#i have tried for years to be normal. why would i actively seek out the opposite.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[hoyotournament]

FINALS!!! Furina vs Kiana Kaslana

(Propaganda under the cut)

Furina:

the girl who saved fontaine. condemned herself to a life of silent pain and suffering without any warning or preparation. she could confide in no one, seek out help from no one, all while bearing the weight of her entire nation on her shoulders. not only did her willpower save everyone in fontaine, but after the prophecy was averted, she was finally allowed to live a normal life.

Kiana Kaslana:

TLDR: she's kiana kaslana what do you MEAN!!!! kiana is a beautifully written character who fully encapsulates what hi3 is about and she's so full of love and guilt and (most importantly) hope. she's a clone who struggles with her own identity/inhumanity and traumas extending from when she was a young child and her guilt but is so so resilient and so so so so compassionate which ultimately reinforces her humanity :)

kiana's character IS the honkai impact thesis statement. i don't even mean it as in she's the literal main character and face of honkai i genuinely mean it when i say she just IS honkai impact. she reflects every single theme that they portray [hope over nihilism (chapter 25 || the flame chasers and just. the previous era in general), having agency over your identity and your own story (himeko, her being k423 and being so linked to sirin, everlasting flames || the kaslana household name honestly, bronya, fu hua, mei, sirin), believing in the humanity's inherent worth (chapter 25, arc city || elysia <- important since as a current era herrscher, she is a successor to elysia AND as kiana kaslana, she is a narrative parallel of elysia), having faith in the youth (himeko, kevin || the other flame chasers! notably su), etc.] her character being so reflective is also sooooo OUGH to think about when you view it as a reflection of honkai's 50,000 year samsara because kiana is a representation of these themes coming full circle (especially since many of these stretch back to the previous era and elysia).

SHE FEELS SO MUCH. she's so full of love and guilt. she clearly prioritizes others over herself and part of her arc is her learning to value and love herself as well!!! she would give herself for the world ten times over because she holds so much affection for humanity!! (WHILE FEELING DEHUMANIZED BECAUSE OF HER IDENTITY AS BOTH A HERRSCHER AND K423) and it's actively apart of her character's growth :'')

dear god her growth… okok. so i think first you have to understand that a lot of kiana's growth obviously coincides w general maturity as she grows from a teenager to a young adult. but aside from that i think people often forget that younger kiana is incredibly self sufficient since her father literally left her with little to no explanation when she was like. what 8? the insecurity she feels at that! the anger she has to navigate while also balancing it with her own feelings of missing and loving him. basically: kiana has struggled a lot w instability and is thus kinda good at navigating it. ex: she isnt shaken by nagazora and literally tries again and again and again to save mei and convince mei to let her help. the thing is this fucks w her a bit though because a big thing that she does as a means to cope w instability is avoiding them (not reflective of real life of course, but in the fictional hi3 this is partially represented in kiana's repressed memories about her actual origins as k423). she can not stand the realization that she killed himeko that she's so deep in denial and doesnt truly realize it until more than 10 chapters after himeko dies! she's so horrified with her being a herrscher she actively tries to not use her powers out of fear, even when it puts her in harms way (the chapter XI-EX CG!!!!!! her literally trying to kill herself!!) she literally runs away from her friends and loved ones because she's so scared of hurting them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! which is why her promise to himeko to not run away is so important!! because it addresses one of kiana's biggest flaws!!!!! this is especially important bc her refusal to continue her avoidance feeds into her arc during the herrscher of dominion chapters where she both faces her own guilt/identity and deliberately chooses perseverance and hope over nihilism!! she is hope!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

A Birthday Worth Celebrating

A...A yumeship piece with my OC Vizzie and Cater (not completed uhm because I got bored but the idea for the 'end' is included) uh tw? for ig a family life vlogger mom/"boymom" iykwim

It had been about two weeks since his actual birthday, but with Reading Week around the corner, Family Day and Valentine's day all snowballing into the same weekend, it was hard to not justify a trip home; a trip he knew that would result in disaster. At the very least, he held onto the fact he had already celebrated his birthday; and it had been the best he had had so far. He and Viz had had a small celebration on his actual birthday - they had celebrated by splitting a spicy dark chocolate bar and a large pizza on the roof of Ramshackle while stargazing. No cameras, no canned smiles, no retakes, no ruined surprises; he felt….normal.

Which was why he hadn't exactly…planned, on returning home to celebrate anything. His sisters had dm'd him earlier on in the week with the heads up that his mom was planning a 'my baby's all grown up' video. He had tried to not let the thought weigh on him too much. At the very least, based on the script his eldest sister had stripped from their moms computer, he was expected to bring Viz along too. He had every intention of keeping her away from the overbearing attention seeking behaviour his mom would undoubtedly demonstrate; meaning as soon as he had arrived with her and they'd all settled in, his sisters invited her out to go to the mall, an activity she had had on her bucketlist for a while. He knew, already, that his mom wouldn't let him go with them.

"I had you in me for nine months! I raised you for 18 years, and this is the thanks I get?! I barely get to see you! Why don't you wanna pose for the camera for mumsy? You used to be such a good kid Catie-bear"

Her whiplash-inducing screeching faded as Cater's father's voice joined the fray, but he couldn't hear either of them. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and tears pricked at his eyes as his fingers fumbled to lock the door; only to remember he was home, not in Heartslaybul as they glided against smooth metal. He slumped against the door, curling up in front of it as tears started rolling down his cheeks, shaky hands reaching for his phone and texting her.

Are you guys almost back?

"Screw almost."

Her voice startled him. He looked up in disbelief as she heaved herself up onto his windowsill, a small, apologetic smile on her face before she moved in and hugged him.

"W-..w-what are you doing here, the mall is like,…it's like a forty minute drive, what-" She kissed him softly, gently making his babbling stop as she wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"We never went to the mall. We were waiting for an opportunity to get you out of here without making things worse. You doing okay?"

She tucked some of his hair gently behind his ear, concern and adoration in her expression as she smiled at him. He held her hand to his cheek, turning his face just enough to kiss her palm softly, breathing finally evening out.

"I will be once we get out of here….and as long as I get to stick with you."

She rubbed his cheek softly with her thumb, kissing his forehead once more before holding him.

"Yeah…I'm not going anywhere. Now come on, your sisters and I have a gift for you."

She pulled him up and over to the window as he rubbed his sleeve against his face, removing what little concealer he had chosen to put on. Right before she swung her legs over the edge, she pulled him in gently, wordlessly, kissing every now-visible freckle that there was and reveling in the gentle heat that emanated from his cheeks as a result.

She only indulged in her own antics for a few moments before propelling herself to the treebranch she had used to get herself to his window in the first place. Guiding him, they made it safely to the ground where his sisters stood waiting with wide grins on their faces as the two of them held hands, Viz going so far as to lean on his arm. There was an air about the girls, which Cater tuned into easily, that they had been gossiping. But based on the genuine smiles he saw from his sisters….faces he hadn't seen in years, he knew that this birthday part two was only going to get better.

------------

Ending: His sisters bought him new converse and a custom knee pads for skateboarding, and the three of them collaborated on a custom paintjob for his skateboard so they could go to the park and eat pretzels together for his birthday

Got over writingblock for this, is it my best? No. But I wanted to make something for Cater's birthday

anyways uhhhhhh do I tag? It feels weird to tag. No I don't think I will

[tokiro07]

Toki Reads Shonen Jump 2024, Issue #49

HxH: Hisoka claims that because he's not into bestiality, his tastes are normal - this is patently false; the Phantom Troupe inches towards conflict with the Heil-Ly. With any luck, we'll get a Nen battle, haven't seen one of those in a while

Yozakura Family: It turns out that the Yozakura's already planned for the possibility of the twins defying orders, and help them to reach Asa's ship; Hifumi's Infinity manages to stave off Asa's attacks, proving that she's capable of defending herself and Alpha. I'm glad to know that the family has faith in the kids, and that they aren't just going to take a backseat for the rest of the finale

Undead Undead: Billy mansplains the concept of war crimes to War; Julia womansplains the concept of souls to Soul and stabs Andy in the head to bring back Victor. The narrow-mindedness of the Rules contrasts the freedom of the Negators; while I'm sad that we cut away from Feng, it's very exciting to see Julia bringing back Victor while mirroring Fuuko's actions from 210 chapters ago wait...210...LIKE HOW LONG SHE WENT WITHOUT SEEING ANDY???)

Roboco: Roboco makes a movie that subtly implicates her and the rest of her town as accomplices in some kind of criminal activity. Honestly, I'm more interested in what crime she apparently committed than the film itself

Sakamoto: Sakamoto inadvertently teaches Torres how amazing everyday life is; Shin convinces Tenkyu that he's the fortune teller, but immediately abandons the plan to manipulate him when he learns that Tenkyu wants to kidnap Sakamoto's family. The bit with Torres was very fun and cute, and I'm interested to see how the bit with Tenkyu turns out, though I'm wondering why it was necessary to trick him if it was going to be overturned so quickly?

Elusive Samurai: Mima sends her dad letters explaining the deviant sexual acts that Tokiyuki totally makes her do; after a couple year timeskip, Sadamune and Tokiyuki meet for their final battle. Matsui keeps teasing that Tokiyuki is going to marry Mima and have Shizuku and Ayako as concubines, but no one seems to be even a little onboard with this plan, and Tokiyuki doesn't even seem to be aware of it!; speaking of being unaware, apparently Tokiyuki views Sadamune as a father-figure? I may need to reread to catch that nuance

Blue Box: Taiki cheers up a heartbroken Kyo with some food. A heartwarming display of friendship; gives a small analysis on risk-taking - if Kyo had been proactive with Moriya, he would have had a chance, but it's against his nature to do so, so he would have been misrepresenting himself

Akane-Banashi: Issho's backstory is further revealed, being a rich boy who left his family to pursue his own fortune; when a well-respected rakugo-ka saves him from a yakuza, Issho's lifelong journey finally begins. The discussion about passion, that Issho tried to become a soba chef out of gratitude and obligation rather than love for the art, resonates as advice to actively seek happiness in life

Kill Blue: Juzo gets, like, crazy into PreCure and reenacts the diner scene from Pulp Fiction by quoting it instead of the Bible. I am left to wonder if this is just a gag or foreshadowing that his mind is being more heavily affected by the de-aging

Nue's Exorcist: Fujino is distraught that Gakuro has come to save her because it gives her hope that he loves her like she loves him, even though she knows that he would go out of his way to save anyone regardless. "Of course [she's worth it]! Obviously" is a pretty romantic line, so I'll be surprised if she's not endgame; however, if she IS endgame, then it's weird that she's going second and preceding Kazusa; if Kawae gives us canon polyamory and commits to it, I swear right now I'll reread the whole series and actively try to love it

Kagurabachi: Everyone shows the resolve to sacrifice themselves for Samura, and Hakuri is able to summon his Enchanted Blade, Tobimune, for him. Self-sacrifice seems to be the theme of this arc, I expect that will play into how one of the Enchanted Blades gets transferred to the Hishaku

Chojo: Omega Inukai spreads a Chojo-loving zombie virus through all of Chinjuku; everything is returned to normal with a tea party. This did not turn out to be the sudden climactic finale that some folks thought it would be

Astro Royale: Sou exposits on her past with Himuro, framing obvious and horrific police brutality as heroic and beautiful in the context of her flashback; Terasu wins the fight by waiting out Sou self-destructing. Terasu was perfectly useless here, I'd really have preferred he actually fight; I really hope that Himuro's police brutality isn't actually meant to be endearing, cus that framing really makes it look like it's supposed to be

