Sole Survivor - Blog Posts

initial sketches of my sosu..... trying to flesh them out since i havent had a good idea for how to draw them ^_^ the kindest and gentle chem addict you'll ever meet

Vault 111 had only one survivor

love at first stab

And the Devil, himself did in fact take him away

Rummaging thru the Railroad's old intel, SS Bullseye finds... an old foto?!

There's this added layer of sadness to the Sole Survivor that I've never seen anyone talk about, and that's the fact you as the protagonist haven't just been stripped of your identity not just in a metaphorical sense, but a very literal one as well. Despite being frozen for 210 years, the world before would still be fresh in your mind.

Imagine walking down into The Third Rail for the first time to hear the angelic singing of Magnolia echoing throughout the establishment, and as you turn the corner to see her performing in the spotlight, your expression immediately changes as you realize... that's your dress she's wearing.

You're in Diamond City and head over to the office to talk to Mayor McDonough about asking permission to check out Kellogg's house, and when you're talking to Geneva at the front desk you notice she's wearing your mother's necklace. Or worse, you bump into Ann Codman and she's the one wearing it, and you barely get a chance to get a second glimpse at it before she huffily walks away.

You see old memories of yours for sale that you can't buy back because you don't have the money, finding belongings of yours in the most unlikely of places. Things of yours owned by people who can't be convinced that those items are still yours to you, because they can't believe you're really from all those years ago so they mock you instead.

Seeing old photos of you happy from your life before, being placed among photos of other people in buildings being used as some kind of decoration. A bitter realization and a constant reminder that you, the things you use to associate with and the people you use to associate with really are just relics of the past.

Nick Valentine, w/ a Sole who will ONLY sleep if he's nearby, please? (Also wishing you luck with the creating thing. Big mood.)

Sole refuses to sleep unless they're near Nick!

I feel like Nick would catch on pretty quick

Unless he's busy with something else (like DiMA or Winter) he likes to keep tabs on what his friends are doing, whether they've slept or eaten, etc.

He has no problem sitting and keeping watch while they sleep

He's learned how to keep himself entertained for hours and rarely gets bored unless there's something bugging him

He can (and should, but Nick's not known for taking good care of himself) go into rest mode or run diagnostics, but he won't if Sole is sleeping since he assumes they want someone to watch over them

If they're somewhere safe like the agency he might leave occasionally to go for a walk or get something

If he comes back to Sole panicking when they woke up and he wasn't there he will apologize and promise not to leave again

He doesn't quite understand why they need to be near him to sleep, but after everything they've been through he won't deny such a simple thing

If they ever have to separate from each other for any reason Nick will give them his jacket in hopes they can get a bit more sleep with it

If it really helps them he'll just start switching out his jackets so the one they have always smells like him

If Sole rests their head on his shoulder or something similar he'll be a bit thrown off

He's not used to someone wanting to be physically close with him and he really doubts he's very comfortable

Still, if Sole keeps doing it and it seems to help them a lot, he might start initiating hugs or cuddles when they're struggling

In general, Sole cuddling or sleeping with Nick helps him almost as much as it helps Sole

Sole: So there's this... guy that I like. Hancock: A guy, huh? That's a little vague. You wanna describe him to me? Sole: Well... he wears a coat and a funny little hat. Hancock: Oh, does he now? Sole: Yeah. He's got these really interesting eyes, scarred up face, bald... Hancock: *Flirting* Oh yeah? Tell me more. Valentine: *Walks towards them* Sole: Oh, and here he comes now! Hi, Nicky! Hancock: Hehe. Hey Nick. WAIT, NICK!?

yes, I did it, now I can rest

☢️|"Basically my Courier Six and Sole Survivor and their respective companions. That's just it, idk."

Book of the apocalypse - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Farren - Book of the apocalypse

(This chapter has a different protagonist)

TW: Gore, psychological horror, spiders, depressing theme's

Word count: 1111

First chapter:

"Book of the apocalypse"

What is an apocalypse?

The dictionary will probably tell you something like:

Apocalypse

The complete destruction of the world or an event involving destruction or damage on a catastrophic scale.

Movies will probably talk mostly about zombie apocalypses in which the world has been taken over by flesh eating monsters.

But then I wonder...

Does there exist something like a quiet apocalypse?

