Updating this post finally. You are welcome to translate my work but please don’t repost it or claim it as your own. Otherwise, feel free to browse the archive of my work here!
Here are my rules:
Content I do not write:
Bestiality
Incest
Anything offensive (racism, hate speech, etc.)
Gif reacts
Sexual assault, etc.
NSFW content
Everything else is handled on a “I saw it and thought it was in bad taste” basis.
Please check the masterlist to see if I’ve answered your ask already!
It's really weird because it works on the browser on mobile but not on the app
Yeah, unfortunately, that's just how the app works. The tumblr app limits pages to Likes or Following for the app, so since my masterlist is a page on my blog, it's not accessible through the app. But I will copy-paste my masterlist below! Warning: the read more link is hiding a very long post.
Masterlist
Friendship headcanons for Danse and Preston
Rare habits companions have
When companions knew they were in love
Companions react to a mute sole
Sole confesses love to companions
Companions react to becoming ghouls
Companions react to wounded dog encounter
Companions realize sole cares and is staying with them
Secretly dating companions accidentally reveal they’re dating after a long time away from sole
Companions react to sole proposing
Companions and faction leaders react to Shaun being kidnapped by Gunners
Companions react to sole in a sexy Halloween costume
Crushing companions share a bed with sole
Companion Headcanons
Unromanced companions tragic deaths
BOS reacts to sole building blanket fort on the Prydwen
Companions react to the synth family au
Companions as internet users
How companions smell
Companions react to becoming ghosts
Companions Halloween costumes (with pictures) pt. 1
Companions Halloween costumes (with pictures) pt. 2
NPCs react to companions dying
Railroad reacts to sole in revealing costume
Companions as dragons
Companions find out sole is a courser
How companions celebrated Christmas before sole
Christmas short feat. St. Nick in his sleigh
Christmas with all companions in one settlement
Companions’ love languages
Companions’ Meyer-Briggs types
Companions’ opinions on Careless Whisper
Companions react to sole who went through pre-war red room
Compaions react to in-game glitches
Companions react to Curie saying “fuck”
Companions react to sole decorating for Christmas
Companions find out sole is Jewish at Hanukkah
Companions’ favorite settlements
Sole adopts companions for Valentine’s Day
Companions react to being unable to lie to sole (Soulmate AU)
Companions react to Danse being a synth
Companions (+ faction leaders) react to teenage sole calling them mom or dad
Companions react to sole missing their family for the holidays
Companions spend another holiday together (Secret Santa)
Companions react to the Courser Christmas uprising
Companions’ fursona headcanons
Companions react to companion reacts blogs (slightly NSFW)
Synth!Sole confronts the railroad about their identity
Companions find various coursers trapped in a raider cage
Pokemon the companions would have
Companions react to sole getting an unsolicited dick pic (slightly NSFW)
Railroad with helpful sole headcanons
Companions react to coursers only speaking in “master forgive me”
Companions find X6 years after the Institute’s destruction
Companions react to himbo grill dad Danse
Companions interpret bear dreams
Character Specific Reacts
Nick Valentine Rainy Day
Travis Miles Headcanons
Danse and Synth Shaun headcanons
Piper and Synth Shaun headcanons
Cait and Synth Shaun headcanons
Danse reacts to casual affection (pre- and post-BB)
Danse reacts to tearful sole
Danse reacts to chem addict sole
Courser Christmas party in the SRB
Courser Christmas uprising
Courser-only Christmas Party
Danse reacts to alternate ending Courser Christmas uprising
Who is Reinhart? (headcanon)
Reinhart reacts to meeting sole
Teen!Sole meets Shaun in the Institute
X6 with pregnant sole headcanons
Deacon headcanons
Romanced Curie headcanons
Romanced Danse reacts to sole being a synth (cont.)
Bones in the Ocean (sole survivor fic)
Father overhears teen!sole with “Hi Honey!” holotape
Courser cares for Shaun post-destruction of Institute
Sole struggles to kill Shaun as Institute ends
The Synth!Sole Saga
The original (Piper and Hancock unromanced are important to the canon)
Nick and sole visit Diamond City
Nick and sole visit Goodneighbor
The Railroad reacts to what happened in Goodneighbor
KLEO reacts to what happened in Goodneighbor
Piper and Hancock apologize
Sole saves Piper and Hancock from a Deathclaw
Nick forgives Piper and Hancock (happy ending)
Sole kicks out Piper and Hancock (bad ending)
Assorted Courser!Sole headcanons
Doing Todd’s Job for Him (aka Commonwealth worldbuilding)
Holy fuck bestie??? I love your courser/synth sole au! It's really interesting djdbd
It does make me curious as to all the timeline stuff about it too! Just all that jazz
Askdjlfsd thank you!!! As far as the timeline goes, it gets a liiitle bit messy because some of it branches off for alternate paths. All of the paths are in my original "companions find out that sole is a courser" post. But for the majority of synth!sole stuff I write, it all follows the same timeline:
Sole goes to the Institute with the aid of the Minutemen and pulls some data from the inside, as per canon.
