#fallout themes

[shamrockqueen]

Wasteland paradise

Chapter 1

Pairing : Boyka X Reader (Post Apocalyptic AU/ inspired by but not in the universe of Fallout new Vegas)

Warnings : R18, human trafficking, purchased reader, eventual Smut, rough smut, eroticism (not every chapter has smut), death of minor characters.

Word count : 1498

Scott Adkins Masterlist

They say that the decay was gradual, overtaking humanity like a spiderweb of cancer and bleeding into the very bones of modern society. The elite sat comfortably on their pedestals as the earth below them crumbled—that is, until the rot reached them too. They say that when the tallest tower finally fell, it was already too late.

The underbelly was all that survived, becoming this new aristocracy within what once were major cities. Those who fled were left with the scorched landscape they had left barren. Some founded small communes; others formed almost farel gangs that roamed further out into the wasteland. Some settlements fizzled easily; some were attacked and picked clean by invaders; but a few seemed to live long enough to spawn other generations.

You’d never know what that modern world was truly like, and sometimes you’d find yourself wondering how your life would have been if the older generations had ensured a better future. It wasn’t worth thinking about anymore. No, living through the week has greatly outweighed depressive fantasies.

You found yourself alone—finally and horribly alone.

You tried your best to wash the blood stain out, but no amount of scrubbing could make the dress clean again. It felt low, repurposing the very clothes your mother died in while she lay naked in a shallow grave, but you couldn’t afford to waste the fabric. The dress would never come clean, but the pattern was a beautiful yet slightly faded floral blue, so the cleanest part of the fabric had to have been worth something. Anything to put some food on that empty table now that you’d be the only one left to provide for it.

Almost all of your time had been spent taking care of your mother until her slow demise, which had her coughing up most of her own blood. It was always hard to look at her while she was in that state, and the only hope now was that she would be at peace.

You looked at the once-beautiful dress you had bundled in your hands. It had been her favorite, but it was too late to bury her with it now. You pulled the small switchblade from your pocket and began cutting off the stained portion of the fabric. You didn’t bother to cut the seams, as whoever bought it off of the trader once it left your hands would just do it themselves.

You bundled the dress under your arm and left your little home. You had shared this poorly constructed, one-room shanty house with what was left of your family. The small shanty village wasn’t very big and didn’t yield very much production, but the few traders that came through were often a godsend as they brought in many much-needed supplies. A tiny smudge on their map, and they still remembered to visit all of you.

You hoped to get there early so as not to be stuck in the hot sun for most of your day. The caravan was normally parked over by the moonshiners shack, an old man who made a pretty good hootch and would sell a lot to the passing traders.

It was the main reason the caravan came at all and often a great reprieve from everyday life since he’d let the townsfolk get drunk at a hefty discount.

He was nice enough for an old coot, and more often than not, he could be seen sitting in front of his home with his dog Trixie, waiting for the traders to show up.

Old Trixie was sweet and would wonder over and nuzzle up to passersby in search of extra affection and maybe a bit of food. She usually rushed the hill when anyone got close, but when you rounded towards the shack, she wasn’t anywhere in sight.

You crested over the hill and looked down at the lonely little shack at the bottom. There were vehicles all around the house, alongside the trader’s trucks, but you didn’t see any people. You used your hand as a visor to shield your vision from the bright sun overhead to get a better look at the scene before you.

A mound of fluff lay motionless next to the door. Trixie’s telltale brown and white spots were stained in a deep, terrifying red splattered along her small body.

More bodies, larger and human, came into view, all of which lay slain by the side of the caravan. You stopped walking, shaking in your boots at the prospect of getting caught by whatever had caused this entire scene. You nearly pissed your pants off when the mirador walked out of the shack with a jug of hooch in each hand. He wore a torn armored vest doused in a fair amount of blood that most likely wasn’t his.

He turns back towards the house as if to talk to someone behind him, and you take this chance to turn tail and run back the way you came. The fabric was let loose from where you’d clutched it under your arm, kicked away by the dusty wind in exchange for your meager life. The desecration, the sacrifice, the loss—none of it was worth anything now, and all was forgotten in the wake of a possible bullet to the teeth.

