we're going to be okay

Right? 

[broadcastm]

@vilego @thiselectricnightmare @hvadeina @spokenleaf @softmalldrifting @vaultecalling @thesestrxxts @apocalypseraised @ofgildedmuses @medtek @wonderouswatoomb @twerkingyaowang @coolrushdad @burnishandangels @betterhealing @cottonbelles @thx-lost-yxars @pneumatiicgauntlet @poisonpicked @beenpole @hubflowcr @cheatdeaths @whiskeyandlead @mydearestfaraday @the-last-command @preventifmedecin @cajunspoons @hvadeinarchive @dyedmaxiian @woman-out-of-time @survivaliiist @never-a-trace @partloss @mojavedevil @royalmuses @nightwontlast-a @shellheadtm-a @gwinnetts @luciferian-drama @synthmama 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[broadcastm]

@vilego @thiselectricnightmare @hvadeina @spokenleaf @softmalldrifting @vaultecalling @thesestrxxts @apocalypseraised @ofgildedmuses @medtek @lostchildofthematrix @wonderouswatoomb @twerkingyaowang @coolrushdad @burnishandangels @betterhealing @cottonbelles @thx-lost-yxars @thephoenixnomore @pneumatiicgauntlet @poisonpicked @mayflowermarred @beenpole @hubflowcr @cheatdeaths @cryptiique @whiskeyandlead @mydearestfaraday @the-last-command @preventifmedecin @cajunspoons @hvadeinarchive @dyedmaxiian @woman-out-of-time @survivaliiist @never-a-trace @partloss @mojavedevil @royalmuses @nightwontlast-a @shellheadtm-a @gwinnetts @luciferian-drama @synthmama 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

[broadcastm]

@luciferian-drama​ thamnks coach,,

[broadcastm]

Travis has an average throwing arm hidden behind a stick of an arm but he performs badly in crowds and would have had a decent throw the 2 seconds he was thrown into diamond city’s basebaw anime tournament arc he flubbed this throw and got demolished before he could score for the other team because no one told him where to touch goal any of the bases 

[broadcastm]

Travis does know his radio equipment but in his own way.  Music in the commonwealth will hiccup live because the machine needs a new ‘radio thingy’ and he should get to that but he but he also knows the fastest way to fix it is to just bop it really hard with his foot and he never learns that he always ends up stubbing his toe afterwards and it’s a good thing the song is still playing by the time he gets done hopping on one foot or no one heard all of the loud thuds from everything falling because the songs still going right? Right. 

[broadcastm]

Say when

He doesn’t. He doesn’t say when. Where is the sandwich in the mayo ? Where ? Was there even any bread to cage this monstrosity ? 

“Wow--that. That looks... so good already.” 

[aamusedly]

@broadcastm​.

“Okay, get this. Mayor Hancock’s Fireside Chats.”

Why yes, he has more or less appeared in the studio. Came through a window– nobody thinks about that. “I provide wisdom, guidance, and sex tips to the good people of the Commonwealth.”

“Yes or big yes?”

[broadcastm]

   “ Wh-- I’m sorry I don’t think you’re allowed to be here? ” He didn’t think to lock the window. No one comes through the window except in cheesy holo-tapes or as Moe put it pre-war fragrance spritzers (whatever that was) but he’s reconsidering. Didn’t even think to lock his perfectly good perfectly entrance and exit-able doors.  “... Did--do you need help getting down or-- Okay, I guess you’re doing that--that’s fine. Sure. Welcome to my home. I guess. ” 

    He’s listening in the half way kind way you can while having this small naked lion climb through into the studio while considering taking one from Hancock’s book and squeezing himself out of his own window at the cost wet socks. “Con-considering those two options? Big yes. Why not uh… broaden your horizons? Talk about weapons and all of thhhee-the places you can stick them. Heard there were seventy eight.”

[broadcastm]

There are brief shifts on the radio that happen only sometimes and they’ll be such small things that no one half listening would really catch it either in the dead of night when it’s about to shift from late to really late or too early in the morning when Travis goes from calling himself ‘your host’ to ‘your friend’ and and make these small comments that just sound like it’s filling space in the quiet but he’s directly talking to the ss instead of an audience. 

They’re brief, only seconds long to drop ‘good night’ ‘good morning’ ‘have a good day’ and it’s in those few seconds that his host persona drops and the person underneath isn’t as cool or smooth as the one on air but he’s slowly getting better. It’s more likely the ss and his new found friends in the wastes probably missed it, and that’s okay. There’s a lot of somethings to do in long stretches of nothing in the wastes and it’s enough to know that they’re out there causing the best kind trouble. 

[broadcastm]

It’s such a good thing that Travis always has a meal waiting that’s his usual for him when he goes to Dug Out Inn because dude would have a hard time ordering at whatever is the modern day equivalent of apocalyptical subway 

[broadcastm]

luciferian-drama​:

“Travis. My man.”

