#and also my old curie as well :)

[oh-kays-stuff]

Little Miss Massacre always puts "✨slay✨" into "slay out the entire White House"

[gardening--tools]

me while playing fo4 because i’m an opinionated bitch and i disagree with bethesda’s character design

anyway. presenting,

a detailed look at every companion’s appearance, according to me.

(these are all headcanons. they might not be yours, but they are mine. i wrote this as a fic-writing reference, but i don't mind sharing so long as we're all nice about it. also, spoilers ahead for companion quests, both in vanilla game and dlcs. you've been warned okay love you have fun. sorry in advance that you can clearly tell who my favorite character is.)

cw: heights represented by the united states customary system. sorry metric users :/

Ada. Modified RobCo Assaultron. 2074 model. SN has been sanded off and replaced with "ADA", painted carefully (lovingly) in blue script. It's clear that it has been reapplied multiple times, as many times as necessary. Post-Mechanist quest, she requests to have the names of her fallen friends painted on her body as well.

Cait. Pre-addiction recovery, scrawny-strong. Blood, muscle, bone and not much else. Very short. Like, south-side of 5'3". Has a very rectangular body shape. Hard angles. Was bright strawberry blonde when she was a kid, but it got darker as she got older. Hazel eyes. Freckles year-round and all over. She doesn't burn super easily, but she doesn't really tan either. Just freckles. Nose is crooked from being broken too many times. Post-addiction recovery she is a beef. cake. With Sole's help and resources she gains plenty of weight post recovery. Other than the normal weight gain that comes after recovering from addiction, she finds she enjoys exercise—especially weight lifting—and that it helps her manage her cravings. Her biceps are unfair. If I can be honest, I really only shared this so I can start proselytizing for my Fat Cait Agenda.

Codsworth. Standard GAI Mister Handy. 2076 Model. SN: 01HND-7619-0163. This is only visible because the 2076 Handys had their SN's embossed. All other markings that were printed or painted on have eroded away. A cute fact about Codsworth is that, despite his 200 years of wear and tear, he doesn't have a single dent on his exterior panels. Not. A. Dent. Scratches, yes. Scuffs, sure. No dents. He takes his structural integrity very seriously, thank you. He will brag about this if you let him.

Curie. Pre-companion quest, Modified GAI Miss Nanny. 2072 Model. SN has been scratched off and replaced with what is probably "CURIE", but the combination of chicken scratch writing and 200 year old marker makes it illegible. Post-personal quest, Generic Female Synth Body. Average body weight, brown hair, brown eyes. (I know she technically has "Hazel Blue" eyes but I disagree. It's my post and I get to make the rules here.) Her only deviation from "average" is her height. Generic Synth Height is 5'10", for both male and female synths. Takes time to look neat—neatly trimmed nails, trimmed hair, etc—and enjoys it.

Danse. M7-97 was a vanity design* so Danse looks a little different from the Generic Synth design. Still has the brown hair, brown eyes, but is a touch shorter than the standard. 5'8". Latino or Hispanic. His hair is insanely thick, but his beard always grows in a little patchy and with the odd blond patch just below his right ear. (This was not an intentional part of his “design.” Genetics, even synthesized genetics, get funky sometimes.) Carries weight like a strongman weightlifter. Thicker than average, even for the Brotherhood, so he's always had to have his flight suits and PA specially altered. (Thicker than average in regards to BODY TYPE you sickos– This is not that kind of post lmao.)

(This post from slocumjoe is a huge influence for my headcanon for Danse! Thank you for going through your archive to find it!)

Deacon. The Average Guy Ever���. Average height, average build. I'm firmly in the "Deacon is a Good Spy, actually" camp, so. Uncanny ability to adjust how he looks just by altering his posture. His weight has always easily fluctuated, so he can go from stick thin to bulked up in a matter of weeks. No matter how many surgeries he gets, he cannot hide the freckles. They always come back. He would have had piano hands if he hadn't been a chronic brawler in his youth. Knuckles are very crooked now. Eyes so blue they're nearly grey. Ginger. Has long eyelashes that are frankly illegal for someone who covers his eyes all the time.

Dogmeat. Dog. He has six toes on his back left foot.

Gage. 5'11". In an alternate universe, would tell people he was 5'9" just to fuck with them. Was a towheaded kid whose hair darkened significantly as he grew up. If he spends a lot of time out in the sun, though, it will turn a sandy blonde/light brown. He keeps his hair short because otherwise it gets very curly and floppy and it really kills his "bad-guy raider" vibe. Would be one of those white boys who tans super well but also thinks wearing sunscreen is for the weak. Scarred to shit. Holds onto muscle for a really long time. Underbite. Slutty little waist because I think that's funny.

Hancock. John Prime was already pretty wiry to begin with, and becoming a ghoul has only emphasized this. 5'7" but seems shorter because he's always leaning on something. Draping, even. He's like if a man was also a liquid, somehow. His remaining hair is incredibly thin, but is the most vibrant golden blonde anyone has ever seen. Eyes are dark due to discoloration, but sometimes—if he's taken in a ton of rads—the edges of his irises will glow subtly. Several piercings on his ears, but he used to have more. Lost them on account of his nose falling off. (You know how it is.) Replaced them with an astonishing collection of rings. Cheekbones that could slice a brahmin. Missing his fourth toe on his right foot.

MacCready. Definition of scrunkly. Not a lick of fat anywhere to be found. 5'5". Has a Gunner tattoo on the left side of his forehead and he hates it. It's why he wears his hat so low. Had an ear pierced once, but it got ripped out ages ago. His left earlobe is split now. He very clearly needed braces growing up but obviously didn't have access to that. Bottom teeth are crooked. His cuticles are picked to shit. Sandy brown hair. Cuts his own hair, but only cares about the hair around his face. Line of sight. Sniper. You get it. Is generally too lazy/uninterested in the rest, and will neglect it until it gets too long, so. Mullet (hot).

Nick. See, the problem with my synth grandpa is that this is the only character whose design Bethesda completely and utterly nailed. Like yeah, he does look like that. You got it. You did it. Perfect, no notes. Like all other Generic Synths, he's 5'10".

Old Longfellow. Exactly what you would expect an Old Hermit-Mariner Driven To Eldritch Madness By The Fog and The Sea would look like. The wildest eyebrows anybody has ever seen. Like you could take a comb through those bad boys. His hair is past his shoulders and fades into his beard. Stark white hair due to the stress of living alone on an island and from What He's Seen. You cannot convince me that there are not some Lovecraftian nasties living in the sea. They Know Longfellow, but Longfellow Knows Them. 6' until he stands up straight and then he's like. 6'5". Liver spots across his face and hands. Looks like he has cataracts in both eyes, but somehow can see better than you.

Piper. By far the companion whose Bethesda!verse appearance I disregard the most. In my heart she is a South Asian woman. On the taller side, between 5'8" and 5'9". Super thick, dark brown hair that in fact does just Look Like That (unfair). Her hair grows from fairly far down on her neck. Deep brown eyes. Spends lots of time on her makeup, even when she's out in the 'wealth chasing leads. Prefers red lips and dark liner close to her lid-lines. Her cupid's bow is super pronounced and she does her makeup to highlight it. On the softer side in regards to physique. Has a burn scar on her right forearm from a cooking mishap back when she was still trying to figure out how to live on her own and take care of Nat at the same time. Bites her nails.

Preston. Personification of someone telling you that everything is going to be all right. Tall, 6'. Pretty standard physique for someone who grew up on a farm and then became a soldier in a wasteland militia. Very square hands. Lets his hair grow out a little bit because he (forgets about it) likes it. Brown eyes that look like honey when the sun hits them. Other than the two scars on his face—one running down his left cheek, the other a small nick on his top lip—he has a scar from a bullet wound on his right shoulder. Has a stick and poke tattoo of the Minuteman coat of arms on his left arm, just where his shoulder meets his bicep. Top lip is bigger than his bottom lip. Dimples when he smiles. Huge smile, smiles with his whole mouth. Legs like an adonis. Someone get this man into some 4' inseam shorts, STAT.

Strong. Super mutant. He was a Butcher, so he's a little beefier than your average mutant. Of course, this is only known to other mutants, as the subtleties of mutant physiology tend to be lost on non-mutated humans.

X6-88. Generic Courser Build. While Generic Synths are designed to blend in with the everyman, Generic Coursers are designed to inspire fear in every man. (booo bad joke tomato tomato) 6'3" but stands so perfectly straight that he seems taller. Has the superhero build, but like naturally. Keeps his hair in a short fade. Bottom lip is lighter than the top lip. Has little lines around his mouth from all his frowning. Has one (1) singular scar on his chin. He won't tell you where he got it (it's from him eating it on concrete steps. That was the one mission he asked for an extension on, so the evidence of him beefing it would heal.) Also chronically wears sunglasses. Behind those aviators are grey eyes that are so pale and sharp, they almost look white.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Romanced! FO4 Companions and the Little Things They Do in Relationships

Alright, so this one wasn't really a request, but just a lil amalgamation of relationship headcannons that I compiled recently.

I'm definitely still getting back into the swing of things in terms of writing, so my output hasn't been fantastic lately, but hopefully this lil tidbit makes y'all smile 😊

I hope you enjoy!

Cait:

Gives her partner massages often. When there’s that rare bit of downtime, she’ll take the opportunity to help both her and her partner relax, and this is a great way to do it. She's exceptionally gifted at them, given her time spent in the ring and having to combat that bodily soreness herself. She also loves how they tend to end up leading to a lil something more with her partner (wink, wink). 

Curie:

This girl compliments you at every turn. Any little good thing that comes to mind, she's the first to say, and she does it often. Always the first to see the best in people, to see their potential, and you, of course, are no exception. Her compliments tend to be about your clothes, words, and actions rather than just flattering your physical appearance. Though, she definitely does that on occasion as well. 

Danse:

He always checks in with his partner a few times a day. Even if you're both working on projects separately, he likes to come over and ask how your day is going/how you're feeling. Even if you spend the whole day at each other's side, he takes a couple rest stops and asks how you're doing along the way. Maybe it stems from his time as a CO, always checking in with his team and getting/giving status updates, but it’s one of the main ways he shows that he cares.  

Deacon:

He notices a lot about his partner. The way your nails are torn and shortened means you're stressed, or when you bite your lip that certain way it means you're nervous, when you’ve been particularly spacey, it means you’re dwelling on the past and probably not in the best headspace that day. He’s not great at bringing it up and chatting about it, but he adjusts his behavior and his humor to fit the mood you’re in, and when time and space allow, he does what he can to distract you from some of the more negative feelings that may be rising up.  

Hancock:

He always needs a hand on his partner, or just to be touching them somehow. It's not that he's really trying to be possessive, per-say, he just can't get enough of you. Always is holding your hand, or throwing an arm over your shoulders, or pulling you practically into his lap with a giddy smile on his face. When you’re not actively in his lap, he’s happy to settle for leaning his head on your shoulder, or brushing your thigh with his own, or even just holding pinkies.  

MacCready:

He's a great gift giver. Definitely the partner that often finds little things that remind him of you, and he tends to gift them to you with a blushy explanation of how you come to mind with so much of what he sees. He’s also quite crafty, and enjoys giving homemade gifts as well. Definitely the one to suggest homemade presents for anniversaries and birthdays and such.  

Nick:

Always kisses you before he leaves, and it's the first thing he does when he returns to you. Real old-fashioned, but it's a trend that he'd never give up, cuz it means all the more when it's with you. The memories of it with the old Nick just don't hold up the same way. 

Piper:

The partner to leave little notes all over the place to let you know she was thinking of you. In the bathroom, on the kitchen counter, over your pillow, anywhere really is fair game. They just contain little compliments and inspirational quotes or reminders of memories with you. Whatever good thing she thinks of you, she just writes it down and leaves it for you to find and reminisce upon yourself. 

Preston:

He always brings you flowers (or another, equally thoughtful, gift) whenever he returns home. Usually he tries to find your favorites in terms of blooms, but he just loves the extra color in the house and the way you light up when you see them (he doesn’t really realize that the true reason you’re lighting up is because he’s coming home to you).  

X6-88:

He remembers all of the little details about you that anyone else would usually ignore or forget. Favorite color and food, your allergies, your favorite number, favorite song and the artist it's by. All of it is duly noted by the courser, and put into consideration when he's gifting you something, when you two go to eat, or when the radio is playing. He may not be too long-winded in speech, but he’s a tremendous listener and observer. 

