Hello! I think it’s great you are writing during these crazy times. However, I feel like when you post so much about your word counts or all the ideas you have, it can come off as bragging and is very intimidating to other fanfic authors. Even the sheer amount of content you’re posting is hard to keep up with! I know you’ve tried to be encouraging, but it isn’t coming across that way and wanted to give you that heads up.
I’m not sure where this is coming from, and isn’t the best message to wake up to this morning but okay. I don’t even know how to respond, because what this essentially sounds like, reading between the lines, is that you’d rather me not write or post anything at all.
That being said, I apologize for celebrating my accomplishments, especially if it is having an adverse reaction on others. I’ll avoid talking about that kind of stuff here in the future if it’s that problematic.
4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?
Depending on the length of the story I’m working on, I almost always have some kind of outline. Be it a rough bullet listing of what I want to do with the story, or a few lines of dialogue, or the general setting. I generally don’t stray from the outlines in shorter stories/ficlets since at that point, they’re half written. I have a lot of notes saved on my phone like this.
For something like my Noir AU, that was completely outlined (20 pages) in full detail before I started writing any chapter in full (though a few scenes had been written). Here, since it’s a longer fic, I’ve strayed from the outline a few times more than once.
10. Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?
Plot, or at least, the scenes that drive the story forward. As much as I love exposition and the research that goes into it (sometimes), I have the most fun writing characters interacting and doing stuff. I also love the quiet moments that set up romantic plot or further drive UST (or give us fluffy feels).
18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.
Recently, I’m really proud of the last section of the most recent chapter of Salvation is a Last Minute Business, which is this quiet church scene between Deacon and Mads. A confession, lots of emotion and drama and underlying UST (and of course, more religious themes because that’s what you need for this pairing and story HA!). Once I started writing it, it just came out very naturally. I can’t get super detailed about it, because spoilers, but it’s such a pivotal moment for the two in their relationship (I mean, it’s also chapter 10 lol) and I’m just so happy the way it turned out with the rest of the plot surrounding it. :)
Are you still taking sensory prompts? If you are, how about 46 for Mads please?
The waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed
Deacon x Madelyn Hardy (Agent Charmer)
because one day I’ll write a fic where Deacon calls Mads by her actual freakin’ name right? 👀
1417 words (under a cut because I have no shame) | Ao3
Deacon could still see the smoke on the horizon as he stoodoutside the Old North Church, wispy plumes of grey floating up into the eveningsky as he stared Northbound. Bunker Hill—while the Railroad had beensuccessful in keeping the escaped synths alive and out of the Institute’shands, the battle was far from a walk in the park. No, it was more like a walkin a minefield, with a mass of teleporting Gen-1s and Coursers—oh—andthe Brotherhood of Steel. How they managed to find out about the battlewas beyond him, but it turned an already sticky situation nearly to disaster.
More Railroad agents were lost to both the Institute and theBrotherhood. While Bunker Hill had been saved, it was no longer a viablelocation for the Railroad. Worse yet, whatever undercover operation Charmer hadbeen working on within the Institute walls was no longer a possibility. She haddisappeared from the battlefield—out of Deacon’s sight—reappearing at Railroadheadquarters not too long afterward looking completely dejected. She didn’toffer much to Desdemona, only that she had been banished from the Institute andthat the Railroad’s in, was out.
Their only hope now was to work with the Minutemen—a groupCharmer had long been supportive of to begin with. More than that, she was theirGeneral for Christ’s sake. Desdemona more than encouraged it, seeing thealliance as the golden opportunity the Railroad needed to end the Instituteonce and for all. Then again, the boss was always good at seeing things bigpicture.
Perhaps selfishly, Deacon wasn’t happy—at least in themoment—and decided that the best thing to do was to quietly remove himself fromthe room before he said something stupid in front of Charmer. The last thing hewanted was to hurt her with mean-spirited words when she was already visiblyupset. No throwing a tantrum or dramatic words for this guy—boy, had hechanged—Des was bound to be suspicious, if she wasn’t already. It wasn’t untilhe was outside, defusing himself with a cigarette that he realized walking awaymaybe wasn’t the best idea either. Charmer didn’t deserve to beabandoned, not right now, when she was at her most vulnerable.
Jesus—he was a terrible boyfriend—lover—whatevertheywere.
He inhaled deeply, letting the gentle sting of nicotinesettle in his lungs for a few moments before breathing out. Charmer, if she wasthere, would rather he not smoke and so after one last huff he flickedthe stub to the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of his boot. Just in time,he noticed a familiar shade of blonde hair out the corner of his eye slinkingalong the church sidewalk. For once he allowed her to sneak up on him, turningslightly towards her so she knew he wasn’t completely blocking her out,despite his earlier exit.