Perhaps a personal apocalypse?

One in which life as we know it is destroyed for maybe even a single person.

Or perhaps it is the silent self-destruction of the world itself.

Slowly killing itself, wrapping itself in plastic until breathing becomes impossible.

Willingly suffocating itself.

Because it had always wished for death.

For silence.

For peace.

For the end.

For now you may call me Farren.

I believe that the world I live in is one of a silent apocalypse.

One in which humanity itself decides to extinguish their own flame.

A mind destroying apocalypse.

All the while acting as if nothing is wrong and everything is going great.

And perhaps it really does make some people happy.

Perhaps they want to see the end... and they might want to see it really soon.

My world is one of constant loneliness.

I'm surrounded by many people.

They walk past me without even batting an eye.

Well it's not like I am the one paying attention to them.

No, I'm just like them.

Isolated.

Alone.

Uncaring.

A cog in a machine that's killing itself off joyfully.

This story is about the apocalypse during a time of computers.

An apocalypse so silent no one notices.

And even those that do, try to ignore it.

To be born in a time like this truly seems unfair.

After all, I live in a world in which doing something else is seen as weird, insane or wrong.

Well then again, it's not like I care that much either.

I'm not brave, nor smart.

And rebelliousness is something that can be seen as the polar opposite of me.

Just like most, I work in this society like an ant.

An ant who does nothing else but what it's told.

There are moments though, moments in which I truly regret it all.

My life choices, my weaknesses, my birth.

If I had done this differently, then maybe I would have had a better position at my job.

Maybe if I had been less shy I could have made friends who would stay with me.

Maybe if I hadn't been born, the world wouldn't be this insufferable.

Well nothing I can change about it now, I too am stuck in my own personal bubble.

A friendless, lowly bubble.

Yet somehow still desperate enough to keep on surviving.

The sudden sound of my alarm clock awakens me from my daydreams.

Crap! If only I had paid better attention to the time, I might have finished more...

Well, again, nothing to be done about it.

I guess I just have to work harder tomorrow.

"Hey Farren!" A loud voice that immediately gives me shivers comes from behind me.

It's the manager of my floor.

Carefully I turn around, whilst trying to hide my trembling hand.

"Y-yes?"

Shit, I screwed up already.

"It's 'yes sir', for you."

Yes, he's pissed.

"Sorry s-sir."

He looks down at me almost like he sees before him not a human being, but instead a cockroach.

Or perhaps more something like dog poop.

Well, anyway, he doesn't try to hide the look of disgust on his face as he speaks to me, even keeping his distance to protect himself against the smell of the dog poop or the moving cockroach.

"You should know what this is going to be about."

His eyes stare threateningly into mine.

"Is this about yesterday, or..."

Honestly I have no clue, but it's better to guess than to admit it with him.

"Not just yesterday, lately Farren, lately."

"I should work faster...?"

God, I'm hopeless, especially now that fear has taken a hold of me.

Desperately I seek for an answer around me, while trying to avoid eye-contact.

"Like hell! You've been so slow lately, just what is your problem?!"

Thank God I guessed right.

"I-" I try, but he doesn't let me finish.

"No excuses, you should try to be more like Kathan. Great guy always on time at work and with his work."

"Kathan the intern?"

"So what, he does this a thousand times more efficiently than you."

Kathan is our unpaid intern, that's what I want to say followed by: of course he is better, because he literally works for free. But luckily I'm able to hold my tongue at the right time.

"I will do so, sir." I reply automatically, but it doesn't seem good enough for him.

He's always like this, belittling those he sees as lesser than him.

Makes me wonder if he talks like this to his wife and kids too.

"You know, I let you stay out of the goodness of my heart, even though you're older than most people I hire."

Bullshit, hearing that coming out of the mouth of a man at least twice my age sounds really weird.

Old? Yeah, to a teenager. I'm in my twenties, the manager is in his forties or fifties.

He just doesn't like me because I get paid almost as much as him, more than a sixteen-year old.

Also, he wasn't the person who hired me. It was our old CEO, who did care.

The floor manager continues his rant: "If you keep going like this, I will have no choice but to fire you."

I nod: "Yes sir, I understand."

Perhaps it's time for me to start looking for another job again.

Sucks, I've been working here for a couple of years now and even though the manager sucks, other things are okay.