[ezekiel13]

Very important real talk.

How many of the Fallout companions can I transgender? (I will refer to them with the games pronouns for them you chose what flavour of transgender they are. Or I will maybe also.)

- Danse. I mean. He finds out he isn’t who everyone thought he was and is kicked out of his family? Transgender.

- Curie. Your quest for her is to find her a new body so she can live her life to the fullest? Trans.

- MacCready. Im a transmasc. So he is too. That’s all. Also idk he has the vibe?? He’s trans to me no one can take that away

- Preston. I want him to be trans. Because I’m trans. He’s my husband. T4T (well I mean. It’s more T4T4T4T4T etc…)

- Deacon. He was canonically a woman for a period of time. Not cis. For sure.

- Piper. I think she should be trans because she’s cool. So. Trans!! Also. Her name is the kinda thing that she would chose after already making a newspaper. Like “hmmm… changing my name? Piper Wright!! Because I write on paper.”

- X6-88. I feel like he’s not cis. He sees himself as not human so like. Xenogender? Maybe.

- Cait. I don’t know very much about her but she’s super iconic and she seems to have deep rooted issues with her physical form (I may be wrong here i only met her like twice. She doesn’t like helping settlements so I’m kinda stuck on befriending her) So i say she’s trans.

- Hancock. He took a drug which got him exiled from his family and home. I mean. Do I have to say more???

- Strong. Technically super mutants are genderless (they become physically asexual with FEV) and Strong chooses to be he/him’ed so. That’s not very cis.

- Nick Valentine (who I totally didn’t forget about and totally am not editing in). He’s the older trans guy who uses different terms for it but is super important to everyone. Especially that he’s still around.

- Codsworth. Yeah idk anything about him but he’s like kinda British and I know a lot of transgender brits so. Someone who knows stuff about Codsworth please reblog with information about him!!

- Dogmeat. He’s a dog. I think he’d bite transphobes. He’s very small I love him.

- Porter Gage & Old Longfellow (if that’s his name??) I don’t own either DLC so I can’t comment. Someone please tell me why they’re trans

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Companions favorite Disney movie?

A/N: Howdy, howdy, folks! I know it's been a while, but I hope y'all enjoy these! 🥰💙💛 I've been extremely busy and have sort of lost motivation for this fandom, but I'm going to try to play Fo4 soon and see if I can muster up some more motivation 😊 I still have some fanfic to write and some reactions to do and I've got to get my butt in gear!

Cait - Brave. It might seem like the obvious choice because, well... ginger twinsies.... But she loves it because of the constant action and the fact that Merida wields a sword and a bow while also riding a horse often at the same time. She also secretly sort of finds herself vicariously living through Merida and wishing she would have had a family like hers with parents that actually loved her.

Curie - Inside Out. It's sciency and presents a fun, creative way of examining the brain's functions. She would prefer that Disney be more realistic, but despite her slight disappointment, she also understands that it has to be presented in a child-friendly way that would keep a kid's attention. A close second for her would be Big Hero 6. Honey Lemon is her hero.

Piper - Zootopia. She finds herself very much relating to Judy Hopps most days. Just a girl in a big city and a big world with the chips stacked against her and hardly anyone on her side as she fights the good fight. She also enjoys Judy's optimistic, sarcastic, energetic spirit that she upkeeps in the face of adversity. It's something that Piper herself has done her best to maintain.

MacCready - Finding Nemo. As a concerned dad with a struggling young son of his own, he can relate to this movie greatly. Plus, a bonus is that he likes to mess with F!Sole about being Dory, which she never seems to appreciate nearly as much as he does most days.

Deacon - The Emperor's New Groove. All of the jokes and the lightheartedness of the overall movie is totally Deacon's style. He always quotes the movie afterward and drives everyone at HQ crazy with his rather awful impression of Yzma.

Codsworth - Flubber. He sort of is crushing on Weebo the robot assistant. Granted, he says he has no sort of manner in which to facilitate such feelings since he is not programmed to feel things like that, but he raves over her enough that everyone can see he clearly has some manner of feelings.

Hancock - A Bug's Life. He doesn't really know why, but it cracks him up every time he turns it on. Of course, he's usually high when he's watched it, but that's not the important part. The important thing is that it's anti-grasshoppers and after the stuff he saw at Nuka-World, that suits him just fine.

Danse - Toy Story. He would rather die than admit it, but he likes the movie for the odd reason that he heavily relates to the spaceman. His perspective on life and his soldier-like dedication to his mission is truly outstanding. He also strangely relates to him in many ways, but he's not quite sure why.

Preston - Brother Bear. He enjoys the deep feelings and meaning behind the film. It's such an underrated yet good film and it has a really great sound track as well. He also has a strange affinity for Toy Story because of Woody and his steady dependability.

Valentine - Old Yeller. It's traditional and it has that sense of old-timey living that Nick can appreciate. He also enjoys the deep emotional quality of the film and the fact that it's about a good, loyal, brave dog. Kind of like Dogmeat.

X6-88 - Maleficent. He enjoys her sense of humor and her sense of taking care of business and revenge when people do her wrong. However, his favorite non-Disney movie is The Matrix. He firmly believes the coursers' design is based on Morpheus and he secretly thinks he looks like him most out of the courser models.

Dogmeat - The Fox and the Hound. He loves nothing more than to howl along with the dog on there. Finally a movie that actually has a character that speaks his language! The dog also actually successfully befriends other animals in a way that Dogmeat never seems to do too well since they're always trying to stomp on him or kill him. He also is a fan of Bolt.

Strong - Monster's Inc. Firstly, Strong doesn't like movies. They're confusing and make no sense because what do you mean those things are not really there? They're standing right in front of him! But he likes Monster's Inc more than most because Mike Wazowski looks like a super-mutant. An ugly, one-eyed freak super-mutant, but nevertheless one of his kind.

[msbarrybeeson]

Before You Go | Future Donnie & April Insight (Part VI)

(Reader Included)

A/N: Any constructive criticism is appreciated. Reader comments and feedback are also welcomed a lot. 

I have been gone for a long time. Just occupied with my studies! No fan fiction author curse or anything (yet).

Summary: You’re both adopting-parents of Casey. The story follows the perspective of Donatello and April O’Neil during the Kraang apocalypse. You and Leonardo decided to ask them to watch over thirteen-year-old Casey.

In other words, familial interactions between April, Donnie, and Casey Jr.

Reader: Gender-neutral pronouns are used, except the terms “(Mom / Dad)” are also used. Second POV.

Pairing: Rise! Future! Leonardo X Reader

Warnings: Bittersweet.

Word Count:  ~3490

Parts: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / ...

~

Donnie knew how much of a genius he was.

It was no surprise after all. In his late teens, he improved NASA’s satellites to communicate with planets light centuries away. He cured breast cancer through the use of protons in radiation therapy to target specific cells, rather than affecting the harmless. Hell, he even managed to discover a new type of radioactive particles: mutons. By that point, he—.

“—should have been given a Nobel Prize in Medicine and in Chemistry.” Donnie cursed under his breath. He strolled over to his lab bench, equipping his goggles.

Squeeeak. 

April– who was found seated on Donnie’s roughed-up, spinning gaming chair– raised an eyebrow. Her hair had grown out and was left unbounded. Faint wrinkles and eye bags on her features displayed maturity, in contrast to a couple of years ago. However, everyone was well aware that time was not the only factor. 

“Whatcha going on about now, Donnie?”

The softshell huffed. “Recall when I wrote a report about my experimental findings with an invention meant to revive a deceased human being?”

“...You mean the one where you thought it was a good idea to open up Curie’s tomb? Even gone as far as to ask for my help?” April grimaced. “Who’d ever forget that.”

She proceeded to massage her temples. 

“God. You were in all kinds of messed up for that, Don.”

Lightning-like yellow sparks flickered as Donnie had his robotic hands occupied with a butane torch. His goggles were sealed tight around his eyes as he built a oval-looking device on his lab bench. Titanium outer-layer over a seriously complex circuit-board; appearing as if Samsung marketed grenades.

He scoffed. “Oh please. It wasn’t as if I’d taken long to understand how Marie Curie deserves her rest for her great contributions to radiation. Thus is why–.”

“–You decided to take a poor random husband of an old wife,” April interjected.

“Ahem.” Donnie pronounced. “The poor woman was begging me for her husband to be alive again. I was simply gracious and generous enough to not charge her for the process.” He set aside the butane torch. “At least it progressed well; he stayed alive for an additional two years. It gave his wife psychological comfort, and I was able to submit my paper to the N.S.F..” 

He picked up a screwdriver. “Except....” 

April could tell her friend’s eye was twitching. 

“They rejected my findings, nearly had me detained, and claimed it was far too ‘unethical.’” Donnie raised his volume. “Scoff! As if those researchers weren’t committing the crime themselves! Taking bodies away from families and claiming them as scientific property without permission.

If I could go back in time and shove my documents in their jaws, you bet I would.”

April smirked. “Well, I have my regrets too, Donnie.”

“You sound rather amused, April. Is that so surprising? And here I never thought you would regret your part-time job at Albearto’s. Or the fact you wasted money to switch to journalism in university.”

WHACK!

April threw her bat at Donnie’s head, flying back to her hand like a boomerang.

“Watch your mouth, mister. I may have regretted Albearto’s, but not a single moment in my life did I ever regret my journalism passion.” She stood up.

“Ouch.” The softshell vocalized, squinting his eyes toward her. His robotic clampers paused, setting aside the torch and taking off his goggles. 

“Mind yourself, April. Horse-playing is forbidden in the laboratory. I am not consenting to having yet another silver-titanium apparatus get scratched because of you.” Donnie gritted his teeth. “Can you hear the negative connotation?”

“Seriously, Donnie? Where’d that come from? Not only was that years ago but it ain’t anything except a simple accident.” 

“‘Simple accident?’” the softshell repeated with dramatic offense. “An accident, like many others in science labs, which could have caused severe damage! Remember the incident when your teacher dumped bleach and vinegar into the trash bin?

You know, if you had paid any attention in your chemistry class, those two would make mustard gas?” Donnie side-eyed his friend. “Simple accidents can have serious consequences, O’Neil.”

A hand crept up the lab bench.

“Uh-huh, and I’m supposed to believe an instance of me knocking over your phone and books would kill somebody?” April crossed her arms. “If anything, the blame’s yours for not organizing your desk when you got drunk on coffee.”

The hand took ahold of the butane torch.

“Donatello? Disorganized? Sounds cheap coming from you, a student majoring in Journalism.”

April pulled up her coat’s sleeves. “Oh boy, you’re about to get it—.”

Squeeeak!

Heads spun and found a 13-year old boy, replacing April’s spot on Donnie’s chair. Casey eyed the torch with a great yet concerning amount of curiosity.

“Yo, what’s this for, Uncle Don?”

At lightning speed, while April ran to move the gaming chair away further from the workbench, Donnie snatched the tool from his hands. “Child. Casey. Young man.” The softshell heaved loudly. “I must inform you this is NOT meant to be handled with such casual ease. How in Hawking did you even—.”

“Don’t your lab have a passcode or something?” 

“–Is what I am wondering myself, O’Neil. I refuse to believe this child remembers the beginning thirty numbers of π–.”

“Nope, only us.” April and Donnie lifted their gazes to his lab entrance. You leaned on the frame while a dear red-eared slider stood just behind. A couple of steps inside, and the metallic lab door shut close. 

Donnie– strangely– was quick to hide his device-in-progress off to the side.

“You’re back!” April grinned. “Hell, you would not believe the convo Donnie and I were having a minute ago.” She hurried to hug you.

“Figures,” Leo remarked. “We could practically hear you yards off.”

“Sounds like things never get old.” You smiled.

There was a side-eye between Donnie and April, before the Commander proceeded to inquire, coughing: “Anyhow.. care to explain the occasion? You two don’t seem to be in a hurry.”

“The only times you ever visit my laboratory are to prepare for immediate combat engagement, and you look awfully collected.” The softshell furrowed his brows.

“No, no.” You waved your hands, shaking your head. “Thank God no. We came here to ask if you two could take care of our Casey here while we head out.” The other turtle scrunched his in-quote eyebrows. “You— You came here to request us to... babysit him?”

April jabbed him in his plastron.

“You see? Just like I said.” Leo turned to you. “I know my brother, love. Don’s not the kind of guy to take responsibility for a kid. Or anyone, really.”

