Jasmine: (Petting a wild radstag doe while smiling sweetly)

Danse: (Rubbing a yao guai cubs belly, hiding a goofy grin)

Deacon: (Straight up snuggling Fluffy the baby deathclaw)

X6: (Timidly stroking a brahmin calf)

Jasmine: “...I think we qualify to be Disney princesses now.”

(Idk what kind of forms they need to fill out, but hand them over)

How would they react to Sole getting stuck in a glue trap?

Thank you so much for sending this, It was very spiritual for us to complete it.

Fallout 4 Companions React to Sole Getting Stuck In A Glue Trap

Cait:

Her rock&roll lifestyle led her to see many glue trap related incidents. First she would attempt to pull them free, but then after about 2 minutes of effort she would give up. “Well, that’s what you get for stealin me lucky charms.” They both lay in defeat and pass a blunt back and forth, Cait having to hold it for Sole, until the sun rises.

Codsworth: 

Would scream in surprise at Sole’s unfortunate situation. “MUM! What happened?” Erratically, he would blast them with 20 bars of bursting pressure, the same powerful pressure of a firehose, in an attempt to free them. “If the sir were here to see this, he would be in shambles!” Many days and nights passed, and finally Sole was free, but chronically mangled, only to pass away in agony in Shaun’s crib.

Curie: 

Spanks them sexily and rewards them for being mothers naughty wastelander. 

Danse: 

“Well I’m a synth and you accepted me, so I guess I can accept you being part glue.” Danse says warmly with a smile. Unfortunately, actions spoke louder than words, and Danse began alienating sole, treating them as if they were a feral ghoul. Sole then began spiraling and doing more drugs with hancock ever before. If they were being treated like a ghoul, then they would become a ghoul. Danse heard the news and a single tear fell from his eye, and fell to his knees. Last night, hancock carried his glue ridden friend to the glowing sea so they could become a ghoul, only for the two to get hit by a car, a rarity in the wasteland, and died instantly.

Deacon:

Would assume it’s a wacky new trend all the commonwealth folk are into, and would bring his own glue trap from home. He sets it up next to sole’s glue trap and jumps into it belly-first, making a loud resounding SPLAT noise. Sole cannot believe their eyes and begins openly weeping, for the one ounce of hope they had of getting free was eradicated right before their very eyes, and instead was a slime covered bald man wielding sunglasses and a huge grin.

Hancock: 

He ties sole’s arms to one brahmin, and legs to another. At the peak of night, he fires off his shotgun into the sky, and though not usually a religious man, says a silent prayer. A CRACK! Noise sounds around the wasteland, and he couldn’t bear to look at the source of the noise: Sole’s freedom, or their demise? Instead, he picked a spot on the distant horizon, and began walking. Some say to this day, he still does.

MacCready: 

He has heard that gasoline will loosen the glue but after a few beers and a bad batch of cram he accidentally burns down the house with sole inside it. He watches the blaze of glory with an almost proud smile on his face

Valentine:

Nick had heard rumors on the street of the vanishing sticky dame, and had to find out for himself if they were true. Ellie laid sultrily on the desk; he wasn’t sure what was going on there. “So Nick, I thought maybe we could go to Takahashi’s, maybe grab a bite to eat?” Ignoring her and heading for the door, he tosses her 10 stacks of paperwork and she collapses on the ground. “Gotta job to do, seeya Ellie.” 

~

Years pass, and he just can’t seem to catch a break. He’s down to one last lead: and it takes him to the glowing sea. Almost all hope is lost, his spirits are down, and he’s almost given up until he steps in something, and it makes a squishing sound. Looking down, there is a giant human-sized glue trap, and a skeleton stuck to it. He takes off his fedora and gets down on one knee. “Swing low sweet chariots.” He whispers.

Piper:

She thinks being stuck in a glue trap is pretty good material for a story. She reports on sole and the glue trap daily for months and actually gathers a decent sized crowd who wait every week to hear about sole and the glue. Sole tries to escape but Piper covers them in more glue because she is blinded by her success. Piper writes an article after article and to this day settlers come from around the world to see sole, begging for help from the trap as Piper smiles on, adorned in expensive clothes and jewels. 

