some sort, which is how they were able to throw the cocktail so far. He wasn’t sure where they were shooting from, but there were enough structurally sound buildings around that any of them could have had a fire escape that could be climbed.

The Mr. Handy looked standard enough. Nothing to indicate it was  different from its more violent counterparts, except maybe a cleaner finish. It was clearly well taken care of. Maybe that’s why it didn’t appear hostile toward anyone, now that the ghouls were cleared. In the event it did turn violent, Danse was confident he could take it.

The man may be a more difficult threat. He seemed well-built and he appeared unphased by the ghoul attack, holding himself similar to Danse wished more knights would. Stern, straight backed, and collected while holding his laser musket at the ready. This man clearly had training in combat. Still, Danse was sure his power armor gave him more than enough of an advantage should the need arise. He opened his mouth to thank the man, but was cut off by him looking up and yelling.

“Sunny! Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Preston, I’m fine! They didn’t even get close to the fire escape.”

The clattering of a rusted, metal ladder was heard, followed by quick footsteps as the previously unseen sniper rushed past the wall.

Oh. So he was incorrect. The sniper was as young as her voice sounded. Danse frowned. The rifle on her back clearly registered her as the sniper, but he had difficulty believing someone so young would be able to handle such a powerful weapon. The recoil alone should damage her shoulder, not to mention the weight of the weapon. 

Such questions were not important at the present moment, however. More pressing matters needed their attention. These civilians may not be completely benevolent in their assistance. With the squad's weakened state, it would be easy for a well armed group to overtake them. He was confident he could take on each of the three individually, he wasn’t sure he could take on the man if the girl and Mr. Handy was giving him backup. His power armor was strong, but enough damage could cause it to break and leave them vulnerable.

“We appreciate the assistance, civilians,” Danse said, addressing the man. “But what’s your business here?”

The man moved himself, so he was in front of the girl. “We were on our way to Diamond City when we got your distress signal. It sounded like you needed a hand, so we came.”

The girl held up her wrist, showing off a Pipboy attached to it. “I picked it up on my Pipboy!”

The Commonwealth must have more operational vaults than the Wasteland. She said it so casually and without concern, despite the rarity of the device. She must have been from a Vault herself, as Danse could see now that she wore a vault suit under her duster and sparse leather armor. Though it didn’t explain her presence here and not underground.

“You know, when you first meet someone for the first time, it’s typical to introduce yourself. Not interrogate them,” the man said, almost sounding as if he was teasing. Danse knew that dealing with civilians should be dealt with more gently, as they couldn’t be expected to have the same discipline as a Brotherhood soldier. The death of his comrades have left him wary, however, believing caution to be the best way to move forward.

“Apologies. If I appear suspicious, it’s because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire,” He apologized. If the man was willing to help, it would be unwise to anger him. “I’m Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel. Over there is Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys. If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side.”

Danse held out his hand in a gesture of goodwill, which the man shook. “Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. This is Sunny Roberts, I’m escorting her to Diamond City.” Danse had heard very little of the Minutemen. Any data on the cause was collected before his squad was sent out. Trained troops of volunteers would travel the Commonwealth responding to settlements in need of defense when called. A noble and honorable cause no doubt, but overly charitable and unfocused, with no stated way of collecting needed resources for their men. So he had to assume a single civilian being escorted by one was standard procedure.

Roberts pulled one of the arms of the Mr. Handy as she introduced the robot. “And this is Codsworth!” 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, good sir!” it said, waving a claw in greeting. Danse really didn’t want to interact with it more than he had to, so he was relieved when Garvey continued speaking.

“I’m a little surprised to see Brotherhood all the way out here. I heard a little about you guys back in the day, but I thought you guys were all based in the west.”

“Affirmative, we are generally located toward the west coast. However, we have been sent out on recon duty, but I am down a man and supplies are running low. I’ve been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal’s too weak to reach them.”

Haylen finished stimpaking Rhys and spoke up, “Sir, if I may?”

“Proceed, Haylen.”

“I’ve modified the radio tower on the roof of the police station, but i’m afraid it just isn’t enough. What we need is something that will boost the signal.”

“Our target is ArcJet Systems, and it contains the technology we need…the Deep Range Transmitter,” Danse told Garvey. “We infiltrate the facility, secure the transmitter, and bring it back here. So what do you say? You willing to lend the Brotherhood of Steel a hand?”

