Falloutober celebrates its sixth year with 31 days of apocalyptic prompts! You are welcome to fill these from any fandom or original story, knowledge of Fallout not required!
Interpret these literally, figuratively, symbolically, astronomically, aeronautically, cytoplasmically, you know, however you want! Kink, whump, fluff, art, lit, screenarchery, music, just have fun! You can merge and swap days around too as desired!
If you want me to see your posts and potentially reblog them to the falloutober blog, make sure to tag them #falloutober2025 or @ the blog in your post!
This year we took a poll on whether you fine folks would like a more focused theme or keep most days unrelated, and, well, results were mixed! So you may notice a lot more linked prompts this year than usual, but hopefully not an overwhelming amount - we're going to try going halvsies and see how it floats! As always, if you aren't feeling a prompt, you can yoink something from one of our previous years to replace it with, instead!
If you can, consider getting a commission from me!
falloutober bonus - okey dokey!
Junkyard didn't get a good, detailed picture, so I did a bonus of her! It's been a pleasure, thank you so much for looking at my art this Falloutober! See you all next year!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Nora tugs on the thread holding the past and present together while MacCready wrestles with his own vulnerability…or lack thereof.
Rating: M for descriptions of combat
Warnings: Somewhat gruesome depictions of violence, nothing beyond what's shown in the games.
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Notes: Actually not smut for once, but feelings are involved. This is a scene I removed from my long WIP, but lo and behold, it fit @falloutober Day 9 perfectly. Better late than never, right? I don't write nearly enough from MacCready's POV, so I had to do something to change that.
If you can, consider getting a commission from me!
day 31 - welcome home
Richard's first entry was his skin melting off, so as an apology... Here's him relaxing in the Third Rail with his dog, Frankie. He's come a long way since that pit, and while it took a long while for this place to feel like home, well... Richard's pretty happy with it.
I am so, so very proud of myself. Not only have I drawn 31 full illustrations, but I have also written for each of those days. I have not finished something like this since Inkober in 2019 and March of robots in 2020. For this I’ve been doing twice the work.
I really hope you enjoyed reading these as much as I enjoyed making them. This isn’t the end, infact, it is the beginning! I currently have a comic series in the works: Return to the Capital Wasteland! This story, is a scene from the first chapter.
Thank you, and happy Halloween (my favorite holiday :) )
Characters written as humans and drawn as cats
Story warnings: Cult, slave collar
Delilah was not expecting to end up here. The world swirled with a world dark, darker than she’d seen in a long time. She wasn’t in the Mojave, that was for sure. But where was she? The question rang like an alarm as she slowly became aware that she wasn’t alone, that people were surrounding her, people in crimson. She felt herself stiffen as two things became apparent:
An explosive collar hand around her neck, cold and heavy.
And the fact these people spoke that “the demon must die”
Who? Her? Delilah wasn’t sure what they were doing - trying to do, but she knew she needed out. So she pulled off the collar - it did not detonate, she knew how to remove one safely, she had done it again and again. Throwing it into the group, she used the collar as a grenade as she ran. The exit was a circular set of stairs, spiraling down. A lighthouse. That’s where they were. But where- Point Lookout. Jesus, what? That couldn’t be farther from the Mojave! At least now she knew how to get herself - and whoever's body she was in - safe.
She ran, as fast as she could, to get her bearings, to know what’s happening. She circled her way around, quickly moving towards the old docks, eventually coming upon the Duchess Gambit. She remembered it, remembered who now owned it, but she didn’t have time to look, to ask, she’d give it back later she decided.
Once sailing, Delilah tried to exit this body, to get out. Like she had with Cyrus time and time again, but she didn’t feel her freedom. She couldn’t get out of this body. That’s when she noticed the amount of pain she was in, her body sore, legs wobbly. Not only did she never experience this in Cyrus’s body, but she rarely felt it on her own when she lived.
Then the questions circled in Delilah’s head. Who were these people? They were certainly not a part of those tribals, in fact, where were they? Her eyes rounded when she realized the color and design of the armor they wore. Crimson. Wearing pads that ultimately wouldn’t give any projection in warfare. There was only one faction she could remember with armor like that: The Legion.