Preston:

In his effort to find Sole and warn them that their 15th settlement was taken over by radioactive mimes, he stumbled upon them in a dark room, 90% glue, 9% shame, and 1% sole survivor. Their time was running out, and he knew it, but so were the other 900 settlers he decided were their problem after 1 week of meeting them. A lightbulb popped up in his head, and after many days of toiling with Danse and his brotherhood connections, they had created a custom power armor suit that allowed sole to perform their duties while in the glue trap. All was well, he thought.

Strong: 

Picks up Sole and smashes them on the concrete ground until they are free.

X6: 

He can’t fathom the level of pathetic one has to be to get trapped in glue. He is disgusted beyond belief and decides sole doesn’t deserve the embarrassment of being alive any longer. “Count the ceiling tiles on your way to hell dumbass.” He says before shooting them in the head. 

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The Continuing Story of the Eternal Skeptic Septic Tank Terrorist (As Seen On T.V.)

I own a Chrysler because that's what I hear the Deacon of our local bazaar drives around town running errands in and I liked the way the motor roared as he sped through red light after red light with no concern for the safety of the citizens on the sidewalk. "It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer." Tell me what is the lesson learned when the lights go out for good?! WILL THERE BE SAUSAGES FOR BREAKFAST?!? (Tell me now otherwise alot of innocent people are going to die...go ahead, I'll wait...but not for too long.) "There's no sunshing when she's gone." My hands are always clammy even when I'm not nervous so I decided to call up the pharmacy and ask if they have some sort of anti-perspirent for the palms of my hand. I don't own a phone and can barely make my mark on legal documents much less dial a number so I had to walk a few miles towards town where there were pay phones a'plenty. No quater? No problem! I'll just call collect and let the unsuspecting butt of knockers on the other end of the line have to make a decision whether or not to accept the charges. I enjoy playing petty pranks like those on people, keeps the hair from falling off of my head thus keeping my baldness at bay. I love a parade, don't you? GET THAT GRAFUNKEL OUTTA MAH FACE MR. SIMON BEFORE I TAKE OFF MY SUNGLASSES! The television with be revolutionized in thrilling mono with a bit of paprika thrown in fer the good of the government well at least the branch that interprets the laws passed by Congress and signed by the President. Is that asking too much? I think N.O.T. I ate a hoagie while arm wrestling a rather hefty fella with a tattoo across the knuckles on his serving hand that read "Mom." I wasn't in a hurry to get that backstory on that tail of woe so I kept my mouth closed while I tried to think which James Buffett song I would want sung as they lower my body into the ground with one of those reusable coffins that the paupers in their graves know all too well. So that combined with my clammy palms coupled with a crippling depression has left me vulnerable to creditors, one could say this was a hard knock life I was leading by then again one can say just about anything if the occasion called for it, a little white lie doesn't do much damage if explained out in long, lengthy lapses in judgement and imagination. The T.V. is on and the serfs are junk. Damn these clip on ties, I can never wear one without it chaffing my huge member to the point where it hurts to pee even into the high sink in the guest bathroom in the guest house out back. That, my dear reader, is when the real troubles begin. I need excitment and I need it bad. When this item arrived I was passed out on the floor in front of the fireplace while the embers still held fire and were hot to the touch. I had a poker held tightly in my left hand that was resting on my chest so if I was startled I could castrate whoever was trying to disturb my slumber, as luck would have it, nobody did. I tell ya, I never felt so safe then my mind wandered to my steering wheel and what I needed to buy to make it more of an enjoyable experience rather than that otherworldly stretch of boredom whil don henley warns me about the dangers of opiate abuse via lyrics like "You can check in anytime but you can never leave." I hate don henley. His face sucks and he thinks he is some sort of poet that should be ranked among the finest but I swear he is being led around by his ponytail and forced Clockwork Orange style to stare at tits with large nipples with his eyes kept constantly open until he repents his sins to a god that gave up. By This!

Here's what others had to say about this product!