Garvey looked apprehensive, but Roberts nudged him. “Mr. Preston, they need help. That man clearly needs more than a stimpak and I think I saw Haylen run out of those anyway.”

Danse suppressed a frown. Roberts was perceptive. While that wasn’t the last of their stimpaks, it was the last Scribe Haylen had in her first aid kit. There were two, maybe three, at best inside. The last of the Radaway had been used two days ago during a radstorm. Not nearly enough if they wanted to survive any future attacks.

Garvey, luckily, seemed to cave to the light pressure. “Yes, we’ll help you, but we will need more ammo and supplies if we want to get to ArcJet Systems. The last I heard, their security system was still operational.”

“I can assure you that I wouldn’t undertake this mission unless I had confidence in your abilities,” Danse assured. He turned and went toward Knight Rhys, who was only now starting to sit up with Scribe Haylen’s assistance. “Haylen, take Rhys inside and bind his wounds. That stimpak won’t be able to heal the more superficial wounds and we don’t want them getting infected and becoming a bigger problem. Rhys, once you're on your feet, I want you to make certain that the perimeter is secure.”

Once he heard their confirmations, he turned back toward Garvey. “Resupply yourself inside the police station, then let me know when you are ready to begin.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roberts had shot past Danse and Garvey, the Mr. Handy following fretfully behind. By the time the rest of them had filed in, he could already hear her rifling through ammo cases in one of the side rooms. He restocked his own supply of power cells at the front desk before allowing Garvey to grab his own. Danse watched as Sunny emerged from the side room and sat down on the floor near the door with a magazine and Nuka-Cola, using her duffle bag as a seat. The Mr. Handy started undoing and then redoing her braids, earning a quiet “Thanks, Codsworth” in return.

“Your charge seems awfully…attached to your robot.” Danse told Garvey. While he was aware of Mr. Handys being used for childcare before the war, and therefore likely used the same in vaults, seeing it do so was still unnerving.

Garvey looked up from counting his ammo and looked at the duo, unfazed by their strange display. “You mean Sunny? Yeah she’s pretty close to him, but I don’t blame her. He’s kinda all she has left.” Preston lowered his voice and said, “Both of her parents were murdered and the man who did it kidnapped her brother. That’s why I’m escorting her to Diamond City, to try and find leads on where he is now.”

Danse frowned, sympathetic to the girl, but still confused. “Surely there were more capable residents of the vault than a child. Despite her impressive abilities, she is still a prime target for hostiles.”

“There are no other residents,” Garvey stressed, now continuing with filling his ammo belt. “According to Sunny, none of the other residents' pods would open, and the terminals said their life support got cut off. She’s the sole survivor of that place”

Now he was more confused, “Life support pods? Were the residents quarantined due to disease? Is it wise to allow a potential carrier out in the open?”

Garvey shook his head, “No, she’s perfectly healthy as far as I can tell. At least physically.” He checked on her again. Now she insisted on the Mr. Handy lowering itself on the ground, to have it read along with her. If it wasn’t for its creepy eyes appearing to scan the page, Danse would have assumed it had powered down. Garvey lowered his voice again all the way down to a whisper, “The reason she was in there was she’s pre-war.”

Danse flicked his gaze back to her. She was snuggled up the best she could to the Mr. Handy, pressing a cheek to the cool metal as she scanned the magazine's pages, her knees propped up. Danse would admit he had difficulty telling a child’s age, but there was no way she was a teenager. Her height and awkward limbs suggested she was about to hit puberty, but her chubby cheeks and higher pitched voice showed it may still be awhile.

“I find that very difficult to believe.”

Garvey finished filling his ammo belt, and put it on. “Believe it or not, it’s true. The vault froze the original residents as soon as the bombs dropped. Nonconsensually. Apparently, they were told the pods were for decontamination. Sunny said one moment her father was telling her it would be alright, the next? Everyone’s dead. She’s only been out for a few days”

Dear God. Danse couldn’t keep the shock off his face. It was appalling how this happened. Vault-Tec had the technology. They could have kept the residents and their descendants alive for centuries, he knew they could. It was well known that the legendary Lone Wanderer was from a vault. But instead they committed atrocity after atrocity. There was a reason most vaults sat rotting, with all residents dead. Except it didn’t kill this one, just left her as a child out of place and out of time. 