“Hold on.” Donnie narrowed his eyes. “I never said I refused, Leo.”

“Don’t know, it sounds like it to me.”

“Well, my misinformed brother, contrary to your belief, I am perfectly capable of handling a child.”

You huffed with amusement. Your husband only winked back.

“If you say so, Don.”

“Where are you two heading off for if you needed us to watch over him?” April inquired. “Wondering, ‘cause this never happened even when you two leave for patrol.”

“Just finding some time for ourselves.”

April exclaimed, “As in a honeymoon? Why not just say so? We’ll leave you two alone–.”

“–In this economy and climate?” Donnie interjected. “Has it also not been six years since your yet-to-be-legal marriage?”

“Alright, alright,” Leonardo chuckled. “Cut us some slack, bro. Finding time wasn’t easy when there’s Kraang above our necks.”

“Right, and you’re going on a honeymoon, how?” The softshell crossed his arms. “Simply because you’re the leader does not equate to you making wise decisions, Leo.”

“His ōdachi can teleport anyone to anyplace, we have some hope we can easily teleport to a remote area,” you answered. “One without Kraang infestation. It’ll be hard, but we may as well try.”

“Bonus points if we find clear skies and an ocean.” The red-eared turtle grinned, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

“What’s a honeymoon, (Mom / Dad)?”

Your hand went to caress Casey’s cheek. “Parent quality time. It just means you get to handle yourself like the responsible grown-up you’ll become one day. Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior around Uncle Don and Auntie April?”

“I promise, (Mom / Dad)!”

“Good boy,” Leo laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“You didn’t ask Mikey and Raph to help out too, or?”

“Between you and me, I think you guys are better of making sure Casey doesn’t get into any chaos,” you whispered to April. “Don’t tell them that, though.”

She laughed. “Okay, I see how it is. You both have fun.” 

Donnie bit his lip. Right as Leonardo and (Name) turn to exit the laboratory, he extended his arm out to them.

“Leo, (Name).”

You two faced back to him once more.

“Don’t kill yourselves out there.”

Everyone’s eyes widened– April, you, and Leonardo himself. But the brother in blue snickered, holding a smile that reached his eyes. “So you do also care for me, Don. And all this time I thought you were plotting to put me in my grave or something.”

“We won’t.” Leo placed a hand on your shoulder. “You got my word.”

“Bye (Mom / Dad)! Bye Papa!”

“We’ll be back soon, Casey!”

Donnie stood in silence as you finally left, leaving himself with none other than his best friend and his nephew. “I refuse to believe this is the future we have to deal with.”

“Times changed all of us, didn’t they?” April spoke. “One day we wish each other a good one, and the next, we hope we just don’t die. I could’ve been a famous news anchor by now, make my mother happy, fight crime without worrying about dying the next second.

..I wonder if there’s anyone else out there besides the small number of us down here.”

“..I doubt it.”

Donnie pulled himself together and walked back to his workbench, operating his clampers to work once again. He put on his goggles. Casey, being a young teenager of enthusiasm, peeked over.

“Watch yourself, boy,” April warned.

“Don’t worry about me, Auntie. I’m only standing over here.” Casey narrowed his eyes upon the glowing and metal-like ball his uncle had his tools on. “What are you working on, Uncle Don?”

“A sphere.”

“A sphere?”

“You heard correctly.”

“That sounds kind of boring.”

Donnie had to hold himself back from remarking with: ‘That is exactly what every child whose intellect is doomed would say.’

“I’m sure your mother would find it rather moving.”

“(Mom / Dad)? I don’t understand what’s emotional about a ball, though.”

“Hey Casey.” April coughed. “Why not tell us about your mask here? Haven’t taken a good look at it before. Maybe Uncle Don would like to hear it too.”

“You actually want me to talk about my mask?”

“Ain’t a problem, is it?”

“No.” He fidgeted with his fingers a bit. “You don’t have anything else to do?”

“We were just told to watch over you, kid.”

“Yeah, but everyone I know is always busy with the Kraang or supplying weapons. I never really get chances to hang out.”

There was a brief pause in the butane torch’s flame.

April’s expression softened. Her hand came up to brush his black hair. “Things have gotten calmer up there. So you’ve got plenty of time with us now.”

Casey smiled.

“So your mask?” 

The boy alternated between covering his face and removing it. “(Mom / Dad) gave it to me. She told me it is based on the one worn by my biological mother. (Mom / Dad) also said that my birth mother was kind of crazy-funny and likes to be loud. She would have a stick to play– what was it– hockey?

I don’t know what kind of game hockey is supposed to be, but I guess it’s nice to know how life was like before all the Kraang.”

A sad smile crept on April’s lips. 

“Anyways, I thought the mask looked kind of plain, so I decided to draw red marks on it. See?” Casey showed his mask off, fingers tapping the surface. “Guess who it looks like!”

There were two bold and thick streaks of red. Each one ran through one eye, truly a defining characteristic. The Commander chuckled, already imagining how much pride her friend in blue would feel from the fact a kid– let alone one he had been parenting– looked up to him so much.

“You know, I am seeing someone familiar here.” April hummed as she put on a thoughtful facade. Fingers holding her chin and everything. “Got to be Uncle Don.”

Named turtle paused for a moment and raised a brow.

“Seriously, Auntie April?” On the other hand, Casey gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “You probably want to get your eyes checked out, ‘cause Uncle Don doesn’t have any red stripes.” Off to the side. “And even if he did, he won’t look as cool as Dad.”

April snickered behind her palm as Donnie eyed the boy from behind his goggles.

“You’re right, you’re right. Just messing with you, kid.” Her hand ruffled his hair once more. “Sounds like you really admire your Papa, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Dad has an awesome sword that opens up portals. He always moves so quickly whenever he’s fighting. Bam! And the Kraang’s gone!” The teenager stretched his arm for emphasis. “Even as the leader, Papa knows when to get serious and when to make people laugh. He also cares a lot about me, (Mom / Dad), you guys, and everyone!”

It made even Donnie himself smile. 

However, the way Casey’s enthusiasm died down had not gone unnoticed. “I’ve always wanted to help out though.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I want to fight the Kraang right by his and (Mom / Dad)’s side. Except I barely get the chance to, because they keep telling me to stay close to base and hide behind a giant rock.”

April crossed her arms and went quiet. His feelings were nothing new. In fact, she experienced the same thing herself, seeing she had always been a human. It was like that until–.

“Have no hard feelings,” Donnie spoke up, his hands and eyes remained on his spheric gadget. The sparks were flying. “Your parents are merely worried about your well-being.”

“I know, I know. They won’t have to though, if I can have enough training or something.” Casey sighed. “Then again, I also know I’m only a normal sensitive human.

...Why can’t I be a mutant instead?”

“Ahem. You are classified as a human. That is a true statement and one you cannot change.” Donnie hummed. “However, that does not mean you cannot be strong and capable in other ways.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve been in my place before?”

“Perhaps I did. Did you truly think being a soft-shell turtle is easy? I happened to be born as one of the only Testudines species whose outer shell cannot protect.” Donnie remarked. “Casey, your mask.” His hand signaled.

“What about my mask?”

“I merely want to add something.”

Confused, he hopped off the chair and handed the mask over. “Hmm. As long as you don’t mess with the stripes, Uncle Don.”

“Who says I won’t?”

Casey kicked Donnie’s leg.

“‘Ow,’ I say sarcastically without feeling physical pain.”

“Hmph.” He crossed his arms. “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

“Such as?”

“You say those action verbs, even when you’re already doing them.”

April snorted. “Just his thing, kid. Uncle Don’s got his special quirks.”

“Do you have a quirk?”

“Picking unnecessary fights for one,” Donnie commented.

“You only call them ‘unnecessary,’ because you never want to fix the problem.”

He rolled his eyes. “My solution would’ve been ten times more efficient if you had allowed my technology and I to do the work.”

Casey wondered. “Does your tech ever go haywire, Uncle Don?”

“No.”

“Oh man,” April began, “you should’ve been there for this one time. Your Uncle Don was building some kind of overprotective bed to keep your late Gramps from waking up from his beauty sleep.”

“Gramps likes to sleep?”

“You’d be surprised to hear that he sure does.”

“Then what happened?”

“Uncle Don asked your Dad, Uncle Mikey, and Uncle Raph to try punching, slicing, throwing whatever they could on the bed. They were attacking it like crazy!”

“And then?” 

“And the bed was even more insane, ‘cause there were actual missiles shooting out! They went straight for his brothers. At some point, it got overboard, so Uncle Don tried to command it to stop.”

“I’m hearing a ‘but’ coming.”

“But it malfunctioned and thought Uncle Don was the enemy!”

“However!” Donnie pointed his finger up, interrupting the story-telling. “It did not take long for my creation to recognize his master.”

“Still went haywire in my book,” April remarked. 

“Ignoring that.” His robotic hand tapped the edge of his workbench, grabbing Casey’s attention. “Come here, young man.” He slid back the mask, except in his hands, it felt as if the frame had thicken.

“It looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same?”

“Try wearing it over your face.”

The boy did as told. All of a sudden, a bunch of green rectangles and words appeared in his vision. He gasped in awe. He spun around slowly, watching the rectangle focus on a figure through the wall.

“Yes yes, I know. I am well aware of how amazing I am.” Donnie huffed in pride. “I have opted to construct an interface with your mask. I cannot see why you shouldn’t have something to defend yourself with,” he reasoned. “I have other updates in mind later on. As of now, however, your mask will help you detect life forms across other rooms or through other objects.” 

“That’s so cool!” The boy hesitated though. “But I don’t want to break it or anything.”

“Hey.” April rested her hand on Casey’s shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. “Our resources are already scarce. Using then losing them is better than nothing. You better make the most of our tech. Understood, soldier?”

Casey grinned underneath his mask. He fixed his posture up and saluted. “Gotcha–! Understood, Commander!” 

He faced the inventor, whose hands were already back to being occupied with the “sphere.” “Thanks so much, Uncle Don!” Casey exclaimed, leaping towards the turtle to give a tight hug. “You’re the best!” 

Upon contact, Donnie stiffened up, but his lack of experience with physical touch did not prevent a smile forming on his face. He extended a robotic arm, patting Casey’s back. 

The boy then scanned around curiously with his mask. “Hey! Think I spot Uncle Mikey and Uncle Raph two floors down! They’re holding hands over a table or something. Why are so many people circling around them?”

April rolled her eyes. “Sounds like another arm-wrestling match between the our youngest and oldest brother.” 

Just like that, Casey booked it out of the laboratory so quickly, it reminded her of a certain red-eared slider. “What the–! Casey!” April groaned. “And here I thought we don’t have to deal with runaway kids. I better catch up to him.” 

“Would not worry about him too much,” Donnie commented. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Considering we will not always be alive to protect him... the sooner we leave him to himself, the easier it will be for him to survive alone.” 

“Hey. Come on now.” April walked to her best friend’s side. “Don’t you say things like that. We’re all going to survive this together–.”

“April.” Slight pain wavered in his voice. “You know as well as I do how our current reality is. It is only a matter of time before the Kraang finds everyone.” 

“Yet you’re still here trying.”

No response.

“It’s all because of the kid, isn’t it?” April affirmed. “He ain’t any genius prodigy you were expecting long ago. But he gave you a reason to try– he became someone worth fighting for.”

“I would not put it as simply as that.”

She shrugged. “That’s how I’d say it. You know you’re not the only one whose life changed because of Casey.”

Donnie paused his work, turning off the butane torch and finally pulling his goggles off his eyes again. “...Casey reminds me of when we were young, being rash and immature teenagers like any other. I hate admitting to such thing, but I was one too. And I hate admitting much more how much I missed those times.

The child has known nothing of the trouble we’ve experienced outside, April: when Cassandra was killed, when Draxum was torn apart, when Dad decided to sacrifice himself despite the slim odds.” His hands clenched into fists.

“Do not expect me to have any false hope for our future, but do not assume I would want Casey to feel the same way. For as long as he can, I want him to hold onto that false hope.”

“...” April had her arms crossed. Her eyes slowly came to linger on the workbench. “Is that ‘sphere’ his false hope?”

“..No. Not his.” Donnie traced his thumb over his contraption. “It’s for (Name).”