4shadwon: I took advantage of a drunk punk rock gal who was wearing a spiked collar with some sprinkles scattered around her feet, her bare feet. A child not a day over 80 months approached us and asked if we would like to adopt him. We both said no, lit up a cigarette and put it out on his hand and held it there until the smoke cleared.

.: rain dance :.

The sun’s heat beatdown over the neighborhood of Sanctuary Hills. It felt hotter, stickier than most summer days there, but they were due for rain any day now. Not that anyone would stick around to enjoy it. Not even the farmers would tend to the crops if need be — The rain was poisonous and burned when it fell from the sky. Soaking into one’s skin would mean they needed to find a doctor with RadAway quickly or else they’d be stuck with radiation sickness for some time. The rain never brought joy or new beginnings. Everyone was just happy when it was over.

On this day, however, rain wasn’t on anyone’s mind. Instead, while most people had found something to do in their spare time, Bethany was going through old records and listening to what might’ve been the latest and greatest prewar. Most of it was overly upbeat tunes, artists trying to make a name for themselves and trying to get a Nuka-Cola sponsorship. She rolled her eyes at most of it, until she stumbled across an album that seemed more curious than the rest: Atomic Ballroom. Strange name, but it didn’t even have the art of the singer or band on it. Shrugging and taking the record from it’s sleeve, she placed it onto the player and let the tunes begin to play.

It wasn’t all that exciting, but relaxing. The orchestra played a slow tune, bringing Bethany back to a far different time. Not any more simpler, but in fact, probably more complicated. At least postwar, the world was kill or be killed. Not like before the Great War. Before then, people wanted to solve things with politics and strategy. Things that were always beyond Bethany’s comprehension. It didn’t matter what anyone did, anyway. She ended up being just as aloof and distant, but now far more sick and irradiated. Having a poisoned mind meant she couldn’t seem to prioritize and filter like she could. And she knew that, but she didn’t even bother to try anymore. There were worse people out there.

Enjoying the sounds of the classical record, Bethany stood and tried to remember the footing of when she used to attend the lavish parties. There was always someone else to take the lead, so she barely had to try all that much when she was forced into dancing. Maybe if she put on something besides a dirty shirt and summer shorts, she might be put more into the mood.

Slipping into a baby blue summer dress, sleeveless and falling to her knees, she already began to feel a bit more dressed for the occasion she made up in her mind. Tying back her hair and pressing a bit of lip stain to her pout, blackening her eyelashes as well, a bit of makeup did the part, though she always did so much more sparingly to not let her minimal supply go to waste.

Observing her room, Bethany rested her hands on her hips and shook her head a bit. This wasn’t even enough room to move even for light footwork. She’d just have to take it outside. Unplugging the record played and dragging it outside, she placed it near one of the generators and fixed the wires together to get the machine to work. There were a few stares from residents, but they also learned to not question any of her antics now. As long as she wasn’t hurting anyone and creating a ruckus, she should streak down the block and they’d think nothing of it.

Now with her music outside, Bethany trotted to the middle of the street, trying to get herself into position and started by pretending she was holding onto another, then tried moving her feet to the beat. Left foot, then right, left then right, pivot, catch a crack in the street, trip slightly, right foot, right foot, twist the left and avoiding falling altogether.

Frustrated, she bit her lip, then tried it again, overthinking every step as she did them. Did she do the right again? That step was too big, now the other too small. Ouch, a rock in the arch — should’ve grabbed shoes. This might be better off in the grass…

Looking out the bar window, Preston and Deacon stared with drinks in their hands, spying on her quietly to try and figure out why. ❝ A woodpecker’s got more rhythm than that. ❞ Deacon said, sipping on a bottle of stout.

❝ What’s a woodpecker? ❞ Preston looked over, arching a brow.

❝ Dunno, but pretty sure they beat their head into trees just like I’m about to if I watch her step on another piece of broken glass with bare feet, ❞ He winced, seeing as she did just that as he spoke.