The only sound you could hear was the crunch of dirt under your boots as the blood rushed to your ears. You sprint off as fast as you can, propelling yourself down the hill almost faster than your legs can keep up with.

You barely caught the sound of someone shouting after you with a jovial “Woah, where’s the fire?”

All were silenced after a loud bang of gunshots went off not far behind you. Everyone scattered like ants as more shots rang through the air.

You make the mistake of turning back to look at the whirring of a spiked vehicle as it rounds over the hill. You tried to run as fast and as far as your feet could carry you until you could find ample cover from the impending doom.

The flicker of the blue plastic tarp as it got caught up in the breeze stole your sight as you switched your direction towards possible safety. Your boots nearly slid out from under you as you dove towards the tarp. It proved to be a small, unused alcove between two shanty houses, with the plastic cover leftover from a collapsed partial roof.

You kick yourself underneath it and fling the tarp back over your body. You had to squeeze in among the long-forgotten junk as you tried to steady your heart.

You watched as the shadows flickered from the outside of your small cover; many were from those running away just as you had, but others were larger with more sharp edges. Your stomach ached as the shrill and broken voices of your neighbors disappeared into the distance, but it would be the first crack of gunfire that made your guts drop entirely. The cries of the fallen were quickly devoured by the roar of scrap metal against the rough terrain vehicles that rolled by.

You held your breath to keep from hyperventilating, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as tears dribbled tracks down your dirtied cheeks.

You hear heavier, slower footsteps that clinked as they hit the dirt. The sound of it was horribly clear as they got closer and closer to you, hidden only by a tattered blue tarp. When the cracked leather of the side of a boot came into view, you had to choke down every ounce of fear that wanted to burst forth, practically forcing it back down into your lungs as it twisted your face in horror.

You wait just as they wait. The boots don’t move for however long it takes to make your heart nearly beat out of your chest. Then they started to turn towards you.

The next sound is deafening as bits of rusted metal go flying as the blue sheet is ripped right off of it. Old car parts clunk and scrape together, and you have to cover your head with your hands as the small avalanche of junk falls over you.

As the hot sun hit your body once again, there was no use in staying quiet, and a scream finally forced its way out of your body.

To your dismay, you weren’t shot; you were only dragged out by the roots of your hair as the raider dug his fingers into your scalp. You're barely kicking as your legs fight, only to wiggle out from under the junk pile.

He pulls you out onto the road before giving you a kick and a quick order of “get up, off the fuckin ground.”

You scramble up, hands over your head, his rusted gun pointed to your face. He barked out “walk” through his broken teeth, pointing ahead of you with his weapon before kicking the back of your knee when you didn’t already turn and start moving. Your leg buckled but kept you upright as you limped ahead of him towards the chaos they had created.

Shanty houses were lit on fire after being looted and knocked over. A few children were being pulled away from the corpses of their parents left laying in the street; some were caught in the crossfire and laid not far from their fallen family.

“There’s almost nothing here aside from the hooch and the cargo from the caravan!” One man shouted out to the one following not far behind you, his gun still pointed to your back.

“Grab some survivors and load'em into one of the empty wagons. We can sell them off at the trade center for good money.” The voice behind you called back. “If they try to fight you, just shoot’um.”

When your knees shook, it slowed your pace, and you heard him yell at you, “Move, damn it.” And you picked your feet up as quickly as you could towards the caravan.

True to their word, anyone who fought back was shot immediately. They would say that they could still get plenty of money for a few of you, so losing 1, 2, or maybe 5 wouldn’t be an issue.

When everyone was loaded into the wagon, it pulled off with a kick of dust. You watched your old town smolder and smoke in the distance until it disappeared into the wasteland. You’d never see the shanty town again, not that there would ever be anything left to look for.