The Institute immediately realizes what has happened and who they are, so shit hits the fan. It's decided that they can not be allowed to go unsupervised, so they start trying to find a subtle way to keep sole monitored at all times.
Sole returns home and hands the info off to the Minutemen. They decrypt it and find out sole's true identity. Word quickly spreads throughout the Commonwealth.
Piper publishes the findings in Publick Occurences, and sole is quickly banned from entering Diamond City. Ellie pitches a fit and starts boycotting the paper.
Sole is banned from Goodneighbor. Even Hancock gets the news, and the ban comes down fast and hard.
With sole's ban from Goodneighbor, the Railroad moves Amari out and into the Castle for protection. Only sole knows what she's doing there really; everyone else thinks the Memory Den has just moved.
Sole and their remaining allies regroup in Sanctuary Hills. This is where they meet up with Nick, and the two of them start traveling together.
Nick and sole visit Diamond City. This is the synth!sole post where they run into Piper at the gates. Meanwhile, on the home front, Preston is assembling the Minutemen, taking stock of what's left.
Sole returns to the Institute, getting a better look at what's going on, also getting to know X6. He begins to question what it actually means to be a synth.
Nick and Sole visit Goodneighbor, which is the story where Nick pistolwhips the mayor.
KLEO moves out of Goodneighbor and into Sanctuary. She is *technically* now part of the Minutemen but it's heavily implied this is part of her role with the Railroad.
Sole decides to destroy the Institute. They activate the evacuation order, but the whole thing goes up in flames and the news starts to run wild.
Piper publishes her article in the Publick, singing sole's praises. Preston brings a copy back to sole so they can read it. Hancock decides to visit. Both of these are in the apology story.
Piper and Hancock start to try to make amends. They open communication. Sole is allowed back into Diamond City and Goodneighbor, though they don't visit.
Piper and Hancock decide to take a risk and visit Sanctuary, which is where sole saves them from a Deathclaw.
Happy ending! Sole lets them back into their life, Nick fixes his broken relationships, and everybody gets to live happily in Sanctuary!
If requests are open, I would love to hear more about courser sole!
Ellie makes a lot of jokes about being left out of the "synth club" in the agency. Nick jokes that they'll have collected the whole box set if she turns out to be a standard Gen 3. Other Diamond City residents find this uncomfortable, but the three of them find it hilarious.
DiMA is absolutely smug over the whole thing but makes sure sole knows they're more than welcome in Acadia. They also offer their services if sole should want to forget the whole affair and start over fresh, though they don't take it.
Doctor Amari spends a lot of time wondering if Kellog's memories could go through so clearly due to sole's synth nature. She'd love to do more trials, but how often does one run into a situation like that? She makes herself content with just speculating.
Some talk is passed around about a synth-only settlement in the Commonwealth not unlike the Slog. It's a hard road to Acadia, and it'd be nice for synths to have a place to stay that doesn't require travel by boat. However, it would paint a big target on that settlement--the Commonwealth likes synths even less than ghouls--so for now, it remains just an idea.
There's a lot of chatter around the Institute, and many scientists spend long hours pouring over the data of sole versus that of a standard courser, picking out the differences. If Amari wants to do some trials, well, they're practically foaming at the mouth to do so.
On that note, it is very clear that sole operates differently from other coursers. In some ways better, in other ways worse, but on the whole if you put sole and a courser side-by-side you probably wouldn't guess they were the same. Institute scientists are fascinated by this, too.
As silly as it is, finding out does make sole feel a little bit bad about killing Z2. They know there's no actual relationship there, but they feel a sort of odd camaraderie with all the coursers, Z2 included. They like to think that he would understand. It was just business, after all.
*scratches neck* y'all got any more of them courser Sole AU takes?
I offer you some courser sole headcanons, but I am always willing to write more synth!sole if there's interest!
Glory and sole bond hardcore after finding out sole's a courser. They probably even get matching tattoos or something, and there are endless jokes about all the best heavies being synths these days.
In the unromanced Danse ending, where he kills sole, Haylen never really forgives him. She knows that he did the right thing, and she never says anything about it, but it definitely drives a wedge between them for reasons she can't quite explain.
The Minutemen do lose some settlements when they find out the General is a synth, and some of the Minutemen themselves quit. Preston stays hopeful through it all, and they manage to rebound, but it hurts sole's confidence a lot when it happens.
Some of the traders that operate as Institute spies (Cricket, Carla, etc.) suspiciously lower their prices for sole after the information breaks. Wonder why that is?
Some of the remaining coursers in the Commonwealth conveniently seem to be unable to detect sole these days, or if forced to fight, a lot of their shots seem to go wide. That's just common courtesy for a fellow courser, after all.
