For some lore for this AU, check out X5’s ref sheet post. X5 doesn’t do a lot of traveling due to his lack of combat training, clumsiness, and anxiety, but sometimes he tags along with his adoptive mother Mariana on missions. He happened to be around when they stumbled upon the Cambridge Police Station! Fighting ghouls isn’t X5’s forte, but between some lucky shots and Mariana’s actual fighting skills they manage to rescue the squad who otherwise would have perished. And who else do these secret synths meet but Brotherhood of Steel Paladin Danse…
Mariana belongs to my friend @cumbernuggets!
Power armor, new hand reference, multiple people and a mini comic? I’m impressed with myself for finishing this shit lol. I also have never drawn Danse before so that was a challenge, but I’m pretty happy with it.
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Characters drawn as cats but written as humans :3!!
I have this component in my hands, its odd shape rolling slightly as I move. As I shake. This belonged to a friend of mine, a friend that I shared many, many, memories with. Someone I cared for, comforted, loved in the same way one would love a brother. He was a brother, even if those figures that once followed him, targeted him, said otherwise.
Every time I think I feel a pit in my chest: grief, sadness, pain, guilt. Even when I remember something good, something enduring:
I sang a song I heard in the Mojave, “I got spurs that jingle jangle-jingle”
He asked me what that means, “Jangles the Moon Monkey?”
“No,” I told him. “They’re shoe accessories.”
“Jangles probably wears them,” He said, jokingly. “Especially if they jingle jangle.”
I hold back tears as I squeeze the only piece I still have of my dear friend, the component that, in many people’s eyes, disqualified him from humanity. But he was human. And I failed him. Just like I failed the NCR, just like I failed my family. I wonder what my mom would think, would she be proud? That I tried to protect, that I sit here now? I wish to see the future, even if in vague poems, maybe that would bring him comfort, it would take this off my mind anyway.
Today, a paladin found someone, a ghoul, half dead in front of an old art museum. I was taken there, shown, asked if I could help, or if we should put him out of his misery. Blood covered those stairs, caked it, the lions that had stood there for hundreds of years, green with age, had blood splattered along their manes, dripping from their muzzles. As if they were to blame, but they weren't, no lion could do such a thing, it was a different animal, filthy, cowardly. Maybe the same one that killed my old friend. But I know I can catch them, pull them into the water, tear them to bits. I knew I had to help this ghoul, they were the key, so I said yes, and we brought them back to camp. I refuse to fail him. I refuse to fail anyone else ever again. I, the crocodile, will behead the pig.
One headcanon I have about synths is that they’re entirely organic except for two things: the plastic chip in their head, and their TEETH, which are made out of ceramic, and every single set is cast from the same mould.
Normal human teeth are already weird enough, so when you’re actively fucking with genetics I imagine things very easily go haywire with their jaws and mouths and it causes a lot of pain/is “unsightly” so the Institute just decided fuck it and instead of messing around with whatever needs-braces gene they gave the synths, it’s easier to just remove the organic teeth and implant new ones. But there’s no reason to make more than one mould, so every single gen 3 synth has the exact same set.
So theoretically somebody could identify every single synth out there with a 100% success rate, but 1) wasteland dentistry is in the GUTTER, and 2) who the hell would compare teeth?? Even if somebody did a full body examination and learned the teeth are ceramic, there would be no reason to compare to those of another synth.
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I’ve slowly been mustering up the courage to show some of my art work on tumblr. This is my Sole Survivor (Fallout 4) Constance & her metallic detective husband Nick Valentine.