Murakami: Murakami calls out Sanmoto Gorozaemon for his vague goal-setting in generically "conquering the world" and his shallow definition of good and evil. Considering that this is supposedly the strongest Yokai, I'm very unclear of where this story can go from here

Kiyoshi: Sakaki gets a middling roll on Sting, forcing him to fight Yuda with an umbrella to surprisingly competent effect; the chuunibyou from last week accidentally summons the Great Demon Lord. This could easily just be the introduction of the main antagonist, but it's always scary when such a big enemy shows up before the 20-chapter mark

Hima-Ten: While helping Kanna move into her new apartment, Tenichi discovers her dark secret - she has a fetish for butlers; the implications of this are completely lost on Tenichi. Honestly, Kanna is the most compelling of the love interests so far, particularly because she's both clearly an active character AND conflicted about whether she should chase her usual instincts and pursue Tenichi when he's already interested in someone else

Ichi the Witch: When Desscaras and Kumugi fail to match Hisame's fashion sense, Ichi comes to the logical conclusion that the only answer is vore. While I'm sad that Kumugi isn't the star of this arc as I predicted, Ichi's out-of-the-box thinking is exactly what I was hoping for from this series, so I'm excited to see what he comes up with

Shinobi Undercover: Miyake, codename Tsubame, is revealed to be the underling to an even tougher fugitive ninja, Hachikuma; it's also revealed that Aoi's family was killed by a ninja. Yodaka's fear that Aoi will hate him if she finds out he's a ninja is an interesting wrinkle, but I do have to wonder if she actually KNOWS anything about ninjas in the first place

Hakutaku: When Zenji refuses to join the dev team, Noto very openly stalks him home; Hikuma, lacking in athletic ability, wanders in their general direction until he happens upon Zenji's sister, Mizuki; Zenji's sad backstory about his dead brother is revealed; a bitter woman bans children in a PUBLIC PARK from playing games that involve balls, so Hikuma resolves to make a game that she can't object to. I feel like I'd be more compelled by this if I understood why this woman has any say or power here, but at least we should get a clearer idea of Hikuma's design sense with this ball-less dodgeball game

Ruri Dragon: Ruri has a heart-to-heart with Kamata, the girl who bullied her, and Kamata cites her lack understanding of Ruri as a major point in her behavior; in particular, the idea that she's the child of bestiality strongly unsettles her. A nice, if unrealistic, little bit of catharsis for resolving tension with a bully; the student council wearing horns was adorable

If I had a nickel for every time they said the word "bestiality" in this week's Jump...technically I'd only have one nickel, since Ruri Dragon runs in Jump+

That actually brings up a question: do y'all think I should keep including Ruri in these reviews? It's from Jump originally, but it moved to + due to the author's health; is it too far removed to include, or too closely related to exclude?

[limeade-l3sbian]

i’m not so much talking about whether you would like it or not, but rather: do you see yourself as a person who needs romantic companionship in your life eventually? obviously you won’t disintegrate without, but i’m talking needing as in for your psychological and physical well-being in the long run.

i’ve come to realize i cannot relate to this and people who aren’t able to go without being in a relationship are to me so strange, even though that honestly seems to be the norm. i don’t even want a romantic relationship. not to say i would be against falling in love and all that but i don’t dream of it and i certainly don’t crave it. i’m curious how you are in this regard? obviously i don’t know you, but you strike me a someone who functions well alone too.

i get that wanting romance is normal in theory but i don’t understand why.

there’s lots of other things i totally get the need for, but this and sex are two things that are on the same spectrum of inconsequential to me. that’s also why i’ll never be able to rightfully contribute to the celibate convo that’s been going on in radfem spaces in regards to heterosexual women, because even though i’m not asexual, i genuinely don’t get the big deal of living without romance and sex. people will say it’s unfair to ask that of anyone and i’ll think it probably IS for the average person, but to me it still seems totally unrelatable to not be able to live full lives without it. this isn’t a convo of to be or not to be celebate btw, i’m just adding it as an example of when this feeling of not needing romance has really shown it’s face in my life and hindered my, i guess, empathy? and that’s why i never join that convo bc i can see i’m the odd one out.

it’s honestly so embarrassing to an extent. i wish more people spoke of this but when i’ve tried to speak of it in some contexts elsewhere, i immediately get labeled all these different things like “aromantic” and “asexual” and i’m just not. i’m not against romance. it’s not that i can’t feel it. same with attraction and such. but it’s really easy to ignore for me, like no biggie. there’s so many other bigger more important emotions and experiences in my eyes. almost everyone wants romance and partnership but to me it just seems kinda tiring and risky. like why risk my peace for a thing that does in most cases end by breaking up for whatever reasons? it’s not me being scared of it but i don’t see the point of the effort i guess..

friendships i get and they are important to me. i don’t see them as replacements or anything for romance. i just value those more and i think they seem more genuine to me? i’m not in a situation where i couldn’t find safe partners bc i am bisexual with mainly attraction to women but even then i still have no desperation for love like that. if it happens, that’s cool but i’ve come to realize that if i don’t actively seek it out it’s pretty easy to go through your life without any romantic relationships in peace. obviously the same maybe can’t be said for ultra attractive people but for mediocre folks like myself, life is pretty peaceful in that regard unless i actively tried to put myself out there which i won’t lol.

it’s not like i hate seeing romantic stuff. movies or books with romantic plots can be super cute and enjoyable for me but i don’t crave those things in my life even. when i see it. i don’t sigh after it. it’s like seeing a video of someone trying bungeejumping. it looks fun and cool but i wouldn’t go out of my way to seek the experience out because my life is fine without it.

am i totally alone in this feeling i wonder

I think in recent years there has been a weird push for romantic relationships and what the "best version" of them looks like. And, to be honest, your assumption is correct.

I think I cared in high school I got swept up in wanting to date because teenage romance seemed so romantic to me. But now, as an adult, I feel no intense need to be with someone. I'm not asexual and I'm not opposed to love or sex, like you said. I just...don't care? I just care about having people in my life who I care about and who care about me.

And with the asexual thing. In an increasingly hypersexual world, I think people are quick to "other" those of us who just don't really care. So if you don't crave love and need sex, you must be asexual. Which is...false, on a lot of levels.

To be honest, this whole reply could just be me restating, "Like you said" lmao. You and I have a pretty mutual feeling about the whole thing. I'm at peace with the state of my social life. I don't feel any pressure to be married or to date or whatever. When it happens, it happens, and I go for it. But when things don't work out? I mean, that's just life, I feel like.

[scribblesonarock]

There we go my second Ninjago oc child, Art!

My nonbinary shapeshifter child I love them with all my heart

Lore:

(Andeerson) Art

Master of Beasts

they/them, 17

Younger sibling of Chamille Art, Master of Form

Art got their elemental power from their grandma. Their dad was the only child of two elemental masters: the master of form and the master of beasts. He himself only inherited the form element, and the beast power just wasn't ever relied further. Or so they thought.

Turns out Art's dad did inherit the beast element, just that it became recessive to the form element and was dormant. His firstborn, Chamille, inherited the Form power. But when he and his wife had a second child as well, it turned out that the beast elemental power activated within them. And that was Andeerson, or as they prefer, Art.

Chamille was a cool, 6 years older sister to Art. Their mom was not the biggest fan of the whole elemental powers thing since their father left them for no clear reason, and she turned cold to both her children. The siblings wanted to help their mom however they could, so they would do street performance to collect some money as best as they could. Chamille would turn into pedestrians, and Art would talk city animals into doing some tricks for the crowd. It wasn't much, but they had fun.

Years went by and Chamille and their mom's relationship started getting worse and worse: arguing, shouting. Finally, some day Chamille just left. [After that she went to the tournament but Art didn't know that, neither did their mom].

When Chamille left, their mom made Art dye their hair "normal" brown from their natural plum colour so they "won't look like a freak" after their father and sister. She became even colder than she was.

Long story short Art didn't have the best childhood. Dad gone, mom cold. Chamille was their beacon of comfort and even she left. So they became very quiet, shy, and laidback, even more than they already were, and they were by no means an easygoing kid.

That's why when they met Ruuna they immediately were in love.

Ruuna from heavens: literally. She was practising using her elemental powers and not-very-gracefully landed in front of Art. She was only a year older than them, but so... hypnotizing. Laughing, bruised, confident, adventure seeking. Not romantically but Art was immediately in love with this strange messy girl. When Ruuna realised they have elemental powers as well, she decided they're a duo now. And that's how this friendship started.

When Art was 14 and Ruuna asked them is they want to run away to have an adventure it was not an easy choice for them. For Ruuna it was simple: her mom encouraged her to go have adventures and Art envied that. But their mom only had them left and on one hand they didn't want to leave her. On the other hand, why shouldn't they? And maybe they can find Chamille or dad and bring them home to mom who knows. If not then really mom was not the most carrying person anyway and she would probably not even care if they were gone so. At the end they decided to join Ruuna.

Two kids with elemental powers going around and doing whatever they want - stealing food, destroying property even if they say they're "helping" - started to be an obvious problem where they went, but there wasn't much people could do. I mean what do you do about a kid who can summon a gang of squirrels who steal all your shop's fruit, and other kid who can make it suddenly be a really dangerous thunderstorm only above your house? The only thing you can do in this situation is summon people who can actually manage elemental users like that: you need to get elemental masters to help you. You probably can figure out what happens here: the main cast arrives at a town which Ruuna and Art are terrorizing, and tries to fight them. Troublemakers are amazed at other people who have elemental powers, they meet and battle few times, and even if they can work together pretty well, they can't control their powers as well as the ninja masters, and so in the end Art and Ruuna lose the final confrontation. Even so however, the ninja recognise their talents and offer them ninja training, and the duo - not very eagerly, but eventually - agrees After their initial training with the guys, Ruuna and Art decide to finish their training on their own, go have adventures, but now in the ninja way, to help people and master their powers. And so they say their goodbyes, and are on their way. Next time the main cast sees them is 3 years later, when Art is 17, and they both now have finally mastered their elements.

Art is the Master of Beasts. They can communicate with any animal, sense their nearby presence and more or less their feelings. When they were younger they thought that was it, but with practice it turned out they can reach out to nearby animals and call upon them to arrive to assist them, as well as shapeshifting into any animal themselves. They can change partially or completely. Transforming partially can grant them some attributes of that animal. There are limits to that, they can't transform into anything bigger than a moose, or smaller than a squirrel.

[favouritefearlesswhumper]

Pspspsps, I'm back.

^-^

Team Leader kept their weapon up, not giving ground. Their team laid behind them, all knocked out by Villain standing behind Mentor.

"You will be the villain of this story, no matter what you do," Mentor talked for the first time, with a frustratingly flat tone. Like they hadn't abandoned the team for Villain, leaving Team Leader to explain why Mentor didn't come out of the base. Like they didn't try to kill Team Leader after the team went down. Like they didn't use their familiarity with Team Leader's tactics to lure them into this trap. Like—

"Your team will wake up, see you, standing against me, and Villain, who is seeking redemption by exposing Agency's corrupt Headmaster."

"You're sacrificing whole agency for one person," They tried to keep their voice normal or angry, but it was more like a cry. Team Leader had formed the agency, from scratch to one that rivals the top ones. They had formed the first team, and they had appointed their former second to the agency's head. They were aware that Headmaster was betraying them since the last months, but exposing them to public would only do everything worse. They were trying to take them down, and if Mentor had waited one more month, just one more, they would have enough materials on their hand to do that silently. Without destroying their years of efforts, without giving the enemy something to feed on.

But now, Team Leader stood uncertain and felt lost, just like when they had a team and an ideal but no backup, waiting at Mentor's door, their last chance for a sponsor.

