So, I saw this on Reddit, and had a few ideas.
For example:
Too many beds with Cooper. Sure, you're in a warehouse with plenty of choices. Somehow, the one you picked also happens to be the one he wants.
Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss with Giovanni. This trainer really has no idea who they just "saved" from Team Rocket.
Really nice guy who only hates you with Deacon. The most personable man in the whole Railroad, but for some reason you two are mortal enemies.
True hates kiss with Astarion or Reaver. Oh, how he'd hold the fact he's the one to break your curse over your head. Make you work for your salvation and freedom.
OH THE ANGST of lovers to enemies with Fenris with a mage S/O that slowly corrupts, and the absolute heart-wrenching of Soulmates who are fated to kill each other with Wesker and a BSAA S/O.
Everyone's convinced you aren't actually dating with Vicar Max.
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Crows Of The Commonwealth
I was on CrowTok and it made me come up with an idea.
So, obviously a lot of the crows in the Commonwealth are made by the Institute, though I personally like to believe that there are still a lot of crows that are regular ones, too.
Crows are an incredibly smart species of bird, which makes sense as to why they're the ones the Institute use. To my memory, I don't think there are any other birds in the game. Again, I'd like to headcanon that they're not the only ones left but if only a few species of birds managed to survive the bombs and the aftermath, I wouldn't put it past crows to be one of those species due to that intelligence.
Crows are known for recognising people, which also works in favour of the Institute as to why they'd choose them specifically. If you are able to tell the difference between individual crows, you'll be less likely to question if a specific one if following you if you are aware they likely recognise you.
However, they're also known to bring gifts and trinkets if treated right, or actually attack people who don't. And they remember faces. I don't get the impression that the Institute treats them too kindly if they don't even consider Gen 3 Synths as people, who are literally created with technology and human biology/DNA.
If we imagine that the Institute Crows work like Synths do, then that means that they are also able to become independent like Synths can. We know they have the level of intelligence, more so than another species of bird, to perhaps reach that level of independence. That's exactly why the Institute picked them. Wouldn't it be ironic if that became part of the Institute's downfall.
So imagine a Sole Survivor, fresh out of the Vault, scared and cold on their first few nights. Hungry, tired, likely sick, grieving. Alone. They have Dogmeat. They have themselves. A few strangers they saved. Nothing else.
They're trying their best one night to settle. They've only been unfrozen for a few days by now, but have yet to leave Sanctuary. They chose to stay for a couple days to prepare for their long journey ahead, and rebuild their home so they had somewhere to go back to. Preston has taught them basics self defence and survival, Sturges has helped them temporarily fix the holes in their walls. They're not close to these strangers yet, but there's a small comfort in knowing there's still people, and people nearby to run to if anything not friendly comes knocking on their door.
They're picking at a 200 year old box of stale cereal, not able to stomach the taste just yet. In the end, they end up leaving it in a bowl for Dogmeat to have, preferring to sleep, hunger be damned. They sleep on the floor that used to hold the dinning table, not ready to sleep in the now-too-empty bedrooms.
By morning, their sleep is interrupted. Not by the cold October air that their thin, makeshift blanket- That doubles as their coat during the day- barley keeps away. Not by the sunlight that seeps in by the broken shards of class where the window used to be. Not by drops of rain that fall through the cracks in the ceiling. Not even by Dogmeat licking then awake, like he did yesterday morning. This time it's the sound of pecking and squawking that has Sole prying their eyes open.
A small group of grows picking at the bowl of cereal. They must've gotten in through what once was the window, or literally any of the holes of missing metal panels scattered throughout the building. Sole barely has it in them to care. They know they shouldn't waste food that could've gone to them or their new furry friend, but they truly cannot bring it in them to mind. They wonder if the birds have a hard time finding food, too, and decide it might not be a waste at all.
They sit up. A few of the crows fly up onto the windowsill at their movements, one stays enjoying their breakfast, unfazed. Sole waits, sitting still until the birds realise they have no intention of harming them. They glide back down onto the floor, going back to eating.
After a few moments, the crow that stayed perks his head up, neck twitching into an angle that lets him look at Sole. He hops over, stopping just before he reaches their lap. Sole raises their hand, thumb and index finger moving slowly until they land on its neck. His feathers bristle under Sole's pets, his feet dancing happily beneath him. The other crows finish their breakfast. Salem, Sole decides to call him, joins his friends who hop back onto the windowsill. They fly off. He turns his head to the side, a beady eye looking at Sole again. He squawks at them before flying off to join the others.
