the-memory-den

[the-memory-den]

Incorrect quotes #2

Sole: I see the glass as half empty, Preston sees it as half full; that’s why we make a good team. Cait, on the other hand, just drinks right out of the bottle. Piper wonders why it has to be glass, and Hancock usually breaks the glass by putting his feet up on the table.

-

Piper: Remember that time you dared me to lick the swing set?

Nick: No, I said “Piper, don’t lick the swing set,” and you said “don’t tell me what to do,” and then you licked the swing set

-

Sole: Can I get some advice?

MacCready: I’m not good at advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?

-

Hancock: Sorry I’m late, I was doing ‘things’

Danse, visibly rattled: HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS

-

[at the memory den]

Amari: Visualize the ocean

Sole: [terrified screeching]

Amari: A calm ocean

Sole: Oh

-

Sole: I mean, come on, let’s just hug it out. Come on, hug it out.

[everyone hugs]

Preston: Alright, who took my wallet?

MacCready: Sorry

-

Cait: Hey, cut the music, cut the music. Somebody left an ice cube on the ground and it melted and now my sock is wet. Who the fuck wanna die?

-

Sole: You could’ve died!

Hancock: I wasn’t hurt that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be.

-

Sole: Once you’ve hit rock bottom, there is nowhere to go but up!

Hancock: You underestimate me. I’ve brought my pickaxe, and I am ready to dig.

-

Piper: Is there a word that’s a mix between angry and sad?

X6-88: Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolate?

Sole: Smad.

-

Sole: I’m cold.

Nick: Here, have my jacket.

Piper: I’m cold too.

Hancock: Want me to set you on fire?

-

Desdemona: So, what’s it like to be traveling with Sole?

Deacon: Once, I asked them for a glass of water while they were angry with me, and they brought me a glass full of ice and said “wait.”

-

Nick: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Sole, yelling: Hey Hancock, how tall are you?

-

Sole: Did it hurt? When you fell?

Danse: From heaven? No. Do you want my numb-

Sole: No I mean when you fell out of that vertibird. I watched you trip on your foot and kind of lay on the sidewalk for ten minutes.

Sole: Are you alright?

-

Judge: How do you plead?

Hancock: [looks at Nick]

Nick: [mouths] Not guilty

Hancock: Hot milky

Nick: Just lock him up already

-

MacCready: I have an idea

Sole: No murder

MacCready: I have no ideas

-

Cait: Surgery is really just stabbing someone to life

Sole: Please never become a surgeon

-

Curie: It’s unhealthy to eat past 7 pm

Sole, eating sugar bombs at 3 am: Good thing time is an illusion

-

Hancock: I’m afraid of heights

Piper: Well it’s a good thing you’re short then

-

Sole: Hi, I lost my companion. Can I make an announcement?

Shop vendor: Sure

Sole: [leans into the mic] Goodbye, you little shit

-

Sole: So you remember the plan if I ever get shot, right?

X6-88: Of course.

Sole: Tell me.

X6-88: In the case of you ever being shot, as you fall to the ground, I am to sing MMMMM WHATCHA SAY no matter the circumstances.

Sole: Good.

[the-memory-den]

Ok well for the ship thing bc I'm weak I'm a 19 year old artist who's Very Tired and also pretty quiet with a mad resting bitch face, but I'm actually a pretty happy person. Brown hair, green eyes, 5'6, skinny but also gets winded going up 3 flights of stairs. I like telling shitty jokes and ragging on people with my friends.

preston garvey: - is of course, your very biggest fan.  once sanctuary gets more setup, he encourages you to put your art up around, upon furnishing the old buildings.  he even commissions a few pieces on behalf of the minutemen for the castle, despite you being the general, and being able to do whatever you please with respect to it.  when he over hears someone talking about wanting a custom piece, or in need of an artist for whatever reason, he’s always quick to recommend you, without explicitly stating his person relationship with you.  ‘hey, i actually know of a good artist if you’re looking for one, last i checked they were based out of sanctuary…’

- is content to fill afternoons with your company, and the comfortable silence that settle between you two with occasional whistling.  he finds your presence comforting, even if he isn’t doing anything with you specifically.  rather, he just enjoys your presence there, finding it rewarding in itself.

- enjoys the way you make him feel like sunshine and singing birds when he’s around you.  after the dark weeks that followed the incident at quincy, stumbling upon you (or rather, you stumbling upon them in concord) was a breath of fresh air.  no matter what pressed him at the moment, just standing next to you was enough to relieve his burdens.  you just had a way of making everything feel like it was going to turn out alright.

- upon traveling with you, preston was surprised at how easily you got winded climbing through the facilities you cleared.  he had seen you go toe to toe with a deathclaw without so much as a scratch, and you had nearly single-handedly rebuilt the minutemen.  what were stairs to you?  as it turned out, they were quite exhausting.  he still finds it humorous, despite having overcome hundreds of flights of stairs with you by now, and teases you every chance he gets.

glory: - is very over protective of you.  while normally, seeing those that appear weaker than her don’t invoke a protective response, so much as a scathing, or condescending one, she became quite close to you when you secured curie her new body.  she felt as if by entrusting your friend with her friend’s old body, it created a special bond between the two of you, and is what initiated the two of your becoming closer, despite you already having been in the railroad for a while.

- that’s not to say that she didn’t like you before though; out of most of her comrades, she found she was able to tolerate you the most.  you didn’t run your mouth like deacon, and you didn’t sit around with a dopey look on your face like drummer boy.  your face was impassive, if not a bit cold - a look she recognized as familiar, and found vague comfort in. 