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Headcanons on Piper, Curie, and Cait Living Together in Sanctuary

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » platonic, slice of life?? ➼ A/N » I made them all roommates in Sanctuary in my most recent playthrough and wanted to share :)

This all came about because: Piper needed a bodyguard after all the threats she’d gotten, Cait needed a doctor she could visit frequently for her drug addiction, and Curie wanted to keep up with what was going on in the Commonwealth after 200 years.

The whole place becomes more of a sorority as Piper will quickly get very strict about there being no guys allowed in. This mostly stemmed from her being annoyed that Hancock and MacCready were staying in Sanctuary as well and she wants a place where she can be free of them.

Curie sets all her medical stuff out in the driveway so that she doesn’t get in the way of the other two. She’s also incredibly fond of the sunrises that she gets to see when working early in the morning. She prefers being outside after being crammed in a Vault for 200 years.

Piper and Cait are huge clutterers and will just pile things on top of each other, whereas Curie is an incessant neat freak. The house stays relatively clean because of her, but the other two aren’t any help.

When Cait’s angry about something, Piper will kick her out of the room and make her sleep on the couch so that they don’t have to get caught in the crossfire.

Cait puts up a ton of posters she finds in the wasteland. They’re all usually anti-communist, but she’s managed to get her hands on a few old boxing ones.

Ever since they started living together, Piper has been very adamant about the other two accompanying her while she investigates a particular story. Cait provides vital protection against most things and Curie helps look at things in a more forgiving manner which she feels keeps her more honest in her writing.

Curie hasn’t ever had to own clothes until she became a synth, so she has a habit of borrowing whatever the other two happen to have with them in the house.

Cait wasn’t very fond of Curie when they first moved in because of how innocent and eager she was, but it didn’t take long for her to grow on the cage fighter. Cait wouldn’t do it for anyone else, but she heavily discourages Curie from drinking alcohol due to the addiction she built (and the fact that Curie's never had any in her life) why should she start now?

Curie keeps a drawer cram-packed with stimpaks that are free for the taking for either one of her other roommates, but if one of the other settlers asked, she’d gladly pass them out to them too.

Cait and Curie tend to struggle to fit into the community, so Piper puts it upon herself to introduce them to people she knows and find areas in the community where they can be a more active part in.

[eeveesparkles]

Being brave and sharing my Codsworth headcanons here :3

Technically genderless, but uses he/him pronouns. He’s also gay and asexual.

Has a very soft spot for children, and wishes that he could be a father himself one day.

Likes to watch old pre-war soap operas. If he could he would even cry at the sad bits.

Enjoys gardening as a hobby, but also loves cooking and knitting.

TERRIFIED of rats. He has no problem killing Mole Rats but when he sees a small one, he will freak out and beg Sole to get rid of it.

May or may not have some addiction to tea.

He and Curie have a brother and sister-like relationship. They do tend to argue over silly things but other than that they get along very well.

[rdr2stories]

"The Curious Couple And Their Unruly Son" a rdr2 fanfiction.

A short rdr2 fanfiction about how the phrase "the curi couple and their unruly couple" came from.

Sean MacGuire was an annoying little shit of a teenager, his orange hair stuck out to every side no matter how much Grimshaw fought to keep it kempt, heck it was even worse than when Marston joined, however that was possible. Those two were actually scarily similar, not only in their weird hair and their rough exterior, but also in their loud mouths. John was just a bit more foul than Sean was.

Arthur disliked them both, not specifically for their loud mouth but for their attitudes. John was fifteen and had just started going on jobs with them, simple ones, the ones where Dutch and Hosea knew they would be able to save the situation even with John messing something up. Sean was thirteen and wanted nothing more than to go out on jobs with them, jobs that he no doubt would mess up and get himself killed in, or worse one of the others trying to save him.

That was the problem with many of the children that they took in, they thought just because they used to steal they were professionals at it, they weren’t and the fact they didn’t realize it themselves from the amount of bruises they had gotten proved their low intelligence. Especially Sean had gotten many beatings and Hosea was fiercely trying to teach him how to properly steal, it was not going great, which was the reason why he was being left behind in camp when Arthur, Hosea and Dutch were preparing their trip into town for some petty theft and to get an overview over the people in the area.

“Why won’t you let me go?” Sean complained as Arthur tightened his horse’s girth and gave it a scratch. “Come on! I can steal plenty fine!”

“Not without getting caught!” Arthur replied in annoyance as he snatched back the watch that Sean had fished out of his pocket quite poorly while he had saddled. “And we do not  want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“I have gotten out alright so far,” Sean huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t dead.”

“Yet,” Arthur groaned. “You ain’t dead yet, you have been damn lucky. What if it hadn’t been Hosea or Dutch in that alley? What if it had been someone else you had followed out to rob? You would have been dead then! I sure would have put a bullet in your skull.”

“You are scared I will take your place as the son, aren’t you?” Sean asked, half teasingly, half mockingly, as he leaned against the hitching pole.

Arthur raised a confused brow. “What are you even talking about?”

“Oh nothin’, just you the whole thing you, Hosea and Dutch got goin’ on.”

“What thing?” Arthur asked as he leaned against his horse.

“The curious couple and their unruly son.”

Arthur gave an unimpressed look. “We ain’t acting like that, we are just working.”

Sean shrugged. “Oh well, you know my da used to-”

“Not the da!” Arthur exclaimed at the same time as John who passed by at that moment, placing the saddle he had been holding on the hitching post next to Arthur’s.

“You don’t even know what we are talking about!” Sean said to John who whistled at his horse to come over from where it stood grazing not far out of camp.

“I don’t need to, you and your da is getting annoying real quick,” Marston replied as he put the rope halter on his horse.

“Well Marston now you are here,” Sean glanced teasingly at Arthur. “If I was to say the curious couple and their unruly son, who would I be talking about?”

“Arthur and the old men,” John replied without even looking at them. “Pretty much acts like a married couple and their adopted kid.”

Arthur sighed. “We don’t, they are my mentors just as they are yours, I have just known them longer.”

John snorted.

“How are you getting along?” Dutch asked as he came over and placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go? Me and Hosea have saddled the old boys up over by the tent, oh yeah, Annabelle is mad at me again so she and Bessie are sharing Hosea and hers tent so he is with me.” He patted Arthur’s shoulder again and looked over to John. “John, go with Susan into town today, will you?”

“What? No! I don’t want to! It is boring!” John groaning slightly in annoyance as Dutch merely returned his attention to Arthur, knowing to ignore the tantrums.

“Come over when you are done son, we are waiting,” Dutch gave Arthur a small chuckled before leaving the boys alone again.

“Married couple and their adopted son,” John repeated again.

“You are seeing things,” Arthur spat.

“Or maybe you are just stupid,” John stuck out his tongue at Arthur.

---

Based on a little convo I had with @wobblesthecowgirl

[hiscloakmydaggers]

Where You Should Be, What You Should Think

quick oneshot im working on cause im in block. writing depressed deacon is what remotivates me

｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ☀︎ ｡ﾟ☁︎

Minutes go by fast when Deacon isn’t paying attention. It wasn’t like he was going to use them any wiser than right now. Sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in his glasses. Embarrassing to admit, but he hadn’t really looked at himself in a while. He was uglier than he remembered.

His fingers traced over the lines on his forehead, as if checking if they were real. Eyes once large and sky blue had fallen considerably, now droopy and dark. He blinked for them to reappear in the same sad shape.

“Wow,” Deacon chuckled at himself with disappointment, “I let myself go…” he rubbed his face, pressing his thumbs tight into any blemishes. “I really gotta- shit.”

Quickly he cleared his throat, his complaining interrupted by Nic peering in through the door behind him. The man stepped in, hunching over, since he could barely fit through the frame. “What are you doing here? The food’s almost done.”

Deacon had almost forgotten already. Everybody else was outside, doing a feast of sorts since Curie swore it would improve mental wellness or something - Sheesh, maybe I should participate then - cringing, he grit his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, just need to take a break,” he hollowed his cheeks in a dramatic breath, folding his hands behind his back. Nic glared at him with suspicion. “I’m real tired, you know, I-I think I just wanna take a nap instead. Save some Mirelurk for me, with the sal-”

“But you slept almost all night?”

“Pfft, no I didn’t.”

“I know you did.”

“How would you,” Nic started to blush, giving him the answer, “nevermind. It’s nothing serious though, you should go out with the others. Have fun for once!”

Abruptly, Nic lowered to his height to cup his cheek, “I’m not going out if you’re moping here. You need to have fun for once. Just come out, say hello, get something to eat…” He trailed off, drifting his eyes down Deacon’s torso. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

Deacon closed his arms around his chest, “uhh, yeah. Why?”

Nic grabbed one of his wrists, pulling it back to expose him again. “You look smaller.”

Deacon knew he hadn’t been eating a lot recently, but to the point Nic noticed just like that? Maybe he had some problems. “Pfft, you sure your perspective isn’t a tad bit biased, big guy?”

“You’re too small. Come out and eat.”

“Honey I told you, not hungry.”

“Then I’m not going out.”

Exasperated, Deacon dropped his hands to his lap, “not gonna fight. Don’t have the energy to.”

Nic bit his lip, analyzing his every move. His arm wanted to go around Deacon’s waist, but didn’t, instead he held his hand. “Are you serious? Nothing is going on with you? I can tell when something’s off with you… I know how you act.”

The spy watched the dust on the ground, “don’t really know what you want me to say. I’m tired, that’s it.” He grunted as Nic pulled him into a warm hug. “Do not… trying to be sappy right now.”

“I don’t want to hear your jokes. Is everything okay or not?”

“I just don’t like how I’m looking recently! Like my age is really getting to me, man.”

Nic gawked at Deacon as if he was insane, “what are you talking about?” His thumb caressed his hand, so cheekily it was just gross.

“I mean I think I look like an old ugly man,” he shrugged off his insecurities. “You see, this is why I need my glasses. Mostly cause it’s bright out, but also-”

“You aren’t ugly at all,” Nic’s face dipped into the curve of his neck, planting pure kisses, “who told you that?”

“This total asshole named Deacon. You should kill him for me.” He chuckled and patted his head.

Grumbling, Nic took hold of Deacon’s shoulders, “I’m not killing anyone, especially you.” He ran a stressed hand through his hair, “I don’t understand. You’re… sad because you think you’re ugly? Baby, how could you even think that?” He gulps and stares deep into Deacon’s eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

For some reason Deacon felt teary. His brain told him to ignore whatever Nic was saying, but his heart made him listen. He looked off to the side awkwardly, trying to find his shield: his glasses. “Ahhh, thank you honey. You can make anybody swoon, I swear… I am just lucky.”

One smooth move and Nic’s hands were to Deacon’s waist in an instant. He leaned down with his weight, pushing his husband to lay on the bed, “you’re not just ‘anyone.’ You’re so much more to me.” His hands stood firm like pillars between Deacon’s arms and waist.

He buried his face back in the crook of his neck, basking in the warmth. “I don’t get how you aren’t seeing that.”

His voice, his movements, everything made Deacon’s eyes pop and voice tremble to air. “I… hah, what!?”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

sorry but im prolly never gonna post the full 😭😭 iykyk, its one of those fics i wouldnt publicly share bc of how much im totally reflecting. just know deacon does not hate himself as much at the end

[slocumjoe]

how would companions be at the beach? who gets sunburnt for a week? who tries drowning who?

Companions have a Beach Episode

Cait; is kicking ass and taking names at volley ball. Any who step up to the net are swiftly executed, either by shame of their devastation, or Cait spiking too hard and beaning them in the head. Being a ginger, this girlie is 2x vulnerable to sunburn. Doesn't put on sunscreen, thinks its dumb. Regrets this immensely. But before her skin starts peeling off of her like an onion, and in between claiming victims, she's throwing back fun beach cocktails. Doesn't drink water. On a hot, sunny day. When she's exerting herself. Also comes to regret this. This could have gone much worse if she didn't gorge herself at the BBQ. She wears baggy swim shorts and a loose tank top.

Codsworth; Hangs out at a gazebo with a makeshift kitchen/bar area. He's not risking sand getting in delicate places, absolutely not. No, Codsy stays nice and cozy, and makes those aforementioned cocktails, as well as other cold drinks and food. When he isn't serving something or cooking, indulges in some sort of activity, like a puzzle book, a normal novel, something like that. He enjoys the energy of the beach, the sand and sun and surf, but practically...he just really wants to take a broom to it, y'know? Just...just to see if he could...but that's rude to nature. So, it's best he keep to a more manageable area. One that doesn't give him cleaning itches.