“Hey,” she said, quietly, testing the waters.
Deacon was suddenly very nervous. All with one word—shetruly had him wrapped around her finger—but did she even know it? He nodded ather, reining in his emotions. “Hey.”
Charmer’s expression was difficult to read. Even after allthe time and emotional strife they had shared, she was a chameleon, soperfectly good at masking what was truly running through her mind. But hefocused on those stormy blue eyes, the same he had been steadily falling inlove with for months now. She was clearly troubled over the day’s events—moreso from her conversation with Shaun, than what transpired at Bunker Hill. Atleast, Deacon was guessing there was a conversation with her son, or at least adisagreement, or else they wouldn’t be here now.
“Are you okay?” she asked next, and there—subtly, hecould hear it in the tone of her voice. She was asking him the questionbut oh man—Deacon could’ve choked on the guilt he felt rising in hischest.
Charmer shouldn’t be the one checking up on him when she hadbeen the one doing the brunt of the emotional legwork for the Railroad.Institute infiltration? Zapped in and out without a clear indication of hersurvival? Running around Bunker Hill in a field of enemy soldiers and synths? Yeah.Comparatively, Deacon’s qualms were tiny. Minuscule. Practically nonexistent.Made him wonder why he was so resistant to helping the Minutemen in the firstplace. Weren’t they…on the same side?
“Woah now,” he started, reaching out his hands to rest onher shoulders, giving them an affectionate squeeze before shifting to brush afew fallen curls back behind her ear. His fingers lingered along her cheek andhe offered a small, sympathetic smile. “I should be asking you. Aftertoday—”
He stopped, hating the way the words sounded and decided to startover. Even Charmer seemed momentarily confused by his pause, blinking at himuntil he spoke, “Hey, I’m sorry for storming out.”
“Is that what you call storming out?” she questioned, theslightest glimmer of amusement returning to her features. “I would love to seewhat a full-blown Deacon-diva breakdown looks like.”
He smirked, threading his fingers through her hair in softlittle sweeps. “Shouting from the rooftop, extended monologues, broken glass…ohand nudity.”
Her eyebrows raised with a small smile as she hooked herarms gently around his waist. “Nudity works,” she paused, releasing a longsigh. “Today was…not how I wanted things to go.”
Deacon nodded, allowing her all the time she needed to workthrough what she wanted to say. Charmer’s brows furrowed, and she frowned. “Afterall the time I spent searching for my son, whatever I had hoped to find,whatever relationship I had hoped to build with him—all I have isdisappointment. The Institute—”
She broke off, eyes glazed over with tears that she blinkedaway. Her fingers twisted against the leather of his jacket as she shook herhead. “I can’t blame him for the circumstances. He’s still my son, I still lovehim, I always will. But I can’t stand by and let him destroy the Commonwealth.”
Charmer didn’t say anything else, just settled herselfagainst his chest as she hugged him, arms wrapping tightly around his middle.Deacon didn’t speak either and did what he could to comfort her in the momentand just held her, caressing her hair and running his hand down her back insoothing circles. Even if she was quiet about it, she was trembling in hisarms, clearly crying, her hands clenching the back of his jacket as she hid herface in his shoulder.
How long they stood there, he wasn’t certain, but Deacondidn’t move until she did, slowly peeling away to glance up at him with a shakysmile. “Ugh, I’ve got snot all over your shirt.”
He reached to push at his sunglasses, so they rested on hishead, snagging along his pompadour wig. Only Charmer got to see him like this, intheir private little moments, but more and more he felt like the action was becomingnatural. He softly chuckled at her half-hearted attempts to wipe at hischest, catching her hand in his.
“Is this an inappropriate time to make a joke about bodilyfluids?”
Charmer’s laugh was a joyous relief, echoing out into theNorth End neighborhood night. She gazed at him, soft eyes just saying more thanshe ever needed to, those red stained lips curled up in a secret smile savedjust for him. She rested one hand on his cheek—a gentle touch of her soft skin asshe leaned up to kiss him—gingerly at first but it never stayed that way, notwith them.
“You need some gum to chew on,” she teased him between heatedkisses, tasting the smoke that lingered on his lips and tongue. But she didn’tstop, grinning against his mouth when he wedged her between his body and thechurch wall.
“No,” Deacon insisted, tucking her closer to himself. “Ijust need you.”