- one of her fondest memories with you is the journey the two of you made on your return to the north church from a mission.  autumn had settled on the commonwealth crisp and chilled like apple cider; and glory could sometimes still hear the rustle of leaves in her dreams.  the pair of you had taken the scenic route, through a cluster of trees who in the summer, looked sad and barren in their lack of foliage, but in the autumn, looked right at home, as the wind tossed the already fallen leaves of newer, less-wise trees, and rendered the entire area a mural of oranges and reds.  it was cool enough to see the puffs of breath as they escaped your lips, brisk enough to  draw color to both of your cheeks, but warm from the sun on that cloudless afternoon, and pleasant company.  neither of you had said much; it had felt like such a perfect stretch of time, so separate from every other horrible thing going on in the commonwealth, that neither of you wanted to risk shattering such fragile serenity by speaking.  

‘beautiful’ glory had thought she heard you murmur under your breath.

beautiful indeed.

- if there was anything she was unprepared for, it was how after peeling back your quiet, introspective layers, you revealed a sense of humor more juvenile than deacon’s.  if there was another shock that came, it was that she actually enjoyed it.  she couldn’t quite place why; after all, there was a reason why she and deacon seldom worked together.  and yet, what she found irritating and tedious with him, was absolutely endearing on you.

send me a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character!

[the-memory-den]

Idk if it'd make sense/be interesting enough. But how would thr companions (romanced and not,cause I think they'd react differently maybe depending on the relationship status) react to meeting Fem Sole's ghoulified mafia family? Not actual family,like Sole was a part of the Mafia (boss or not is up to you, just love the idea of a mafia lady survivor)

it has been queued! i adore this idea! the mafia trope is so hot.

i also like to imagine sole finding them again, and introducing a romanced companion as their boy/girlfriend and the mafia fam is just so protective of her?? they grill the companion about their intentions with sole, and her happiness.  and do the whole scary, gun clicky/cleaning whatever thing on the table, as the companions squirm uncomfortable in the seat across from them.  

[the-memory-den]

For the Fallout 4 ship, I am an aggressive and angry girl. I am not afraid to stand up for myself or call people out on their bullshit. I don't mind shutting someone down if they are being obnoxious. I am a bit afraid of my emotions, though. I have super long blonde hair, and bright blueish teal eyes. I'm also very computer savvy. I also really like to go shooting to blow off pent up steam.

deacon: - he remembered very clearly how you had looked the first time he had officially met you; eyes glinting in the low candle light, your lip so close to curling into an unwitting snarl towards desdemona, flanked by guns.  he hadn’t even thought before he had interjected, throwing himself between the fire in your eyes, and the railroad; wanting to extend the olive branch quickly to include you into their ranks.  your reputation had preceded you, after all.  still though, as fervently as he tried to defuse the tension that lingered in the small space, he couldn’t deny in delighting in the flames of your smoldering gaze as they licked at him.

- he remembered how you two had clashed when you had first started working together; every lie that flew from his mouth, as easy, and automatic as breathing, had flared a nerve in you.  it was when he had slipped a scrap of paper into your folded fingers under the pretense of it being his ‘reset password’, that he worried for the first time about going too far.  you had whirled around, hand crumpling the paper further; ‘cut the bullshit already.  if you don’t want me to know your life story, that’s fine, but we have work to do.’  for the first time in a while, he found himself at a loss for words.  his mouth had fallen open, and where his usual banter fell, nothing came.  ‘close your mouth, you look like a trout,’ you had muttered, turning on your heel and pushing forward.  he had snapped back to his usual self a couple of moments later, something foreign and not entirely unpleasant fluttering in his chest.

- while your rough demeanor usually served as a deterrent, deacon remained unphased.  he could see you steel yourself to shove through the sheer intensity of your own emotions; a volatile force that frightened even you at times.  he watched you in this, and admired your strength.  he’d weather the storm with you, wherever, whenever, however many times it struck; and when you found yourself unable to bear it any longer, he would weather the storm for you.  he knew what it was to scare what lurked within himself, in the darkest corners, while it reared its ugly head in the coldest of nights.  

- while your achievements were harolded all over the commonwealth; your rise to power within the minutemen, your victory against a courser, and of course, the rebuilding of sanctuary at your hands - he was surprised to see that beside all that raw power and will to succeed, your fingers held a dexterous agility that even tinker tom fraught to compete with.  you could cajole the most heavily guarded secrets a terminal had as effectively as you could your way from deacon.  while he’d never clarified whether or not he was actually a synth to you, he was no different from that terminal in some ways; putty in your hands.

- deacon had always considered himself a lone wolf.  he worked alone, because he could handle himself; it seemed the stickier the situation, the slipperier he got; and if there reached a point where he couldn’t escape, he had no qualms about shooting his way out.  as such, he hadn’t expected having your gun at his back to have made a difference, until a day when the two of you had been engaged in a particularly heated firefight.  there were so many gunners, deacon could hardly move an inch before he had locked in on another.  this is why he hadn’t even noticed the merc at his back, or the way he had raised the but of his gun ominously over head before bringing it down abruptly.  before the metal could make contact with deacon’s head, the merc dropped to the ground like a dead weight, a puddle of crimson seeping from his head a few moments later.

for the first time deacon could recall in a while, ice water drizzled through him, as he searched you out through the haze of the fight.  when he had found you, you had merely sent him an impassive look, blowing at the smoking barrel of your gun, before reentering the fight without skipping a beat.  his pulse raised, though he had long given up on the fear of death.  a new thrill overtook him.

mags black: - she wasn’t sure what pulled you to her; and it drove her nuts, though she’d never show it.  you were sharp, like a blade to the touch; the taste of blood in your mouth and the infuriating sting of the hit that had caused it.  more to nisha’s taste, if she were to peg you.  if she could peg you.  but that was just it, wasn’t it?  you weren’t just another blood thirsty, meat-head like the majority of nuka-world’s inhabitants.  for every step forward she thought she took in finally nailing you down, you had taken two to ensure she couldn’t.  heated and tough as you were (earning you the respect of the disciples and the pack), your eyes were steady; observant and calculated.  each wily move you made seemed to consistently perfect - too meticulous to be the usual indulgent throwing of your weight around.  you were an unknown quantity to the operators, and as such, a rarity to her.