There is a brief kerfuffle surrounding sole being allowed to continue to come to Diamond City. The eventual agreement is that they can come in, but they can't go to the Upper Stands. A lot of people are unhappy with this decision, but most of them aren't willing to risk making sole unhappy and mention it. Besides, all the merchants are happy. Sole's their best customer.
hi! you remember that whole synth!sole saga that you wrote last year? (or at least i think it was last year)
could you maybe do a bad ending version, where sole and nick dont forgive piper and hancock?
(For context, this should come after Piper and Hancock arrive in Sanctuary and are saved by sole)
Hancock is rudely awoken by a rough hand on his shoulder.
"Up," Preston says above him, his voice harder and colder than Hancock has ever heard it. "Get your stuff."
Hancock groans. Across the room, Piper groggily says, "What's going on?"
"It's morning," Preston says. "You were allowed to spend the night, and now you have to leave."
Pipers splutters for a moment. "Leave? We just got here! What about seeing sole?"
"The General will see you out," he replies cooly, and then he's out the door.
For a moment, Hancock can only sit there stunned, still trying to piece together everything that had happened yesterday. He'd met up with Piper, they'd gone to the Red Rocket, there was that Deathclaw... Hadn't sole saved them, though?
He sits up to get his stuff, mulling that over. Why save them just to kick them out again?
"I can't believe this," Piper grumbles, shouldering her bag. "We just got here, for crying out loud."
"Hey, he said we'd get to see sole on the way out. Maybe we can talk to them then."
Piper shoots him a look that clearly says she is unconvinced, but they both know better than to resist. Sole is the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth, after all, and the two of them are sort of in their house at the moment. Going against their wishes would just be begging for something worse than what they've already got.
Preston is waiting for them outside, and Hancock can't help but notice that the grip on his laser musket is a little tighter than usual. When they make eye contact, Preston's expression is a blank slate, devoid of any emotion. An uneasiness begins to build in Hancock's stomach.
Sole is waiting for them at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, Dogmeat at their heels. Nick Valentine is a few doors down, leaning in a doorway, smoking a cigarette, glaring daggers at the two of them. Hancock swallows hard, but puts on his best smile.
"Mornin', sole."
Preston falls into step behind the two of them as they walk. Hancock would swear he can feel the breath on the back of his neck.
"Exit's this way," Sole says in lieu of a reply.
"Kicking us out so soon?" Piper asks, and there's enough snark in her voice that Hancock shoots her a warning glare. Her tone softens when she adds, "We came all this way to talk, sole."
"I don't care why you came, and I'm not interested in talking. You should've sent a message."
"C'mon," Hancock pipes up. "Aren't you even a little interested in what we have to say?"
The glare they shoot him makes him shrivel. "Since when was that favor returned to me?"
He bites his tongue, thinking of sole's confused and angry face, the way they'd banged on the door afterward, the way their screaming echoed off the buildings. "Look, I know I messed up, but-"
"But nothing." Their tone is hard and sharp. "You betrayed me, both of you did. When I was at my lowest, my most vulnerable, you didn't offer me a hand up. You kicked me while I was down. I saved your sorry lives last night in the spirit of being even. Now, for anything you ever did for me, I've returned the favor, and we can call that tab settled. I owe you nothing except the same kindness you showed me. For that, you can get the hell out of here, and don't either of you even fucking dare to set foot on Minutemen soil again."
Piper recoils as if she's been slapped. Her eyes gleam unnaturally in the morning sun. "Blue, you don't-"
"That's 'General' to you," they snap, "and I'm not interested in excuses. Leave."
Their tone leaves no room for argument. Hancock's throat is so tight he thinks he might choke, so he takes Piper's arm and begins to pull her down the street under the watch of Nick's icy glare.
As they pass sole, he whispers, "I really am sorry."
They just glare at him and reply, "I bet you are."
Piper waves to Nick as they pass. He doesn't return it. He drops the butt of the cigarette he's been smoking and crushes the ashes beneath his boot so aggressively that Hancock feels like he's been punched. The message is clear. They are not forgiven. They will never be forgiven. They have done something that is beyond forgiveness.
Hancock realizes Nick Valentine was right. He's a hypocrite in every sense of the word. In sole's shoes, he'd do the exact same thing.
hmm. here's another one, post-institute destruction as well, in which a less sympathetic sole survivor abandons synth shaun to die in the explosion and this somehow leads to a random courser taking him out and fleeing with him. now they have to figure out what to do with this kid when they probably haven't even seen a child before much less a synth one who is technically the director, all while parsing the unthinkable that just happened and what the point of them even is in a world without.
X9-96, to her shame, runs.
Usually, she’d stand and fight, but she knows a lost battle when she sees one. The sole survivor has rigged the reactor to blow, which means this is over. This is beyond over. If she doesn’t get out now, she won’t get another chance.