Curie; Sets up a beach towel under an umbrella, and relaxes with a good book and iced drink. Despite not going out in the sun, puts on sunscreen to set an example. Periodically chases people down with a bottle if they've yet to apply it. You are not allowed to get skin cancer on her watch. When she isn't hunting Cait for sport, Curie is simply enjoying the beachy soundscape, warmth, and general chill vibes. Will get up and check on everyone, make sure they're drinking water, et cetera. Half of her time is spent relaxing, the other half Mama Hen-ing. These people lack self-preservation instincts and it kind of drives her crazy. Wears a pastel blue two-piece with ruffles.

Danse; is in his element. Warm weather, fishing, grilling, bright-colored, gaudy-patterned shirts. This is his happy place. Gets a cooler of beer, a pole, and sits by the shore, soaking up sun like a cat. Lives out his ideal life as an old beach bum and for once, has a good day. This is Danse at his peak. He shows up in knee-length khaki shorts, socks and sandals, and a borderline-neon floral button up. Anything he catches, he grills over at Codsworth's gazebo. Spends his day fishing, bbqing, and drinking, and shocks everyone with the fact that, yes, Danse is capable of basic joy and relaxation. Just...very sparingly.

Deacon; Redhead. Unlike Cait, knows the divine agony that is a bad sunburn, and lathers himself in sunscreen. Wears a speedo, crocs, and an obnoxious sunscreen streak on his nose. Participates in volley ball, wrist is sprained by a hard serve from the Red Menace herself. Afterwards, lets Piper and later, MacCready, use him as a sculpture base. Seeing as his day was spent underneath piles of sand, didn't do much. Had a lot of drinks, though, courtesy of Piper engineering a long curly straw for him. Has to be dug out for BBQ against his will, wanted to spend the rest of his life as a mermaid. When he emerges, is caked in sand and looks like a golumn. All that sunscreen turned against him. For the next week, greets people with "Hi, I have so much sand in my ass, how ya doin'?"

Gage; Tends to dislike casual, hang-out activities on principle. Whereas Danse doesn't like them due to his social anxiety and gets nervous around people. Gage doesn't like them because he doesn't like people period. The beach is one such activity, with the added bonus of causing him physical pain. Due to his half-blindness, prolonged exposure to brightness really strains the one eye, so he sticks to Codsworth's gazebo for shade. The ocean is basically a giant disco ball and that shit triggers migraines for him. Spends the day observing the others and chainsmoking. Keeps tally of Cait's various volley ball crimes. Plays catch with Dogmeat until the pooch collapses from exhaustion. Generally does what Gage is always doing—keeping tabs and making notes. Also, mooching off free food.

Hancock; the thing about Hancock, is that it's difficult to keep him in order. You're rarely going to see him in a group, doing group pre-ordained stuff. He sticks around the others for maybe ten minutes before he wanders off to see whatever he can find. Comes back a while later with his pockets full of rocks, shells, even bones. Codsworth empties a bucket for him to put his treasure in, and Hancock's back out on the hunt. Spends his day beachcombing. Brings back stuff for MerDeacon, gets a big clump of kelp for the hair, and seashells for modesty. Hancock just paces up and the down the beach, pondering shit, collecting shit. Basically this image;

MacCready; didn’t intend on sculpting a mermaid onto Deacon, but God presented him an opportunity. MacCready has based his entire life on taking opportunities given to him. Has so many fruity drinks as he crafts his masterpiece. Whereas Piper is more interested in forming the excavation site around the corpse of this behemoth sea monster, MacCready's more interested in giving the Deac very crude and childish features, such as breasts in the image of Deacon himself. But wait, aren't mermaids seals? Seals have multiple nipples, right? Guess we have to make more Deacon tits! This descent into madness might have something to do with the copious pina coladas he put away. Getting beaned in the head by Cait also probably didn't help. Wears gym shorts and a tank top.

Nick; Curie had the right idea. Only, Nick improves on it by moving his spot much, much farther down the beach. Takes a radio, wine coolers, and various books that he goes through over the day. Reads shlock romance pulp fiction, because he felt it more thematically appropriate to the beach. Has a few towels down for cushy-ness, being an old man. Needs his back supported. He wears shorts and a long, thin-material cardigan, almost like a robe. Wouldn't look out of place telling an officer he most definitely didn't kill his husband. Nick appears later at lunch/dinner/dinch, but until then, he's sequestering himself under an umbrella and he's having a moment of peace. Considered participating in whatever the others were doing at one point. Decided against it when he saw whatever the hell was happening with Deacon.

Piper; was almost a victim of Cait, dipped when a volley ball went past her head and it sounded like an actual bullet. Wisely moved out of the firing zone and began construction of a sandcastle. She blinked, and there was Deacon, and six nipple-Deacons. Doesn’t know how it happened. Didn't question it. Turned her castle into the excavation site of a prehistoric sea creature, washed ashore and buried beneath the sand. It pays to be adaptable like that. Piper spends a good chunk of the day pissing, as she's the type to need so much water when its hot out. She doesn't start slinging back fun cocktails until its lunch/dinner/dinch. Then, it's a cocktail for every hotdog, burger, serving of fish...and Piper can put away bbq. Wears a red halter one-piece.

Preston; is the only one to consistently survive Cait's bloodbath, so he keeps her busy, so as to let the others escape her rubbery death blows. Basically just plays ball with her until she gets tired, same as Gage with Dogmeat. Preston takes some breaks, and drinks water, but its a matter of attrition. Its an endurance test. He passes by the skin of his teeth. The game ends once Cait is lured away by bbq and alcohol. At that point, Preston is better considered a husk than a man. Drops an ice pack on the ground and lays face-down on it, and takes a nap like that.

X6-88; shows up in his usual black trench coat and not a single bead of sweat forms. Haunts the gazebo for sugary drinks and treats. Everyone tries to ignore him because they get second-hand heat stroke just looking at him. He's loathe to get near the water and loathe to get sand in his clothing. Becoming the Phantom of the George Foreman Grill was the only outcome for him. Backseat sous chef, constantly questioning Danse and Codsworth's methods or choices. Codsworth politely takes the criticism, and ignores it. Danse just chucks candy into the bushes to lure him away.

[aardvark-123]

~Fallout 4 Companions React to a Quiche Lorraine~

Ada would be mildly interested. "Ah, a savoury pastry dish with a cheese, egg, and bacon lardon filling. Packed with energy for a hard day's scavenging. It isn't often you find something that nice out here."

Cait would stare at the quiche in a mixture of desire and trepidation. "Janey Mack..." she'd whisper. "I haven't touched a quiche since my parents tried to drown me in one! Held my face under the delicious, creamy, cheese and onion-based filling until I blacked out, so they did, to punish me for sneaking food earlier. Bastards." Whoever offered Cait the Quiche Lorraine would be so horrified by her tale, they wouldn't notice her devouring the whole pastry without leaving them so much as a slice.

Codsworth would be pleasantly surprised to see such fine cuisine two hundred years after the apocalypse. "By George, where on Earth did you manage to find that?!" he'd exclaim. "Did you bake it? Good heavens, I simply MUST have the recipe!"

Curie would be worried about the quiche at first. "Alors, you cannot be certain zis dish is safe to consume! Given zat it smells so good, it cannot contain much in ze way of preservatives..." Then she'd take a small bite, and her eyes would light up. "OH! Sacre bleu, ze quiche, it is making LOVE to my tongue! Oh, help, I fear I shall BURST from ze sheer pleasure of it! Aaaah... If zis is ze last Quiche Lorraine in ze world, I shall die..."

Paladin Danse would grab your hand halfway to the quiche. "Not so fast, soldier," he'd say sternly. "One of our rules is that a knight cannot feed themself until they've fed the Brotherhood. Luckily, as I am also in said Brotherhood, you can fulfil your obligation by cutting me a slice first..."

Deacon would wear the Quiche Lorraine as a hat, after which he'd be too busy laughing to eat much of it.

Dogmeat would sniff the quiche. His ears would prick up in delight, and he'd give you a pleading look, as if asking for permission to tuck in. If you gave him the go-ahead, he'd spend five minutes chowing down on the quiche, as quite possibly the happiest dog in the world.

"Heheheh... Now, there's a tasty dish!" Porter Gage would laugh. "Reminds me of all my favourite things, like torturing innocent victims, and selling children into slavery. Good times!"

Glory hasn't had much contact with baked goods before, and at first she'd be confused by the Quiche Lorraine. She'd get the picture after a few mouthfuls. "Man! Now, THERE'S a pie that can look a girl's tongue right in the eye!" she'd exclaim upon finishing the quiche. "Just needs some chips, coleslaw and a side salad, and maybe some mustard... Wait, how the Hell do I know what those things are? Weird."

Hancock would complain that the quiche was too salty and needed a side of apple juice.

MacCready would be ever so excited to have a delicious Quiche Lorraine, but he'd freeze with his fork half-way to his mouth. "Is this- is this paid for?" he'd stammer. "I don't have to pay for the quiche, do I? Just checking. I mean, it's probably worth a few caps, but I don't want any nasty surprises in the financial department. So are we all square? Right, good. Just making sure."

"Well, I'll be damned," Nick would chuckle, seeing the Quiche Lorraine just sitting there. "Genuine pastry and egg, just like old Mrs Calkowski used to make in that little place down on Mass Avenue. Times like this make a man miss having a stomach. No, don't feel bad, partner; you get some of that down you. It's cold out there, and you're gonna need your strength."

Old Longfellow would probably also eat the quiche.

Piper would cheerfully tuck in as soon as she was offered some quiche. She'd eat every crumb of the quiche, lick the plate (if there was in fact a plate involved), and immediately ask for an interview about where you found the quiche. "If there's still food like this out in the ruins, the public have a right to know! I want names, places, anything to do with the source of the quiche! This... is going to be big."

Preston would fetch some paper plates and start dividing up the quiche for everyone nearby, or everyone who needed it most.

Strong would dig out a rusty machete and hack the Quiche Lorraine in half. "Human! Eat pizza so you can grow big!" he'd bark, handing you half of the quiche. "Strong also eat pizza, so he can stay big," he'd chuckle, tucking into the other half.

X6-88 would be unimpressed. "Such a primitive pastry construction," he'd remark of the quiche. "This dish demonstrates poor nutritional balance, with excessive salt and fat. Eating too much of it may cause minor health problems. I recommend that both of us take a small slice, and we hand the rest over for molecular analysis. The Institute's scientists will surely be able to generate a better, healthier quiche."

If you've never heard of Quiche Lorraine before, it's a type of egg and ham quiche originating in Lorraine, which is in France. It's a tasty dish.

[imagine-silk]

How would Piper, Nick, Cait, Deacon, and Hancock react to Sole being pregnant after a drunken one night stand who has a history of being a party girl and having a few hookups?

》I'mma crack my knuckles for this. Sorry, I've been distracted by Veilguard.

【Piper】 "I told ya this was going to happen."

Maybe it's a little heartless but she straight says she warned you, she even told you the almighty pull-out method and anal. As long as you're okay she can't say she minds. She'll run around with you to make sure the trouble you get into isn't too bad. And if it is she'll be there so it'll be like it was not a big deal. She's seen you bring the Commonwealth to it's knees so she's not too concerned.

【Nick】 "Well, full of surprises, aren't ya?"

He's going to make sure you stay in a settlement and take it easy, because if you don't he'll make you live at his place to keep and eye on you. He'll also see if he can find the father if possible, even gets Piper and Curie to help him. Also depending how old you are depends on how protective he is of the situation and how much free reign you'll get. God forbid this is a teen pregnancy, you'll never leave his sight. Being in your twenties means you're walking on this ice. But thirties means he'll keep an eye out but barely anything else.

【Cait】 "Fuck."

She's not very happy. The Commonwealth is a dangerous place for many reasons and having a baby is not safe, medically or for security. If you survive giving birth now you have a tiny human who needs constant care. She's going to help and that's not up for debate, you decide.

【Deacon】 "You wanna make bets on what it'll look like?"

He tries to deescalate the situation with jokes. Whether or not it does decides how he proceeds. If you find it funny he'll follow through on the joke and you'll go through all the people you've had sex with, even throwing in whether or not they were any good. If you don't find it funny he changes his course and asks if you wants to see a doctor. You know what that means.

【Hancock】 "Oh damn, we gotta baby-proof this place."