Well...

I've avoided the bullying for now...

It's really stupid, when you enter the adult world, you learn how childish people can really be.

After his rant is finally finished, he lets me leave.

Kathan seems to have seen it all and wants to walk over to me, but I act as if I didn't notice and hurry out of the building.

I don't want to be pitied.

Exhausted, I take the train back home to my apartment.

It's a bit run-down, the building, but at least I have a place to sleep, shower and cook.

Even if all is just in two small rooms.

As I look outside I can see the dreary cityscape, reminding me how hopeless this world really is.

I drop myself on the couch (that's also my bed) and turn on the tv.

I watch video after video, mindlessly, not listening to anything.

Because in truth it really is just background noise to make my brain stop thinking unwanted thoughts.

After a while I look at the clock and notice that it's almost one in the morning.

I turn off the tv and fall asleep.

The loud noise of my morning alarm wakes me up again and I'm reminded that I haven't eaten since yesterday lunch.

Quickly I take a soda from the fridge and drink it.

The chance of me being late to work today is pretty high, so I rush out of the building without looking back.

Book of the apocalypse - chapter 2

Chapter 2 - A place to rest

TW: Gore, psycological horror, spiders, depressing theme's

Word count: 801

Previous chapter:

"C'ome on! I even checked it for you, it should be safe enough."

"How can I... be sure of what... lies beyond if you... are... imaginary?"

Defeated, he sighs.

We have been arguing for a while now and the rain outside hasn't stopped at all.

"I'm going to...one of the stores... usually they have a room... in the back that can be... locked." Old words slowly enter my mind. I guess I didn't forget everything.

"But the clock tower has a better view, you can be certain of your surroundings and make better plans for when the rain stops!"

"Quiller... I am not going in there-!"

Quickly I place my hand in front of my mouth and stop talking.

I must have yelled too loud, because I hear something approaching us.

Something dragging.

Another walking faster.

Shit!

Taking out just one is already quite the feat, two might be impossible, especially in such a confined space.

I've lived like this for years, but only thanks to knowing when to run and when to fight.

After all... they aren't a lot like zombies from old moving pictures.

And it certainly wasn't a virus that caught them.

Not a virus any human or animal could have gotten.

Quickly and quietly I hide behind a corner.

I see the two- no... four!

There's four of them!

Goddammit!

They're still scanning their surroundings.

I just hope they don't-

The one that seems to be the leader looks straight at me, making a strange noise.

Quiller is standing by the door to the tower: "I think this really is our safest bet."

"You... you asshole, you knew didn't you?! You planned for this to happen!"

I don't look at his face, I don't want to look at it.

Wow, betrayed even by an imaginary fiend.

I hold my spear in a way to protect myself as one of them lunges at me.

Before I know it I'm surrounded.

Their half decaying flesh, half robotic faces look hungry at me.

"You assholes fight like... like bitches!" I yell at them, knowing full well the futility of it. The same strange words I recognize as curses leave my mouth one after another.

How strange... but it feels right.

Trying to give myself an escape route I slice off an arm from one of the creatures.

With a sloshy thud it falls onto the floor and rolls away.

Almost immediately a new arm starts to grow, one not made of flesh... but of some kind of metal.

A dark liquid spills onto the floor, smelling like a combination of something rotting and machine oil.

As I try to slice the new one off, I'm only able to dent it a little bit.

I feel my hope sink.

"I guess I have no choice but to use 'that'..."

I take a small machine from one of the pockets in my belt.

It's still a work in progress, but this is better than nothing.

Do I really have to use my piece of hard-work here?

Well... I guess it beats dying.

In a swift movement I press a button and make it stick to one of my attackers' heads.

I'm sorry...

The creature starts to scream.

A scream sounding more and more like that of a human it once was.

I'm sorry...

The others get alerted by the sound and start attacking their once fellow creature.

I hate to do this, but a better decoy doesn't exist.

Even if the creature had become fully human again, it would have died in an instant.

I haven't found anything against that yet.

Quickly and quietly I rush to Quiller.

I give him a glare, saying: 'Fine... I will do it your way asshole!' and get myself through the small door in the ceiling.

He seems to be slightly frightened by my cursing.

It's a good thing I've gotten used to doing parkour.