They knew the team was suspicious since they came back without Mentor at their side. Team Leader knew they also began to realise what Headmaster was doing, and they knew no matter what they did, how they acted, the team would choose Mentor over them any given time.

"So do I, seeking the majority's wellbeing were never going to save them. The public will turn on your agency, and I will be there to pick up the pieces. Agencies will work as they always did before your one, caring their own members rather than an ungrateful public."

Team Leader stared at them and saw none of the kindness Mentor carried before. The determination in their eyes were so clear, burning for victory, so real. The act was when they were dear to Team Leader.

"But I can't have you running around even with a crushed pride. Villain will look after you well," As it was their sign, Villain and Mentor began striking. Team Leader went down easily, rage burning by betrayal and torn between taking down both of them and trying to protect the team that was going to betray them.

^-^

You can have this since there isn't much Team Leader whump around. Im no writer, but I hope you enjoy it~

ANON THIS IS AMAZING AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I dont even have any words to say, really, there's nothing I can add, it's so perfect.

I love this so much!

I think a lot of media has these spunky heroes who are super active openly and very publicly and outwardly defying what they disagree with, and whilst I have nothing against that, I think more credit should be given to the ones who don't. The ones who, like your wonderful Team Leader, bide their time- try to do what they can without tearing everything to the ground in doing so. A lot of heroes are very radical in their actions- and, again, though I have nothing against that, there's also something to be said for the ones who fight for peace and harmony- who want to salvage what they can, what they've fought so hard for. Some people think it's cowardly, even, but I dont think that's fair. There's merit in fighting for something, and there's courage in defending something of value to you, that you know is worth it, worth trying to keep alive, even when you know you stand alone.

One thing I both adore and loathe about Team Leaders is just how much they sacrifice that goes unseen. So much of Leadership is a sacrifice. Even now- as you said- they're standing against those who oppose them, fighting for people who they know won't be on their side. To me, that's the mark of someone worth backing. Team Leaders are like the nervous system of whump, the ones who keep everything together, connected, and yet- also the ones who feel the most.

Team Leaders are often the unsung heroes of whump. The ones trying to keep everything together, the ones pushing down their own feelings and wants and needs, the ones looking out for others, the ones who suffer, time and time again, and the ones who endure. Who get back up, and do it all over again.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE this anon, it's amazing and I'll no doubt be thinking about it for days. I LOVE the "whumper turns everybody against whumpee" when said whumpee is a hero/team leader, ESPECIALLY when said whumper is also a villain/traitor. It makes my blood boil- but in a good way! I love the idea of Team Leader being aware their team will pick their (I suppose former) Mentor over them, too- that hurt :"). It's a super painful realisation, and pushing forward and still protecting someone(s) despite knowing they'd betray you is... oooohhgh it gives me whumperflies!

Great job anon, I really liked this <3

[yanderelmk]

tw; mentions of pedœphilia, and gr∞ming

I got sick and slept for a few days to come back to this blog to someone trying to argue how simping/lusting for a minor character isn't pedophilia??? so a very bare bone but decent enough reasoning as to why the annon or annon's are wrong.

- 1 - it is, by definition, it is. there's not if's, and's, or but's about it. yes it's a fictional character, but it is still a child, so by definition you are defending pedophilia.

- 2 - children characters, regardless of how old they are in human years, if they are defined as a child by their species or peers, it's a child, point blank. so the whole "but they lived so and so years" argument, is an empty excuse to to be a pedophile without the repercussions of your actions or the judgment of your vile behavior.

- 3 - I'm 19, going onto 20, if I see a child character, I don't think about them past "damn, it's a kid" or "wow, that's my sibling now" because thinking past that is disgusting and concerning. the absolute worst I've done, is aged up characters to feel comfortable with the idea of being *friends* with them because I don't feel comfortable being friends with anyone 2 years younger than me.

- 4 - fiction, can bleed into reality. people who engage in that style of "content" can and most do, act on it. that's why it is repulsive and vile, by defending it you are actively encouraging it and putting real children at risk.

- 5 - what if it was you? seriously, what if it was happening to you? what if it was your best friend or a younger family member? would you be comfortable with it then? if you can't say you'd be okay with something in that context, with nothing else changing but the person it was happening to, then clearly something about the situation is wrong, and if you cannot understand that, you need help.

a child, is a child.

children, cannot consent because they don't understand, their minds aren't developed enough to understand and quite frankly, it's repulsive and terrifying that someone has tried to defend this behavior. worse if it was more than one person. I am not speaking from a place of "moral superiority" but from the place of a past victim, I was groomed as a kid. it was a terrible experience that haunts me to this day to the point I no longer celebrate my birthday anymore. 3 years of my childhood was lost to someone I thought I could trust, and so did my family and I am lucky that they never went all the way with me despite their best efforts. and if you think a monster ruining a person's life is okay, I hope you get the help you need. it is on the adult for behaving in such a repulsive manor and to the annon or annon's trying to argue that this is okay behavior, I hope you seek out therapy and get the help that you so clearly need. this isn't okay by any means and the fact you are trying to defend it speaks volumes to what kind of monster you are.

good on the owner of this page for discontinuing the content that led to this issue, you are a good person for doing this and I am genuinely very grateful that you have done this. I'm sorry for the petty and idiotic drama it has caused you. I hope things stop and you get to go back to your normal life and get to enjoy the things you enjoy without dealing with grimey monsters who try to defend other monsters like them.

- 🪷

AMEN, YOU BETTER PREACH, SEND A BUCKET AROUND Also thanks for the kind words! I've been doing my best to get my steam back up and going. I'm working on one of the more detailed requests bit by bit. I've noticed a small drop in followers since the post and tbh all I can think of is "Wow so all of those people were so mad about not being able to sex up a minor they went to pout off when someone had a reasonable reaction to something absolutely despicable and horrific." See ya, you creeps won't be missed! I'm sorry to hear that you're a victim, as a fellow survivor I hereby bump my fist with yours in solidarity. To anyone who still wants to try to dig their heels in, allow me to present a question: Do you not think it weird that you are fighting and kicking and screaming for the "right" to draw/write porn for a character of dubious age when there are PLENTY of confirmed of-age characters? To the specific point of the 'immortal who looks like a child' argument: Why are you so obsessed with proving that a religious deity (in the case of Nezha)/fictional character who is clearly physically/mentally a minor can have sex or do sexual things? Get your head out of the pants of kids and into a Bible cuz y'all clearly need some form of Jesus.

[conscharacterscentralised]

Propaganda for “Team MARC or something like that…” for @group-oc-tournament

Who are they?

A group of friends since they were around 11/12. All met through school, when Mia, Xander and Ricky all moved to the same smallish town Carol lives in. Totally coincidental. But hey, you can make some great friends through moving schools.

They’ve been friends for 10 years now, even though all are on very different path trajectories. And no matter what, they’ll be friends for life. They promise. No matter what…

Richard Samuel Keyes

Also known as Ricky, he’s the oldest of the group. You’d think that would make him the de-facto leader but he’d prefer to stay in the background. He’s the most studious of the group, and the only one actively seeking further education, specifically in literature. He’s one to never mince his words, which while favourable in some circumstances is less so in others. Would do better to learn tact, but he’s not going to directly hurt your feelings. (He’d describe you being happy rather than him being displeased.) The most open book of the group, yet still somewhat unknowable. Birthday is November 3rd, and he is aroace.

Caroline Elizabeth Godliman

Also known as Carol, she’s the free-spirited creative of the group. The token “rich kid”. An only child who is always looking forward in life and never looking back, mostly because she doesn’t want to be stuck in the past and waste her life worrying. Which worries her. Very much aware of her catch-22, Carol is currently fundraising for a local band she works for with loading and transportation. Her favourite holiday is Christmas, mostly because she likes to pretend everyone is celebrating her birthday, which is December 24th. She is an asexual heteroromantic.

Mia Jolene Holmes

They’re not known by anything else. She’s short and to the point. Loyal with a fierce temper. The most extroverted and social of the group by far, and despite boasting that she can flirt with anyone she’s absolutely terrible at it. Doesn’t matter tho, they love corny one-liners. Used to have a different name and different life but she’s not one for over sharing. What you see isn’t always what you get but Mia tries hardest to make others solely see Mia and nobody else. If you’re in a pinch, they’re the one to call for affection and fun. Birthday is April 22nd, she is a pansexual demigirl.

Alexander Michael Stone

Alex to his family, but Xander to you. Makes an effort to go-with-the-flow and not cause a disruption. The self-nominated jokester and seemingly the easiest going… but he’s got a lot under the surface that he’s trying to hide. Everyone’s sussed out he’s not fully honest and honestly it makes them happier about their own secrets, but Xander himself isn’t generally thrilled. Still, why dwell on that when you’ve got a down-to-earth pal of the world who will teach you to drive and go on wild tangents with no meaning? Birthday is July 18th, he is a demirose bisexual (and also autistic. And dyslexic. Those aren’t the issues btw, there’s more).

Is there a story to these four outside of just friends and stuff?

Yes! I’ve gone into details on my own blog if you’re super curious but I’m planning on making it into a webcomic so I won’t go into huge amounts of detail (though the main spoilers can be seen fairly easily through the tags and art both I and others have made). But the basic gist is these four are bored one day and decide to go into a part of town they’ve never been before. Specifically to a different section easily passed through under a bridge. It’s not too long but it can leave you in darkness for a while.

Whilst walking through and joking with each other, they start seeing some odd movements in the shadows. Thinking they’re about to be attacked, they turn and leave, only to find the tunnel is a lot longer than they thought. Then one of them feels an unfamiliar hand on their shoulder… and a strange yet oddly familiar figure greets them before disappearing and the tunnel returns to normal. Slowly though, everyone feels the presence of something subtly messing with their lives, up to and including threats, violence and dragging up the past and the things they wish to remain hidden.

They call this entity Vanta. He’s almost like a fifth main character, but he’s the villain and doesn’t want to be a part of “Team MARC or something like that…”

What’s with the name? Why MARC?

Doylist reason: the forms said a name and I didn’t have one planned. I could’ve called them the Encroaching Darkness Quartet or the Vantaverse Quartet or even just The Gang, but I had to be extra.

Watsonian reason: Carol came up with it on a whim. They had to use Xander’s full first name because nobody knew how to combine together their first initial without it sounding cringe. It still sounded cringe to her, hence the trailing off… but hey! It’s nice to have a name!

Why should I vote these guys?

A vote for “Team MARC or something like that…” is a win for long lasting friendship, being queer and proud of it, autism, modern day antics and getting over your fears and being free.

Is there anything else to note?

Obviously this is all for fun, and even if my guys don’t make it past round 1, I’m happy I got to share my brain dwellers with the world. They lived for too long rent free up there, it’s time to pay tax /j

[ivyquinzel]

.

[cabinofimagines]

Could you write a dating headcanon for Anubis in Kane Chronicles?

So this is probably not what you wanted. I could explain why I did these headcanons like this (and it is not that I don't like the character, if anything I do! (If I headcanon his manic pixie dream boy image that we get from Sadie's POV away)). I will leave a short rant at the bottom of the fic, for those interested :)

WC: 650 Warnings: mentions of death and dying

-Asnyox

Dating Anubis Headcanons

-What you and Anubis have is not really a “relationship” by mortal standards. Anubis is not allowed to be romantically involved with humans, unless he takes a host. Hence, why this relationship is rather tragic. 

-He doesn’t understand human traditions, and hardly gets past “normal” behavior. He thinks it is cute how you solve things, and how you behave. He finds you intriguing, therefore he seeks you out every now and then.