- despite the natural respect you commanded, earning you the allegiance of the pack, you were more manicured and well-kept then those, much to the operators (and mags’ relief).  your striking blonde hair is what caught mags’ eye, everytime she ventured from the parlor.  as voluminous as hers, as well as similar in color, your pride seemed set on its elegant length, and how easily it could slip through ones fingers in spite of this; as unattainable as the woman wearing it.  mags couldn’t deny that such a sense of exclusiveness thrilled her everytime she engaged with you; she had never been just another run-of-the-mill raider after all. 

send me a description of yourself, and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character!

[the-memory-den]

Hi! If you're still doing the ship thing, I'm 4 ft 11, female, chubby AF, paler thank paper, long brown hair that my mom says looks like the color of dark oak wood, my eyes are the color of dark chocolate with flecks of green in them. I have acne scars on my face and under my chin. My usual hobbies are reading and playing video games with my middle school aged sisters. I enjoy doing things spontaneously and never turn down fun. Thanks again! I love your blog btw!

deacon: - he remembered the closest he got to you before officially making your acquaintance the fateful day you stumbled into railroad headquarters.  it had been in another spat between the raiders and the traders who often butted heads at bunker hill.  he had been the only “caravaner” unphased by the whole thing, or so you had thought, watching the only useful one in the bunch pick off raiders one by one, amidst the smoking gunfire.  meanwhile, you had been a welcome and formidable ally, he recalled, your face doused in moonlight as you fended for yours and about a dozen other lives.  the image clung to him more soundly than your pervasive reputation as it diffused through the commonwealth.

- despite the cool head he keeps, and the wit he wields against the world, you were surprised at the tender facets of himself that gleaned themselves when you had entered a relationship.  his fingers would twine in your long brown hair, as warm and soft as his tentative gaze on you, for once, not hiding between the trademark sunglasses.  ‘don’t ever let me go,’ he’d murmur, the serious, request juxtaposing strangely with his voice, so often paired with levity.

- he had not planned on putting either of you in such a vulnerable position by admitting his feelings for you.  decades of experience had told him that such a thing must not be done under any circumstances.  it was like he had told you; attachments meant weakness.  it wasn’t until he had seen you after a particularly close call, your face impassive in your unconsciousness.  he had grasped at you frantically, calling to you, shaking you, trying to wake you up.  he had never felt such fear in his life; like someone had emptied ice water into him.  it was then he realized that he couldn’t keep his vow; not under any circumstance anyways.

- he was pleased to see that you utilized the full extent of your pipboy; that is, he had encountered a few vaulties in his life, but those saps in 81 just didn’t appreciate the game section like the two of you did.  during particularly boring recon runs, you and him could kill hours trying to one up each other at zeta invaders.

- he always had a great time with you; no matter how long the mission, or how grueling the job, you were always up for a quick beer, or to catch a quick tune from magnolia.  and he?  he was always up for you. he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such ease with someone.

- you were one of the few people who not only tolerated his endless snark, but could keep up with the banter.  one of the few people still alive who laughed at his jokes, and pretty much the only one who could make on that he’d laugh at.

mags black: - the night she realized she couldn’t shake your image from her mind, you had enacted your first duty as the new overboss, and spoken to the leaders of the gangs.  she and william had welcomed you graciously; and why wouldn’t they?  they weren’t without their manners, like the rest of the nukaworld riffraft after all.  she remembered squaring you up as you approached them in the parlor, and thinking ‘that’s it?’  colter had been big and beefy, the sort of guy who entered pissing contests, and lived his life as if the world owed him nothing but the best.  you?  the exact opposite.  you were short; shorter than she was.  your brown eyes exuded a warmth that would’ve melted colter, only reinforced by the warm brown hair that brushed over your shoulders and framed your face.  she had been strong when she spoke to you; she wouldn’t ask, she demanded.  you had been having a conversation; she had been negotiating a peace treaty.  it wasn’t until you said something that stopped her in her tracks, that she got a glimpse of the what was to light nukaworld up like a christmas tree.

‘let me know if you need anything else. alright?’

you had flashed a cordial smile, before turning around, and heading off to visit the pack next.  mags was still watching the space you had once occupied when you were gone.  need?  they didn’t need anything, thank you very much.  they could’ve taken this whole park for themselves, if they really, truly desired it.  but they hadn’t, had they?

‘i guess so…’

mags had muttered, although you’d never hear.

- mags had never seen the uprising coming; she and william had watched each others backs with the accuracy of a hawk, and yet, neither had seen this coming.  it had been some new little upstart that had joined the operators about a month ago; it was always the quiet ones, damn it; they’d curse for the rest of their lives, with the extra look over their shoulders.  she had watched; her vision fuzzy both from the loss of blood, as well as the throbbing pain in her head from the way the traitorous bastard had clocked her in the head with something hard.  something red lingered at the corner of her vision, and mags new that her golden hair was crimson with her blood.  william had still been unconscious.  

she had been half-convinced she’d die there, and half convinced she should die there.  triumph so sharp it could’ve jolted her back to life if she had, swelled viciously in her as you had kicked the door open, gage and some other raiders; some pack, some disciples, but most operators, at your backs as well.  she watched as you waved your mini army forward, sending them forward to storm the make-shift compound as you and gage had tented to her and william, untying them.  your lips moved as you said something to her; but the ringing in her ears had been to loud for her to understand.  all the same, she had nodded, agreeable.  whatever it was you requested, she had no qualms.  