Jumping from one wall to the other and climbing up is nothing.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I notice that it doesn't end in a small space to crawl through.

I might have gone right back out if that was the case.

It's open.

I close the small door behind me, I really don't want those creatures getting up here and then I turn my flashlight on to look around.

The room is mostly empty, except for the layer of dust and an old couch.

The clock is the window, but it has gotten so dirty thanks to the dust, seeing through it is nearly impossible.

I scan through the room with the light in my hand, I really hope there is nothing up here.

There is a dusty, old couch in the middle and the only source of light is coming from the dirty clock, that's also somewhat of a window.

Luckily there is no one here.

"Hey, are you okay?" Quiller asks, looking rather worried: "You didn't get bit, right?"

I shake my head, I better not answer him right now.

Those creatures one floor below us, worry me.

I carefully walk over to the couch.

Maybe now is the best time to start reading that book.

I take the old object out of my bag and open it.

Book of the apocalypse

I've recently started posting a new book I'm writing on wattpad and I was wondering if there are people who might be interested in me posting it here on tumblr.

The story is about someone trying to survive on their own in a zombie apocalypse and ends up finding themself drawn to a book they find.

Anyway here are the prologue and the first chapter, please let me know what you think:

TW: Gore, psycological horror, spiders, depressing theme's

Word count: 673(prologue)+1800(Chapter 1)

It's dark.

An oppressive silence prevails.

Only to those who live close to the ground, a loud rhythmic noise can be heard.

This is of course exclusive for those like mice and creatures much smaller.

Creatures with a good sense of hearing.

To a cat or a dog it might still be audible, though they would probably only hear a soft tapping.

Something tapping across the floor at an almost unearthly speed.

Driven by something unknown to any breathing kind.

Yet somehow able to scare away those creatures with incredible hearing.

The tapping is the true sound of doom.

The ticking across the floor clearly means nothing less than death.

The tapping is that of many small insects.

Insects moving strangely in unison.

Insects all move in the same manner, as if not multiple but just one creature.

The ticking races onto a metal shelf and stops there for about a second.

To those with the good ears, they might catch something sounding closely like something's scraping the metal.

Or better... something eating the cold metal.

If you were to hold a light there and perhaps something like a microscope, you might spot some of the small scratches made on the metallic surface. Since they are so difficult to spot.

As the second passed the small insects continue their journey once more.

A loud noise can be registered by them, vibrations can be felt and they immediately stop in their tracks.

A person, a human, has come into the room.

Loudly to the insects, quietly to the human.

His heart makes the loudest, yet calmest noise.

A noise of comfort.

The man does not care or know that he's being watched.

He turns on a light and the insects start sprinting towards him.

The light shows what they are.

Their truest nature.

Small spiders, about half an inch per length, excluding their many thin legs.

The legs that made the tapping noise.

Small red eyes, seemingly scanning their surroundings effortlessly in high speed.

But the light shows something else about them.

Something else that is wrong.

They are in fact not any natural kind of spiders.

They're mechanical.

The light turns them into small flashes of silver.

If you were to inspect them up close with a magnifying glass, you might even spot very tiny screws and threads across their bodies.

The spiders leap and like some of the kind they're meant to represent, they almost seem to be able to fly.

The man has noticed them now too, but far too late.

The small man-made insects have already landed on his bare forearms.

He quickly tries to remove them with his big hands, which he is successful with only a few.

About two thirds are still on him and have decided to dig themselves into the skin of their prey.

The man yells for help and another one comes, just in time for those who had fallen back on the floor.

For some strange reason, there seem to be more of them now, it's like the spiders have copied themselves many times over. Perhaps with the help of the metal they had been 'eating' before.

The first man can feel the spiders move underneath his skin, climbing and digging their way further up his body.

Looking closer you should be able to see them move as little lumps through his flesh, they don't go too deep, well not at first at least.

Further and further they go.

They have a mission.

At least if you could call it that.

Crawling further without a moment of rest, almost oblivious to the panicking man trying to stab them with the help of a knife.

An ambulance has already been called and is on its way.

Too late, too late.

The small spiders make their way into his neck.

Mercilessly they continue.

As they finally reach their goal.

The head.

The brain.

Now they do dig deeper and deeper.

All the small spiders secretly and silently communicate to one another strange messages, such as: 'OUT OF CONTROL HUMAN' and 'ERROR'.