“She…seems to be handling it well?” he started uneasily. It was hard connecting an orphan left in the vault to the child chugging the last of her Nuka-Cola. 

“Most of the time, she seems fine,” Garvey started, “ but if you remind her of what happened to her parents or what happened in the vault, she starts to break down. Happened when I first met her. She was fine until I asked her where her parents were. So it's best to avoid the topic.” The Minuteman straightened up and readied his musket. “Ready to go?”

“Affirmative. Follow my lead.”

Danse didn’t realize a third member had joined them until they were going down the steps of the station. “Roberts, return to the station. Haylen and Rhys are fully capable of watching you until Garvey’s return.”

She continued walking even as he addressed her, Codsworth following behind. “No, I’m going.”

Danse had to remind himself that she was not technically under his command, and pushed away the feeling of disrespect he was just hit with. Grabbing her by the shoulder, he contined, “I can not allow a civilian minor to accompany us on a potentially hazardous assignment. We will return shortly.”

“Arcjet worked with the military, so they had to have a great security system.  You'll need someone hack into terminals and shut it down. I know you can't, Mr. Preston, and judging by the locked terminals in the station, I'm betting you can't either, Paladin.”

Garvey, luckily, seemed to be on his side. “I know you wanna help, Sunny, but you're going to be vulnerable if we get in a fight inside the building. Codsworth can only lay so much cover fire, and Paladin Danse and I won't be able to protect you.”

Roberts shrugged off his hand and adjusted her duffle bag to reach inside. “ I know I can’t fight if someone gets close. There’s a reason I use a sniper rifle. That's why I grabbed this at the station.”

A Stealth-boy was pulled out of her bag and held up triumphantly. “I can cloak myself so no one can see me, and uncloak when I need to use a terminal, or pick a lock, or something.”

“The lockpicking I'm sure won't be necessary, Miss Sunny,” the Mr. Handy cut in. He sounded a little put off, but Danse was sure that was his imagination.

Sunny rolled her eyes good naturedly, and zipped her bag back up. She clipped the Stealth-boy onto her duster for easy access before continuing forward. “Besides,” She added, “that Rhys guy looked like he wanted to shoot me in the back. I'm not going back in there with him.”

That made too much sense, unfortunately. Danse knew that Rhys took great pride as Brotherhood knight and had a poor temper with it. Having your superior protect you during combat was nothing to be a ashamed of, but needing assistance from two civilians and a machine was probably where Rhys drew the line. His ego was bruised and Robert's unusual attachment to the Mr.Handy drew a larger target for his ire. 

In the Brotherhood, everyone should be treated with decency. Civilans should be treated with caution, as they were outsiders, so it would understandable to appear cold but it was still a soldier's duty to protect them and show they were not a threat until threatened. Superiors should be treated with the most respect, those of the same rank all held the same duties and should understand each other, and subordinates should be led by a firm but fair hand. Rhys’ temper often kept him from that. He had already received multiple dressing downs for aggressiveness toward fellow knights, insubordination toward superior officers, and mistreatment of scribes and initiates, which is why he was unable to climb the ranks any higher.

If he contined his behavior, he would recieve another for his attempts of intimidating a child, of all things.

Danse sighed and relinquished the argument. Mostly to avoid further headaches. “Very well. But I expect you to listen to every command Garvey and myself give you until we return,” he stated. 

Roberts smiled. “ Yes sir, Mr. Paladin!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what exactly is the Brotherhood of Steel? Like, what do you guys do?”

After Danse had given explanation on what had happened to lead his squad to such dire straits in the Commonwealth, silence had fallen over the group as they jogged toward their destination. While the power armor lengthened his strides, each step was slower, so Garvey was able to keep up easily. Roberts’ shorter legs made the trek more difficult for her, as she was practically running compared to them. Despite this, she was able to break the silence about 10 minutes afterwards without sounding out of breath. Must have been all that youthful energy.

The question was reasonable, he supposed. The Brotherhood of Steel formed after the bombs fell, and haven't been in the Commonwealth ever. So they wouldn't be spoken about often enough for someone who's only been out for a few days to know about them. Danse racked his head for the recruiting methods he learned as an initiate. 