- mags was one of the few in nukaworld who knew how to read.  she had been inwardly delighted to see that you could too, the first time she had come to the fizztop grill, after being summoned by you, on business.  gage had left her to herself at the summit for a few moments; you had been running late that afternoon due to some sort of incident involving a disciple and a trader; she remembered it vividly.  meanwhile she had taken a liking to your personal library; shelves on shelves that took up a large portion of the wall, all crammed with books.  she had run her fingers delicately down their spines, and in this soft privacy, she had shut her eyes, and inhaled deeply; savoring a nostalgic scent that hadn’t graced her since she was a girl.  the pleasant flutter in her chest was still there when you returned, and she had half a mind to tell you.

((hello! thank you for requesting, and reading! i’m very glad you’ve been enjoying things!!))

send me a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character.

[the-memory-den]

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 didn’t owe them a damned thing.  he was amazed at how you’d traipse the commonwealth at a moment’s 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, he’d thought, as it dazzled him.

- the first time preston had attempted to ask you out, he’d done so over dinner.  a cozy fire burned at the center of the castle’s 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.  

‘i don’t date much,’ you had said, with a thoughtful look on your face as you scooped the chunky soup into your bowl.  ‘i’m like…well, i’m like this soup for instance,’

preston had stared blankly back at you, and you returned his puzzlement with a grin.

‘i live deliciously, and most people can’t handle me.’

you and preston must’ve 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. 

‘you know, this soup is my favorite,’ 

- 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 couldn’t imagine sticking needles there, and willingly at that.  and yet, he couldn’t 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 couldn’t deny, you had very, very nice features.

- he smiles when he watches you with the kids in sanctuary, as they ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ 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.  

- for the life of him, he can’t 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, ‘it’s not just nukacola preston; i’m a connoisseur of vim, and sunset sarsaparilla too!’ 

sturges: - not a lot amazed sturges anymore; he had seen enough in his life to know that most things weren’t 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 wasn’t from around here, you certainly seemed unphased by your first encounter with a deathclaw.  the beast had barred it’s 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 you’d make it out of that alive, he would’ve 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 ‘welcome home’ later.

‘was it scary?’

‘did they find out who you were?’

‘did you find your son?’

he watched your grey-blue eyes intently, seeing the storm clouds as they gathered in them.  he’d 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 wouldn’t 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 they’d feel it in the capital wasteland.  he knew most couldn’t handle someone like you, and yet, he couldn’t 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 couldn’t win, or odds you couldn’t turn to your favor.  as such, he was shocked to see that you weren’t.  or more so, that you didn’t 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 couldn’t understand, not completely anyways.  but he did know he wanted you to feel better, and that he’d be here to help you shoulder the burden if that’s what it would take.  ‘well, you know, this too will come to pass,’ 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 railroad’s best agent, the brotherhood’s 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 superhero’s 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 institute’s demise consisted of many late nights lounging on the sofa, comfortable in the warm, summer air.  a beer at sturges’ 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 i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character!

[the-memory-den]

If you could marry any character from the Fallout games who would you marry? I would marry Curie or Mags Black.

i would marry; 

arthur maxson: big, strong handsome husbando?? i know he’s so awkward around girls because he has like -100 experience with them romantically.  i would still make him make the first move.  he could buy me a drink at the mess hall or whatever.  i would be my normal charming self.  in my mind, i’m really different in the fallout 4 universe, because i am actually functional and sort of smart?  i would save his ass at one point, after a few times, going out to drinks with him, and engaging in some lively debate that ends with me drunkenly flirting to the point where he can’t argue anymore because hnnnnnnnnnnnng girls.  typical slow-burn romance style, we share a kiss in the med-bay or whatever but oh no!! forbidden because of hierarchy/[insert bureaucratic bs right here].  you know, the typical spicy stuff of dramas before eventually we have a falling out, i defect to the minutemen, and he comes crawling back realizing he can’t live without me. then we get married.

mason: another big strong handsome husbando?? big toughy on the outside but a softie on the inside.  we hate each other at first (he’s a dog person, and i’m like, definitely not??) then i assert my dominance as overboss by [insert dick-wavy, pissing-contest gesture here].  the sexual tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.  there’s a one night stand.  “nah it’s nothing”, of course, he can’t stay away though (i’m charming in this universe, remember?) stays low key because of conflict of interest type stuff.  the disciples probably rebel, and at the end of the conflict, he’s got my back, and the secrets out, and blah blah blah happily ever after.

piper wright: spicy journalist waifu. we read each others work, and talk about everything at all hours of the night.  lots of coffee.  lots of snark.  i definitely put the moves on first.  nat and i are chill, because i have a sister about her age?? piper and i get into hella trouble.  i laugh at all her jokes, and we curb potential suitors at the bar.  the relationship comes easily and naturally, and we’re also bestfriends.

porter gage: extra extra extra slow burn because he can’t deal with his feelings.  also because it takes a long ass time to impress him (i’m charming, but not that charming.  let’s be realistic here.)  i always low key have a thing for him, i mean that drawl.  and he’s so smart?? we become bestfriends, because we become so used to having each other’s back.  and the one night, after a couple of drinks, we’re on the road, and lounging by a campfire or whatever.  i put the moves on him, but all low key.  like, get him talking about his feelings and then POW hit him with that i’m-drunk-enough-to-take-the-leap-and-admit-my-feelings-kind-of sentence.  like, not directly, but start beelining to that area of conversation.  of course he gets all :o, but after some talking he finally admits it too, and then it stays pretty much low key forever bc that’s how this guy rolls.  