They had been made in order to help human beings, but ended up being the defining factor of their decline and deaths.

The spiders all drugged and changed people so much that they turned into nothing more than zombies.

Devouring the flesh of others without a hint of sadness.

The minds of these people were lost completely.

Chapter 1:

Grass.

Buildings.

Cars.

More grass.

Plants.

Metal.

What are these called again?

It's morning.

I'm thinking about words.

Thinking in words... it's been getting more and more difficult.

Am I going to lose them?

Train racks...?

No, train tracks! Those are train tracks!

It's morning and I'm living.

I'm alive... I think.

I'm alone.

There was something about mornings... right?

People counted them?

Back in the old times... I think.

Now mankind has long stopped counting the years.

If there even is something I can call mankind.

For all I know they have all but me died out, leaving me alone in this dark and dangerous world. The only one who can protect me is myself.

The only reliable one in this world is myself.

The only one making sure I don't end up like one of the monsters, is again myself.

Even with the fact that the world has practically ended for my kind, the sun still rises and after a while, it goes down again.

If you want to know how this all started, you're asking the wrong person.

Because I don't care.

Surviving till the next day is the only thing left on my agenda.

Even though dying might seem nice, becoming one of those things would be horrible.

I glance out of the window from the old train, watching the rising sun, all the while clutching the handle of my spear.

I made the thing myself so it's pretty shabby looking, but at least it does the job right and keeps the monsters at a distance.

Quietly and swiftly I leave the dark, abandoned vehicle.

If I stay here any longer they might find out after all.

Vigilantly I follow the tracks to the station, ready to fight or flight at any moment.

Those hungry bastards aren't getting me for dinner!

I won't be their prize nor the one they might see as a hero.

Though I highly doubt that they are able to either 'see' or 'think'.

As I walk into the broken down, but still dark train station I notice that even though it's in a bad shape. It still has some beauty in it.

It's an old train station, most of the part that has collapsed is the newer, later build-on part.

The old part is still standing strong.

Yes, most of the stained glass is broken, but the ornamented walls are still clearly visible.

Somehow giving me this really nostalgic feeling, to a time unknown to me.

I shake my head, It's not the time to be in awe with old junk, it's all useless now after all.

Making sure that nothing is around, I climb onto one of the platforms.

As I wander around I suddenly notice a strange object on one of the still intact benches.

Somehow it draws my complete attention, I cannot help myself but to investigate it.

I hold my spear before me, so if it moves, I can kill it immediately.

Step by step I get closer.

Is it dangerous?

Is it edible?

A million wordless questions race around in my mind, but none of them ask the right one.

Carefully I take the object in hand.

It's a book, my inner voice tells me.

It's a leather bound book.

Old, but still intact.

Without thinking I open it.

Not even the spiders have taken it, that's weird.

As I see the first page, something is hand-written on the bottom. It takes a moment to understand what it says: 'EX Libris: Q. F. Shannon'

This must have been the name of the previous owner.

I wonder what happened to them.

Though that is completely unimportant.

I turn a couple of pages and find more small black words scribbled on them in a strange form of...writing.

They make me feel... lightheaded... that's the word... right?

Suddenly I sense a presence behind me.

I take out my weapon and attack whatever is standing there.

Somehow it goes right through...

I can feel my heart pumping quickly.

Cold sweat slowly makes its way down my neck and back.

"Good morning." A strange voice out of nowhere says to me.

It's... speaking... human speech...

It's speaking to me.

Shocked by the sound, the voice of another human being, for the first time in a long, very long while, I turn around and point at them with my spear.

It's a strange person, wearing some kind of old and strange costume. One from the lost time.

Without speaking I threaten them with my weapon.

They are unlike me.

My spear should have hurt them... but it went right through!

I can't trust them!

I can't trust them!!

Distrust washes over me.

How could someone still be alive?

And be dressed like that?!

"Please, I mean no harm." The person says while holding up their arms

I don't answer and only stare at them with contempt.

Only now I've noticed that I've dropped the book as the person is looking at it.

Have the spiders evolved this much? Or have I finally lost my mind?

I swallow, scared of what to do next.

The thing before me tries to comfort me: "I'm not real."