-You will have to explain holidays to him, and parties. You will need to tell him why he cannot suddenly show up at your house at night, when your parents are in the room next door. He tends to tilt his head when he is confused by your rambles, but there is always an affectionate smile on his face. 

-Be prepared for him to be gone for weeks on end. He gets in trouble if he grows too attached to you, and tries to avoid raising suspicions from the other gods. He does not want to be banned from seeing you, but the real question is on how long he can keep this up. They are bound to notice the small changes in his behavior (he seems happier lately, less moody). 

-He doesn’t realize how much he cares about you, until he sees that you are in danger. This need to protect you surges over him, and he basically growls as he saves you, quickly removing you from the situation. After he quickly scans you for injuries, he excuses himself and immediately goes away. He does not come back for a month, because he is trying to settle his feelings. But this just makes him grow fonder of the idea of being close to you, and he gives up denying himself time with you. 

-This is when he becomes really aware of the dangers that seeking you out pose. Not only can he be banned from seeing you, but it can also put some kind of target on your back. He wouldn’t know who would dare to challenging him but there might be a stupid magician out there who could try to use you as blackmail.  -If this results in you actively seeking him out, he will only turn more and more sour towards you. You are a fool for even talking to him. He tells you to stop, to live your mortal life without worrying about him. He is a god and he can take care of himself. If you are too stubborn, you can be sure you won’t see him again for the rest of your mortal life. 

-He might sometimes get jealous of your mortal life, when you talk excitedly about it. It’s not like he cannot take a mortal host, but he knows it will not be the same. Will he be with you, or his host? Will he be able to reach a balance with the host, or will it only bring problems? There are many doubts, and Anubis does not enjoy those, for uncertainties only brings more complications. He doesn’t want to complicate your life any further.  

-Anubis holds hope though- that one day, maybe after you die but hopefully sooner, he can become your significant other. It’s a guilty pleasure of his, to think about having you around all the time, to hold you close and to traverse your world. He is not heartless, he simply fears for the worst and does not understand that he might have eternity to figure things out, while your mortal years are going by fast.

-And if you were to hold onto him, or the concept of him even when he refuses to see you, if you keep asking for his attention, begging for him to love you, his guilt will force him to erase himself from your life. He will look at you from far away, protecting you silently if he needs to, but he never meant for you to get attached to him, not like this. He is a god, and he cannot physically be with you, but once upon a dream you can converse with him. Lay yourself bare, as he gets crushed by his mistakes.

Explanation, in short: it is canon that Anubis, the god, is not able to have a romantic relationship with a mortal. And given that this was not labeled Poly! Walt & Anubis (Because i think that is the best description i can give ig) I figured you meant just the god, which means it is a doomed relationship. Anubis, for one, believes in human agency and wouldn't just force a vessel because he likes a human. Anyways, that was a little rant.

[hisokas-toybox]

How the adult trio deal with having a crush

Brand new content from me for this new sideblog! As the title says, this is a list of headcanons  about how I imagine each member of the adult trio would behave if they had a crush on the reader.

Illumi

·       Definitely the least functional of the trio when it comes to handling a crush.

·       If you’re in the same room/space he will watch you constantly. He can’t help it, you’re beautiful to him and he just can’t take his eyes off you.

·       Low key stalks you – wherever you are he’ll be nearby. Even if he needs to be somewhere far away from you for a mission, he’ll still know exactly where you are/who you’re with etc.

·       Will do an extensive background check on you, he probably knows your family history better than you do.

·       If you have any exes that hurt you or were ever bullied in your life, those people are now dead.

·       Probably didn’t even know that what he was feeling was a crush until someone else (most likely Hisoka) pointed it out.

·       Is freaked out and ashamed that he has feelings for someone. Assassins don’t need feelings he’s been trained to avoid this, why is this happening???

·       Tries to hide his crush. No-one can know about it; feelings are weak after all! (Literally everyone knows he’s into you. It’s painfully obvious and the more he tries to hide it the more obvious it becomes)

·       Has definitely considered killing you to stop this crazy obsession. Ultimately decided against it since that would mean not getting to see you anymore.

·       His internet history is a rabbit hole of wikihows on how to get over a crush/talk to a crush/get them to notice you/how to plan a wedding.

·       Somehow still clueless.

·       It’s sad because all this shame comes from trauma and abuse

·       But the sheer awkwardness is also kind of cute.

·       Chances are, if you like him back, you’ll have to make the first move, and the second, and probably third too…

·       If he somehow does ask you out first though it will be AWKWARD AF.

·       Probably sounds more like a command to go out with him than a request, but there’s a little hint of a blush on his cheeks that gives away how nervous he is.

·       He doesn’t actually mean to be creepy towards you; he just has NO IDEA how to act like a normal person at the best of times, and the fact you make him feel things just makes him get even stranger.

·       Not big on physical affection, will absolutely be a blushing mess if your hands accidently touch even slightly. If you do date him it could take some time before he starts to enjoy being touched and even longer before he actively seeks physical touch.

·       You’ll need set up clear boundaries and have a lot of patience, but if you do date him it’ll be worth it as he gets more comfortable with you.

·       If you two do get together, Illumi will expect full commitment and pretty quick too. Expect to be married within a year.

·       If you’re not interested, be gentle but be clear. He won’t persist if you reject him, but he will be a sad boy deep down. (why would you reject him though, he’s so pretty and just wants to be loved?)

  Hisoka

·       Oh. This boy.

·       Not remotely ashamed/embarrassed by his crush on you.

·       Makes it a point to make his attraction known to you, and anyone else in the vicinity. Often explicitly.

·       Will make any excuse to be around you.

·       Shows off constantly whenever he’s around you (with his nen, his card tricks, bragging about his latest fight or even just walking around shirtless for no reason).

·       Endless compliments, flirting and innuendo.

·       Hands. Everywhere. Hisoka is a very tactile person so expect to be used as an armrest/headrest if you’re shorter than him (likely) and for little touches to your shoulders/arms/legs as he talks to you. Will also chance his luck grabbing your ass and playing footsie with you if you’re at a table

·       He will ask you out first.

·       He’ll invite you on a date initially to have some class, but he’s not shy about just straight up propositioning you for sex.

·       He’s not fussy about taking it slow

·       If you do date him it might not necessarily be a serious or long-term thing, but it will be fun.

·       If you reject him, (Again, why would you reject him? Have you not SEEN those abs???) he won’t be deterred. He’ll see it as a challenge and keep pursuing you, enjoying it if you get annoyed (he may ease up on the touching if you’re really uncomfortable but don’t expect much else).

·       If you keep rejecting him, he will eventually either find someone else or just get bored and leave you alone.

 Chrollo

·       Honestly the most normal of the three.

·       Will do some background research on you to make sure you meet his high standards. May discreetly “acquire” some of your possessions/photos which he’ll keep safely hidden away.

·       Not embarrassed by his crush on you, but definitely more refined and subtle in the way he pursues it.

·       Carefully engineers situations where he can interact with you directly.

·       Actually works to build a rapport with you before asking you out.

·       Pretty smooth talker, very charming and gives a lot of compliments.

·       Direct in asking you out, it’s very clear he likes you and wants to take you on a date.

·       Genuinely interested in you, curious about your hobbies/passions/likes and dislikes.

·       Gives you a lot of gifts that relate to what you talk about. (Don’t ask where/how he gets them!)

·       Won’t touch you until he’s certain you’re interested, and even then, he keeps things very classy and respectful.

·       Is always very cool and suave on the outside, but inside he gets excited to see you and longs to touch you. Already thinks of you as his.

·       If you do date him, it’ll likely be a long-term thing that he’ll take slowly and carefully but with strong commitment.

·       If you turn him down, (I actually WOULD turn Chrollo down so no questions on your taste here) he’ll be very gracious about it and won’t continue to pursue you. (Likely to disappear for a long time without any warning though. There may also be a spike in large scale crime which may or may not be related).

·       You may find yourself being hunted down by the remaining Phantom Troupe members for “disrespecting the Boss” if you reject Chrollo.

[thelemoncoffee]

Imagin an au where Kokichi retired from being a phantom thief after getting bored with how easy it was to get away.

it's been a few years and his case had run cold; some detectives have tried to open it up again because he still has a massive bounty on his head, but they ultimatly failed to get anywhere new with it and locked it up again... until Shuichi got ahold of it that is.

be it by pure talent or sheer luck, while running over the case in his free time for the hell of it Shuichi managed to stumble across a lead in the case. This descovery got his boss practically begging him to look into it and try to find more, hoping maybe if he can solve the unsolvable case their agency will get more traction.

Against his better judgment Shuichi decides to give it a shot and starts working on the case, slowly reoriginzing everything to better fit the new peice of evidence he found. doing so he uncoveres more and decides field work is in order. despit the case having been cold for a while, the least he could to was interveiw the old targets and ask a bit about their experiances with the phantom thief.

Shuichi's involvment in the case and the sudden new info sparks a buzz in the news, and said buzz reaches Kokichi. intruiged by this new development he decides to throw Shuichi a bone and starts to send him anonymous letters and notes to see what he'd do with them. Shuichi is surprised by this as he assumed the thief was inactive due to finally getting his fill, but finding this highly targeted activity brought to light the thief's more thrill seeking desires.

This back and forth happens for a month or so before a very abrupt spike in activity occurs in the form of a jewlery hiest. the first phantom thief hiest in literal years. Shuichi is of course sent to check it out and finds his thief is a bit rusty from inactivity and left a clue that would have never be left behind otherwise. Kokichi did not make a mistake though, he's intruiged by this new detective and wanted to give him a little reward for getting as far as he had. it was a dangerous choice for sure, but hey, wasn't what why he became a thief in the first place?

From here it becomes your average phantom thief au, but with the added bonus of not only is Shuichi the first person in years to get any lead on Kokichi, but also becomes the first to stand face to face with him. i think that little bit of extra zest in this au makes the stakes a bit higher than normal and the choices either make more stressful for them. does Kokichi want to keep his legendary status or does he want to risk it all for this cute detective? does Shuichi want to become a legend by solving the unsolvable case, or does he want to bond with this elusive thief and chase him forever just for fun and love?

[odd-kid-42]

Glenn and Lark’s

Uncle-nephew relationship is rooted in Glenn listening to what the twins are saying and seeking to understand why they want what they want rather than shutting them down or dismissing them. (Ep 38 example where Lark comments, “Exactly, exactly. Glenn understands.” Because Glenn is actually listening to them.)

Henry overthinks interactions and tries to position himself to have his sons’ respect thus make them listen. He worries about their fascination with violence and action movies, which honestly? Are pretty freaking normal things for eleven year old boys to enjoy. Most eleven year olds, given the opportunity, and excess confidence given by their parents’ nurturing parenting, are going to go apeshit at the chance to fight an eldritch god.

Faerune is just unfortunately a place where an adult can arrange a genocide for twin eleven year olds to fight an eldritch god, so the fear isn’t baseless and Henry does need them to listen. But Henry has a strained relationship with parental control that he needs to unpack a bit.

The twins don’t care about lofty leftist concepts that Henry touts as his reasoning, especially Lark at the end. (Which consciously, yes, are Henry’s beliefs and his reasoning, but also Bear Ry’ left as much of an impression on Henry’s parenting patterns as Willy did on Ron.)

The twins just want an adult to take them seriously without immediate backlash or frustration. Doing so with respect back to him is how Glenn, despite being An Adult (derogatory), won respect from Lark (ep 38 involving building/destroying a fort; ep 66 driving conversation where Glenn shifts gears in talking to Lark) without even trying.