TL;DR: it’s a perfect world so of course they’re all like “o katie scarlett, you charismatic stallion??” and then we live happily ever after.

your waifus sound choice! i honestly low key have a thing for mags black too?? she’s so stylish? and calculated?? and then curie i feel like i’ve ignored too much, but then last night i watched companion commentary videos, and absolutely fell in love with her lines in blind betrayal?? and also to speaking covertly at bunker hill lmao.

[the-memory-den]

Hey, hope your day is going awesome, if not I hope it gets better. Can you do companions reacting to a musically inclined f!ss who is super upset about the lack of music in the commonwealth. (I head-cannon that if romanced (or full affinity) lots of the companions would search for holotapes with songs for her).

hey! i can’t complain, (but i probably will anyways).  thank you though! i really appreciate it! i hope that your week is treating you well!

i definitely can! i love this one a lit! it reminds me of another request someone sent in, about a sole who was sad about such massive loss of culture after the bombs dropped.  while they focused more on language, i think this would be quite similar!  they only have three radio channels/genres?  what about rock and roll?  and country? that surely must exist if danse likes it…

i like to imagine a sole in this scenario completely revolutionizing music in the commonwealth, because if it means that much to them, than living at such a subpar music-diversity level would be unbearable.  

[the-memory-den]

headcannons - [hancock x sole survivor]

- hancock is very big on sharing, and isn’t stingy with caps, chems, or anything else for that matter.  this intensifies upon entering a romantic relationship; what’s his is sole’s to the extent that he seldom offers anything because he assumes that they know they can just take what they need.  rations? check.  a little pick me up? he’s got a table full of them.  everything even including his tricorner hat, which he adores seeing sole in.

- is the type to give sole his jacket if they get cold. 

- when he first agreed to travel with them, he mainly did so because he just felt he needed to get out of goodneighbor.  if truth be told, he expected to have to take care of them.  he was majorly surprised to see that sole could not only fend for themselves well, but has gotten his own ass out of a bind several times.  as such, when he enters a romantic relationship with them, it is one very thoroughly based on mutual respect and partnership.  they split duties and expenses down the middle, and hancock is fiercely loyal to them.

- hancock is a big cuddler; while this wasn’t always true, upon becoming a ghoul, there was a stretch of time where women wouldn’t even go near him, and he became very touch-starved.  once he became the mayor of diamond city, most of that ended, but most of the people he became intimate with did so for personal gain; with very little tenderness.  as such, he really, really enjoys gentle touches, and just holding his lover, just as much as sex itself.

- at their absolute worst, when sole and hancock fight, it is loud and chaotic.  raised voices, and sometimes a dish or something else smashable being thrown across the room.  this is the nuclear scenario though; typically, sole is the one who gets emotional, and hancock can keep a cool head, save for the annoyed twitch at his mouth, and the disapproving rasp of his voice.

- hancock and sole are bestfriends, as much as they are lovers.  while the nights are filled with passionate love making, and tender affirmations, the days are filled with hijinks, and bets.  they watch each other well on the road, and compete tirelessly over the silliest things.  every time sole emerges as the victor in a fight, hancock is waiting proudly, his hand outstretched for a highfive.  

- when sole gets hurt on the road, hancock is usually able to keep his panic under control.  his age has made him, somewhat wise, and he knows that sole can handle themselves.  as such, he’ll start by asking them how they feel, where it hurts, etc.  he also knows enough first aid to take care of minor injuries including and up to a broken bone, at least temporarily until he can get sole back to a real doctor.

- whenever he and sole go somewhere new, he likes to find a little souvenir to take back with them; a key they found in the shamrock taphouse, an empty prescription bottle from the lexington pharmacy, or else a yao guai finger from rocky narrows park.  he likes to keep them on shelves at the old state house; a shrine to his adventures with sole - his favorite freakshow.

- when he finds out that sole has been kidnapped by raiders, he delivers justice in its purest definition to him.  he has no trouble tracking them down, seeing as most who tangle with him want the same thing; caps.  not to mention raiders aren’t the smartest bunch.  when he finds out where they’re keeping sole, he plays judge, jury, and executioner.  they’re all guilty, and sentenced to death by his hand.  when he finally finds sole, crumpled and bloody in the back of some store room, his rage has still not dissipated, and so his relief is strained.  he scoops them up, and carries them back to goodneighbor.  this triggers some worry and doubt about their relationship, given the massive target on his back, as mayor.

- hancock had only mentioned it as a joke; sole becoming a ghoul so they could be together for longer.  when sole starts seriously considering it, hancock gets worried and protests.  while he no doubt believes it was the right choice for him, he won’t deny the myriad of other issues that came as a result; he still made a habit of not looking in mirrors, he wasn’t allowed in diamond city, not to mention, he’d go feral one day.  none of these things were what he wanted for sole, and yet, all sole wants is to be with him.  this is another main conflict in their relationship.

[the-memory-den]

if youre still doing the shipping thing, im 6’0 with blue eyes and red hair. im pretty well educated and i love to read (trashy romance novels hold a special place in my heart). im introverted as hell, even with people i like, so i dont talk much. Ive been told i have a very sleepy energy, i make people relaxed and tired, and ive got magic fingers that can relax anyone. im bi-romantic asexual but lean more towards men!

maxson: - he remembered you well.  danse had spoken most highly of you as the stranger who had fallen unto cambridge, and assisted them against the ferals.  you were also one of few people who could meet his icy gaze straight, wielding a fair amount of silver in your own.  both of these had been things that made you notorious, coupled with the “new recruit” air of mystery you carried about you through the prydwen.  however, what singed you into arthur’s brain was his first and most recent conversation he’d had with you.  you had just so happened to be sitting in the mess hall that night, and having not yet met you, he had decided to join you.  he had given you his usual speech; the sanctity of the brotherhood, the pillars of the brotherhood, so on and so forth.  and it was with that steely glint in your eyes you had raised your chin, and remarked, ‘that’s quite polarized.’  all it had taken was those three words to launch the two of you into a heated debate spanning several hours.  ‘the brotherhood isn’t perfect either, you know.  and it’s this sort of willfull ignorance that launched the u.s. into nuclear annihilation anyways - i would know, i was there.’

maxson could taste copper in his mouth as he gritted his teeth.  it was infuriating.  you were infuriating.  he steeped in his anger, your image swimming in his mind.  he’d had no idea this was just the beginning.