She runs. She leaves everything behind, all her brothers and sisters, telling herself that anyone who’s dumb enough to stay deserves their fate. Screams echo in her ears, not unfamiliar to her, but this is different. These are the screams of the defeated, of the people she has known. She tries to ignore them, but they claw at her and make it hard to breathe.
Upstairs is more quiet. She takes a few deep breaths before striding over to the teleporter, punching in the first coordinates that come to mind. She doesn’t have much time; the sole survivor has already left, which means she’s probably only got a few seconds. Damn her shaking hands-
“Excuse me?”
She glances away from the board. Standing next to her is a small human--a child, she thinks they’re called--dressed like a synth. There are tears in his eyes.
“Are you leaving? Take me with you, please!”
She doesn’t have time to think about it, so she says, “Okay. Get inside.”
At least he does what he’s told. She finishes queuing up the teleporter and strides in. The floor rocks beneath her just as the familiar flash of static goes through her, a wave of near-pain and nausea, and she closes her eyes against the flash of bright light.
With a crack, they fall onto the grass. She lands steadily, but the kid topples over before retching. She flinches in sympathy, and turns away just in time to see the mushroom cloud rise from what used to be the CIT ruins.
The shock of it knocks her into the grass next to the kid, and for a solid minute all she can do is stare. It’s gone. It’s all gone. The only thing she maybe could have called home is now a smoking crater, and everyone she knew is dead.
“It’s gone,” the kid says, snapping her out of her reverie.
She looks over at him, and he looks back unblinkingly.
“You saved me,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Ah- don’t mention it.” Something about the kid is familiar, but she can’t put her finger on it. “What’s your designation?”
“They just call me Shaun.”
Right. Shaun. The copy of the Director, who is also now dead. Everyone is dead. There is no Director, there is no Board, there’s not even an Institute. All of it gone, just like that.
“I asked sole to take me with them, but they wouldn’t. They left me.” He looks at her with teary eyes. “Why would they leave me?”
“I...”
She has no answers for him. She doesn’t even have answers for herself. Where does she go? What does she do now? She needs someone to tell her what to do, that’s what she’s used to, it’s what she thrives on. Without that, what can she do?
To distract herself, she looks around them. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. They’re not too far from Boston Airport; this is her usual teleport location for when she goes to spy on them. She and X7 would meet here for a joint mission, which was usually filled with him gossiping.
God, X7. The pain ripples through her again. He’s dead, too. She blinks harshly against the tears that threaten to spill, forcing herself away from those thoughts, from her friend who smiled while he killed and did the funniest impressions. She’ll mourn him later.
“We need to find shelter,” she says to the boy. “Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head, stands on unsteady feet. “Where do we go?”
She looks out across the expanse of the Commonwealth, searching for something familiar. Though she and X7 have spent many hours exploring here, somehow everything looks unfamiliar, strange, threatening. She shudders, thinking of the Prydwen above them, and hurries away from the airport, Shaun trailing behind.
The RobCo Sales and Service Center is perfect, and she ducks inside. She’ll need a change of clothes, and so will the kid. With the Institute down, it’s only a matter of time before the citizens of the Commonwealth get brave and start standing up to coursers. They’ll need to blend in. There’s a raider base not too far from here, and she’s confident she can handle them by herself and get some resources there, but for now she needs a place to stow Shaun.
He’s technically the director, after all. His safety is a necessity.
The RobCo building is quiet, as she knew it would be, and she runs a quick sweep of it before stowing Shaun in a corner.
“Stay here,” she says. “You’ll be safe. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re leaving me?” His face becomes panicked.
“I’m coming back. Don’t worry.”
“But what if something happens?”
She glances at her security weak points. “I’ll barricade the entrance, then lock the back door. The windows are already boarded over. Nothing can get in, and nothing’s inside.”
“But what if something happens to you?”
Her gaze snaps back to him. He snags the hem of her coat between tiny fingers, and a single tear drips down his cheek.
“If something happens to me, then you take off your jumpsuit and go to the Brotherhood of Steel. Do not tell them you’re a synth. They’ll keep you safe until someone else comes to extract you.”
Shaun looks lost, but he nods. Her heart breaks a little, and she reaches into the pocket of her coat, extracting a single Fancy Lads cake.
“Here. Count to 100 once I’m gone, then eat it. Not too fast, or you’ll get sick.”
The plastic sleeve crinkles in his hand. He watches with wide eyes as she shoves a desk in front of the entrance, legs screeching across the floor, and keeps his eyes on her as she crosses to the back door.
“I’ll be back soon,” she says, and locks the door behind her.
Through the metal, she can barely hear him say, “Bye.”
The air outside is cold, and reeks of stagnant water. Still, she takes a deep breath, fighting off the thoughts that threaten to drown her, forcing herself into work mode.