Preston pushed his lips out, then went back to watching as Bethany crouched on the ground, holding out on foot to see if anything was digging into it or not. ❝ You should probably go out and help her, y’know. ❞

Deacon sighed, then shook his head. ❝ No thanks. ❞

❝ Damn, that’s cold. ❞

The bald spy said nothing else, but continued to watch with a morbid curiosity to see how much longer it would go for. Not that he wanted to see anything bad happen, but whenever Bethany got herself into something, it always provided a day’s worth of entertainment.

Back to her feet, Bethany bit her lip, trying her best to once again get into the groove of things until someone else crept up from behind her. Nearly jumping from her skin, she turned to see who had startled her. Holding a hand onto her chest, she took a heavy sigh of relief, fighting back a smile. ❝ Donald, you scared me! ❞

❝ I would think it’d take a lot more than a tap on the shoulder to do that. ❞ The old ghoul wheezed out a laugh, then offered out a hand. ❝ Y’can’t do a dance like this without a partner. It’s why you keep tripping on your toes. ❞

Bethany pressed her lips, together, pushed a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear. It was a bit embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to be wrong either. She never remembered it being this hard, but she never had to do it alone, either.

❝ Might I have this dance, my dear? ❞ The ghoul gave a weak smile, as did Bethany now, taking her hand in his and let him be in charge.

He was a few inches shorter than her now, the toll of withering away as ghoul taking over. His mind was still sharp, to everyone’s advantage. Bethany hated ferals, and might actually have an issue if Donald ever lost himself into the radiation. He was one of her favorites that she met coming out of the vault. If it wasn’t from him, she may still have been a more savage beast herself in her survival. He reminded her of that other people in the world desired class and etiquette.

The dancing seemed to be going a lot smoother with Donald taking the lead. Every step he took, Bethany followed, the flow of their movements to the music harmonizing together. Now, this is what she remembered. Even if she was being paid to do it, somehow it brought her back to the times she wished she had. Closing her eyes, it was all coming back, putting her in a dreamlike state as she felt the ghoul spin her out and her dress flowering out with it, then coming back in reverse to find herself back again in with her dancing partner.

❝ Missing your chance — ❞ Preston gave Deacon the side eye, the other watching more intently now that she wasn’t simply tripping and moving like she had two left feet. ❝ — The ghoul’s got some moves. ❞

❝ You’re pretty eager to prove something, why don’t you give it a go? ❞ Deacon challenged, smirking a bit as he drank from his beer.

❝ Too busy avoiding bullets to learn how to do anything like that, ❞ Preston answered, offering the honest truth. The man had a clear desire to be cultured and classed like some people be met, but there just wasn’t time for that. And even in these spare moments he did have, he’d feel to guilty trying to do something that wasn’t self sacrificing.

❝ So, what makes you think I’m capable of doing it, then? ❞ Not that anyone knew whether or not her could or couldn’t. He liked the mystery, and enjoyed keeping it that way.

❝ You’ve got all the time in the world, that’s what’s up. ❞ Preston nodded, then walked off to grab himself another drink from Buddy, the beer dispensing protectron.

Deacon rolled his eyes from underneath his sunglasses, and remained in spy mode as he watched Bethany and Donald continue their ballroom lesson.

It had been nearly two hours since they started, the afternoon melding into evening as the sky’s colors began to warm up and darken a bit. Bethany was covered in a glittering sweat while Donald patted his forehead with a pocket square, then did a small bow. ❝ A pleasure, Miss Bethany. ❞

Clapping her hands lightly, Bethany beamed, nodding back to him. ❝ We should do this again sometime. Won’t we? ❞

❝ Any time you ask. ❞

She hugged herself now, still smiling. ❝ Charming devil, aren’t you? Suppose keep an eye out for an invitation. ❞

❝ Hopefully, I won’t lose one before then. ❞

Holding back a laugh, she turned from him to gather her record player back up, seeming much heavier now after hours of dancing in the streets. Placing it back inside and turning the power back onto it, she sat on her bed, in the blue dress still, listening to the music over again while peering through some burnt fashion magazines to find an outfit worth commissioning to Donald.

Another set of feet lightly walked into the house, Bethany unaware as she lost herself in her own headspace. Out reached, another hand stretched out in her direction, though this time she didn’t feel herself as jumpy as before. She knew those hands very well by now, biting her lip at she trailed her eyes from palm to face.