- with his pedigree, it wasn’t uncommon to meet the less educated.  in fact, he’d come to expect it, with the education in the wasteland being skimpy at best. just as well, he wasn’t surprised to hear you were also well-educated; and probably more so than he was.  he knew that the pre-war era had taken great care to educate most everyone; more so than the post-war phantom of the world did anyways.  however, this didn’t make you any less of a thorn in his side.  it seemed he couldn’t so much as breathe, without you muttering under your breath about technicalities of some sort or another.  soon enough, he began hearing whispers ripple amongst his soldiers about him having finally met his match.he had figured they’d meant in the context of a combative rivalry, and yet, it rang true in a completely separate way.

- what drove him the craziest though was how you had always managed to keep a calm energy, no matter how excited he got in a debate, or how he found himself trying to prick at your defenses.  it was one of many things about you that added fuel to his fire; you had seemed almost bored.  no one had treated him with such disinterest since he was a squire, before sarah lyons had taken him under her wing.  it was a wicked blow to his ego, as well as a decided insolence.  did you not hold even a hare’s breadth of a semblance of interest in what he had to say?  in him? he began wondering this incessantly.  it kept him up at night.

- his realization of the magnitude of what he felt for you hit him with the force of a fat man, after you had been walking past his person quarters at particularly late hours, pausing in the doorway when you noticed he was not preoccupied with paper work as usual.  you had leaned against the door way, watching as he strained his neck, the tiny bones making cracking noises as he rubbed it sorely, a stack of paperwork sitting neglected before him.  you had been soundless as you padded across the floor to him, to the point where he almost jumped at noticing your proximity.  he raised his gaze from your feet to your face.

‘can i help you with something?’

‘quite the contrary,’ you had replied in a low voice.

he stared at you, his heart rattling against his ribs like a caged animal demanded to know.  he didn’t say anything as you reached your lithe fingers towards the tensed muscle that joined his shoulders and neck.  he didn’t even dare to breath, as you worked your digits at the muscles, releasing the tension in them.  slowly, he felt himself relax under your touch, tension trickling away with his last cohesive thought.  

when you had finished, he felt hours younger; certainly ready to take on the paperwork that loomed in front of him.  he looked up to thank you, but you had already disappeared out of the room.  his chest squeezed, the ghost of your touch still lingering with him.

- ‘do you believe in destiny?’ he murmured to you, leaning against the rails of the prydwen.

‘no,’ you  had answered shortly, ‘but if i did, i’d suppose it’s what lead me to you.’

finally, something you two could agree on.

maccready: - he tackled you to the ground after hearing gunshots echo through the hollowed carcass of quincy.

‘are you crazy?’ he had hissed, as you pushed a red lock of hair from your face, even though it was his thoughts that clung feverishly to you.

- he had found your book, discarded by the fire, as you had tucked in early that night.  curiously, he picked it up, and opened it to the page you had dogeared.  his face reddened heavily as he construed a certain part of the book’s female lead catching ablaze with passion, and the fierceness with which she and the male lead made love.  from beside him, you stirred softly in your sleeping back, and he dropped the book as if it were white-hot.  he watched you, holding his breath for a few more moments, ashamed he’d snooped through your things, as well as intrigued by the content of such things.  he’d never pegged you as the type to enjoy such literature.  he scooted far from you, leaving the book, and wrapping his arms around his legs, as he gazed into the fire.  his chest squeezed at this new revelation.  he waited for the feeling to pass, but it would not.

- when he had first met you, he figured you were shy.  or the type who needed people to grow on them.  he had been wrong on both accounts.  you didn’t become boisterous or open as the days together turned to weeks, and weeks to months.  you were still quiet, subtle in the nuances of your mannerisms, and restrained in strange circumstances.  maccready did learn to understand you better though.  he could recognize the pensive twitch of your fingers when your thoughts were wrapped around something particularly tedious, knew that the mechanical clack of your nails against a hard surface signaled agitation more than impatience, and knew when the loll of your head signaled soreness rather than fatigue.  soon, the two of you had dwelled in the safety of your intimate language; taking care of each other the best way either of you knew how.  and in this regard, you were loquacious.  

- often, maccready found himself drifting off beside you; the warm glow of a campfire or lantern at his face, and you reading quietly at his side.  what he hadn’t realized was how after he had receded into the quiet peace of dreamland, his head somehow always found your shoulder.  nor did he know of how you shifted to ensure his comfort, and let him linger there.

- he had known for a long while that he was willing to give his life for yours.  what he hadn’t known is that you were willing to do the same for him.  it wasn’t until he was slumped against the dingy wall of an old cram warehouse, with a particularly nasty raider moving in that he’d gotten to see the extent of your feelings, finally bared for him to see.  you launched yourself between the two of them, wielding rifle with a ferocity he seldom saw in you.  your eyes were daggers, and venom dripped from your mouth as you curled your lip to snarl at his attackers; ‘hurt him once, i’ll kill you twice.’

send me a description of yourself, and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character.