"What... does that... mean?" I ask, having difficulty speaking, hurting my throat in the process of creating words.

The creature nods: "I'm imaginary. I'm simply something you made up. An Imaginary friend if you will."

Friend...?

What did that mean again?

Something about that word makes me agitated.

Something about that word makes me angry.

Something about that word makes me want to cry.

Something about that word makes me want to scream...

"Don't... You aren't that... I don't think..." I mumble.

They smile at me: "Well then, I'm Quiller. You may call me that or just mister or... something else, if my name is too difficult."

He looks at me as if waiting for an answer, but I don't.

"So what is your name?"

I think.

I think deeply.

At first I'm not sure what he means by the word 'name'.

Then a bad memory fills my head and just in time I'm able to shake it away.

It's been a long time since I had something of a name.

I remember that I was called something too, it was normal back in the day.

Back when there were still other people in the world.

I press my hand against my chest "...Don." I whisper: "I was called... that... I think."

Quiller gives me another smile: "That's a wonderful name, nice to make your acquaintance." He stretches out a hand and I stare at it.

"You... are supposed to shake it..." He says as he scratches the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Shake? But won't... it go through?"

His expression turns to one of pain: "Yeah, sorry. You're right." He takes back his hand.

I take the book from the ground.

"That looks interesting." He sounds surprised.

"I found it, it's mine." For some reason I'm clutching the heavy object against my chest as if it's my long lost treasure. Honestly I don't know why. But it feels like... I have to keep it with me.

"So you're going to read it?"

I skim through the pages, they're made of paper.

"It...would make for a good fire-starter."

Quiller's expression turns horrified: "Wait, no! You can't do that!"

"Why?"

"It holds someone's memory!"

"Memory?"

"Yes, every book is written by someone. They write it with their love, their hate, their life, their passion, their dreams. Never take another person's work too light."

Gibberish he seems to speak.

"Are you... one of them?" I ask nudging back somewhere.

He sighs: "No, of course not. Have I been trying to eat you since I met you?"

I just stare at him confused.

He takes another look at the book: "I... think I know that book."

I look at him questioningly.

"Maybe you should try to read it, it has a pretty good story. You can read, yes?"

"I'm able to read ingredients from food."

He laughs awkwardly: "Well that's a start..."

Without much care I put the book in my backpack and I continue my search.

It feels strange to have someone that at least seems to be real and walking close by, especially since he doesn't seem to be hostile in any way shape or form. What most things are.

I will keep a close eye on him, I don't really understand why I'm seeing him and I don't have another person like me here to check if I'm really making it all up in my mind.

It really does seem like the most reality-based explanation right now, I've been alone for a long time now.

I vaguely remember a story about someone befriending an object to stay sane after being alone for a very long time. It is said to be normal when someone is lonely.

But even so, is that really the case right now?

While scouting out the area, it suddenly starts to rain outside.

I guess I have no other choice but to stay the night.

As we walk into the inside part of the station I suddenly notice a couple of them, standing closely to the rooms that once had probably been stores.

Their bodies made of a combination of rotting flesh, metal wiring and some of them have something like mos growing over their heads and shoulders. Water slowly dripping from their horrible monsterous bodies.

Luckily they're standing far away, staring into space and not having noticed me yet.

Sometimes they shake in the strange way they usually do and return to staring.

It reminds me a bit of how they used to be when all of this started, back then they were out to kill every last human. Back then they rarely stood this still.

I guess since most people have died, they don't have much to do anymore, so staring is probably the only thing they can do.

Staring and standing.

It makes me wonder if they think...

No, that can't be true.

Monsters like that must be unable to think, if they do it must be about devouring the innocent and weak.

"Hey."Quiller whispers: "You should probably head the other way, they don't look very nice."

They don't look very nice? Is he oblivious to what happened? Does he not know?

Didn't he mention knowing of it before though? Well I should ask him later.

Now is not the time.

I tiptoe away from the creatures, making sure not to make a single sound.

When it all went down, I taught myself a new way of walking which was a lot quieter than how I used to.

Now it's second nature to me, I don't walk any other way now.

Well, okay, if I have to run, I run and sound doesn't really matter if there is something out there that wants to rip you apart.

I take the stairs to the second floor, scanning my surroundings thoroughly.

More old, empty shops and a lookout onto the platforms and surrounding area.