He immediately prepares for the baby to come. Normally he'd ask what you would want to do but he's so preoccupied with the fact his friend is growing a baby in her he forgets to do his usual 'there's no shame in abortion' thing. If you decides that he'll prepare for that but he's kind of in a panic the whole time. He scrambles to get things and honestly he can't say he minds, it's actually a nice change of pace.

[nightingaelic]

Since I’ve seen you also do fallout 4 Reacts, how about this, romanced fallout 4 companions react to synth Shaun calling the mom/dad

They had known, going into this thing they shared with Vault 111's sole survivor, that the road to a happy ending wasn't going to be easy. Love was already hard enough to navigate, even without the person on the receiving end being a pre-war relic, a figurehead of the Commonwealth, and number one most wanted on multiple factions' bounty lists. Those moments of peace they managed to snatch were fleeting, but they teased of greater things, and when their fingers and the sole survivor's intertwined atop the roof of Mass Fusion as the Institute crumbled into the Charles River below, they selfishly wondered if this meant a newfound freedom for their relationship.

Then came Shaun. Pure, naive, starry-eyed Shaun, who looked up at the sole survivor with the sweetest smile and gifted them the saddest holotape, who held out his arms for one person only and folded inward if left with anyone else. He confounded everyone, not just the sole survivor's chosen partner, but it didn't matter. His remaining parent held him close during the darkest hours, told him stories and sang him lullabies until he stopped shaking and slept. It was on one of these late nights that the sole survivor's companion resolved to do right by both of them, no matter what it took, and pressed a gentle kiss into the crown of the sleeping boy's head.

Cait: "You envy him," the sole survivor said quietly the next morning as they watched Shaun skip ahead on the road to Diamond City.

Cait swallowed. "I do," she admitted. "I've told you what my own parents were like. When I look at you, I can't help but notice every last little thing they didn't do. Everything you are doing, with him. He's damn lucky, and he doesn't even know it. Then there's me, and kids... All the ones I spent time around were just as broken as I was, older souls than they deserved to be. He won't ever know that kind of fear, and I'm fucking glad of it, but it also means I can't talk to him."

"Well, you have to start somewhere. But I get it." The sole survivor pulled her in by the waist and kissed her. "I love you, Cait. I can't tell you not to feel sad about the way things worked out- just don't take it out on him. He's been through a lot, too."

Cait rolled her eyes when they weren't looking, certain that she was always going to be the distant, red-headed stepmother to Shaun's actual parent, but her moment came sooner than expected. Batty old Moe Cronin was still hawking his baseball gear in Diamond City's town square, beckoning to anyone who wandered too close. "Swatters, right here!" he called as the sole survivor and their little family passed by, clearly aware that Shaun had perked up his ears. "Don't let down the home team! Why, even kids will appreciate a swatter in their hands, when they're traveling the Commonwealth!"

"No thanks, Moe," the sole survivor said, waving the salesman off. "He's still a little young for that kind of sport."

"I disagree," Cait cut in, putting a defiant hand on her hip. "Best to start him young, else he won't know what he's doing until it's too late."

Shaun looked between his two guardians. "Please?" he begged the sole survivor. "Mom's okay with it."

Cait could've melted, right then and there in the marketplace. Before the sole survivor had a chance to answer, she'd turned back to Moe, fumbling for her caps. "That one," she said, pointed at a lighter model splashed with indigo paint. "Seems about the right size."

Moe took it down from his display wall and presented it to the boy. "A genuine model, there. Perfect for a first-time owner. You take good care of her, kid."

Cait pulled the boy close to her hip and ruffled his hair. "He'd better. I was planning on using those caps to buy us Power Noodles."

Shaun smiled and closed his eyes as he hugged the baseball bat close. "Thanks, mom."

Curie: Although her educational modules had only been installed for the purpose of making her a better laboratory assistant in Vault 81, Curie still had the full knowledge repository of a Miss Nanny robot to draw upon stored up in her new synthetic brain. Caring for a 10-year-old boy meant following clear developmental guidelines and standards, and she set about writing a rough curriculum for him so as to give him some semblance of schooling while he wandered the Commonwealth with his guardians.

To her delight, Curie found Shaun to be especially receptive to her lessons. He was very interested in biology and history, perhaps because of the obvious blind spots that came with spending his early life inside the Institute. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the mutated creatures that walked the wasteland, coloring in the pictures of radstags and deathclaws and bloatflies alike in Curie's battered notebook as she sketched them. For history, though, Curie had to turn to those around her. The most recent history of the Commonwealth could be found with the sole survivor, who had spent most of their post-vault life at the center of it. Further accounts came from Preston Garvey thanks to his experience with the Minutemen, and Piper Wright and Nick Valentine had quite a bit more in their extensive periodical and case records. Even Paladin Danse pitched in, offering a rather thorough recollection of the Brotherhood of Steel's history on both coasts of North America and in between that left Shaun playing at being a Scribe for over a week.

Shaun's best subject, though, was language. He had an adequate grasp of English, but he began to press Curie early on to teach him French. She added it in between her other lessons, until they could carry on basic conversations. "Pourquoi vouliez-vous apprendre le français?" Curie asked him one day when it was just the two of them, curious. "Oui, ç'est une belle langue, but it is not especially common in the Commonwealth."

Shaun smiled. "Parce que ça nous appartient, maman."

"Maman?" Curie smiled back. "I did not teach you that word."

"You did," Shaun insisted, crawling into her lap to hug her. "Oui, maman, you did."

Curie ended the lesson early and gave him her pencil and notebook to draw pictures in. When the sole survivor returned that evening from their trade excursion, she presented them with the piece of art he had made, depicting the three travelers locked in battle with a mirelurk queen. The sole survivor looked over it with a smile, ran a thumb over the words he'd scribbled next to Curie's blazing laser rifle. "'Ma maman,'" they read with a grin, drawing her into a one-armed hug. "Congratulations, mom."

Paladin Danse: "I'm a liability to you," Danse argued with the sole survivor the next day, as they packed their things to hit the road again. "To both of you. You know what will happen if a Brotherhood patrol recognizes me."

"So wear this." The sole survivor tossed him a ratty shawl and a red bandanna. "Cover your face. Plenty of people do, in these parts."

"And if they recognize my voice?" Dance argued. "Only the greenest Initiates would be fooled by a disguise this thin."

"You're giving the Brotherhood too much credit." The sole survivor straightened up from organizing their pack. "Just let me do the talking and try not to worry."

"Easier said than done," Danse grumbled, picking up their wasteland fashion offerings with obvious distaste.

They were ready to go by noon, the sole survivor's pack slung over their shoulder and Shaun's hand firmly grasped in theirs. Danse brought up the rear as they crossed the bridge out of Sanctuary, and he tugged the bandanna around his neck up to cover his face once they reached the other side of the river.

When Shaun next turned back, distracted by some dry branches creaking together overhead, he giggled in surprise. "Why are you wearing that?" he asked, pointing to the bandanna.

"It's not safe," Danse grunted, lowering his laser rifle a little.

"But why does that help keep you safe?"

The sole survivor reached down to ruffle their son's hair. "It's a little hard to explain, Shaun. Some people out here don't like Danse. He's trying to hide his face from them, so they don't know it's him."

"But there's no one here," Shaun insisted, throwing his arms out to indicate the barren landscape and its silence.

"Well, you never know," Danse said, taking the bait. "Come here. Look at that tree. That big one, see it? I'd say it's wide enough to hide a man behind it. Maybe even a raider or two, if they're skinny."

"What about that one?" Shaun asked, pointing to a larger tree.

Danse nodded solemnly. "Three raiders. Easily."

He winked at the sole survivor, who was stifling their giggles. Shaun, who was staring open-mouthed at the trees, missed it. "Can I have one too, dad?" the boy asked, tugging Danse's sleeve.

"One of what?" Danse replied, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

"A bandanna." Shaun looked up at him with a smile. "We can hide together."

Danse, lost, looked helplessly to the sole survivor. Without a word, they pulled a navy blue bandanna from their pack and handed it over. Danse knelt down and carefully tied the cloth around Shaun's face. "There you go, soldier," he said when he was finished, and the words felt softer in his mouth than any of the other times he'd said them.

Mayor John Hancock: Though he was brave enough to risk a little affection after the kid was asleep, Hancock gave Shaun plenty of space during the waking hours. He wasn't blind to the way some people looked at him. Most kids stared.

Shaun wasn't any different in that aspect, but the fact that this red-coated, tricorn-bedecked ruin of a man was keeping his parent company proved too much for his curiosity. Once the stage of open-mouthed, morbid fascination had passed, Shaun's face grew more contemplative. He started to watch closely as Hancock did basic things. Eat. Sleep. Tie some cloth over a wound. Brush his teeth. He didn't seem embarrassed when Hancock made it obvious these attentions were noticed by waggling his brows or pulling funny faces in the middle of a meal- he just looked like he was filing the information away in his head. He wasn't immune to Hancock's infectious humor though, and he eventually started to giggle and make faces back. The sole survivor rolled their eyes at the pair of them, but Hancock egged them on until they, too, succumbed to the silliness.

When the trio paid their first visit to Goodneighbor and people on the street began to greet Hancock as "mayor," Shaun's eyes grew as wide as Port-A-Diner saucers. Hancock relished the attention, stopped in at every trading stall and tipped his hat to every vagabond they passed. Though Shaun kept a tight hold of his parent's hand, it was obvious he was a little lost between the attention that the sole survivor and the returning town leader were receiving. Things came to a head when a crowd gathered around the travelers and Shaun's grip on the sole survivor's hand was jostled loose. As would-be admirers moved in and separated them, Shaun's voice was thin and high under the boisterous conversations. "Ha-Han... dad!"

"Whoa." Hancock threw his arms out, pushed the crowd back. "Give us some space, folks. Yeah, you, back up or I'll sic Fahrenheit on you."

Shaun was clinging to his leg, and he relaxed a little as Hancock lifted him up to eye level with the adults. Hancock puffed with the effort. The kid was heavier than he looked. "Now this here," he said, grunting as he re-positioned the boy on his hip, "Is Shaun. He's with me."

"Is he yours, Hancock?" teased Rufus Rubins from somewhere in the crowd.

"As good as," Hancock replied proudly. He looked at Shaun and smiled. "It's okay, kid. I've got you."

When the boy smiled back at him shyly, Hancock plopped his tricorn onto the boy's head. "Ever thought about becoming a deputy mayor?" he asked. "Don't worry. It's a pretty easy job."

Robert Joseph MacCready: More than anything, MacCready wondered if he was being fair. He'd just gotten his own son back, and Duncan's renewed presence in his life was a constant reminder of just how much he'd missed. How long had it been, since he'd left his little boy with friends and trudged north, hoping against hope that he'd find a cure for the illness that wracked his little frame? How many pounds had he put on since he'd sent the miracle medicine home? How many inches had he grown, how many questions had he missed? He couldn't help but marvel at this little boy who was so big now, so much like Lucy and so much like him.

Shaun was older, Shaun was quieter, and Shaun was watching every time MacCready felt the need to pause, staring at his own little creation in awe. He knew it. He started consciously doing the same for Shaun, just so he wouldn't feel left out, and to his surprise, taking the extra time meant he noticed things he initially hadn't. The way he looked warily at the settlements they visited, searching for hiding spots to retreat to. The way his eyes gleamed in the light of his parent's Pip-Boy, entranced by the holotape games they collected. The way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, the way he pronounced certain words, the way he tied his shoes and drew his letters and grabbed his guardians' hands when he was scared. Yes, Shaun was a miniature sole survivor in countless ways, but there was a little bit of MacCready in the way he approached the wasteland.

MacCready began to mix them up, Duncan and Shaun, and they laughed and corrected him and teased him to no end along with the sole survivor. It only made him smile wider. They were between Bunker Hill and Goodneighbor one day, playing "I spy" as they passed through the ruined city, when Duncan picked a rather obvious target for the guessing game. "I spy with my little eye... something that is... green."

"The water," the sole survivor guessed, pointing toward the Charles River. Duncan shook his head emphatically.

"It better not be a super mutant," MacCready said, only mildly concerned. The streets had been quiet for their entire trip.

"Dad's hat," Shaun guessed.

The sole survivor and MacCready stopped in their tracks. MacCready's hand went to his cap. Duncan nodded and giggled, and he squirmed with joy when his dad plopped the hat in question onto his head.

MacCready swept Shaun up into his arms. Shaun looked at him, wide-eyed, unused to the overt affection. "What?"