Sole spends the rest of their day taking metal panels from some of the completely collapsed houses to fix the holes in their walls. They're able to find paint at the old Red Rocket down the road when looking for more equipped tools. Repainting isn't exactly their priority right now, just making sure the house will be fit to stand against the weather, and for when it gets colder in the next few months. The paint will be useful when they get to the stage of being able to consider making it look presentable, however. Unfortunately, the only paintbrush they find is snapped in half. They toss it in frustration. Less so because of the brush itself, and more so because Sole has a lot of anger built up from the events of the last few days that they have no other outlet for.
They end up going home when the sun starts to set, having avoided the empty tomb of memories for as long as possible. It wasn't safe to be out so close to dark.
When they set down their tolls by the door, something on the kitchen counter catches their eye.
Upon inspection, they realise it's an intact paintbrush.
Their confusion lasts barely five seconds, as they hear a familiar squawk. Hoping on the windowsill is Salem. His eyes study Sole. He's waiting. Sole smiles, pulling open the duffle bag they'd taken on their supply run. They pull out two wild mutfruits, which they'd harvested from bushes near the station. Sole cuts them into smaller pieces, before tossing them gently into the grass of their back garden from the car porch. Salem glides to the pieces, now satisfied in knowing that Sole approved of and appreciated his gift. Sole looks up to the trees that border their garden where other crows have started to also descend from to join in on the food offering. Apparently, there's a lot more in this group than what Sole had assumed from the smaller one earlier. About twenty feathered creatures dance about on branches decorated by orange and brown leaves or nibble at the mutfruit in the grass.
Salem flies over once he's had his fill, taking a seat on Sole's shoulder. His friends also begin hopping over gradually, and Sole ends up sitting down to welcome them and pet their small heads. Dogmeat also seems to love the attention, or perhaps just the warmth that radiates from Sole's body as he curls up next to them. Every so often, one of them drops a trinket into Sole's lap as they snuggle into them. A random screw, some gears, even some bottlecaps. Bits and bobs that a few days ago, Sole would've considered mostly junk, even if they'd still been appreciative, but everything now is useful. They even drop a few things by Dogmeat's snout, who sniffs them, tail wagging. Sole doesn't think Salem appreciates the happy licks Dogmeat gives him, though.
Regardless, Sole breathes out slowly, deeply, as they take in the sunset and birdsong before them. It's the first time they've honestly felt any peace since leaving that godforsaken Vault.
Sole makes a mental note to redesign the kitchen window when they get around to fixing it so that it'll be able to open widely. They also begin thinking about designs for birdhouses, feeders, and small fountains.
It's safe to say Sole feels slightly better than they did when they went to bed last night.
They feel less alone.
For some reason, as Salem nestles into their lap, against their stomach, a small pressure builds in their gut. They can't quite shake the instinct, the thought that comes with it. The feeling that Salem feels less alone now, too.
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Deacon: (Bursts into the agency like the Kool-Aid Man)
Jasmine: (Jumps in her chair with a start)
Ellie Perkins: (Turns around from her work, annoyed)
Deacon: (Finger guns) “Heyyy Ellie, did anyone ever tell you that your hair goes GREAT with your skirt…”
Ellie Perkins: (Sighs to herself) “What do you need now, Deacon?”
Deacon: (Guides Jasmine out of her chair by the shoulders) “I need to borrow this one for a sec. We have a wee mishap back at HQ.”
Jasmine: (Going along with it because she's bored and has nothing better to do)
Ellie Perkins: “Now hang on just one minute there, Mister D!”
Deacon: (Already rushing out the door with the teen girl) “Tell her old man I’ll have her back without a scratch and before 10:00!”
Jasmine: (Following him through the city) “The fuck did you do this time?”
Deacon: (Picking up the pace) “We need to run...”
[Later]
Nick: (Exasperated) “Lemme get this straight. You, a grown ass adult, bet your entire life savings on one measly game of darts?”
Deacon: (Nods)
Nick: (Crosses his arms) “And the only reason you're not hobbling around penniless is because you had Jazzy bail you out?”
Deacon: (Grinning) “Haha, you should have seen the look on Carrington’s face when the smug bastard lost! Could’ve slapped a price tag on it and made a million caps.”
Nick: (Disappointed Dad energy) “Have I taught you nothing on personal responsibility? Or did it go in one ear and out the other?”
Jasmine: “He convinced Carrington to do a rematch by promising not to speak for a whole year if he lost. I dunno if that shows his faith in me, or his utter desperation.”
(The same thing happened with MacCready and an arm wrestling match. Luckily, Jas is stronger than she appears)
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