“Our order seeks to understand the nature of technology. It's power. It's meaning to us as humans. And we fight to secure that power from those that would abuse it,” He stated. It wasn't the exact wording, but it was close enough he thinks.

“What do you mean by ‘abuse’?”

“Before the Great War, science and technology became more of a burden than a benefit. The atom bomb, bi-engineered plagues, and FEV are clear examples of the horrors technological advancement had wrought. We are here to make sure that doesn't happen.”

Roberts stayed silent for a bit, mulling the words over in her head. Danse was sure she would agree. She saw first hand how much was lost in the Great War. How technology in the wrong hands could rip apart families and kill entire nations. 

“So what do you do when they do?” she asked, “Who decides who should and shouldn’t have certain things. Like, I get raiders and killers shouldn’t get, like, an atom bomb, but what if a small town has one or even just a lot of advanced weapons? What do you do then?”

Danse couldn’t help but be reminded of the story of the Lone Wanderer finding a small town built around an atom bomb, funnily enough. Apparently she had shut it off, but he questioned the validity of the story. “If the town is willing, we would temporarily relocate the citizens and send in a squad to disarm the bomb, dismantle it, and take the individual pieces to a secure location. In the case of the weapons, the same procedure is followed or they are to be put under the protection and control of the Brotherhood,” he said.

“And if they aren’t?” Roberts pressed. “I mean, I can’t imagine why a town would want a bomb, but the town could have those weapons for defense, not to hurt anyone.”

Danse swallowed, and continued, aware that the answer would sound wrong to someone so young, though maybe not so naive. “If a town is unwilling, they are put under control by force.”

Sunny didn’t ask any more questions.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roberts kept her promise in Arcjet Systems and stayed out of the way. When the synths first showed up, Danse was concerned when he immediately lost sight of her. Then she faded back into sight and he remembered the Stealth-boy she had. On occasion, he swore he saw a tire iron swing down on a synth across the room, but that was it.

“Damn it, a dead end! See if you can get the door open.”

“Got it!”

Roberts kneeled down in front of the door and carefully placed a bobby pin and screwdriver inside. Carefully turning the lock slowly and looking for the sweet spot. The Mr. Handy spoke for the first time since they left the station.

“Must you use such a criminal skill, Miss Sunny? Even hacking the terminal would be preferable.”

“Locking picking is faster. I promise you can lecture me later, Codsworth.”

Garvey leaned curiously over to observe her work. “Where did you even learn to do that? I didn't think schools before the Great War taught how to pick a lock.”

She was silent for a moment before answering. “ They didn't. I learned from a magazine and practiced on Mom and Dad's safe until I got it right.” a light blush bloomed on Roberts’ face. “I thought the cover looked cool.”

The Mr. Handy sighed, “ Sadly, I didn't find out about this terrible exercise until she had already cracked the safe open and had moved onto Mum's jewelry box.” the robot gave a simulated sigh. “ After that, I insisted we switch the liquor cabinet over to a five digit combination lock.”

“I wasn't going to go through the liquor cabinet,” Roberts pouted, but made no further argument. She replaced the bobby pin with another before attempting the other direction.

Danse leaned closer alongside Garvey. Roberts showed much potential for her age. Already well versed in combat, and possessed other skills to further the mission. If a few rougher edges could be smoothed out, she could become a very successful Brotherhood member in the future.

“ Roberts, have your Stealth-boy ready. There are more synths on the other side of door.”

“Got it.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once they had gotten to the engine core, it seemed like the synths had multiplied. Roberts had disappeared as she should, but Danse hoped they didn't accidentally leave her behind above them. As they reached the bottom, the lights turned on. Excellent. Roberts must have gotten ahead and restored the auxiliary power. 

Danse backed up against the glass of a window so none of the synths could attack from behind. The Mr. Handy had set up in front of the stairs, blocking any more approaching synths with a well placed shot.

Garvey kept moving around the room, as the slow reload of his laser musket left him open for a melee attack if he didn't stay out of arms reach.

“Paladin Danse!” Roberts pressed her face up against the glass from the other side. “I can turn on the engine from in here and take out all the synths but everyone needs to get in here!”

Adjusting his footing to back up toward the door, Danse yelled out to the two others. “Everyone inside the engine room now!”

Garvey and the Mr. Handy retreated into the the room, Danse bringing up the rear. His armor acted as an effective shield for the two as an automated voice started a count down. By the time it called out three, the Mr. Handy closed the door and Danse and Garvey pressed against it to keep the synths from getting in.