The sniper cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dad?"

"Yeah."

MacCready planted a scratchy kiss on the boy's cheek, reveling in the shriek of surprise it elicited. "Okay," he said with pride. "We do look alike."

"We do not."

Piper Wright: It was a promise that Piper had made once before, after her dad had been murdered and she'd been left the sole caretaker for her little sister. She and Nat had managed to navigate their new roles eventually, eked out a living in Diamond City and grown together as best they could. Piper had settled into something that wasn't quite sisterhood, parenthood, friendship or work partnership, and yet encompassed all of the above. The sole survivor had fit into that life alongside her fairly well, what with their transient inclinations, responsibilities to their associates, and being a lightning rod for Commonwealth intrigue, but Shaun presented a new challenge.

"Diamond City's the best place for him," Piper insisted to the sole survivor any chance she got. They were at Home Plate for now, but the wasteland wanderer had that look in their eye that suggested they were growing restless, unsure of their safety and the safety of their child. "There's a school, there's food, running water and a security force and oodles of people who dote on him just because he's a kid in the wasteland with manners, which is a rarity nowadays."

They always looked at her sadly. "A synth kid, Piper. People will notice eventually."

"So what? Nick's a synth, Diamond City got used to him!"

"We need to go soon, Piper, for his sake. It'll be okay."

"Stay, Blue."

The pair went around in circles like that whenever they got a spare moment, saying it every different way but getting nowhere. They were in the middle of one of these arguments when they were interrupted by Nat and Shaun, who blew into the little house with a gust of wind, rain, and flapping newspaper pages. The two kids had their arms locked at the elbows and were giggling wildly, but they stopped short when they saw the way their respective guardians were talking. "Is everything okay?" Nat asked warily.

"Yeah," Piper answered quickly, hiding her expression by removing her cap to scratch her head. The sole survivor had other ideas, and took this moment as an opportunity. They got down on one knee and took Shaun's hands in theirs. "Shaun, buddy, we need... I need to go on a trip. For a while. Do you want to come with me?"

Shaun's eyes flicked between them and Piper, uncertain. "Are mom and Nat coming, too?" he asked.

Nat's eyes widened and Piper's heart leapt into her throat. The sole survivor choked on their words, and tears welled up in the corners of their eyes. They looked up at Piper, their apology plain on their face. "She- we-"

Piper dove in, wrapped Shaun in a hug and twirled him up in her ratty coat. He laughed, surprised, and the reporter beamed down at him.

When the two had ceased their little dance, Piper turned back to the sole survivor and helped them up off the rug. "Come on, Blue," she said, giving them a kiss on the cheek. "We're being stupid. Let's talk this out like a family. Nat and Shaun deserve to know what's up."

Preston Garvey: Preston had thanked his lucky stars several times over the last few months that the sole survivor had risen to the challenge of becoming General of the Minutemen, but now he found himself continually second-guessing that decision. As they pursued the Institute across the Commonwealth, unearthed horrific truth after horrific truth, he'd grieved their spouse and child with them and thrown himself into the work of rebuilding the Minutemen to help them fill that void of loss. He hadn't expected, at the end of things, that the Institute would leave them something else to help fill the void - and now, looking at Shaun, Preston couldn't help but blame himself for centering the sole survivor and leaving them with responsibilities that got in the way of caring for the boy.

So Preston did what he could. When the General was in talks with traders to negotiate caravan protections at the Castle, he took Shaun walking along the shores of Dorchester Bay, hunting for mirelurk eggs. When the General was away from Sanctuary helping settlements, he tucked Shaun into bed at night and read him stories from a worn book of fables that Sturges had bought off of Trashcan Carla. When the General came home late looking like they'd crawled through a yao guai den on their stomach, he hung up their coat, pushed them into the shower, and made dinner with Codsworth while Shaun supervised and decided whether it needed more salt.

"I don't deserve you," the sole survivor said gratefully each time.

"You do," Preston always reassured them. "You both do."

Shaun was less quick to appreciate Preston's care, but slowly he warmed up to the General's right-hand man. He remembered the best spots for picking raspberries that they found together, he started to request tales about the Minutemen as his bedtime stories, and whenever Codsworth asked him about his day, he would shyly look to Preston before relating their adventures together. It was slow going, but each time the boy looked at his parent's partner, there was less and less hesitancy.

One night after a particularly long day on the road, Preston and Shaun were pinching together some ground mole rat potstickers for soup while the sole survivor washed up. Shaun had a case of the giggles and kept leaving floury fingerprints on his own face, which Preston kept trying and failing to wipe off with a kitchen towel. As Shaun fought off another of these attempts, amidst his happy laughter, he pushed the towel away and shrieked, "Dad, stooooop!"

Preston froze. In the bathroom, something clattered to the floor. Even Codsworth paused chopping vegetables to swivel his eye stalks toward the kitchen table. Shaun made a face. "What?"

Gently, Preston put his thumb over one of the flour spots on Shaun's face and rubbed it away. He tousled the boy's hair and chuckled. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Save the razorgrain flour for the dumplings, buddy, okay?"

Porter Gage: Even compared to everything else in Nuka-World, Porter Gage knew he was the rustiest piece of equipment in the park. Well, everyone in Nuka-World was an antique of some sort, hanging onto a bygone or kitted out in tattered costume from days gone by - hell, the Overboss was practically a pre-war collectible - but Gage felt stiff and dusty, even compared to them. He was old, for a raider. Raiders didn't get old. There was safety in being overlooked because of your age and lack of ambition, but it sure didn't make you interesting to the average kid.

Eventually though, that ability to be overlooked came out in Gage's favor, when it came to Shaun. Shaun was an oddity in the park. Anyone who was stuck firmly to the side of the Overboss was an oddity, but beyond that, Shaun was a kid. Raiders didn't get old, and they definitely didn't have kids if they could help it. Most of the gangs were respectful to the Overboss and their kiddo, but when they'd passed out of earshot, they talked. A liability. A loose end. Not even human, a few of them said.

Gage didn't say anything, but he did listen, and he did tell his partner what the situation was when Shaun was asleep for the night. When they had him pressed against the wall of Fizztop Grille's reception, he spun them ideas about what to do until they told him to shut up or rendered him speechless themselves. Honestly, that told him everything he needed to know. They were at a loss for what to do about the kid, too.

If he'd been a younger man, maybe Gage could've let things play themselves out. But he wasn't, so he took the boy under his wing. He gave him his best knife and his second-best pistol and taught him how to use both on the prop cutouts in Dry Rock Gulch. He taught him how to move silently through the overgrowth of Safari Adventure. He taught him the best places to check for supplies in abandoned towns, on one particularly memorable afternoon in Bradberton, when Shaun shot his first feral and only cried for a little bit afterward.

"It's alright, kid," Gage reassured him, rubbing his shoulder while Shaun tried to calm his hiccups. "They don't know themselves anymore. There's no going back. You did him a kindness."

"Doesn't feel like it," Shaun sniffled.

Suddenly, the boy turned into Gage's shoulder, hugged him awkwardly around the metal mess of his armor. "I'm not any good at this like you, dad. I'm sorry."

Gage closed his eyes for a moment. Against his better judgment, he unbuckled his armor, put his arm around Shaun and pulled him into his chest. "No one's good at first, kiddo. But I'll be here until you are. Promise."

BONUS!

Deacon: Though Deacon would never admit it, Shaun terrified Deacon. He'd wanted a kid at some point, obviously, but that version of himself seemed so far removed from who he was now. Different place, different face, different circumstances and perspectives. He wasn't sure he could go back to that mindset now.

Much like the sole survivor though, he didn't have a choice. Shaun was here, curiously peeking at the papers on Desdemona's workstation and getting shooed out of Carrington's clinic. At least Tinker Tom was self-aware enough to tone down his swearing and more dangerous experimentation, but Deacon and the sole survivor agreed that the sooner Shaun got out of HQ, the better.

"They're all intimidated by you," Deacon whispered conspiratorially to Shaun on the day they finally packed up their things. "You're the best Railroad agent here, and they all know it."

"Really?" Shaun whispered back. "I thought you were the best Railroad agent here."

"It goes you, me, Desdemona, then your parent," Deacon counted off on his fingers. He shouldered the pack Shaun had stuffed to the brim and groaned. "Oof, you've got a lot of stuff already. That's how I know you're the best agent. You're already hanging onto supplies in case of the worst. Smart."

The sole survivor pulled Shaun into a half-hug, caressing his head. "I still rank under Desdemona, huh?"

Deacon winked. "You're getting there. Come on, we'll go out the back door."

Once the three emerged, blinking, into the North End, Shaun took one of the sole survivor's hands and one of Deacon's. "Where are we going?" he asked.

The sole survivor squinted at the buildings around them. "North," they answered vaguely.

"To a deathclaw farm," Deacon said solemnly. "Where they hatch the little lizards and teach them how to be big, ferocious beasts."

"Deacon."

"Sorry. Just a rad chicken farm that's helped us out once or twice."

Shaun looked up at Deacon. "Are deathclaw farms real, dad?"

Deacon choked on his witty response and fell into a coughing fit. The sole survivor looked shocked too, but a smile came over their face and they slapped him on the back a few times until his lungs quieted down.

"Uh, eh-heh, no, buddy," Deacon answered, gripping the boy's hand a little more firmly. "But you know what they say: Be the change you want to see in the world. If you want to go all-in on deathclaw farming, I'm right there with you."

Desdemona: Every day after that, Desdemona expected to wake up and find the sole survivor and their son gone. She couldn't leave HQ now, what with the post-Institute clean-up filling all their safehouses and gumming up the usual escape routes, and PAM changing her mind every minute about what predictions were most likely. All of that combined with the general atmosphere of uncertainty around the Railroad's future - what does the Railroad do, when all of the synths that can be rescued have been rescued? - kept her to-do list full and her mind racing. In the past, her busy periods were an invitation for her unlikely partner to depart on their own adventures, check in with things around the Commonwealth that didn't immediately concern the Railroad, and she fully anticipated this from them now that they had a child to care for, too.

But Shaun and the sole survivor stayed. Deacon's finest recruit rolled up their sleeves and joined her at the war table, read her notes back to her and pointed out strategic opportunities, discrepancies, details she might have overlooked. Desdemona was surprised by how well they managed to mesh with her style of leadership. In the past, anyone who had tried to butt in on her planning usually wound up clashing with her, prioritizing in different ways or misunderstanding critical operations they just didn't know the ins and outs of. Somehow, the sole survivor avoided all of these pitfalls and slid right into the fray next to her.

Shaun was less helpful than his parent, prone to doodling on less-important papers and humming along with the songs on Diamond City Radio, but his quiet presence was company enough. While the sole survivor was still catching up on the sleep they'd lost burying the Institute, Shaun seemed content to remain at Desdemona's side late into the night, watching her work.

It was on one of these late evenings, after all of the agents except the night watch had gone to bed, that Shaun let out a yawn as wide as the Charles River and blinked sleepily up at the Railroad leader. "Mom, I'm tired."

Desdemona paused her dead drop status review and looked down at him with a surprised smile. "I've got to stay up, Shaun. This is important."

"But I'm tired."

"Okay." Desdemona put her pencil down and picked him up. He was heavy, but not so heavy that she wasn't able to carry him to the cots in the back and deposit him gently next to the sole survivor. The movement was enough to wake them, and they pulled the boy in close and wrapped him in some of their blanket. Desdemona tucked them in and went back to the glow of the lanterns with the sound of Shaun's words ringing in her ears.

Elder Arthur Maxson: The Squires on the Prydwen tried to adopt the new boy into their number, of course, but to the sole survivor's dismay, Shaun's odd remarks about "life on the surface" soon labeled him as an outcast. The boy turned even further inward, befriending an odd group of individuals: Scribe Haylen, Paladin Brandis, Senior Scribe Neriah, Emmett the cat. All of them were kind and patient with Shaun, but none of them were exactly peers.

"I don't suppose you could order the Squires to be nicer to him," the sole survivor remarked with a hint of bitterness during one of their visits to the Elder's quarters.

"Let him find his own way," Maxson replied kindly. "If I interfere, they will only resent him for it."

It felt harsher when he said it out loud, but the sole survivor respected his judgment. Still, Maxson couldn't help but recall his own difficult childhood spent searching for friendship, for anyone who might see him as a person instead of a future Elder. When he next had free time, he visited Proctor Quinlan's library of holotapes and came away with a stack of games and transcribed books.