This is my own headcanon expanding this idea, but I think Glenn would play-fight with the twins, which is the one form of play I think they really want. I wrote a brief scene in “Too Much to Leave” where Glenn pillow fights the twins at the ep 30 inn, pretending to defend a half-asleep Nick from them to Nick’s amusement and the twins’ excitement, and that’s the dynamic in my head. Glenn isn’t afraid to play-fight because a) he trusts himself to not mess up, b) the twins actively want to play-fight, and c) imo play-fighting is a normal way for kids to learn their own strength and how to control it while getting out excess energy.

Glenn and Lark have that good uncle-nephew relationship where Lark can be listened to by Glenn who has a more clearheaded idea of normal kid behavior involving action movie replication than Henry, and Lark listens and respects Glenn (ep 38 building/tearing down a fort) because Glenn understands sometimes a kid needs a weapon (ep 14 encouraging Nick to use a knife against his kidnappers).

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Male!Companions react to waking up alone after spending the night with Sole.

Hey all! So, just a heads up, I’m also working on this prompt for the Female!Companions for FO4, and also a bunch of companions from FONV and FO3, but if you have any specific requests or want me to add anyone, just let me know! Sorry this is so damn long, but I hope you all enjoy!

Also, there is a bit of angst in here with some mentions of suicidal thoughts, so just a heads up on that! 

P.S. If you’re one of the lovely folks who has sent me an ask, I am currently working on writing them up and I will definitely get them out as soon as I can, I just really like the prompts y’all gave me and I want to do them justice :)

Danse:  

     Danse sat up with a start, immediately trying to gain his bearings, only to find himself still in the bunker, in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath, still dazed from the heavy sleep that had claimed him. It had been years since he'd slept like that, the last time he recalled sleeping so peacefully was when he was stationed at the Citadel in the Capital Wasteland. Even more than that, he had barely slept at all since discovering his true identity. Danse shook his head, trying to clear it of its sleepy fog, he went to rub his eyes, and he felt his heartbeat increase tenfold as the memories of his night with you came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Even now he felt the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. He turned his head, expecting to see your peacefully sleeping form on the mattress beside him. When he didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. Immediately, a slew of emotions and thoughts ran through him, ranging from shame, to panic, to anger, and most of all, hurt. Before he allowed himself to arrive at any premature conclusions, Danse called out for you, looking around the room. Nothing. He stood up, holding the blankets around his waist to conceal himself as he made his way to the hole in the wall that allowed him to peer into the other section of the bunker. Still nothing. The slew of contradicting emotions bubbled up again, leaving him feeling slightly numb. He stood there, just staring, trying to grasp a hold of any clear thought, but they were inadvertently tumbling into his consciousness at an alarming rate. 

All at once, one feeling prevailed over the others, and Danse found himself feeling extraordinarily guilty. Guilty for agreeing to last night, for jeopardizing his friendship with the one person he had left in his life by greedily pushing too far. What right did he have to you and your feelings anyway, when his weren't even real? The pain of being deserted by you was overshadowed by the knowledge that he didn't deserve you in the first place. Even when he thought he was human, he had trouble rationalizing his feelings for you, thinking you deserved better than someone like him. Someone as hard headed, as inexperienced, and emotionally ignorant as he was. But now? Now, he wondered why you even bothered to waste any of your time on him, even just as his partner, when it was proven that he's nothing but a machine. Why had you even suggested last night, when you knew the truth about him? 

He simply couldn’t understand it. Why had you allowed him to be with you in such a way? To be with you so intimately? Why had you allowed him to touch you so invasively? Why had you spoken to him so softly, so earnestly? How could your gaze have been so full of admiration, of love? He was a goddamn machine, and you’d let him share a bed with you, make love to you. He didn’t even know what love was, didn’t know if it was possible for him to even feel it; and yet, you’d been more open with him than he had been with anyone before. And he wasn’t even human. He was at a complete and utter loss for any form of explanation or reasoning behind your actions. 

Danse stood alone in the bunker, staring ahead with brows furrowed low at no single thought in particular. It was then that he realized his heart was still beating out of his chest, he took a deep breath, and prepared himself to leave the bunker in search of you. Because, even now, when you were at the center of his feelings of uncertainty, of guilt, of hurt, he still felt the need to seek the counsel of the one person left he could truly trust, the one whose opinions he had sought in the darkest hours of his existence. He needed you. 

More than that, he needed to make sure you were safe. At least that's what he told himself as he dressed, donning his power armor, before he rode the elevator up to the surface, his iron-clad hands clenching tightly as he gripped his laser rifle. 

As Danse arrived at the surface, he noted the sunlight bursting through the lone window of the bunker, indicating how late he'd slept in, and he mentally kicked himself for his irresponsibility. If he had woken at his usual hour, would you have still been beside him? Perhaps he could've spoken to you before you left, encouraged you to hear him out, begged you to stay with him. Even just as a friend, just as a partner. He felt he simply couldn’t cope with the loss of you, of the security that you provided him. 

 Danse shook his head in an attempt to banish these useless thoughts from his mind. He couldn't control the past, he had to keep looking forward. With that, he crossed the threshold out into the Commonwealth.

Danse returned to the bunker a few hours before sundown, feeling utterly at a loss, he'd been everywhere he could reach, everywhere you could've gone in the period of time you had had to get there. He checked every house, farm, settlement… everything in the bunker's vicinity. His limbs felt weak and numb as he approached the entrance to the bunker. He could feel heat rising up in his face as his chest ached. He felt like he needed to hit something. Tears of frustration and dejection threatened to spill over, and he brought a gloved hand up to roughly wipe away the first drop that fell. Though, through the blur of wetness, he spotted a silhouette in the doorway ahead of him.  

     "Where the hell have you been?!" You shouted, running from the bunker and straight into Danse's arms. For a moment, he remained still, unable to reciprocate your relief in his state of utter shock. In the next instance, his rifle fell from his grip and he was wrapping his arms around you, as tightly as he could without injuring you. 

    "I believe I could ask you the same question, soldier." Danse said, willing his voice to remain stable. You pulled away so that you could look up at him, your expression one of confusion,

     "I thought I told you last night. I had to go to Greentop nursery in the morning and talk to the settlers about their mutant problem." He blinked at you in surprise. At least, you thought you had told him, but maybe it had slipped your mind. It didn't surprise you, given last night's activities. 

     "But… Why didn't you wake me?" 

     "Because Danse, I've never seen you sleep in, I wanted you to get some rest for once." 

     "I would have rather been with you." He said quietly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued, 

     "It was irresponsible of you to leave me uninformed, you should have woken me. You scared me, Sole. I thought…" he took a quick breath to steady his voice, "I don't know what I thought. I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't sure if you were in danger, or if you were angry with me, or whether or not you even meant to return."

     "Danse, of course I was going to come back, I just didn't expect you to be gone when I did."

     "And for that, I apologize. However, I implore you to understand--"

     "Danse. It's okay, we're both here now, we're both safe. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving. C'mon." You turned towards the bunker and went to make your way inside. Danse stood a moment, watching you walk away. Feeling began slowly returning to his limbs, and for the first time all day, his heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. He reached down to pick up his rifle, a small smile spreading across his lips as he moved to follow you back into the bunker.

Deacon: 

     Deacon opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again, as the bright morning sun showed through the windows of Ticonderoga safehouse, and directly into his retinas. 

“Damn,” He said, reaching over to grab for his shades from beside the mattress. Once they were placed onto his face, he decided it would be safe to open his eyes once again. Deacon groaned as he rolled his shoulders, and sat up, stretching his arms overhead. 

God, he felt good. The tightness of his muscles serving as a reminder of the… ahem, events of last night. Last night, with you. How the hell had that happened? He almost couldn’t believe it. After so many years of being alone, of feeling emotionally inept, and unable to move on. Here you came, seemingly out of some sci-fi novel, with your futuristic, time-traveling backstory, and inhuman good looks, and for some reason, you’d thought he was, of all things, cute. That was the word you had used, he remembered it vividly, and of course he had feigned being annoyed by the use of the word to describe him, but in reality? He adored the fact that you thought so. No one had ever referred to him as such, and the fact that it confirmed you reciprocated the feelings he had for you; that was truly extraordinary. These feelings that he had tried so desperately to bury deep down, where they couldn’t meddle with your friendship, or your professional relationship, or his own crippling fear of being committed to someone again (given how well it went the first time). Now, he barely understood why he had tried so hard to snuff out his emotions if this was one of the possible outcomes of revealing them to you. He never dreamed that you could have returned the affection he had for you. However, if last night was any kind of indicator… yeah, he’d say the two of you had pretty strong feelings indeed. 

At least, that’s what he had thought. Until he turned to you excitedly, looking to see if you had woken yet, and found your spot next to him quite empty. His jaw clenched at the sight, but he took a breath and resolved himself to looking around the safehouse for your belongings. His teeth worried anxiously against the inside of his cheek as he noticed the distinct absence of anything belonging to you. Deacon stood in the middle of the safehouse, bringing his hands up to roughly rub at his face.   

“God dammit.” He said aloud, unable to keep something from escaping him. Deacon liked to think he had a good bit of self control, it came with the job after all, a spy with no sense of restraint and proper judgment didn't live very long. However, you had this way of making him forget everything he thought he knew about himself. There he was last night, doing the one thing he vowed he'd never do again. Falling for someone. Him! Deacon, the immature, sarcastic, dishonest, and unemotional agent of the railroad; and here he was, head over heels for a widowed, pre-war saint like you. What a pair you two would have made. 

I suppose it really was too good to be true. He thought bitterly.

Deacon grabbed his things and set off into the Commonwealth without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He stared dead ahead, refusing to address the pressure he felt in his chest. Trying desperately to maintain his cool and unbothered exterior, to remain the type of person he was before he'd met you. He always knew he could change the way he looked in a day or less, but the way you'd changed his perspective of the world, of his place in it, and his future? He didn't think you could have changed who he'd turned out to be if you had all the time in the world. Deacon was firmly set in his ways, so much so, that even he couldn't change who he was. No matter how much he despised himself at times. But man, had he been wrong, all the disguises in the world couldn't mask the fact that, for the first time in years, Deacon had a priority in his life besides the railroad, and besides himself. And that scared the shit out of him.

 Now he wasn't really sure what to think. If you had simply wanted nothing more than a one-night stand, you could have just told him so. At least then he would’ve been prepared for this shit. For you leaving him, seemingly without a second thought.

The sniper shook his head roughly as he kicked up the dust of the wasteland, his footfalls much heavier than they had any business being. He always had prided himself at being a good judge of character, at being intuitive, but he never would have expected something like this from someone like you. Someone who cared about the happiness of everyone else more than their own well-being, someone who was kind, and selfless, and empathetic, someone who constantly put their own life at risk for the benefit of complete strangers. Sure, he did that occasionally, but his life was worth a hell of a lot less. You were a good person, and always had been. From the moment he saw you, everything he heard about you, all of it pointed to the fact that you, even after all you’d lost, after everything you endured, you were a better person than he could ever hope to be. And now, for you to do this to him? It was completely out of character. Whatever, he thought, if this is all you wanted from me, then fine. It's all you're going to get. 

As he approached the Old North Church, Deacon mentally prepared himself for the possibility that you too would be at the Railroad headquarters. He decided to simply not acknowledge your… ordeal, and act as though nothing had changed. Though, if Deacon was honest (which he rarely ever was), he would rather not have you as his partner anymore. With the way he was feeling-- the way he had once felt about you, it would be too complicated. He didn’t need complicated. The railroad missions provided enough of that. 