"Do you think I could go further up?" I ask the strangely clothed man.

"Well yeah, this building is old and even has a clock-tower. Maybe we should try getting in there?"

I nod approving, maybe he might be useful after all.

It doesn't take long for us to find a small hidden passageway.

"It should be through here." Quiller says to me.

I look at the narrow door in the ceiling and shake my head.

I hate small spaces, I would rather get there by climbing from the outside.

I look outside but am only greeted by the heavy rainfall, it's almost like the clouds are laughing at me.

Laughing at the fact that I'm scared.

And I hate them for it.

Next chapter:

Just uploaded an edited down run of me completing the Fallout 4 main story bare fists only with dog meat as my only companion and no mods, no crafting, no sleeping, no eating, no stimpaks, no cannibalism, no radaways, no chems, no fusion cores used(no power armor), no wasteland whispers, no intimidations, no hacking robots, and no mysterious stranger visits. Definitely took a lot of time and effort and was quite painful at times, so would appreciate if anyone could check it out! :) https://youtu.be/cT73kC_0Huw

“Do I have to be the Mechanist, Nat? Why do you get to be The Silver Shroud?”

“Mom was the Shroud. I…what?”

Shaun looked at Nat, curiosity plain on his face. “You said ‘mom’, not ‘your mom’.”

“Well, she married Piper,” Nat said, shrugging.

“But Piper’s your sister.”

“Yeah. But Anita’s more the mom type. Now suit up or I tell everyone about that crush you have on Glory.”

“I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON GLORY!”

–

In the hallway, Anita blinked back some tears. “She called me mom.” The emotion wasn’t enough to stop her from tugging at the hem of her costume.

“Yeah, Welcome to the family, Blue. Now stop tugging the hems, you look fine.” Piper smirked, giving Anita an approving look. And enjoying her wife’s embarrassment at having to wear the Nuka Girl outfit for Hallowe’en.

“It’s…a bit revealing. All you did was change trenchcoats.”

“Well, you did tell me all about the Green Hornet,” Piper answered, tugging a bright green mask over her face. “And he was a reporter, so it seemed natural. Now are we going trick or treating or not?”

Burn...

[ Maccready disliked that ]

My OC Sole Survivor is a lil' somethin' like this...