“When are you gonna let me do a guest spot?”

“ Oh geez-- chht bzzt crackle.. crackle pop pop -- oh noo ! Looks like the-the uh...a  radio thingy is having mechanical sci..scientific technical problems. Yeah, no. Very serious stuff, I’d know. So uhh none of that guest stuff went through.  Especially if that’s code for hit list. ” 

“ Anyways, get me out of this Ink Spots. ” 

[broadcastm]

“ Diamond City’s Mayor wants to remind youuuu to not eat the uhm... yellow snow. . . .  Gross. It’s probably not lemon. Also, that Dr. Sun’s medical clinic is open for radiation cleansing but you shouldn’t do it. Just don’t. “

[broadcastm]

Look what he can do!!

[broadcastm]

Travis realizing he is a boo boo the clown and doesn’t even know the ss’s name before they walked off of the brewery the first time:   🙃 🙃 🙃

[broadcastm]

[broadcastm]

I like to imagine that since being a radio host is a pretty sparse profession in f.allout they all know about each other one way or another and they get the occasional letter from a ‘fan’ with holotapes sometimes for a song they may not have yet 

[broadcastm]

thx-lost-yxars​:

“It’s just my job.”

{ Scratch explained, seeing the radio jockey ease up. Travis struck Scratch as being strange, considering the young man’s profession of radio host. Thinking back, Scratch remembered Mr. New Vegas and his smooth, entertaining personality. The man himself knew music, knew how to talk to strangers miles around. He struck the right cords with everyone, by playing the right tune. Here was Travis, the opposite of Mr. Vegas, opposite of competent. Scratch doesn’t know how, such a stutter-mouth stranger earned his profession. The people here must be very desperate. For Scratch, people in that lane of work needed charisma. Travis however, seemed starved of charisma and instead stuttered frequently. So much so, Scratch was slightly annoyed by his voice. Scratch however, could care less about such issues. He cared more about money, about his survival. Though thinking about the letter, Scratch suspected it wasn’t some glorifying praise. The former raider couldn’t believe anyone enjoying Travis, for the exception of music, from long dead musicians and singers. }

“So how did you become the radio host?”

{ The former Fiend inquired, somewhat curious about how Travis earned his career. Scratch eyed the tower, which sent out the radio signals. It briefly reminded him about Galaxy News, another radio station. Scratch heard the former host was “groovy” until his sudden accident. }

“I guess it pays well, sitting on your ass, playing music and shit.”

{ Scratch stated while thinking about the caps involved. The job sounded easy, considering what needed to be done. It sounded easier than trekking across the wasteland, through cold and rain. Through raider gangs and mutants, itching to tear anyone apart. Scratch then reminded himself, that he hated his job. He hated his boss and the people he interacted with mostly. More importantly, he hated The Commonwealth. }

   There’s apart of the DJ still out in the wastes. Starved and wary of any question shot his way. But the city and her walls has made dulled the need for survival and he focuses more on living, no matter how pitiful. Nerves and muscles still coiled to run on instinct exhaust easily and fatigue and some sense of safety brought on by Diamond City’s resources makes him settle instead of making an excuse to dive back into trailer. He follows Scratch’s gaze up to the tower. 

   In the many times he’s been caught up in his own head he’s asked himself the very same question in partial disbelief. How did you become the radio host?  The thousand thoughts of how to answer that buzzes in his head, enough to make his skull burst. Too many to parse out in conversations such as these-- conversations where the air waves keep people well at a distance. It’s only his terrible story telling skills that saves him from telling Scratch too much. 

  “Luck I-I think. Mostly. Luck and well,” he fidgets, hugs the parcel close to chest then moves it beneath an arm, “no-no one else wanted to so uhm...” Travis drifts, a nervous chortle forces its way from his throat at Scratches comment as he turns from the tower to look at him. It doesn’t. That’s the truth of it. If had a lick of more pride he might be offended, but he isn’t. It keeps a roof over his head so he can’t complain. He pats his pockets looking for Scratch’s due. That’s what you did right? The courier delivers. He pays up their troubles. 

  As he fishes for caps just the bare seconds of quiet are loud. Just like on the radio he fills the gaps of silence bumbling for words. 

  “Do you see a lot? Delivering across the... I mean,  of course you do it’s something else out there. So-so I hear. I don’t really... uh, go anywhere. There’s kind of well-- you probably already saw it-- it’s hard not to. Seeing as you go places.” And he has it. The tin of caps held out. “The big monolith blimp in the sky. With the-the uh...” His voice dips then cracks. “Those Brotherhood guys. So uh-- maybe--maybe I don’t know, be careful or something out there.” 

[broadcastm]

Travis isn’t the easiest person to get close to but he gets so platonically smitten with the people that he manages to become friends with and already has proven he would Die for them