“Just a normal mission,” she says to the back of the building. “Go in, kill everyone in your way, and leave. Nothing you haven’t done a hundred times before.”
With her gun in hand, she begins the walk to East Boston Preparatory School.
She likes that about them, she supposes; with the state she's in, an easy kill is definitely not unwelcome. They run in predictable patterns, are braver than they have any right to be, and tend to rely on skills they don't have. It's almost funny. Any other day, she'd keep track of their stupidest moves to laugh about later with X7.
Not today, though. Today is pure business.
The sole survivor has already been through here once, she can tell. There's fresh bloodstains, locks busted open, and a lot of the pre-war loot you'd expect to find in a place like this is gone. She resents that, but she resents everything they've ever done at this point, so that's nothing special.
There's clothes for her, and she grabs some smaller items for Shaun, though she doubts they'll fit without alterations. She'll need to learn to sew. There's food, too, and she grabs it despite the instincts that tell her not to. Irradiated food is better than no food at all.
As she picks through a raider's pockets, she wonders what her plan is. They can't stay here; it's far too close to the Brotherhood for comfort, and there's no sustainable source of food or water. They need to get to civilization somewhere, but where? Where can they be safe, what city will take them in and not think twice if they're synths?
Deep in the back of her mind, a memory appears. A whisper that X7 had heard whispers of, a place so steeped in myth and rumor that the whole thing was dubious. A safe place for synths outside the Commonwealth, outside the Railroad.
"North," X7 had said, and she can picture him so clearly, blond hair shining under midday sun. "There's an island out there somewhere."
She'd laughed and said, "Don't you think the Institute would know about a synth safe haven?"
He'd shrugged. "Who knows if it even exists? It's all rumor and legend, not much past that. I don't even know a name."
Back then, rumor alone wasn't worth investigating; it would have been a waste of resources and energy. Now, though, rumor is more than enough for her.
She stands, stretches, and gathers up the resources she's found. She's been here too long; every second she's here is another that Shaun is vulnerable.
The afternoon sun is unconfortably warm on her back as she makes her way back to the RobCo Sales and Service Center. She runs a hand through her hair--maybe she should cut it--and pulls her hair tie out to let it hang loose around her shoulders. A breeze catches it, throws it behind her shoulders, and she decides she should definitely cut it. Something rough and choppy, like a true wastelander. There's a pair of scissors in her bag that she'd pulled out of a desk, and she decides both she and Shaun will need a new look to blend in.
The back door is still locked, which is a good sign, and she pushes into the dark interior slowly, letting her eyes adjust.
"Shaun?" she calls softly.
His head peeks out from under a desk. "You're back."
"Come here," she says, setting her bag on the floor. "Let's see if any of this fits you."
He crawls out of his hiding place. She bends over the bags rummaging for the smallest pieces, but she knows none of it will fit well.
"I don't know your name," he says.
She looks up at him. "I don't have one. I just have a designation."
He cocks his head at her. "Really?"
She shrugs. "I've never been allowed one."
But looking at him, she knows she'll need one, now. Wastelanders have names, not numbers. It's been an hour at most since the Institute went up in flames and yet here she is, trying to pick a new name for herself.
X7's voice flits through her mind unbidden. It was a sunny day, they were sitting in the ruins of what used to be a home, book spread acros his knees.
"Look at it," he'd said pointing to a picture of a human infant. "Human people want those."
She'd crinkled her nose. "It looks like a mole rat."
"Ew, it does."
He'd turned the page to names, and they'd tried them on for a few hours. He seemed like a Lucien to her, she'd said, and he'd picked for her...
"Sloane," she says to Shaun. "You can call me Sloane."
"Okay." He sticks out his little hand. "Nice to meet you, Sloane."
He lips twitch into a smile, and she shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you. Do you want to try on some of these clothes?"
He crinkles his nose and says, "No," but reaches out for the bundle anyway. He disappears into the next room to change, and she begins rifling through for something to wear, herself.
"These smell gross," Shaun calls.
He's right, of course. They smell like a stale mix of sweat and blood and alcohol, but that's part of blending in, isn't it? The days of lemon and lavender cleaners are behind her.
She shrugs out of her leather coat to try on a shirt. It's tight across the shoulders, but otherwise fits her. How close can she dress to a courser without drawing attention? She's never worn anything other than jumpsuits or long coats, and as she stands there in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans she can't help but feel a bit... not herself.
She stares down at the pile of clothes. If she was just a normal person, she'd pick based on aesthetics, based on what she likes or colors she thinks are pretty. But she isn't a normal person, and she's never worn anything other than what she was handed, and the way the jeans sit against her waist is driving her slowly insane and the shirt is too tight and the denim itches and-
She feels the prick of tears at her eyes, sudden enough to catch her off-guard, and she presses her palms into them, trying to turn gasping, ragged breaths into something even. Her composure is wearing thin, because X7, who often posed as a caravan hand, wore other clothes all the time, and she can picture him wearing all of these clothes so easily that she can't see herself in any of them.