Chapter 2

Tags : @annwoods91 @jasminrt1

[arcanegifs]

Piltover's Finest in Arcane: League of Legends (2021 - 2024) ❝ (Love) Sometimes it's a shadow And sometimes it's close to the end Sometimes it's divided Then suddenly the magic blends again I cry that river traveling to the sea Love like the river Whispering softly to me ❞ — The Moonglows, Love is a River (insp 1 | insp 2 | insp 3)

[protosymphonette]

the v in valentine's day stands for VERONICAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sketch because i like it too

[maplemaplemaplemaplemaple]

me when i get my hands on that securitron

[roach-works]

ok im waffling on about fallout instead of having breakfast but i saw a criticism of how the prisoners were treated that's stuck with me.

spoilers!

so i think the criticism wasn't incorrect, per se: it condemned the way the show portrayed the vault dweller's naive intention to rehabilitate their murderous captives. it found fault with a common, and horrible, message that tv shows like to say, which is that carcerial violence and even the death penalty is the only effective way to deal with criminals, who are a fundamentally Bad category of human. im sick of that message too! but i think that wasn't what was going on here, actually.

so like, the vault dwellers had only ever experienced violent loss the once, and didn't really know how to cope other than denial and repression of the ordeal. but they were all hopeful and enthusiastic that their prisoners, the invaders that came to kill them all and take their stuff, could be eventually welcomed into the community as their comrades. the champions of this cause were nebbishy dorks and painfully out of touch academics. this is pretty normal for how prison reformers are portrayed, if extremely fucking annoying for those of us who ARE in favor of prison reform.

but so of course when the son of the former overseer, Norm, speaks up and suggests killing the prisoners, because why should they share resources with invaders who explicitly wanted to keep hurting them? why should they show mercy to their attackers? everyone is appalled by this suggestion. because they had to reinvent the whole concept of vengeance right then and there, because grudges and cycles of violence are anathema to a bottle society like theirs. they have been raised all their lives to forgive and forget and now, put to the test, they're recommitting to this ethos: get along, let the past go, look towards the future, believe the best of everyone.

but the prisoners die, anyway. the prisoners are killed with rat poison. and the thing is that Norm who suggested it didn't do it himself. and the prison guard who's blamed for it, even though she privately agreed with Norm that the prisoners are dangerous and unforgiveable, she didn't do it either. it's not a moment of triumphant, cathartic vengeance and it doesn't prove that there's no way to negotiate with terrorists and invaders but kill them like vermin because that's not what the message is meant to be.

the message is that norm stands there in the middle of these inconvenient prisoners, these corpses dressed in his own people's uniforms, and he looks at the new overseer. and he knows that she killed them, and she knows that he knows. she wanted him to know. this is her message and he's reading her loud and clear. and he doesn't look like a guy who's just been backed up by authority, who's just been validated in his desire for the ultimate control over those who have wronged him.

he's scared and pale and the music is ominous as fuck. and he's inside the cell, he's directly in the middle of it.

because what just happened is that he realized his entire society is being held prisoner, and the overseer is the one with the rat poison. and that he doesn't know, anymore, what freedom and safety and justice actually mean, just that he doesn't have them and he doesn't know where to find them.

that's what that scene meant. not that rehabilitative justice is a pathetic delusion of people who have no idea how to make hard choices.

but that before you advocate for killing prisoners, you might want to see how big that prison is, first.

and which side of the bars you're standing on.

[metalforhands]

danse got the tower tarot in the official fo4 tarot deck...

[xobloodletter]

what if caesar's legion was a matriarchy

[artisticflaws]

• [ just wanna show off this nail set i designed and had done 👀 may or may not be The Tops / Benny themed… more likely than not though… ]

[rad-roche]

the moment things start to really go wrong for nick in dww is when he becomes just aware enough of the fact that he's tempting fate to try and circumvent it through elaborate rules lawyering. yes my fiancée died an awful preventable death as a result of my participation in a futile cause that went nowhere and did nothing. my hot new WIFE however

[abraxo-official]

I want to be the sacrificial lamb. I want to lie on the altar, the stone soaked in the premonitions of my final moments, and I want him to look into my eyes and be disgusted by the beauty he finds there. I want him to ache when he cuts my throat; to hate the cascade of pity that threatens to drown him when my blood dries on his hands. He sees my frail, lifeless body in his dreams and feels no remorse, just a lust-like hunger for the crimson stains upon my white wool. And when he wakes, he is more afraid than I ever was.