A scorching wave of heat hit the door as the engine roared to life. Garvey jumped back away from the red hot door, but Danse stayed against the door. His power armor was made to handle extreme temperatures such as this. While he wouldn't take unnecessary risk like standing in the flames, the heat off the door was negligible at worst.

As the engine sputtered off, Roberts ran down the hallway towards them. “ Is everyone alright?”, she asked, “That engine is way more powerful than I thought. It didn't just fry the synths like I thought it would, it turned them to ash!”

Danse made a mental note to inform his superiors of the deadly engine. While he had no idea how someone without the Brotherhood resources would move the giant thing, but it would be better to deal with it soon rather than find out who. Danse looked down at Roberts. She had dirt on her face from the window and her braids were once again a mess but she appeared relatively unharmed as she looked  up at him.

“Great job,” Garvey praised, “ Sorry that I doubted you.” He affectionately ruffled her hair, causing more of it to fall out of her braids.

“Excellent work, Roberts.” Danse added. “With the power on and the way cleared, we should be able to locate the Deep Range Transmitter.”

Roberts grinned. “You're welcome, Paladin Danse. But you can just call me ‘Sunny’. ‘Roberts’ makes you sound like my old principal.” 

Not knowing exactly what a principal was, Danse agreed to the small request.

“Very well, Sunny. Let's move.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my gosh, the sun's too bright now! I think I spent too long in there!”

Danse had to agree with Sunny as he squinted against the harsh light in his eyes when they exited Arcjet Systems. The Deep Range Transmitter was secured and the whole building cleared for another squad to later survey for other resources.

Danse turned and faced the group. “ Thank you both for your assistance with securing the Deep Range Transmitter.” He focused on Garvey. “ If you are interested, I'm sure the Brotherhood of Steel would be proud to have you join our cause.”

“The offer is appreciated,” Garvey smiled, “ but I'll have to decline. Just make sure the Brotherhood knows to leave the settlements alone.”

“As long as they cause us no problems, that should not be an issue,” Danse agreed before turning to Sunny. “As a token of appreciation, take this,” he handed her his spare rifle, “ it's a standard issue energy rifle with a few modifications. The lack of recoil and shorter range will be more suitable for defense in closed areas.”

Sunny took it gratefully, “Thanks! I already live with a semi-permanently bruised shoulder. All this leather armor can only do so much. I don't think I can live with my wrist being like that, too.”

Danse felt a little smug. He knew she couldn’t use that rifle without repercussions.  “The offer stands for you as well. It's not every day we have a squire so far ahead of their peers. You could become one of the youngest knights we ever had with more proper training.”

“Oh! Well, thank you for the offer,” Sunny hesitated, clearly unsure on what to do. “ but I don't think I'll have time for training. You see, I'm looking for someone and I have to follow my leads. So I can't stay at your Brotherhood base.”

“Accommodations can be made for your…unique circumstances, I’m sure once I explain the situation to Elder Maxson, he would sign off on it himself” Danse pushed, as Sunny awkwardly shifted her feet. “ and the Brotherhood resources could be used in your search. To my knowledge, you are looking for your younger brother, correct?” 

Sunny sent a quick glare to Garvey, who looked unrepentant. Then she looked back at Danse, “Yes, I’m looking for my brother. His name is Shawn. The man who killed my parents took him, and I’m going to find him."

“I understand,” Danse comforted. “I also understand you need all the help you can get. While you would be expected to uphold Brotherhood values and rules, you would be under our protection. Since you are also under the Minutemen, your presence will serve to prevent hostilities between the groups.”

“But I’m not part of the Minutemen, Mr. Preston is just escorting me.”

That caught Garvey’s attention and he raised an eyebrow. “Sunny, you’ve been an honorary Minuteman since you helped at Concord.”

Her head whipped around in shock and her eyes grew bigger. “Really?”, she asked excitedly.

“Yes,” laughed Garvey good-naturedly, “just don’t expect me to give you assignments. Not until you're older. The word ‘honorary’ is there for a reason.”

Sunny whipped around once again to face Danse again, grinning widely and holding her hand out. “Okay, Paladin Danse, if you can convince your boss to let me continue to live outside your base, I’ll join the Brotherhood of Steel. Don’t make me regret it!” She pointed a finger at him.