He entered HQ quietly, and mulled about, visiting with the others and picking up missions left and right in an effort to acquire enough distractions to keep him out of the church for as long as possible. He figured that way, the likelihood of bumping into you would be decreased enough for him to get a handle on himself before having to face you. But, of course, his plans were all for naught, he realized as you stormed into the catacombs, your glowering eyes falling directly to the bald sniper in the corner of the room; the sniper who was trying desperately to make himself seem distracted as he felt your eyes burning into the back of his head. At least you had the decency to lower your voice as you approached him, 

“Deacon!” You hissed, shouting his name as quietly as one could shout. 

He continued staring at the blackboard, a hand at his chin as he feigned interest in what was written there. 

“What the hell?” You asked, taking another step towards him, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his cheek. 

“Hmm? Something wrong?” He asked, turning his head towards you while his eyes stayed glued to the board in front of him. You took a step back, and the next thing he knew, you had extended your hand forcefully towards his face, leaving a stinging red mark imprinted on his cheek in its wake. Deacon’s head snapped back towards the blackboard at the power of your blow, his sunglasses barely managing to hang onto his face by the bridge of his nose.  

I’m not sure if I deserved that or not…

He brought his own hand up to rub the spot you had just slapped, finally letting his eyes meet yours from beneath his crooked shades. He nearly gasped at your expression. Your eyebrows were knitted together above your tear-filled eyes, your mouth a straight line as your chin trembled slightly. He’d say you looked sad, but behind your eyes, all he could see was fire. The same fire he’d felt when he saw that you had deserted him that morning. Or, at least, when he thought you’d deserted him. 

Almost without thinking, Deacon grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the more private area of the railroad HQ. Despite your clear vexation with him, you allowed him to lead you to the back of the church catacombs, near the emergency exit. 

“Alright, you finally ready to explain yourself?” You asked, wrenching your hand from his grasp.

“Me? I’m pretty sure it was you who walked out on me, and who just slapped me in the face for asking a simple question.” Your nostrils flared at that and for a moment, Deacon thought you were going to do something violent again. 

“Okay, look, I know I’ve fallen for your lies before, but I think it’s pretty damn ridiculous for you to think that I’ll believe this one. I was there, Deacon! You left me. You took all your shit and left me alone at the safehouse. I don’t care what happened the night before, even if it was awful for you, or awkward for you to see me in that way, or whatever, you still don’t abandon your partner. We agreed to that the moment I became an agent.” 

Deacon’s jaw dropped to his chest at his realization, and your accusation. He had left you? When? How? When was he supposed to find that out?

“Look, Sole, I’m a liar, I’ll give you that. But I’m a good one,” you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff sounding from your throat, “so, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie to you if I could see that you absolutely knew the truth.” 

“God, if you’ve got a point, make it, asshole.”

“Ouchies, no need for name calling there, slappy. I’m just trying to figure out the miscommunication issue we’ve got going on here.” You glared at him, and he was forced to continue. 

“The truth is,” Deacon looked down at the floor as he spoke softly to you, feeling as though the words were being wrenched from his throat, “I only left because I thought you had first. I woke up, and you were gone. Your things were gone. I thought that was it, that you were done with our… partnership. Done with me. And hey, I can’t say I’d blame you. Especially if you’d really think I could just up and leave after spending a night like that with you.”

“Oh.” you whispered, before trying to explain yourself, “I wasn’t-- I didn’t just leave, I mean, I went up to give High Rise the MILA for Tom. I was gone for five minutes, Deacon. I was coming right back.” The two of you stood a moment, as realization washed over you. And a bit of regret, too. And a sprinkle of foolishness. 

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet your eyes. Hoping his apology was as evident on his face as it was on yours. You brought your hand to his cheek, soothing over the angry red mark that you had left earlier, and Deacon flinched slightly at your touch, his eyes falling once again to the floor. 

“It really only took you five minutes to think that I had left you?” You asked gently, the anger that had once been prevalent in your voice dissolving into concern. Deacon chuckled dryly.

“Haven’t I taught you anything? When you assume the worst, it’s a lot harder to be disappointed.”  

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But I bet it makes it all the better when you find out you were wrong.” Deacon smiled weakly at you, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not seeing the appeal in being wrong just yet.” The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping firmly as you pulled his face towards yours. The pressure of your brow displaced Deacon’s shades as you crashed your lips into his. He toppled backwards against the wall of the catacombs as you pressed more forcefully into him, his arms falling behind him to steady himself against the cold brick, as your unoccupied hand slunk up to his chest, keeping him pinned between you and the wall. You pulled your head back, but kept your hands in place as you murmured, 

“What about now?”

“Hmm?” Deacon’s ginger eyebrows raised above his glasses as his mind went blank. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming on your face. 

“Oh, right. I suppose so. Though, I think I’m gonna need a few reminders every once in a while.” 

“Hmm,” you mused, “I think that can be arranged.”

Hancock: 

     The ghoul awoke with a purr, stretching one ruined arm out to blindly search for your sleeping body. He distinctly remembered curling up with you wrapped tight in his embrace before lulling off into the best sleep he's had in years. For the first time in months he didn't have the nagging ache of wishing you were pressed against him as he settled in for the night. The thoughts of you lying so close but so painfully out of reach were finally pushed from his head to make room for the sheer bliss of being able to touch you, to feel your unbelievably soft skin, to breathe in your sweet scent and relish in the closeness of your body against his. 

That was of course, until this morning. Hancock opened his eyes lazily, his dark gaze sweeping over the mess of bed sheets and pillows that littered the plush mattress. The sight of the disheveled blankets bringing back heated memories of last night. Before his brow furrowed at the realization of the current situation he found himself in. Hancock slowly rose from the bed, his dark eyes searching the surrounding room for any sign of you. He found his trousers, his hat, his coat... but nothing of yours remained where they had been tossed last night. If Hancock had a nose, it would have been curling alongside the rest of his scrunched up face as he thought of you leaving in such a hurry this morning. Hancock felt a pain in his chest and immediately craved a hit of something, anything, to numb the hollow feeling that began spreading through his body. 

     Sunlight shone through the windows of the old state house, the beams of light diffused by the ringlets of smoke rising from the ghoul's mouth as he took yet another hit of jet, trying hard to keep his mind blank, but inevitably failing as his thoughts returned to last night's events. Coming almost in slow motion, he picked apart every movement; every touch, kiss, lick, and caress, nitpicking every action he had made and thinking about what he might've done to warrant your desertion of him. But deep down, he knew that his actions mattered little. You had assured him on numerous occasions that him being a ghoul didn't bother you, but you had never really seen him before. Not in the way you saw him last night. Had never felt his rough skin on yours, had never run your hands up his ravaged body, the softness of your touch only amplifying the harshness of his own leathery flesh. You had never uncovered the gross discoloration of his radiation-ravaged body. But last night, you had finally gotten a good, long look. And here he was, thinking that you of all people could’ve seen past that. You had been able to forgive him for his past, after all. Hadn’t you? But maybe that had been part of it too. Maybe you’d finally realized all that he really was. A reckless and cowardly poor excuse for a man, who spends his life in a haze of delirium rather than facing the pain of being alive. A pain that he had inflicted upon himself to break away from that same self-righteous fog that he’d found himself in in the first place. It’s no wonder you’re gone. Maybe you were never even really here. Maybe you were just another daydream of his, just another hallucination. God, if that was the case, he didn’t even know what he would do. After having you so close, being with you like this? He didn’t really see the point in living without you.  

Hancock sighed heavily at the thought. He didn't know how long he sat simply thinking, his perception of time temporarily altered by the jet, but he had to do something to alleviate this torture, and if chems wouldn't do it... well.... 

  "I need some air," he rasped aloud as he stood and headed for the balcony, donning his coat and hat on his way out. The mayor had to keep up appearances, after all. 

He almost didn't see you as he stepped through the door, the way you leaned out against the rail, eyes closed, a soft, beautiful smile playing at your plush lips. Hancock could've stared at you until the world around him turned to dust, but you moved long before that musing could come to reality. Turning to look at him, your smile brightened further, and Hancock couldn't keep himself from touching you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, using his other to caress your pink-dusted cheek, affirming that you truly were physically there, standing in front of him. 

     "And what were you doing out here all by your lonesome? Trying to give a ghoul a little taste of heartbreak?" You let out a soft laugh, 

     "No, sweetheart," you called him affectionately, leaning into his light touch upon your cheek, "I thought that you would sleep longer. I just wanted to get out and enjoy some sunshine." You turned once again towards the morning sun, the rays highlighting every one of your perfect features. Hancock beamed at the sight of you, before turning and looking out at his city in thought, 

     "Hmm," he mused, "Sunshine, huh?"

MacCready:   

      MacCready had been lying on his back for a while now, staring at the crumbling ceiling of the dingy little room at the hotel Rexford. This certainly hadn’t been his idea of an ideal location for your first time together, but who was he to complain? It was safe, and private, and it had been a damn good night. But he’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for you to stir. He’d thought it was odd, given the fact that you always woke up first when the two of you traveled together, but he’d like to think you hadn’t yet stirred because of the way he had exhausted you last night, his chest puffed out at the thought of it and he let out a contented sigh. The thoughts of your night together spilled into his consciousness, and he stretched out his arms in front of him, snickering slightly at the soreness of his body, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for you any longer. 

 “Geeze, you awake yet, sleepyhead?” MacCready rolled onto his side to face the lump under the covers. He ran his hand over the mattress, over to you, but as he reached the lump beneath the blankets, all he felt was plushness. He withdrew the covers from atop you, only to find… pillows? Just a pillow, and a blanket. MacCready’s body spasmed as he jolted out from under the covers on his side of the bed, his head flying from side to side as he looked for you. 

“Sole?” He cocked an eyebrow at the empty hotel room, and as he noticed your absence, his expression quickly changed from confusion to one of anger. You had left? But why? Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so… but maybe he just... wasn’t everything you expected from him. Feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, MacCready climbed from the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor and stomping around the room in pursuit of the remainder of his clothes, not failing to notice how everything belonging to you was no longer in the room either. Heat rose to MacCready’s face as he pulled on his duster, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, or anger, or heartache, or some combination thereof. 

What the heck? He thought, you were the one to suggest doing this, why would you do that if you were just gonna leave me like this? Right when MacCready had thought he’d found the one. The person who could help him move on from Lucy after everything he’d been through. You were perfect, not just for him, but for Duncan too. You were selfless, and kind, compassionate, resourceful, sometimes you were a bit of a sarcastic ass, but he loved that about you. You were a parent and a spouse, just like he had been. You were both lost, and broken when you found each other, just a couple halves that had made each other whole. You were his future... Or so he’d thought. But who was he kidding? You were so out of his league, the two of you weren’t even playing the same damn sport. He should’ve known this would be the outcome. But then, why the heck did you let it go this far? Sure, he was the one who had poured all of his feelings out onto the table, but he didn’t know what he’d expected you to do. He just felt like he would explode if he held them in any longer, especially when the two of you spent so much time together. He saw you every damn day, and all he wanted to do was hold your hand, he wanted to sleep beside you and hold onto you through the night, to have you run your fingers through his hair and tell him that you felt the same way. MacCready never imagined you’d do something like this to him, never thought you’d get his hopes up, dangling the future he'd always dreamed of having right in his face before ruthlessly snatching it away. 

He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous train of thought and groaned as he bent down to grab his rifle. 

“At least you paid for the room up front.” he mumbled as he placed his hat on his head and made his way to the door.

 MacCready’s footsteps fell heavily onto each stair as he headed down to the lobby, wondering where he’d go from there. He considered going and looking for you, but what was the point? Clearly if you wanted to see him, you wouldn’t have freakin left. Was he really petty enough to seek you out just to tell you how messed up it was that you’d left him the way that you did? Maybe… but he needed a drink first. To the Third Rail it was, then. What was it, 10am? He could drink at 10am. He could do whatever the heck he wanted, especially now that you were gone. 