She rips the shirt off her body, throws it to the side, sends the jeans flying after it. With shaking hands, she digs through the pile, almost frantically until her fingers close around something familiar, something grounding. Road leathers, worn in by time and use, smooth and cool and thick enough to keep a dog's teeth out of your arm.
The pants fit well, and she digs through for the rest of the set. The flannel undershirt isn't a perfect fit, but it's good enough, and she zips up the vest over it. Snug, but not too snug. She eyes the belt before deciding to just put it on; the skull buckle is a little much, but who knows when that strap of leather might come in handy?
"How's this?" Shaun asks, rounding the corner.
The sleeves of his shirt flop loosely over his hands, and the pants are baggy and barely staying up, but she supposes it's the best they'll get from this batch of clothes.
"It'll do for now. Come here, we can cut those sleeves shorter, and you need a haircut."
He plops down on the floor in front of her. "I just got a haircut. Right before..."
"Right before what?" She asks, digging in her newly-acquired bag for the scissors.
He's quiet for a moment before saying, "All this."
"Ah." She's not sure what to say to that, so she focuses on his hair, running her free hand through it. His hair is thin but soft, and she grabs a chunk before raising the scissors.
It's rough and messy, and hers isn't much better, but when she looks at Shaun, all she sees is a normal Commonwealth kid in too-big clothes, and all she sees in herself is your average desperate scavver. Which she is, now. She's another wastelander who just happens to have a good background in fighting.
She thumbs the Institute pistol in the holster at her side. She should probably ditch it; the last thing that she wants is to draw any attention to the fact that she isn't human, but on the other hand, this is hardly the time to start experimenting with new weapons.
"Where are we going?" Shaun asks, still sitting criss-cross on the floor, peering up at her.
"North," she says, and her hand drops from her gun. "There's a place we can be safe."
"Okay." He gets to his feet. "Where in the north?"
"I'm not sure. For now, we'll just go north."
"Okay."
They step outside. She checks the sun, finds north, then they start walking down the road together.
Do you have any headcannons about superstitions, spirituality, or hauntings in the wasteland?
There is something deep in the Glowing Sea, something with long tentacles and many eyes. Some call it Cthulhu, some call it proof that Atom is real, some call it a radiation-induced hallucination. No matter what you believe, stay to the outskirts of the Glowing Sea, lest you find something that you wish you hadn't.
Surely the wasteland is proof that there are no gods, and if they do exist, they revel in cruelty. Organized religions are few and far between, scattered across the Commonwealth in dense, tightly-knit pockets. To speak of gods in this day and age is sure to get you an uncomfortable glance, perhaps a sarcastic remark about taking up with the Children, but whatever helps you to make sense of the horrors around you is a good thing.
The ghosts call the Commonwealth home the same as you do. The spirits of those that used to be ferals are still tied here for as long as their bodies live on. They mean no harm. They are simply tired, ready to move on, sick of being chained to such a miserable place. To kill a feral is an act of mercy for them as much as you. Let a weary soul rest.
However, the voice that calls your name in the night is not a ghost. Everyone has heard it, whether as a soft whisper or a pained groan or a cry from far away. When the voice calls (and it will) do not go looking for it. What are you hoping to find, anyway?
For the dwellers of Diamond City, be sure to give the wall a little pat as you leave. She works hard every day to keep you safe, the least you can do is show your thanks.
For the dwellers of Far Harbor, when you catch something odd in your net, do not throw it back to sea. Do not remind the other things in the water that you've killed one of their own. Take it home, sprinkle it with salt, bury it deep, and forget it ever existed. Eventually, the sea will forget, too.
You can eat the food of dead men--no sense in letting it go to waste--but be sure to leave some behind for them. A few bites are all they need, but to take everything is to invite bad luck. Who needs any more of that than they already have?
Finally, beware of false oracles. Not all riddles are prophecies, and most advice is bad. At best, they're high and babbling, and most of the time you're just getting scammed.
Not an ask or request: just telling you that I had another dream with bears. I swear to fuck, my brain is the Hinterlands from Dragon Age. Bears, bears everywhere. Bears with monkeys. Bears on fire because of (frustrated) dream!me. Bears sniffling outside my window. Bears confounded by doors. Bears chasing my old school bus. Fucking. BEARS. The monkeys are new, tho. Thought I'd share.
Anon I want you to know that this is apparently contagious because I ALSO had bear dreams last night. Thank u for sharing bc now I have someone it blame for my weird-ass bear dreams
I am good! I just got a new job and I'm very happy! I'm sorry that my dog put her head on my keyboard and deleted the post where I replied to you though :(
I know this isn't that kind of blog, but maybe it'd be interesting for the companions to interpret: I have reoccurring dreams of fighting, running from, or killing these huge fuck-off bears. Always in my yard. I'm never scared, either. Reactions?