Despite himself, Danse smiled lightly. “Excellent! Glad to have you, Squire Sunny.”

[kastrullhaj]

Will be selling these as sticker designs at NärCon Expo in October! (:

[lass-us-slay]

There’s a lot B-127 doesn’t know

He’s been down in sub-level 50 for Primus knows how long, so it’s certainly plausible that B doesn’t know certain words. By the Pits- B probably doesn’t even know what certain Cybertronian traditions are! Or even what there’re called (and probably even more-). He’s been down there that long.

Some words that he might have no clue of are:

Conjunx

Engex

Berth (there were nothing to sleep in down there)

Any vulgar words

Shanix (there’s no need for it down at sub-level 50)

Examine

Medical terms

Most likely emotional terms aswell

Sometimes B has to stop and remember what a certain items name is. But so far hes had no reason to, so he hasn’t had to ask anyone of what something is.

I imagine that he only knows certain word thanks to the data-pads that were thrown down to waste disposal. Although that doesn’t change the fact that many of those data-pads didn’t explain things such as a “Trine” or anything else. (Those are common terms to the regular Cybertronian, there’s no need for anyone to explain what they are)

But the word that I’ll focus on today is: Leader.

———

B-127 has heard of it, but not what it means. He ment to ask- he really did! But everyone got swept up with work and he found he couldn’t really find the time to ask.

So he guessed what it meant. And what did he think it meant?

A friend who many people knew and took advice from.

Did he confirm this? No. But did it sure look like one? Yes.

So he supposes Ori- Optimus and D-16 (or Megatron-?) will have to find themselves a new leader to help work through their troubles! And he’d be more than happy to help them, after all their all best friends aren’t they?

And best friends always have each others backs.

B just needs to find a way for them to talk to each other without fighting… Then they can finally all work together to rebuild Iacon together!

He bets it’ll be fun.

(Edit: I PUT B-126 INSTEAD OF 7 😭)

[scarlet--wiccan]

Did you see what Joe Locke said about his casting 😬😬😬

I did. For anybody who's not sure what we're talking about, yesterday Variety published a feature on Joe Locke, which mostly explored his experiences filming Heartstopper and Agatha All Along, as well as his thoughts and feelings about rising so quickly in the industry as a young gay actor.

Towards the end of the article, Locke is asked about the criticisms and backlash that have been directed towards him and his character on Agatha. To be extremely clear-- because everybody I've seen post about it has taken Locke's statement deliberately out of context-- the interview appears to be focused solely on the reception of Locke's character being unambiguously gay. The article touches briefly on homophobic backlash from general audiences before addressing the claims from many LGBT viewers that the character is too "camp" or stereotypical. Locke asserts that you can't demand representation and then get mad when an actor who's simply being authentic is "too gay" for your taste, and then suggests that some of his detractors may simply be jealous.

The article does acknowledge that Locke's character-- who remains unnamed in all official material-- is universally assumed to be an adaptation of Billy Kaplan, but does not mention whitewashing or erasure in any form. Whether or not Locke is aware of this issue-- and he has no excuse not to be-- he was not asked about it here. He's not talking about it in this article. Given the context, it does feels like he's deflecting the bigger issue, but he is not actually dismissing rightful criticism out of hand, as many people on social media are reporting.

This article did not endear me to Locke in any way. If anything, it proved that white gay representation is given precedence over racial and cultural inclusivity, and that white gay fandom can and will shield actors like Locke and projects like Agatha from the necessary conversations about antisemitism and anti-Romani racism. But we as fans need to be hold ourselves to better journalistic and intellectual standards than this.

[kimquatz]

i think it's so fucked up i bought a gamer laptop in hopes of it being pretty sturdy only for it to kaput on me in two years LMFAO

[divorceblogger]

the vampire armand // the vampire lestat

the text is marrying bourgeois privilege with vampire and family horror, essentially equating old and powerful vampires to landed lords who ruled their territories and exploited their subjects according to their every whim… I love these books. the vampire in literary and cinematic history is also often a landed lord but tends to be socially ostracised - here, the vampire actively participates in the social and political environment cultivated by humans and if you didn’t look very closely you probably couldn’t tell them apart. the human capacity for evil feeds and enables the vampire capacity for evil.