[the-memory-den]

this new font is the

Literal

Fucking

Worst

[the-memory-den]

hi, this is if you're still doing the ship game - if not feel free to ignore! i'm 5'2, long blonde hair and grey eyes. i was a physics major at university but now i'm joining the army. i'm usually pretty quiet and i really like history, drawing and boxing! thank you so much, love your writing! <3

preston garvey: - when you’re dating, loves to scoop you up into his arms.  is absolutely the type to carry you bridle style into a room.  for someone who’s allegedly, ‘not much of a hugger’, he certain seems snuggly to you.

- loves the color of your hair.  when you sleep, your golden locks splay around your head, in a halo-like fashion.  he finds it quite fitting of you.  he’s also one to hold it up for you when you’re sick, and run his hands gently through it on lazy days, when you’re curled up in his lap.

- even though he didn’t bring it up to you until later, he knew from the moment you saved them in concord, that you were the new general the minutemen needed.  it was as if you were made for the job.

cait: - upon first meeting you, it infuriated her, that you seemed always so able to keep your cool.  really though, it was because she always felt like a hot mess compared to you; always like she was on the brink of a melt down, whereas you seemed to square your shoulders and keep shoveling through all the shit the world had thrown at you.  later though, she finds that this steadies her.  in a crisis, she turns to you, and you keep her pushing forward; always arriving at the other side together.

- it took her a while to adjust to your quiet demeanor, but when she did, she grew to appreciate it.  i mean, most people talked out of there asses anyways, you just happened to filter all of the bullshit out, so when you did speak, it actually meant something.  not only does she grow comfortable with your serenity, but she vehemently defends it.  ‘your friend doesn’t talk much, does she?’ 

‘oi, ye bloke, yer lucky she talks to ya at all!’

((you’re quite welcome! i’m glad you enjoy it! hope you like this, and thank you for reading!))

send me a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character.

[the-memory-den]

im a 5'6" half japanese trans guy that likes art and music! i deal with a lot of mental health issues like anxiety/depression/ptsd. if i was in fallout id probably be in the railroad collecting data, avoiding close up contact. sorry if this was too much aaa!

danse: - towers over you in his staggering 6′4″.  he finds the height difference cute although he’d never admit this openly; not wanting you to undermine your capabilities, especially considering his role as your sponsor, and in front ofthe brotherhood at that, who already doubt you because of your affiliation with the railroad.   still though, when his eyes pick you out in a crowd, he can’t help but let his day dreams run a little wild; he swears you’d fit perfectly into his arms…

- sometimes he feels like he’s at a loss with how to help you; he knows that you carry an abundance of burdens, both physical and gnawing away at you from the inside.  troubles that he feels he really couldn’t understand until he was banished from the brotherhood, and even after this, while he feels he might be able to relate, he feels helpless to be of any use, as he feels quite broken himself.  what surprises both of you, is the support your find in each other.  it doesn’t fix everything; bad days are still bad, and lows are still low, but it’s a sense of comradeship not unlike that you felt when on missions together.  

- the first time he worked with you, you had been coming back from a mission, and had stumbled upon the cambridge police station on the way back to the north church.  you hadn’t even realized it had been brotherhood soldiers you were helping.  danse still remembers the crushing disappointment he felt were he found out you were railroad.  he had only just met you, but still, he couldn’t deny, the way you had fallen into his life, just in time to get him and his squad out of a bind, had felt a little too perfect… not to mention your skill in the field would’ve been a valuable asset to the brotherhood.

he had waved you off that night, a little disappointment that your fates would probably never cross again, little did he know…

nisha: - was absolutely enamored the first time she heard you speak japanese.  she wasn’t much for music, given how her only option was raider radio, and she certainly wasn’t a fan of that.   but the way the delicate syllables rolled off your tongue was her favorite song.

- the first time she caught you on a bad day, she was shocked.  you had been such a successful overboss in such a short time, that she had trouble picturing you as anything other than that.  it hadn’t occurred to her that you had a buried past of your own; one in which you had to fight very hard to overcome and get where you were today - and of course just because you had made it out on the other side, didn’t mean that it hadn’t left it’s own scars on you in the process.  she didn’t know what overcame her then and there, but she watched you, in your catatonic numbness, slumped at the bar colter had installed when the quarters had been his.  your head was bowed, and buried in your palms.  you had been so still, you could’ve been a statue.  nisha didn’t know what to do; she didn’t know why she was doing anything at all,  if it had been anyone else she would’ve left them without a second thought.

instead, she quietly took a seat next to you, and waited.  it could’ve been hours that passed; but she wasn’t sure.  all she knew was that nukaworld was well into the inky night when you finally turned to her.  she hadn’t known what to say, after all, what do you say to someone who’s been to hell and and back?  she didn’t say anything, just stayed with you, and if that took away even an ounce of your pain, then she could be at least a little reassured.  

as long as you’ve known her, she’s kept that night a secret from the other gang bosses.  you felt the burden on your shoulders lessen the teeniest bit.

- she was surprised that you did right by the disciples like you did; she had always pegged you as more of an operators sort of guy - the sort to strategize and orchestrate from behind a curtain, and to never get your hands dirty.  while she couldn’t deny that she still felt strongly that you would’ve done well in the operators had you been just a raider, and not the overboss, given your preference for the distance that the disciples ravished in favor of a close kill.  she was pleased that you had managed to use your skills and preferences to benefit the disciples even if they worked a little bit differently than you did.  a natural leader.

((no, more details are good! it’s hard to work off of just a physical description, so thank you!))

send me a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character!