[hellsgate-roadhouse]

[x-enocyon]

Over the years the Fallout fandom definitely has slowly crept further into a “moral high ground over suspension of disbelief” space. I see a lot of people discussing their opinions of Fallout through the lens of their own personal morals that they’d apply to their own life, which is… Strange to me. I feel like dystopian media especially is not the sort of thing you should be judging by your own real life standards. Most things in Fallout are extreme. Most of the factions do extreme things. A lot of the things people do in Fallout would be considered inhumane, cruel or uncanny by modern standards. Because it’s a post-apocalyptic dystopia.

This isn’t me saying “everyone in Fallout is evil, stop expecting otherwise,” because I don’t believe that to be the case. Even good-willed people in Fallout do shit that would be considered extreme by modern standards. I just see a lot of people shying away from discussing the “grittier” aspects of the franchise because it might for whatever reason imply you condone those things in real life.

[wtftaylr]

here have some Sadie Knox (my Courier Six) infodumping bc i am insane abt her rn

Sandra "Sadie" Knox / 5'2" / 34

Sandra Knox isn't her birth name, she got her first and last name separately from books she's read over the years.

Sadie is a scientist who worked as a courier and an overcharging con-artist repairman to save up caps to fund her research. She carries a notebook with her at all times, always scribbling down notes as it helps her think and process information.

Sadie is morally gray; a bit selfish and tunnel-visioned in her ways. Once Sadie has a goal, big or small, she’ll stop at nothing to achieve whatever it is. She has a unique way with words and can get you into trouble and out of it in the same sentence. This skill has saved her ass an insurmountable amount of times.

Due to her borderline extreme goal-contentedness, despite caring for those she loves and keeps close to her, she often comes off distant. Sadie has always had a rough time showing that she cares and her gestures can come off as awkward or forced. Her autism might be (is) partially to blame for this lol. Those willing to work past this awkwardness and allow her to adjust are rewarded with a ride or die friend for life.

She's got a reserve of pent-up rage. Though she can be quite irritable from minor conveniences [ex: she drops a pencil on the ground > emotional dysregulation from adhd rises > she's LIVID- ok she's fine now], she's not one to lash out at someone she loves. Her rage is kept internal and it weighs heavily on her shoulders.

Once speaking to Yes Man [before confronting Benny], she figures trying to get in on Benny's scheme is the opportunity she's been waiting for -- the prospect of a steady flow of caps excites her.

Oh and after her visit to BIG MT, she decides to help the Doctors by occasionally bringing them Mojave shit to research.

Sadie: look at the size of this legendary deathclaw hand. These things are large and terrifying, and despite the best efforts, nests continue to pop u-- Dr. Borous: the size of that hand.... Dr. Borous: it reminds me of my time in AMERICAN HIGH SCHOOL, when RICHIE MARCUS took his HAND to my FACE and BEAT ME SENSELESS behind the school. the AMERICAN HIGH SCHOOL-- Sadie: [patiently waiting bc she doesnt know when, or if, it is appropriate to intervene]

[ezekiel13]

I think that Preston Garvey would like a theme park but he would refuse to go on the freaky upside down going ones. This is not because he fears for himself, but he fears for his hat. I think you could convince him to go on one so long as you found a locker for his hat to go in though.

[supern1ntendo64]

TW////CHARACTER RANT!!! (Joshua Graham)

So I think people tend to mischaracterize him a lot, and in this post I’m doing my own personal analysis on who he is and was as a person, both before and after his burns.

TO MAKE THINGS CLEAR: I will be mentioning religion and my personal opinions on certain aspects of it, but I promise this blog is not a religious one. While I am a Christian myself, that is not the purpose or focus of my account, the only reason I’m bringing it up here is because a fundamental part of Joshua’s character is the topic of religion.

A lot of people seem to portray Joshua as a “model Christian” or an “example” of sorts. The amount of edits I’ve seen of him on tiktok with him reciting scripture in the bg with (mostly teenage boys) in the comments saying they want to be like him is crazy to me. One of the main things you need to gather from him is that he is fundamentally NOT very good at being a Christian. On top of that, most of these people who are saying these things are catholic/baptist/protestant etc and Joshua is a Mormon, which has very different beliefs from traditional Christian religions. (Although I’m sure you already know that haha)

(Btw for reference, this post is not meant to dog on anyone’s religious beliefs.)