Name: Christine Shaw (named after her mother) *Goes by “Shaw” after crawling out of 111 Age (Pre-frozen storage): 24 Looks: 5, 9. Walks with purpose. With all of Her running around and hard work, she’s very fit, if even a bit muscular for a woman of her physical age (like, she could carry a grown man in her arms with little difficulty) Her eyes are blue, light with a dark outter ring, (scares people with her intense glare) Shaw’s hair was very long and dirty blonde when she came out of 111, but shaved the sides of her head, having a long warrior’s wolf tail, with a couple thin braids in it, held with turquoise beads and crow feathers, one small bead is wood, carved from one of Shaun’s letter blocks from his destroyed nursery. Her eyebrows are darker than the rest of her hair, naturally, and they’re well kept, only a single scar on her face from an encounter with her first Deathclaw, coming down her forehead, through her left eyebrow and almost reaching her jawline. She doesn’t wear makeup, doesn’t need it. Shaw is very clean about herself, will take a bath or shower whenever she’s in a hotel, inn or in her house at Santuary. Has good teeth. Road outfit: Vault-Suit, fully upgraded, with tan cowboy boots, fingerless leather gloves and a leather harness to hold many small knives and a not-so-small hunting knife hidden in a sheath on the lower part of the sash part of her harness. Over that, she wore a heavy, leather trench coat. Another belt, around her waist, was an ammo belt with nicely polished, brass rounds for the scoped rifle she carried on her back at almost all times. One both hips she carried two revolvers…one of them was Kellogg’s gun, but both were 45 calibers. Those bullets were lined up on her harness over her chest on the sash. Her PipBoy on her left, dominant arm was well taken care of. Where ever she goes, she always wears her favorite, dark brown cowboy hat with silver and turquoise beads strung around the top. *Shaun is her baby half-brother, not her son (cause fuck canon) *Nate was her father that had Christine with her mother when they were still in high school (they were 16). *After her mother passed away during childbirth, Nate named her after her mother. *Nate eventually joined the industrial work force to help give Christine the life she deserved, as it paid well and he didn’t think he could be a good father, then. *Christine was left with her Grandparents and didn’t see Nate much until she was sixteen, but she adored her father and he treasured her. *Her Grandfather got her into old cowboy movies, with Clint Eastwood and John Wayne, because he never had a daughter and didn’t know what to do…but it worked out better than he though. *Hates dresses! *Loves a good fitting pair of jeans and broken in cowboy boots. *Went to a shooting range with Nate and her Grandfather every weekend (getting better than both of them) until Nate met Christine’s stepmother and they moved WAY north to Santuary Hills outside of Concord. *She has the quick draw skills of a wild west legend. *Prefers distance shots with a sniper rifle though, enjoys the precision of a clean shot like that. *Can hunt like nobody’s business! I’m talkin’ tracking, trap setting, blind building…she can do it all! *Plays cards and has a deadly poker face. *Dogmeat is like the Tanto to her Lone Ranger. *Will actually blow your head off if you hurt her wonderful lil’ dickins of a pup. *Has dogs running around Santuary like a pack that only listens to her. *Somehow found wild horses (calls them Radsteeds; they have cat-like eyes, patchy hair and they eat meat sometimes- cause fallout) *Names her horse “Houston,” even though it’s a mare. *Nick is her #1 fan, says: “Watchin’ you in the wastes is like seein’ an old film come to life. It makes an old bot like me proud to walk with you, Shaw.” *Preston low-key loves her, (ever since she ripped through Raiders and then walked into the room like it was no big deal/super concerned about them) but she knows. *She low-key loves being called “General” by the Minutemen. *She saves Danse from himself. Just walks in, takes his pistol from him and smacks him upside the head with it before shouting at him, “The fact that you feel this way makes you more human than most! But killing yourself is the coward’s way out and the Danse I know would nut.up, not crawl in a hold and die!!! If you ever felt anything, for our friends, for me, you will walk out of that door…because feeling means you’re alive.” She then composed herself and turned on heel, walking out. *Danse meets her outside where she stands with two horses and open arms to comfort him…then, they go back to Santuary Hills for a hot meal and sleep. *Kills Elder Maxson; takes his coat and gun as a trophy. *Piper is her best friend. Just needing some girl time sometimes, you know? *Maccready runs with her the most, follows orders. They flirt shamelessly in combat or intense situations, but they’re just friends. *Shaw rarely drinks, but after huge events, like meeting Shaun’s old and young clone self, she can be found in some kind of rutty, Raider bar, drinking heavily and looking for a fight. *Maccready is usually the one to drag her out…after she expresses some rage… *Loves her cowboy hat to death (literally) *Once when she and Maccready had been captured, by Gunners, the leader took her hat. After they escaped, Shaw refused to leave until she got her hat back…the girl ended up killing every last one of them. *Will fight you if you cat call her. Hancock learned that the hard way… *Will shank a bitch if you get in her way while she’s angry. *Once stared down a Super Mutant and won… *Teaches kids in Santuary how to care for things around the village from the animals to the guns. (Extra credit to the kid who can assemble their rifle the fastest, in the form of a cookie) *Will murder you brutally if she catches you making fun of her for being a Vault-Dweller. *Hates going into Vaults. *Says “son of a dick,” “ass-monkey,” and “yuppie.” (yuppie=city folk) along with other odd sayings. *Has a slight twang in her voice from growing up in Pennsylvania, going to rodeos and such all her life. *A child she finds gives her an old, silver sheriff’s badge…she keeps it in her house so she won’t lose it. *Kills Shaun in the end. Says, “You were my little brother once and I loved you…but now…? You’re just a giant bag of dicks.” She said in monotone as she pulled back the hammer on her revolver. Before he could even make a face at the odd expression, she pulled the trigger…and she was done with it… She had a real family to go home to… *Shaw is a Chuck Norris approved badass

Sole: I don't have a good feeling about this.

Hancock/Deacon: What do you mean?

Sole: Don't you ever get that little voice inside your head? Y'know, the one that tells you if something will get you into trouble?

Hancock/Deacon: No...?

Sole:

Sole: That actually explains so much.

Maccready, trying his hardest not to swear: Oh fu - fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers!

Sole: Please, I beg of you, just say fuck.

“hi honey...”