MacCready reached the bottom of the stairs, looking straight past the small crowd of people that were gathered in the lobby as he made his way to the exit. Just as his hand reached the door, he heard his name being shouted. His body shuddered at the sound of your voice, and he stood stock straight as he decided what to do. One fist clenched as the other hand pushed the door open and he crossed the threshold into Goodneighbor. The door never closed behind him, and he felt an iron grip on his forearm as he tried to head towards the Third Rail. 

“Ow, hey!” He spun to face you, face slightly contorted in his confusion. What was he supposed to think now? He was still angry and hurt, but should he be? Ugh. 

“Wait, Mac. I know how it must’ve looked, but really, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He stared at you, his deep blue eyes clouded with suspicion. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin anything by making false assumptions or accusations. Instead, he waited for you to explain, wrenching his wrist from your grip as he folded his arms over his chest. 

Before you could continue, Rufus came up from behind, asking quietly if he could go through the doors. 

“Come on,” you urged, “let’s get out of the doorway.” You herded MacCready to one of the couches in the lobby, seating yourself next to him. 

“Alright. Explain.” He said, brows still furrowed. You almost snickered at how put-out the sniper seemed. You couldn’t quite tell if it was an act or not, but knowing MacCready… yeah, probably not an act. 

“Rufus was having some trouble with Drinkin’ Buddy.” You told him, “The bot shut down and no one could get him to turn on again. This morning, some sort of warning light started flashing, so he came up and asked if I could help him fix it. I would’ve asked you to come along, but you were still asleep, and I know how you hate being woken up…” You trailed off, waiting for him to say something in response. 

Man, MacCready felt moronic. Why had he been so quick to assume the worst? Okay, maybe not the worst, the worst would’ve been… Well, that’s not important. He shook his head, finally letting himself breathe deeply again. 

“You sure that was it?” He asked, uncertainty coating his tone as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

You leaned forward, smoothing a hand up his chest to the back of his neck as you brought your lips to his. Your fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of his neck and held him to you as your mouth moved against his, trying to answer his question without having to use your words. This was better, anyway. You felt a hand move to your waist as he relaxed into the kiss, his strong grip pulling you nearly into his lap as he returned your fervor. Only when you needed air did you pull back from him, your heartbeat still racing as you watched his gorgeous eyes flutter open. 

“Did that answer your question?” You asked cheekily. He smiled, face still pink from the heat of your kiss. 

“I don’t know, boss, I may still need some more, ah, reassuring.” You snickered at that, and glanced back at Clair’s desk. 

“Any more convincing and we may need that room again. You think if we go now, we won’t have to pay the hotel for a second day?” 

God, I think I’m in love. MacCready thought as he nodded to you, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. At that, both of you scrambled off of the couch, quickly making your way towards the stairs and up to the hotel room.

Nick: 

     The synth didn't sleep, but he didn't mind it. He stayed awake beside you in bed, replaying memories of the night over and over in his mind. Although he wasn't sure how comfortable it could be, he had his arms curled around you, holding you tightly to his synthetic chest while the memories of his favorite night (in either of his lifetimes) were running through his mind. You snored softly in his embrace, utterly at peace, as he gazed affectionately at your soft features. Nick didn't often feel blissful, and he never would've imagined himself in this situation, being completely content with the person he admired, and adored so adamantly, safely wrapped in his arms. He should've known it wouldn't last. 

Without a sound, he felt as you slowly and gently pried his arms off of your body, climbing off of the shared mattress. Nick figured that you would give him an explanation; perhaps once you were out of bed? When you went to go and dress yourself? Before walking through the door? But you were silent throughout, even as he heard the door click shut behind you. Nick closed his eyes tightly, sighing to himself and wondering if the pain in his chest was substantial enough to cause him to short circuit. What had he done wrong? Even if it was nothing, he would understand why you had left. Even at his best, Nick could hardly amount to what any average human could give you, and he could never give you everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and deserved. He wasn't real. So he wouldn't blame you for leaving, hell, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own blissful feelings, he might've encouraged you to go. And he had, before last night had truly begun, he recalled asking you if he was what you really wanted. Then, you had seemed so eager, almost laughing at the thought that he couldn't be enough, after all this time the two of you had spent together, and all your pining over him. These thoughts circled through the synth's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He willed himself to grab a file and get to work, to do something, anything, to distract himself from the pain, but it was as though the weight in his chest was too much to bear. The height of his earlier high only amplifying the depths of his current low. 

     Every attempt to look through a case file was a failure, his yellow eyes roaming the first few lines of writing before his mind drifted off. To thoughts of where you could have gone, whether or not you would come back, and thoughts of last night. At the way you made his pistons fire at triple times their normal rate, the way you made his metal heart flutter in his chest, and the way you had come so beautifully undone in his arms. That was it. The moment he needed to remember for the rest of his days on this ruined earth. At that very moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He was sure he'd been foolish before, thinking you could never care for him in such a way. How foolish he'd felt then... it was nothing compared to now. The synth brought his metallic hands up to his face, the tips of his fingers displacing the worn hat on his head. He imagined tears flowing from beneath the heels of his hands as he dug them into his eye sockets, but of course none came. Would that have been acceptable? If he had been able to shed real tears, like a real human being, would you have stayed after last night? If he had been able-- 

The door to the agency burst open at that moment, interrupting the old detective's thoughts, and sending his head shooting back to see who had busted in so aggressively, his hat flying from its usual place atop his head. 

The fact that the synth couldn't breathe didn't matter in this moment as he huffed a massive sigh of relief at the glorious sight of you, the light of the early morning sun casting a warm glow around your body. 

"Oh doll..." the words escaped him as a smile began to spread across his synthetic lips, "for a moment there, I thought you were an angel." You giggled at that, your flushed smile causing the whirring in his chest to increase exponentially. 

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, I was just about to open up a missing person's case on ya." You finally closed the door and made your way to his desk, leaning down to give his cheek a chaste kiss as you smoothed your hand over his chest, stopping to grab at his tie and pull him up towards you. 

"Always the professional, hmm detective?" You smirked at him and he gave you a crooked smile before bringing his good hand up to stroke his thumb over one of your soft cheeks. 

"Although," you continued, teasingly bending down to pick his hat up from the floor, "your uniform doesn’t seem to be up to the usual standards." 

"Oh? Is that what you think?" He said, reaching for the hat before you held it behind your back, a mischievous grin forming on your lips, 

"Sure is. You don't have your hat.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” He interjected playfully. 

“And” you continued, “look at this coat, full of rips. It’s practically in shambles." you ran a finger down his side, allowing the tip of your fingernail to catch at the tiny holes littering the worn fabric.  

"Hey now, my coat's always looked like that. You didn't seem to find fault in it when you were cold last night." You shook your head, 

"Nope, I'm sorry Mr. Valentine, it's all in disarray, I'm afraid we'll just have to scrap the whole thing." 

"Well now, if that’s what you were after, you could've just told me, darling. No need to insult--" His sentence remained unfinished as you tightened your grip on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss that was anything but chaste. He had so many questions left unanswered, but for reasons unknown, he couldn't seem to think of a single coherent inquiry to voice to you in this instance. Looks like it will just have to wait until later.

Preston: 

     Preston felt uneasy. His eyes had opened slowly when he had awoken, his heartbeat had remained consistently calm, dapples of sunlight shone through the holes in the curtains beside the bed, indicating that he had slept through the night. Why did everything feel so… so peaceful? No nightmares, no panic attacks, the usual insomnia Preston tended to face in the wee hours of the morning had never reared its infuriating head. 

Then he remembered. 

It was all because of you. Amazing, incredible, infallible, irresistible you. Heat flooded to his face as a coy smile touched his lips. Suddenly, he felt he had to be near you, he had to see you to believe what his mind told him had happened last night.  

“Mhm, good morning," he sighed, as he turned to face your side of the bed, "how are you-- ?" Preston's eyebrows creased as he noticed your absence, his voice trailing off as he realized his question had no recipient. 

"Sole?" He sat up, rubbing his awakening eyes before glancing around the room of your Sanctuary house. 

"Sole?!" Preston said, louder than the first time. Perhaps you had simply gone to the washroom? Or to the kitchen maybe? Rising from the bed, Preston fetched his trousers from the pile of clothes that rested at the foot of the bed, trying not to dwell too much on the thoughts that it inspired. 

But... only my clothes are here. He reflected, feeling a pang in his chest, before reminding himself that you might want to be clothed, wherever you’d gone, even if it was just in your own house. He released a bit of his anxiety in a quick breath, before heading for the bedroom door, he opened it gingerly, glancing down the hallway before making his way to each of the rooms in search of you. He did so slowly, hesitantly, in fear of what he might find. Or, rather, afraid of what he wouldn't find. 

Preston stood in the empty kitchen, numb, his fear utterly realized. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, afraid to let himself think, but unable to do anything else in his current state. Why, why, why did he have to act on his feelings for you? He just had to tell you how you made him feel, he had to be vulnerable and had to “put himself out there.” He just had to be intimate with you, he had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with the way things were, with you as his friend? There he was, his life in danger, unable to help the people who needed him most, the Minutemen in complete disarray after having failed those they vowed to protect, and there you were. Here to save their asses, to turn his disaster of a life into one full of hope, full of light, and now, you were gone. You had left because he was an inarticulate, inexperienced, greedy, fool of a man who couldn't keep his mouth shut and just settle for having you as his general, and as his best friend. Why had he needed more? He didn't deserve more, not with you, hell, the whole damn world didn't deserve you, so how did he ever think you could want to be with him? 

But you told me you did. You said you cared about me and-- No. Actions speak louder than words, and your absence after the first night you two had spent together… that spoke volumes. 

Maybe you finally realized that I'm nothing special. Not compared to you. Maybe you realized that, next to you, and without you, I'm nothing at all. Preston balled a fist and pounded it weakly against your worn kitchen table, the dull thud resounding through the empty house. He sighed, sliding the chair back with a groan as he rose to his feet, heading once again to the back of the house. Entering your room without you felt like a crime, but he figured he might as well remove his things, and put on the remainder of his clothes, before leaving.

He stared down at the pile of tousled fabric at the foot of the bed, slowly untangling each individual article, secretly hoping that, if he took long enough, you would eventually make your way back into the room. That you would give him some inconsequential excuse for your absence, and he could forget all of the confusion and uncertainty of the morning. As Preston gingerly began to re-dress himself, thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The way your soft, gentle fingers had undone each of the buttons of his shirt, the pressure tickling his neck, then his chest, down his stomach to his naval, your hands wasting no time as they moved upward to push the silky material off over his shoulders. He recalled the feeling of the smooth fabric of his scarf, as it unraveled slowly around his neck, a chill creeping onto the sensitive skin before you had chased it away quickly with the heated touch of your sweet lips. He remembered the breathy gasp that had escaped from you as your hands grasped tightly at the lapels of his coat, his mouth colliding with yours over and over again as his mind screamed for him to stop, to slow down, to ignore the fire blazing beneath his skin. 

This is your general! It had told him, this is your friend, your recently widowed friend, your friend that you desperately need to keep in your life! If you screw this up, how will you ever be able to forgive yourself?

He should have listened to his head then. Why hadn’t he? Preston was sure that, if he had, it would have spared him from the awkward discussion he was bound to have with his superior officer in the near future. It certainly would have saved him the pain he was feeling now. 

At the same time though... Last night had been the best night of Preston’s life. Did he really regret having those memories now? Yes, he had to. After all, what did last night matter if it hadn’t made you happy? 

