Hhhs this I for the uhhuh ship thing,, I'm a 5'5 gay trans dude w/ an rad attitude!! I have naturally red hair but its dyed pink my uhhh eyes are blue-greyish?? I'm kinda like a chunky soup, I live deliciously and most ppl cant handle me,,, I have Super Depression⢠and a plethora of other mental problems. I got like 5 piercings in my face holes + I'm pretty much held together exclusively by all the personality flowin from my veins. Also addicted to video games, comics and,,,mmm,,,,,,,,, soda,,
preston garvey: - working with you was like a breath of fresh air. no doubt about it, he was grateful to you for saving them in concord of course, but it went further than that. when he had first approached you about rebuilding the minutemen, he had half expected you to laugh in his face; you had already gotten them out of a tight situation after all, you didnât owe them a damned thing. he was amazed at how youâd traipse the commonwealth at a momentâs notice just to help the settlements that needed it; only reinforcing what he already knew - that you were destined to lead the minutemen.
- was surprised to see you were a natural red head, as the pink in your hair faded. there was an entire sunset in you, as it paled from its pink, and swirled with your natural red. how fitting, heâd thought, as it dazzled him.
- the first time preston had attempted to ask you out, heâd done so over dinner. a cozy fire burned at the center of the castleâs courtyard, as some of the more talented cooks amongst them stirred at the pot. in his awkwardness, he had started a conversation with you about dating, and had let it get away from him. Â
âi donât date much,â you had said, with a thoughtful look on your face as you scooped the chunky soup into your bowl.  âiâm likeâŚwell, iâm like this soup for instance,â
preston had stared blankly back at you, and you returned his puzzlement with a grin.
âi live deliciously, and most people canât handle me.â
you and preston mustâve looked like fools, doubled over by the cooking fire, carefully steadying the bowls in your hands from your turbulent guffaws. such levity had given preston confidence.Â
âyou know, this soup is my favorite,âÂ
- when he confided in you about some of the darkest days in his life, he was surprised with the understanding and acceptance he was met with. his head had bowed with shame, his shoulders slumped under the burden of his grief, and hopelessness. you had slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in comfortingly; knowingly, even. he could tell with the reverent quiet you held him in, that you too knew what it was to feel as he did. he hoped he could return the favor.
- he was absolutely confounded by the piercings that glinted in your face. he couldnât imagine sticking needles there, and willingly at that. and yet, he couldnât help but let them catch his eye, as they caught the light. when you spoke, it drew his gaze to the embellished feature; and he couldnât deny, you had very, very nice features.
- he smiles when he watches you with the kids in sanctuary, as they âoohâ and âaahâ at the pipboy on your wrist. his heart squeezes in his chest when you show them the games, teaching them how to play pipfall, and letting them compete with one another, while their parents work on getting them settled. Â
- for the life of him, he canât understand your preference for nukacola. it had always been too sugary for his liking, and did nothing to take the edge off. but on the hottest, most parched day, he could always find a lukewarm bottle in your hand. when he mentioned it to you, you had merely scoffed, âitâs not just nukacola preston; iâm a connoisseur of vim, and sunset sarsaparilla too!âÂ
sturges: - not a lot amazed sturges anymore; he had seen enough in his life to know that most things werenât what they were cracked up to be. but when he saw you take on that deathclaw at concord, he was confident you were the real deal. for someone who wasnât from around here, you certainly seemed unphased by your first encounter with a deathclaw. the beast had barred itâs wicked teeth at you, only to have you bring a power-armored first back, and snap it forward to clock the damned thing in the face. if he had known youâd make it out of that alive, he wouldâve laughed; the man who looked death in the eye, and punched it in the face.
- he saw such vicious fearlessness again when you had returned from the institute, in a flash of blue sparks. throngs of people had gone up to you, bombarding you with questions. he had hung back, hoping to give you a more personal âwelcome homeâ later.
âdid they find out who you were?â
âdid you find your son?â
he watched your grey-blue eyes intently, seeing the storm clouds as they gathered in them. heâd figured as much.
- when he found out he had feelings for you, he felt strangely liberated. no shyness, no averted eyes, no longing. just a chance for him to take. he knew that there stood a good chance you wouldnât even take to him; you were an astonishing person, a vivid, sharp, striking person. a man who punched deathclaws in the face, and went where no one before them could. someone who had fallen into the commonwealth, and created waves of change so large, sturges was sure theyâd feel it in the capital wasteland. he knew most couldnât handle someone like you, and yet, he couldnât help but feel ignited by the opportunity to try.
- he had always seen you as invincible he realized, as he had never seen a fight you couldnât win, or odds you couldnât turn to your favor. as such, he was shocked to see that you werenât. or more so, that you didnât consider yourself as such. he could recall the first time he had gotten a glimpse of the melancholy you carried with you; by the cookingfire at sanctuary one night, cradling a nukacola in your hand. he remembered being pleased by the way the light had danced off your face and the glass bottle; a stark contrast to the stifling sorrow you had admitted to feeling. sturges couldnât understand, not completely anyways. but he did know he wanted you to feel better, and that heâd be here to help you shoulder the burden if thatâs what it would take.  âwell, you know, this too will come to pass,â he said easily, in his familiar drawl, as you leaned into his arms.
- from that night on, sturges made a point to check up on you; he watched as you remained invincible for everyone else in the commonwealth; the railroadâs best agent, the brotherhoodâs most promising knight, and of course, the general of the minutemen, vanquisher of the institute. still though, to him, you were just you; you were who he started and ended each day with. he had seen you take off your superheroâs cape, and knew of the very real strain the world put on your shoulders. you had saved the world, and he made you, his.
- the quieter days that followed in the wake of the instituteâs demise consisted of many late nights lounging on the sofa, comfortable in the warm, summer air. a beer at sturgesâ side, and a nukacola at yours, he would flip through an edition of tesla science magazine, as you lay, your head in his lap, reading avidly through the copies of grognak the barbarian you had scrounged up on your travels. all was well.
((your description was exceptionally well written by the way! thank you for all the details and such wonderful, colorful wording!))
send me a description of yourself, and iâll ship you with a fallout 4 character!