Ada: "Perhaps you have a secret fear or mistrust of bears. I cannot blame you. The irradiated Yao Guai is a frightening beast, one that I'd rather not encounter."
Cait: She shrugs. "Probably just means you're a good fighter. I mean, you'd have to be, to fight that many bears. Unless it's not that many bears." She looks at you through narrowed eyes. "How many bears is it? And don't lie."
Codsworth: "How frightening!" If Codsworth could shudder, he probably would. "I certainly hope there's no meaning to it at all! How dreadful."
Curie: Curie taps a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Well, it is said that our dreams are meant to prepare us for such situations that we may face in the future, non? Perhaps your brain simply thinks that you are going to need to fight very many bears someday and need to be prepared."
Danse: "Seeing a bear in your yard might mean that you see a threat to your home. Perhaps you are feeling insecure in your life, or are perceiving a threat that you find difficult to admit to in your waking hours. I would suggest you try to identify that threat and remove it."
Deacon: "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. I need to get my dream book." He rifles through a chest nearby, pulls out a copy of what you think is Twelfth Night, and holds it upside down. "Alright, let's see. What kind of bears are they? And don't say polar bears. You're not gonna like what the book tells you."
Dogmeat: He gives a little growl, ears pressed back. He hates bears! Where are the bears? He's gonna fight the bears!
Gage: He shrugs. "Maybe you just really hate bears. Not that deep."
Hancock: "You know, there's an old saying: 'You don't have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun your buddy.' You ever heard that?" He pauses. "I don't know where I was going with that, but there's something there that I bet could be really insightful."
MacCready: Through a mouthful of cereal (which he is eating straight out of the box, completely dry) he says, "Probably means you lack a maternal figure in your life." He refuses to elaborate further.
Nick: "Oh, please. Don't make me get Freudian." With further prompting, he will elaborate: "Freud said that dreams were a manifestation of repressed desires. You should ask yourself what a bear represents to you, and why you're so keen on fighting it."
Old Longfellow: "It means you're eating something weird before you go to bed, and whatever it is reminds you of bears. That's why I don't eat fish close to bedtime. You should try that."
Piper: "Fighting and winning against a bear means that you're in the process of overcoming any obstacles and fears that stand in your way. It's a good thing. Dreaming about bears chasing you means that you're running away from something stressful and uncomfortable." She glances at you with discerning eyes. "So which is it? Got something goin' on I should know about?"
Preston: "Some people's dreams reflect what's going on in their lives, or what's already happened. You should see if you can identify patterns between what happens in the real world and whether you beat the bear or not. Maybe you win against the bear when you're confident and feel strong, and maybe you run from the bear when you feel beaten down and defeated. It might be an interesting thing to look at."
Strong: "Human FIGHT bears!" He pats you on the back. "Human kill bears! Human is strong even in mind!"
X6: "You shouldn't put too much faith in your dreams. They're just random signals created by your brain during REM sleep. They have no real power and no real meaning."
i&friend had an oc who we loved a lot. today last year adhd brainfuckery caused my brain to start corrupting/retconning all the memories of him in such a way that i can't remember he was ever different, THAT i forgot anything, so he died. i'll never know i don't know what he was really like. even when i recall bits i forget them instantly. can you.. do danse spending christmas with his husband, an amnesiac courser braindamaged & weakened from the scars of the event that freed him years ago.
Alright I don't usually do OC asks but... for u anon. Happy holidays.
"Darling?"
He looks up. There is a face in front of him, and he blinks. He thinks he should remember this face, but he doesn't.
"Good morning," the stranger says, handing him a mug. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he lies, and sniffs at the mug. It smells sweet.
"Hot chocolate." The stranger rises off the edge of the bed, and he feels the mattress spring back with the movement. "There's a small amount of mint in there, too. Sole taught me the recipe."
He hums noncommittally. He doesn't know who sole is, but this stranger seems nice, and the hot chocolate does taste good. It warms his fingers and helps to wake him up a little more.
The stranger looks over at him. His voice softens when he asks, "Do you remember me?"
Hesitantly, he shakes his head.
The stranger's face pulls into something sad and soft, and he sits back down on the edge of the bed. Gently, he takes his left hand, runs his thumb across the simple gold band on his finger.
"I'm your husband," the stranger says. "My name is Danse."
"Nice to meet you, Danse."
Danse laughs, but it's sorrowful. "Certainly. Nice to meet you. Do you know what day it is?"
"Winter," he says. "Late December. Air's cold."
"You're right. It's Christmas."
Christmas. He remembers.
"You took me to dinner last year."
Danse's face brightens. "Indeed. I'm glad you remember."