Preston shook his head, releasing a breath he was sure he’d been holding since he left the kitchen. Pulling up his boots, he grabbed the remainder of his things and left the room, glancing back at the empty bed one last time before placing his hat atop his head and pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The beams of morning sunlight chased away the fog that had settled in the streets of Sanctuary, bits of bright blue sky peeking through the gaps in the clouds. Looks like it’ll be a nice day. He thought somberly, trying desperately to perk himself up, lest he bump into any settlers on his patrol. He wouldn’t want to worry anyone with his troubled expression, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to answer any questions about his current state. Preston started towards the bridge, planning to begin his patrol of the perimeter from there. He was so focused on his destination, he nearly failed to notice the hand waving him down from the side of the street. When he did turn to look, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Sole!” He exclaimed, much too loudly, as he noticed you, nearly dropping his laser musket. A wounded settler was seated on the curb, you were kneeling next to him on one side, wrapping a bandage around his arm, with Sturges standing on the other, an empty stimpak in hand. As soon as he processed what he was seeing, the Minuteman lieutenant tried desperately to compose himself, a blush inadvertently creeping up his cheeks as his eyes met yours. He adjusted his grip on his musket, and cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.  

“Is everything alright over here?” He asked, making his way over to the group, “What can I do to help, general?” you gave him a small smile, assuring him everything was alright, and finished tending to the settler who, as Preston found out, was a new arrival who’d run into a pack of mongrels on his way to Sanctuary. When they were all certain the settler would be okay, Preston quietly asked the general if they had a moment to talk, much to Sturges’ amusement. 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sturges slapped Preston on the back as he passed by, snickering to himself. Preston felt heat rising to his face again and quickly motioned for you to follow him behind the house, hoping to get a little privacy. He took in a sharp breath, before releasing it slowly, and you smiled warmly at him. That’s a good sign, I suppose.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you quietly. Your eyes looked past Preston, almost as though you hadn’t heard him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Turning your head slightly, you glanced to either side, ensuring no one else was looking on, before turning back to him, looking into his eyes as a flush touched your cheeks. 

“If I’m honest?” you started, and Preston’s breath caught in his throat, “I’m a little sore.” you said with a little smile, and Preston felt his knees wobble as his legs nearly gave out in relief.  

“Heh, if I’m honest, me too.” He said, shyly looking down at his feet as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “So, about that,” he continued, “last night, I mean. Did you, ahem, did you like--”

In an instant, your lips were on his own. The kiss was soft, but forceful, affirming all that Preston was uncertain of. 

“Last night was… amazing, Preston.” You told him after you had pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders, keeping his body pressed to yours. 

“Then, when you left this morning ... ?”

“Sturges was looking for you when he found the settler on his patrol this morning, but he obviously didn’t find you in your bed, so he came to find me and--”

Preston groaned, an embarrassed smile forcing its way to his lips, 

“He didn't see anything, did he?” You giggled at that,

“No, honey, he didn’t see anything.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before pulling at his shoulders, urging his ear to your lips, “But someone did. And I hear they really liked what they saw. You know who it was?” you whispered. 

“Who?” you heard him breathe.

“Hmm, you really don’t know?” You sneaked a peek at his face, noting the goofy grin that spread all the way to his warm, chocolate eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Preston drew an arm around you, his hand on your lower back, keeping you anchored to him, and all apprehension following this morning’s events seemed to be forgotten.  

“You might just have to remind me.” He said cheekily, pulling you into another kiss.

X6-88: 

     The tightness in his chest was the least of the courser's worries as he woke to find himself utterly alone. You were gone, that, he knew. But where-- no, how? How had you woken and readied yourself without also waking him? 

He never should have agreed to last night. Not only was it completely inappropriate, given your future position in the Institute, but it had distracted him from his main duty. The most important mission he'd ever been assigned: to watch over his charge, to keep them safe. To protect you. He had grown distracted, and now you were gone. The future director of the Institute, someone he respected and idolized, a person he cared about, more than anyone he'd ever come across in his existence, was just gone. His loyalty to you was akin to his loyalty to the Institute itself, and that was non-negotiable, unbreakable, hard-wired into him. You had won his devotion on your own, which made it that much more meaningful. And that much more painful when he realized that you might not feel the same loyalty for him. But why would you? And why did he care? He was allowed to feel allegiance towards you without you needing to return it, was he not? But … if you had felt this loyalty for him, you surely wouldn't have left him alone, correct? At least that's what it seemed like, but X6 wasn't particularly knowledgeable when it came to this subject. He didn't know, these thoughts confused him, and normally you were the one to help him make sense of his more... human tendencies and emotions, but clearly in this instance, he was on his own. You had treated him like no one ever had, like a real person, and so he thought he could start acting like one. Feeling like one. But he was wrong. X6 wasn't wrong often, and he hated the feeling. In his current state, every feeling he had was a negative one. He decided to shut it out. These feelings weren't helping him protect you, which was still his mission, reciprocated loyalty or not. Sitting around, contemplating his emotions didn't help him to find you. 

  The courser sat up and climbed off the mattress, grabbing his clothes that he had folded neatly beside the bed last night, noting that only his were present. After you had fallen asleep, X6 had untangled his body from your own as gently as he could, so as not to wake you, and had placed your clothes beside the bed in preparation for the morning. He had retrieved his courser uniform from the floor, with the intent of dressing himself and sitting on watch for the night, but you had stirred, sleepily requesting he return to the space beside you. He remembered hesitating, before folding his coat and placing it on the table beside your own clothes and doing as you had asked. Sliding beneath the covers, he had laid on his side, placing an arm around your waist. He remembered wondering if what he had done was correct, if he was doing this all right, but you had seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to him. So, if he had done nothing wrong, why had you left? Taken your clothes, and your bag, and your gun, and vanished without a trace? And when had he started caring about your happiness? Your health, and your safety, yes, he should certainly care about those, given the nature of his orders. But now he cared about how he made you feel. He wanted you to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. But why?

X6 shook his head, attempting to clear it, and grabbed his rifle from the top of the dresser. It was distracting thoughts like these that had forced him into his current predicament, he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Placing his shades onto his face, he prepared to head through the door, and out into the wastes to search for you.

  X6 surveyed the surrounding area outside of your home in Sanctuary: the gas station, Abernathy farm, Tenpines bluff, even the inside of Vault 111. Yet, there was no sign of you. He returned to Sanctuary and found your house still empty, the hollowness growing in his chest as he realized that your leaving really had been intentional. Elsewise, he would have stumbled across you, or some sign of you, by now, right? He stood in your old kitchen, his knuckles paled at the death grip he held on the edge of the counter, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold his emotions at bay. 

How could he have agreed to last night? And why would you have presented the idea if you had meant to do this to him in the end? With a groan of frustration, X6 pounded a hand against the countertop, leaving a small indent in the shape of his fist. Not only had you left him, you had done so without warning, without explanation, and now he couldn't find you. He couldn't find you. That's what he did, he was a relentless hunter, a cold pursuant, he completed all of his missions efficiently, he followed Institute protocol, he followed orders. What he didn't do was get wrapped up in human emotions, he didn't throw caution to the wind and give into his most base desires. He was a synth. He didn't yearn, or want, or love. Or at least he hadn't. 

Not until he met you. 

The courser sighed, fists still clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do, you were his mission, but if you commanded him to leave--? But you never actually had ordered him away... In his eyes, there was only one option for him to consider.

  "Unit X6-88, ready to relay back to the institute. Alone." 

   A flash of blue, and he was back. No one asked him to report in, and he didn't offer. He started straight towards the SRB, wondering what the consequences would be for his behavior. A memory wipe would be the best outcome, especially if... Oh. But if they saw the memories from last night, what would happen to you? 

X6 stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to go up the stairs that ascended to the residential portion of the Institute. Once again, he was at a loss. He didn't want to lose those memories, but more than that, he didn't want anyone else to see them. You were the first person he's ever met that treated him as a human, saw him as one, made him feel like one, and he couldn't bear the thought of what the Institute scientists would say about you, say to you, or do to you, if they saw what you had done with him. The courser looked down at his feet as he walked quickly, moving instinctively towards your quarters. He turned down the hallway, and recoiled at the figure that appeared as your door dragged open. X6’s eyes widened beneath his shades, and he cleared his throat to keep himself from gasping in surprise as your eyes met his. 

"There you are! I was wondering when you would finally turn up, I finished with the meeting hours ago. I was just about to go out and look for you. Don't tell me you slept in this late?" You said with a grin that spread all the way to your glorious eyes. X6 couldn't form words, he just stood gawking at you, his mouth half open, looking like a complete fool. Right, the meeting with Father. How had he forgotten?

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your smile being replaced by an expression of concern. The courser didn't answer, he still couldn't keep his thoughts in order; instead, he stepped forward until his chest pressed against yours, urging you to back into your quarters. You did so rather hesitantly, a confused expression causing your brows to crinkle. When the door had closed behind him, X6 slowly reached out his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, just as you had shown him last night, he pulled you to his chest and held you firmly. The warmth of you, your soft hair and sweet scent calmed his strained nerves, and he finally allowed himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes, just for a moment. As quickly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away from the hug, squaring his shoulders and straightening his posture, 

"I'm glad you're safe, ma'am/sir."

[ciaran]

also (apparently I'm not done talking about this) people bring up the fact that he's an incel constantly because they think somehow that being traumatized by having toxic masculinity imposed on him by both men and women in his life, and responding to that in a way that is clearly very much shaped by that toxic masculinity even though it's (again, in the text) not his primary response, makes him an incel. i wrote about this before when i watched the show but here's the thing: Shinji is a 14 year old boy. he is alone and hurting and he wants to make friends and he wants a hug. unfortunately for him, his only friends his own age are 1. a clone of his mother that seems to hate him and stonewalls his attempts at conversation for reasons he doesn't know, who is dealing with her own trauma in a way that leaves her unable to connect with people either 2. another girl who is dealing with her own trauma and takes out her rage at not being fuckable to a man several years her senior by trying to force Shinji to be masculine. his adult options for friends are the sex pest he lives with, who is trying to flirt with him and projects her own daddy issues onto him (A LITERAL 14 YEAR OLD BOY) while also being taken care of by him because she can't cook or clean for herself, while at the same time she is his BOSS. if your landlord was your boss at your job where you are a child soldier you would be fucked up beyond belief by that alone but this isn't even about that. and his other adult options for friends are 2 emotionally and largely physically absent men who only appear when absolutely necessary to coerce Shinji into saving the world at the low cost of permanent trauma and quite possibly death. so from the start Shinji tries to reach out in the few ways he knows, starting conversations and trying to help people, and he's shut down + his opinions are dismissed + he is traumatized violently every time he admits to weakness in order to beat that weakness out of him, but naturally this only succeeds in traumatizing him further. he's also taught by the adults around him that the only viable avenue for men to seek comfort at all is through fucking women. he does not want to fuck women before this message is delivered to him. he's curious about it, which is normal, but he only becomes obsessed with it when he starts feeling like there's no other way for him to be comforted. and you can't call him an incel for that if it's literally materially TRUE in his story that no one will touch him or hug him except to hurt him for the entire duration of time he is being actively and horribly traumatized by people. he fixates on sex because he wants to be touched gently and every other door to that gets slammed shut in his face. and this isn't even contending with the fact that he's gay and his lover dies at his hands, further cementing the idea that Shinji is never allowed to have good things. you can't blame him for not reaching out to people when you can SEE what happens to him when he reaches out. how much can you feasibly expect a child to keep doing when no one will meet him in the middle or try to understand where he's coming from and why he's in pain? they won't even admit that they hurt him.