I like to think that before Joshua was burned, while he still killed innocent individuals, he wouldn’t drink alcohol, commit SA, etc and this is not to romanticize him but I like to imagine that he was such a hypocrite that killing innocent people didn’t bother him but something much lesser such as drinking alcohol was considered too sinful. Even if he didn’t necessarily believe in god during that time (which I personally hc that he did, he just felt that he had a greater purpose in life causing him to do the horrific things he did), he would still stick to many of the set rules his religion had in place.

To my knowledge, Joshua never mentions that he **didnt** believe in god when he was the Malpais Legate. Some may think that he only turned to god once he got burned, and in a sense I think he did, but at the same time I truly believe that he genuinely thought he was doing “good” before this.

You may wonder why, and the reason is simple. Christians are often hypocrites. As a devoted and baptized Christian myself, I can definitely vouch. While I try to serve god in the way that we are explicitly told to in the New Testament (be kind to everyone, display Christ-like qualities, etc) many like to ignore this specific part for some reason and throw it all out the window.

I mean seriously, the amount of “Jesus loves you” after saying “you’re going to hell because [insert bogus reason here]” that I’ve heard is genuinely sickening. Like, believe in hell, that’s your belief, but nobody wants to or should be told they’re going there bro 😭 (unless they’re like. A Nazi or sum.)

For Joshua, everything is a means to an end. I think he felt that the “good” he was doing by forcing the legion on unwilling participants (creating forced order) outweighed the bad. Especially considering that the legion has very stereotypically conservative values, and this tends to appeal to a lot of Christians. And from what I’ve seen, Mormonism is a pretty conservative religion, (although I’m sure this varies from person to person) so it would make sense in this context.

I think that Joshua would have read his Bible once in a very great while, thinking that he was doing his best. (All in all, pre burn Joshua was a hypocritical JERK.) I really don’t want to present him in a good light like some do; but at the same time you have to remember that he was (and still is) human, as little of there was left in him.

After the burns, I think Joshua began to really think on his life choices and realize just how much wrong he had done. He experienced extreme regret but mostly anger and a desire for revenge. When he returns to New Canaan, he goes on a path of true repentance and change until everyone he knew and loved is killed by salt-upon-wounds. This would start him over and set him back on his path for ultimate revenge. While Joshua is a great character, he is by no means a good person and deserves the suffering he endures each day of his miserable existence. It serves as a reminder that one can never quite run away from the past, and I think Joshua knows that more than anyone. Especially considering the fact that not only he paid for it, people that he wanted to protect who weren’t even involved paid for it as well.

Because of this, Joshua continues to do what he did before, just under a new purpose.

There’s a stark difference between defending your people against attackers and committing a full on onslaught against your enemies, trying to wipe out every single one.

This is where the courier comes in.

The “good” ending for Joshua allows you to help him see that killing everyone isn’t the solution. I love this because it shows that he can still continue to improve as a person and that he’s not completely lost.

While no amount of good that Joshua does will ever make up for the bad he did in the past, I do believe that he changes for the better after his interaction with the courier. (assuming you did the good ending)

Anyways, continuing with what I said earlier about Joshua and him as an example, I understand his appeal. It’s rare in media to find a Christian character that is able to make it a fundamental part of their personality without it feeling forced, and somehow Joshua manages to do this. (Plus he’s like really awesome and unkillable so I can see the appeal in that as well) I especially related to his phrase saying that he “falls everyday” and “some days are harder than others.”

Anyways, that’s about all I have to say on this subject. Thanks for reading all of this, if I said something wrong I’m really sorry 😭🙏 i just felt like yapping abt one of my favorite characters don’t take it too seriously, most of this is headcanon and not by any means confirmed as it’s how i see him as a character.

If you disagree with any of my hcs/takes on this post that’s completely fine! Just please respect my opinion on certain matters and I’ll respect yours.

[dykedvonte]

My only defense of conceptual follower Benny is that he was a warrior nomad and a raider, that still has it in him if we take the All Roads comic into consideration, and how he is not like a real dainty soft hand city slicker, cause it’s mostly an act.

So in scenarios where he is forced to travel with the Courier I 100% think he’d be like “What do ya mean you can’t scale a mountain, pussycat? Watch how the pros do it.” And then you see him scuttle up a cliff face scarily fast only to have to save him when he bumps into a Cazador nest.