[the-memory-den]

Okayy.. uh. This is for the fallout shipping thing. If you're still doing it. I guess I'm a bit timid and shy? I'm 5'5" guy who prefers guys. Um. I don't think I do too much other than mess around on computers and read a bit. I've got brown hair and eyes. I'm pretty plain, lol. Thank you so much for all you do! It's so fun reading your posts and reacts. I love your writing a lot. Keep up the amazing work.

travis miles: - you’re the first person he’s met that hasn’t gruffly clapped him on the back, slapping him with a ‘buck up’.  the first person who didn’t just understand where he was coming from, but was the same sort of way.  when vadim had staged a bar brawl for him to win, his triumph had felt diluted, as it wasn’t really was his.  when you had reached for his hand, the two of your cloaked in the star-smattered fabric of the night, the triumph that glowed inside him was as brilliant as they come; rooted in how you had wanted him as is, and vice versa.

- as much as he is overjoyed to have met someone who relates to the world the same way he does, he’s absolutely mortified at the aspect of you listening in to diamond city radio.  he’s grateful you prefer books instead.

- skittish as he appeared normally, it doubled when he was around you upon initially meeting you.  bright bursts of crimson would highlight his cheeks, and his stomach would flip dizzily.  the best part was, he had no idea you were weathering the same sort of reactions.

deacon: - when asked when he had become taken with you, you’d be surprised to hear that it was the first intel he had received about you; saving amelia stockton, returning billy to his parents, and a little adventure regarding a chinese sub still parked out on the coast.  a man who got things done - things that your average merc wouldn’t have given a damned about.  hell, even most minutemen might’ve turned their noses up at least one of these things.  

when he had spoken of these things into the dusty entrance of the railroad, you standing amid a gaping space in the bricks, and desdemona interrogating you; he watched the rigid fear in you, and saw through it to the tempered compassion that drove you to your acts of heroism in spite of this fear.  straight courage through and through.  

- when he had taken you back to the original railroad headquarters to recover some old tech, he had been impressed with the agile ways your fingers coaxed information from the terminals - something that had taken the institute years and a dose of brute force to do.  

- he knew he was a goner when he looked in your eyes and saw tender sincerity that accented your every move.  the simplest things; ‘please’, ‘thank you’, hell, even ‘your thoughts?’ were saturated with a sense of hospitality that turned his legs to jello.  his chest squeezed with a fluttered warmth for the first time in years.

((thank you for reading! and for your astounding patience! i really appreciate you taking the time to read and appreciate my work - it means the world to me.))

send a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character!

[the-memory-den]

A melody of a song is ringing in my head and I can't remember what in ever loving fuck the song was called.

is it this one? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

[the-memory-den]

i hope everything’s go well for you !!! i love your blog so i wanted to put in my description for you to ship me :) i am a cis girl, im bi, im 5’5”, turning 18 next month (never been more excited for a birthday since my 10th :)) ) im semi-athletic (ie i did colorguard for the marching band) i have brown hair with bangs, hazel eyes, and ive got really light skin, i burn easily (bit annoying sometimes), i like listening to all types of music and i love painting and hiking— thank you for doing this

thank you! i hope life is treating you well too! i’m really glad you’ve been enjoying it so far! also, happy early birthday! i hope it’s a great one! (it will  be, 18 is so fun!)

kent connolly:  - you’re one of the few people who can fit perfectly into the original shroud costume, so even on your worst day, he considers you perfect just the way you are, and is always quick to remind you.

- kent and you both remember how big of a deal birthdays were pre-war, so for yours, he manages to track down an honest to god cake, some streamers, and confetti.  he invites all of your friends, including the mayor himself, your railroad buddies, the cabots, and nick valentine.  he treats you all to a nice, ol’ fashioned, pre-war birthday party!  you’re delighted he remembers! and he’s delighted that he gets the opportunity to celebrate with you.

- he’s one of the only few to also remember what colorguard was, so when you tell him about it, he shows the proper amount of enthusiasm!  he vouches for you, when you counter any doubts anyone has about you handling yourself in the commonwealth and keep up.

- he’s really big on eyes, considering it’s one of the few things ghouls can semi(retain) upon ghoulification.  he finds your hazel ones absolutely lovely, and he tells you so.

- given your eclectic taste in music, he trusts you to objectively put together playlists to broadcast.  you end up educating the commonwealth’s taste in music!

cait: - cait never forged close bonds before, as a result to her tumultuous upbringing.  as a result, she considers it a super big deal when you offhandedly refer to her as your ‘bestfriend’ one day.   from then on, she is extra protective of you.

- she likes to think you two make the perfect team; a tough spitfire, and someone with the good sense to bring her back down to earth when she’s drifting too far from what’s reasonable.  she trusts you to do such a thing too.

- before you two became as close as you did, you started bonding over how easily you two sun burned.  it started after the two of you had spent a full twelve hours crossing the commonwealth on a particularly sunny day.  by the time you two had decided to set up camp for the evening, both of you were an angry, beet red, and too sore to even lay all the way down.  it had taken weeks to look completely back to normal.  that’s when the two of you threw yourselves into the quest of making the very first extra-strength sunscreen the commonwealth had ever seen.  

- you and cait live your lives doing whatever you two feel like doing; you look out for each other, and stay up to all hours talking and laughing.  when you two decide to find permanent residence in sanctuary, she looks on eagerly as you paint the entire inside of your shared home in lovely, elaborate murals.  you recall her at one point telling you she wished she could’ve seen the ocean before garbage and debris floated atop it, and radiation saturated the waves.  you give it to her on the walls of her room, so she can see it everyday.

((of course! thank you for requesting!))

send me a description of yourself and i’ll ship you with a fallout 4 character!

[the-memory-den]

God do you ever feel like that vine where one guys carrying his drunk friend and they’re singing back streets back (alright)

i feel like the drunk friend being carried.