Later that evening, the sole survivor walked into their quarters to find Maxson and Shaun on the bed with their Pip-Boy, Maxson cheering the boy on as he navigated his band of adventurers through a dungeon level in Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. "Go left," Maxson urged. "There's a treasure chest down that hallway."

"How do you know?" Shaun asked, screwing his mouth up in concentration as he input the commands.

"I've been playing this game since before you were alive. See, in the corner over there."

The sole survivor joined them on the bed. "Watch out for goblins."

"Oh, dad showed me how to fight them off already."

Maxson stiffened, and looked quickly over Shaun's head at the sole survivor. Their eyes widened meaningfully, and they tilted their head down toward their son. "Did he show you the goblin village yet?"

Shaun looked up at Maxson. "There's a goblin village?"

"There... there is." Maxson swallowed his misgivings for the moment and directed his attention back to the game. He put an arm around the boy and tilted the Pip-Boy so he could see a little better. "Let's get through this dungeon together first."

Nick Valentine: To Nick's surprise, Shaun warmed up to him fast. He wasn't put off by his missing parts, his glowing eyes or the occasional whirring noises that emanated from inside his chest cavity like most kids. In fact, he liked to press his ear up to Nick's shirt and listen, trying to figure out what the noise was. "It's like your heartbeat," he always said.

"What's it saying?" Nick would ask. Shaun would imitate whatever noise he was hearing, and they would both laugh.

"He grew up around synths," the sole survivor reminded Nick when they were alone. "Er... well, he's been around synths for as long as he's... you get my meaning."

Nick raised his cup of tea to them. "I do. I'm just so used to kids being wary. It's a nice change of pace. How's he doing in class?"

"Great in science and math, horrible at spelling. He could use some practice that isn't just me peering over his shoulder, you know how he hates doing schoolwork if he can't relate it to the real world. Is there any way you could...?"

Nick held up his metal hand. "You don't even need to ask. I'll get him to help Ellie take notes on some cases."

The sole survivor smiled. "How's Ellie's spelling?"

"Impeccable."

A few days later, the little family was ensconced in Nick's office with Ellie poring over a case that had come in from Vault 81 about a missing person. Ellie had given Shaun his own clipboard and pencil, and the pair were scribbling furiously while Nick went over everything that had been written in the letter from the vault's overseer, Gwen McNamara. "Says here that she might have gone to seek her fortune with one of the local caravans," Nick noted. "If she hitched a ride with one, she might have paid them to cover her tracks, but it'd still be worth paying a visit to Bunker Hill to see if they've seen her. Shaun, do you know how to spell 'investigate'?"

"I-N-V-E-S-T-A-G-A-T-E," Shaun answered confidently.

"It's 'I' after T, not 'A'," Ellie corrected him.

"Oh." Shaun deflated a bit. "Sorry, dad."

Ellie dropped her pencil and the sole survivor choked on the Nuka-Cola they were drinking. Nick lowered the letter, perplexed, but when he caught the shy look on Shaun's face, he couldn't contain a grin of pride. "It's okay, son," he said. "We'll keep practicing together, okay? We've got nothing but time."

Old Longfellow: "The island's no place for a child," Longfellow told the sole survivor when they first brought the boy to the docks of Far Harbor.

"You wanted one, once," they had retorted, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and planting a kiss on his bearded face. "Were you planning to leave, once you'd had the baby?"

"That was different. Wasn't as bad then as it is now."

"Take us back to your cabin on your sand bar, old man. Shaun and I are survivors. And if it gets worse, we'll get on my boat and go back to the Commonwealth."

So Old Longfellow rowed them home to his shack under the pines, and he double- and triple-checked the fog condensers he'd bought off the scientists at Acadia. Shaun followed him around, taking in the little island's woods, beach, and craggy landscape with a pair of eyes wider than a mirelurk's shell. This relationship continued for well over a month: Daily excursions to check the traps and mechanical equipment that kept them all from dying, weekly trips into town to trade and stock up, and the occasional trudge down to the beach to see if anything interesting had washed up. Sometimes the sole survivor remained behind, skinning a radstag or shucking oysters, leaving the old man and the boy to their daily chores outside in the chilling sea breeze. On one of these occasions, Longfellow was making his way toward the wood pile he'd been stocking up and didn't realize that Shaun wasn't right behind him as usual. He might never have noticed, if he hadn't caught the quiet word on the wind at his back: "Dad."

Longfellow spun and found Shaun frozen, staring at the edge of the woods. Staring back was a radstag, glowing faintly from internal radiation, with only one head and pair of antlers.

It was a ways off, but Longfellow still moved to grab the boy and pull him out of harm's way. The movement startled the creature and it huffed before alighting into the trees, its tail flying a warning as it bounded off. Longfellow pulled Shaun close and sighed, trying to catch his breath again. "Stay close, boy."

"They all used to look like that," Shaun replied softly, watching the deer's retreat. "I never thought I'd see one without two."

"Rare as hen's teeth," Longfellow agreed. "Must be our lucky day."

X6-88: X6-88 knew that technically, his role with the director was a protection assignment, but excursions to the surface and a growing trust between them had blossomed into something else. He also knew that technically, Shaun was an assignment too, one that Father had bestowed upon the sole survivor just before his death. In the safety of their Institute quarters though, they could be something more to each other. They could talk about what it was to be a synth, to live apart from the world at large, and what within their little underground haven could be changed for the betterment of something beyond mankind.

He and the sole survivor were cautious at first to talk about these sorts of things around Shaun, but the synth boy soon proved bright enough to understand the dangers of self in this place, be they realization, expression, or actualization. "It's not fair," Shaun would say at dinner. "I want to become a scientist. I want to grow up. And I can't even talk about it anywhere else."

"We're working on it," the sole survivor always said. "Dr. Li and I have some ideas. You won't always be a child, Shaun."

X6 knew that they were doing their best, but they were hiding the fact that Dr. Li had pushed back on the project multiple times. She'd believed the synth child was a waste of time and effort from the beginning, and extending that effort would take more than just a few ideas from the sole survivor. He knew they would keep trying, but it would never be fast enough for a 10-year-old boy. And every step they took toward that goal would bring the scrutiny of the Directorate, some of whom were eager to find any reason to discredit the brand-new upstart that had passed them up to lead the Institute.

"We should leave," X6 suggested as he lay in bed next to the sole survivor after another night like this. "Before it's too late."

"We can't," they replied in a whisper. "They don't have the tech on the surface to help Shaun, and we have so much we could offer the rest of the world. If we leave, we'll never see this place again."

"It would be difficult, but we would be together."

"Just give me a little more time, X6. Please."

The Courser lay awake long after the director had gone to sleep, trying and failing to come up with a better plan. As such, he was still awake when Shaun stole into bed with them, rubbing tears from his face with his little hands. X6 settled the boy in between himself and the sole survivor and wiped the rest of the tears away with the sheet.

"I had a bad dream, dad," Shaun explained, sniffling. "I've been having them a lot."

X6 didn't have the heart to correct the child. "I know," he said instead. "I've been having them too. Dreams can't hurt you, Shaun. If they try, I'll protect you."

[actuallyhermaesmora]

Fallout 4 companions and what Elder Scrolls factions (I think) they would join

I saw this sitting in my drafts, half completed from May of 2022 😦 soooo I wanted to finish it, please give me your thoughts! I'd love to see what y'all think :D

Nick Valentine- The Mages Guild, I get very much 300 year old Altmer vibes from Nick. I can see him being sent by the Mages Guild to investigate magical anomalies and inquiries all over the continent. He’s a mage, but not uppity or a recluse, he works in the public helping all the people of Tamriel.

Deacon- Just like how Deacon changes his face all the time, this guy is almost like a elder scrolls protagonist, because he's dipped his foot in everything. Thieves Guild? Yes, absolutely. A spy for a political intelligence network? Yes and in several different provinces at the same time. He's been both a random guard and a dark brotherhood assassin, a mage, and a bard at different points in life, all under different names and faces.

Piper Wright- While she wouldn’t be most equipped for combat, I can see her as a spy in an organization like the Blades or Eyes of the Queen. Still, she isn’t gonna blindly follow a political leader, so I can also see her doing some sleuthing to expose political corruption independently which has made her lots of enemies, just like in the Commonwealth.

Paladin Danse- The Companions, I can see him doing a group with a rocky past that makes initiates do questionable things. He wants to help people but he would be more of a barbarian or warrior than a guard or knight. He joined up to make a difference and prove himself as a fighter and I can see him embracing lycanthropy like Aela because he doesn't want to turn on his faction.

Codsworth- This was tough, but I can see him as a devotee to an Aedra or maybe one of the less destructive Daedra. I'm saying Priest of Arkay if I had to pick definitively. Codsworth strives to help the Sole Survivor and make sure they're comfortable. I can see him giving people comfort in their last moments or in death, honoring those who have passed and praying for them.

Preston Garvey- Preston would want to make a difference like Danse, but I think he would go the route of joining the local guard, the Legion, or even the Fighters Guild. I can see him rising through the ranks in any of these, eventually becoming a legate, guildmaster or a commander. His radiant quest giving just reminds me of a stock guard, whole lotta "Wait...I know you." and "Stop, you've violated the law!"

Macready- Maybe just a random mercenary or hired thug but also Morag Tong? Definitely an assassin type but I can’t see him being Dark Brotherhood, he's just not edgy enough. Obviously as he's a gun (or dagger) for hire he would view his kills as just part of the job, not as some bloodthirsty act of the Night Mother or whatever.

Cait- Cait on the other hand, Cait might be on the bloodthirsty side. I can see the Dark Brotherhood filling her violent tendencies but also giving her the structure and familial sense of belonging she needs. While she's not as spiritual or crazy about the Night Mother or Sithis as others, she can stick to the five tenets and get her work done.

X6-88- Now at first you might think Thalmor, and while yes, absolutely, I can see him being an uppity justiciar, I’m putting House Telvanni on the table. Either way he’s part of a supremacist group that subjugates others. This is not to say that all members of both factions are evil, just the institutions themselves are, but the track record isn't good.

Hancock- This was hard, like I deadass couldn't think of one that I thought fit him really well, and then it hit me, Thieves Guild, duh. He would have no problem infiltrating Noble houses only to jack all their valuables, or sneaking into museums or castles in the dead of night for the thrill of a heist. Even pickpocketing would excite him, nothing and no one's possessions are safe around this guy.

Curie- The Psijic Order would suit her really well. She would fit perfectly having a place to further her research that could help others. While I think the solitude on Artaeum would bother her, the order does occasionally intervene in Tamriel when they feel it’s absolutely necessary.

[mourningdewey]

what i think sturges thinks of the companions

my opinion is VERY valuable as the ceo of sturges subfandom /j

cait: he's lowkey scared of her , she flirts with him and he doesn't have it in him to tell her he's gay

codsworth: he likes codsworth ! performs maintenance on him when he gets all busted up

curie: he's so fascinated by her , they're the "out of place accent" buddies and they like talking about science and engineering together

danse: sturges actually kinda likes danse and has always been friendly to him , he was the person danse confided in after blind betrayal

deacon: he likes deacon , they're pals . they like to talk about eeeeverything together

dogmeat: sturges loves this little pooch and would protect him with his life. bends over backwards on the regular to give the dog treats

hancock: they're friendly and sturges doesn't mind him , the mechanic is happily welcomed every time he visits goodneighbor

maccready: sturges is also lowkey scared of mac solely because the man triggers his contamination obsessions 💀💀💀 he's still friendly towards him regardless

valentine: sturges LOVES nicky !!! worships the man , treats him like family , repairs him as well . nick helped him come to terms with his synthetic nature !

piper: he's skeptical of her and doesn't really appreciate her nosiness . he wouldn't leave his drink with her under any circumstances

preston: garvey is literally sturges' ride or die . they look after each other and revere one another in a sort of brotherly way (i don't ship them sorry)

strong: sturges is soooo fascinated by strong but treats him like he'd treat anyone else . sturges will listen to him talk about the milk of human kindness very intently

x6-88: he's SO scared of this dude . like would skitter behind a house if he saw him on the street

ada: REPAIRS HERRR !!!! sturges and ada are buddies and he thinks very highly of her , kinda like a sister . they have inside jokes

longfellow: sturges is so weirded out by this odd old man and will actively avoid him unless he wants to hear a story 😭

gage: tbh sturges doesn't mind gage that much but kinda wishes the guy would take a bath