But why were they here? She’d wiped them out - almost completely - how were they still around, let alone here? And why were they doing such a ritual? She always saw them as crazy cultists, but nothing like this. What did this mean for the Capital? Were they in danger or worse, under Legion control?
Delilah pondered, and she pondered, and pondered. Eventually she could see DC, buildings that touched the sky, not as high as Vegas, and not so lively. It felt as though the world was now covered in a shade of green - a green that filled her with familiarity. As she docked, she could once again smell the air, and the light breeze that beckoned her, called out to her.
Prizefighter quest makes you use boxing gloves, but hand wraps felt more fitting for the prompt. So, it's probably an unofficial fight, a payback against the Masticator most likely.
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day 30 - yearning
jj does text back. it's just that he doesn't take his pip-boy out of hangman's brigade, and when he goes on missions, well, lucky's reminded just how far apart they really are. jj's the only person he has left, anymore.
Anyways as always characters drawn as cat but written as humans
Story warnings: mentions of death
Gone. That's what I must be to you. I think about that often, despite my efforts. The world still reminds me, my back still hurts. I wished I could at least say goodbye, at least tell you why I was gone, why I can't come back. But I can’t. Now I can’t even try. I hope you’re safe, Bill. Despite my moving on, I still look in the mirror, and I still confess… I still love you.
You are safe, I hope, I hope that Edward spoke the truth, I hope he changed, shifted that focus. But… I doubt it. He’s probably out there causing more harm. Killing more people, even children… his operation has probably grown. That fact makes me sick, I wish I could go back, I wish I could fix it. But I can’t. I have responsibilities here.
How I met Catherine still seems like a blur, with many, many details filling up the film, the snapshots of memory that swirl in my head. I can remember it, but no way I can properly describe it. You’d never believe me anyways. She was beautiful, but it took me a while to move on, accept that I’ll never see you again, never feel your comfort. But I’m across an entire wasteland, a deadly, rotting wasteland. And so I’ll never see you again. And that’s okay.
I loved her like I loved you. I still love you. Together we started a project, her project, Project Purity. Together we were making the world better. Us and our teams, we got so far, but not close. Not enough. Especially when it all slowed, because Catherine was pregnant, pregnant with my daughter. I was so excited to be a father; she was excited to be a mother. But she never will be. Because she died upon her birth. And so I have another person’s death on my hands.
I know you’d love her anyways, my daughter. She’s so sweet, so small. I love her with a love I’ve never felt. I know this world is dangerous, I know this world isn’t safe. She’s so small, so helpless, isn’t ready for the world. Which is why I do this, which is why I live in a Vault, Vault 101. We’ll be safe, she’ll be safe.
I try not to think about you, about either of you.
But my back still hurts.
And the verse Catherine loved circled in my head, telling me it isn’t over.
It makes me wonder if this is right, the Vault, the Capital… if I’m making the right decisions. But I can’t take her with me, when she’s not even a week old, across the unknowing wasteland. I know there is someone like me with you, another man of faith. But faith doesn’t dictate whether you are good or evil. Doesn’t stop you from bad decisions, going down a dark path, like I knew he was, even if I can’t remember his name.
I know what faith is meant to be: hope.
And when I look to my daughter, that’s what I feel.
So I will tell her as much as I can, about me, about my life. Teach her as many lessons as I could. But she’ll never know you, about who we were together. About what it’s like to love like that twice. About the pain of losing someone suddenly. But she’ll know about her mother, about her smile, about her personality, and her favorite passage:
“I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely.”
I repeat that, at least once a day. To myself. It stings, but it reminds me of her. It certainly doesn’t hurt as much as the pain in my back. The pain I must ignore. The pain I must work through. Worth through for her.
Thank you so much everyone who participated this year! We had a GREAT turnout and some really clever interpretations of the prompts :D Whether you participated one day or all of them, you helped in making this a fantastic Falloutober!
We will continue to check the tags and queue posts over the next couple of weeks (and several are still queued so if you haven't seen your latest submissions yet, don't fret!) You are welcome to @ the blog for later submissions to be found, too!