❝ Where did you get that dress? ❞ It was, of course, Deacon.

❝ Where did you get that suit coat? ❞ She blinked a few. It was actually a nice fit on him.

They both paused, then answered unexpectedly at the same time. ❝ Donald. ❞

Both smiled wider now, Bethany taking his hand to help herself to her feet, himself taking the same stance as the ghoul did earlier, trying to mimic his moves.

❝ Since when did you know how to dance? ❞ Bethany asked, getting herself back into position like she did earlier in the day.

❝ A few hours ago. I was watching some crazy person outside and thought I’d pick up a few tips. ❞ She smacked his chest lightly while he took over the lead. ❝ Looked super easy. Could do it in power armor, no prob — ❞

❝ Is that so? Then why are you stepping on my toes? ❞

❝ It’s a new move I’m working on. I call it crippling. Break all your partner’s toes until you have to carry them princess style. ❞

❝ Ow — ❞ She smacked him again, then decidedly closing the wide gap of a proper ballroom dancing to resting her head on his shoulder and just slowly moving with him holding one had at the waist and the other with her own.

❝ And what’s this one? ❞ He asked, not seeing this in the tutorial earlier.

❝ This doesn’t have a name, ❞ she answered quietly, closing her eyes. ❝ But I used to see it in old movies and never got to try it. ❞

❝ Did the two people that did this dance like the other one? ❞

❝ Usually. ❞

❝ How does it end? ❞

❝ With a kiss. ❞

There was no more questions after that, just a continual swaying motion of two people holding each other until the record played out. It took them a while to notice the music has stopped playing, though Bethany’s legs may have reached their limit with how much longer she could stand on them. ❝ It’s done playing... ❞

❝ About ten minutes ago, actually, ❞ he answered, still holding position.

❝ You can stop now. ❞

It was still a few more moments until they broke apart, Deacon rubbing his neck awkwardly, then eyeing for the door. ❝ It’s that part in the movie, isn’t it? ❞

❝ I won’t hold you to unrealistic expectations… ❞ She shrugged, holding her arm in hand while it dangled at her side.

❝ Uh, thanks. ❞ As he began to slide out of Bethany’s house, he paused with a foot out the door, then turned around to see the disappointment on her face. He thought about going back and sealing the deal, but instead he had a better idea. ❝ Aren’t you coming with? ❞ He wanted to make her feel like she was the one being awkward now.

❝ Wait, what do you mean? ❞ But she didn’t hesitate either, skipping a step to get her aching feet moving again to meet up with him.

❝ We’re not at the end yet. ❞

Biting back a grin, she slipped her arm around his, then Deacon lead their way to the campfire the Minutemen abandoned for the time being, giving them a glowing light by Sanctuary’s riverside. The stars once again tried to poke their way out from the pockets of clouds in the evening sky, the moon even trying to show face at the sunset in the opposite direction.

With the only music they had being the running water and crackling fire, they continued their dance, a mix of a wider stance and spins of the classic ballroom to the closer intimate moments they shared in her house. It only went one for several minutes, but it was long enough to reveal the rest of the night sky.

Dipping her low, Deacon held her as she gripped to his body tightly. There was a slight moment of their eyes meeting until she leaned up to take his lips into her own, and his welcoming that. Keeping her balanced though the kiss until the moment they parted, they smelled at each other, Bethany waiting for him to pull her back up to her feet.

But he didn’t. Instead, he loosening his grip completely and let her fall the short distance into the grass, Deacon pushing his sunglasses up to the bridge of his nose and straightening himself up and brushing off his jacket.

❝ What the hell? ❞ Bethany shrieked, sitting up quickly and brushing grass and dirt off her.

With a smug expression, he saluted at her and bowed, making a run for it. ❝ Trust no one! ❞

Jaw dropped, she couldn’t believe what just happened, leaping to her feet and chasing after him. ❝ Sonovabitch! ❞

The next day, it rained all afternoon, Bethany and Deacon stuck inside her house with the record playing. While she read fashion and decor magazines, he owed her a clean kitchen.