"I-" He glances around the room. "I didn't get you a present. I'm sorry."
Danse laughs again, softer, gentler. "Yes, you did. You purchased it in November while you remembered, and you told me where you were going to hide it, made me promise not to look."
"I did?" He relaxes, relieved.
"You did." Danse tangles their fingers. "You've always been thoughtful like that."
That's nice to hear. He gives Danse's fingers a little squeeze.
"Do you want some breakfast? I made pancakes."
"That sounds nice."
Danse helps him out of bed. The kitchen smells of chocolate and mint and pine, and he glances over at the small tree in the corner. There are two presents underneath its ornament-laden branches. One from him, the other from Danse, he presumes.
He moves to the cabinet to retrieve dishes but opens the wrong door. His brow furrows. He looks in another cabinet, and it is also wrong. A third is empty.
"By the fridge," Danse says, bending to check in the oven.
His face flushes. By the fridge. Of course, how could he have forgotten? He pulls out two plates and sets them on the table before rifling around for some forks.
The pancakes are good. They're light, they're fluffy, they're heaven on a plate. He tells Danse so, and his husband flushes and waves his fork dismissively.
"They're not as good as you claim. I've had superior dining experiences before."
Around a mouthful, he says, "Well, I haven't."
After breakfast, they scoop up two more mugs of hot chocolate and shuffle into the living room (a two-step journey) to sit by the tree. A fire crackles warmly in the fireplace, and he scoots close to it, encouraging some warmth to nestle in his pajamas. Danse wraps a blanket around his shoulders.
"Thanks." He tucks it a little tighter around him, relishing the feeling of the soft fabric on his skin.
"Of course. You always get cold easily, so I make sure to keep plenty of blankets on hand."
He files that away in "Facts I Didn't Know About Myself," a mental folder that had started out empty this morning but has rapidly grown since he woke up.
Danse retrieves the gifts from under the tree before joining him beside the fire, lifting one side of the blanket to wrap around his own shoulders. He laughs a little and bumps his husband with his shoulder.
"Just can't get enough of me, huh?"
"Of you?" Danse's eyes shine. "Never."
For a brief moment, he forgets the boxes sitting by their feet to place a chaste kiss against Danse's lips. A quick peck, nothing more, but certainly enough to get the blood moving.
"Merry Christmas, Danse."
Danse rests his forehead against his. "Merry Christmas to you, too."
danse becomes a grill dad with a "milf-man i love fishing" apron and no one has any idea how this happened or how to take this
"I mean... I guess this is good? It's progress, right?"
Sole looked at their companions. "Right?"
"He looks happier," Preston supplied. "He's taken up a hobby, found an identity that's not just being a synth or an ex-Paladin. I'd say this is definitely progress."
MacCready scrunched his nose. "I agree, but don't you think the apron is a bit much?"
Piper gasped and dramatically clutched at her chest. "Mac! I can't believe you would insinuate that his apron is anything but high fashion. This is a man of taste, clearly. Cait agrees with me, right, Cait?"
Cait nodded around a mouthful of beer.
"Right," Piper said decisively, as though that was the end of it.
Curie shook her head. "I do not see why the apron is so humorous for all of you. It is an appropriate acronym."
Piper's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas.
"No," Mac said, cutting in before she could say a thing. "No, no, no. We are not going down this road. Absolutely not. Not again."
"Aw, c'mon. She asked. It's only fair that I-"
"No." He turned to Curie. "You're right, it is an appropriate acronym. End of discussion."
"MILF stands for Mom I'd Like to Fuck," Hancock said.
Chaos. Mac and Preston immediately started shouting at Hancock, who looked as smug as could be. Piper and Cait took one look at Nick's face and collapsed against each other with laughter. Curie just nodded and started writing that down so she wouldn't forget.
"You can't just say that!" Mac screeched.
Hancock shrugged, still smiling. "She asked."
"Still!"
"C'mon, he's wearing it around! Curie deserves to be in on the joke, doesn't she? That's the whole point of wearing the apron."
"Anyone want a hotdog?" Danse shouted across the street, blissfully unaware of what he'd caused.
"No!" Mac yelled back.
"Yes!" Hancock said, immediately after RJ had spoken. "We all do!"
Danse, bless him, just nodded. "Hotdogs coming up."
"I'm gonna-" sole put their head in their hands, letting out a few stray giggles. "I'm gonna go help him. You guys... Do whatever it is that you do."
"I shall help!" Codsworth declared, and trailed them across the street.
For a moment, everything was quiet. They watched Danse talk to sole and Codsworth, then turn back to the grill. Inside, sole flicked on the radio, and music floated out the windows to them.
Deacon piped up, "I don't mind the apron, but could he at least wear a shirt?"
"No," Hancock said.
"Please get him one," X6 said.
"You put a shirt on him and I start shooting," Piper said.