More kisses, more laughter and then it was just the two ofthem, stronger than ever, ready to face whatever the world was to throw atthem.
“Where to next?” Deacon asked, knowing she had a plan.
Charmer shook her head, hugging him closer as she nuzzledher head into the crook of his shoulder. “Nowhere. At least not tonight,” shereplied in a soft voice. “Tonight, I think we should just be.”
For the line of dialogue asks, “Kiss me before I go” for Fiona and Brynjolf, please?
Brynjolf x Fiona
772 words | Ao3
Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased.
Fiona read over the letter, clenching her teeth in frustration at seeing the familiar name. This wasn’t the first time the Cultists from Solstheim had shown themselves—she had encountered them in growing frequency over the last several months—from Solitude all the way to Falkreath. It wasn’t until the Cultists began showing up in Riften under the cover of darkness, attacking anybody they could just to get to her that she knew she needed to react.
She spent most of the night hunched over her Guildmaster desk organizing the books, ensuring that her plans would come to fruition with or without her presence in the city. Most of the Guild seemed to understand that she was planning on heading away—but for how long, neither she nor the others didn’tknow. The hardest part about the situation was undoubtedly what she was goingto say to Brynjolf. He would want to go with her to Raven Rock but what she really needed more than anything was for him to remain to keep the Guild in thriving order.
“Nocturnal preserve me,” she whispered, bowing slightly as she passed the statue in the Cistern on her way out—she would need the blessing for what she was about to ask of her second—her lover.
Fiona found Brynjolf at Honeyside, in his usual spot by the fireside, slowly nursing a cup of brandy. They had shared the homestead for nearly three years, and with that came a lot of habits for her to memorize—Brynjolf was very much a creature of habit. He acknowledged her return with a warm smile, hardly moving except to open his arm in invitation.
“You’re home early,” he commented as she approached. Fiona could only nod, the stress of the situation causing her chest to feel the heaviest it had been in months. Even in all the years of knowing Brynjolf, she had no way of knowing how he’d react—he had a way of being moody when he didn’t get his way, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.
She settled down across his lap, smiling when he pulled her into a hug. She tucked her chin against his shoulder, sighing when she thought about leaving him behind to fight an unknown enemy. When she had taken on the responsibility to defeat Alduin, he had traveled with her to so many differentplaces just to have the chance to fight at her side. It was something Fiona waseternally grateful for but this time he would need to trust her.
“Usually long stretches of silence are followed by bad news,” he teased, running a hand down her back.
Fiona hesitantly pulled away, raising a hand to cradle the side of his face. She offered a small, but reserved smile. “I need to travel to Solstheim. After the Cultists.”
Brynjolf nodded but was silent as his eyes searched hers, waiting for the other boot to drop. “Alone?”
“Alone.”
He let out a long grumble, eyes fluttering closed. Fiona brushed her thumb across his cheek, bracing herself for the inevitable argument. But instead, after a long moment, he simply opened his eyes and let out a long sigh. She looked at him with concern and he shook his head.
“I won’t pretend not to be upset lass,” he admitted. “But I’ve learned not to argue with you on matters you’ve already decided on.”
Fiona wasn’t sure what to think, but her heart soared, the weight of the situation lifted off her shoulders. “Really? You do realize that decision includes one that makes you acting Guildmaster.”
Brynjolf’s expression faltered a little, but he ultimately laughed. “How wonderful, I get to boss Delvin around.”
She shifted, snuggling up to him in another much more contented embrace. “I need to return to the Guild and make more preparations.”
Brynjolf didn’t seem ready to let her go so soon, even if it was only back down to the Ratways.
“Kiss me before I go.” Fiona wasn’t asking—she just wanted extra confirmation that everything between the two of them was and would be okay. He promptly acted, kissing along her jawline first before pressing softly against her lips. It was soft and passionate—everything Fiona needed after the day she had.
“I’m going with you,” Brynjolf spoke as he pulled away, startling her at first. He softly chucked at her expression, quickly kissing her again. “At least to the Cistern, to help with your plans. You aren’t leaving until everything is safe and sound.”
She grinned, leaning against him. “Yes, Guildmaster.”
(reminder that new prompts are currently closed while I catch up on projects)
A month after Ostagar, a blistering Winter fell over most ofsouthern Ferelden. Evelyn and her small group of had begun to travel West toRedcliffe, but the snow had made their progress slow, especially when thehowling winds made it near impossible to navigate the roads. But that morning,the skies were clear, and with the sun unobstructed, it was a little warmerthan usual.
Evelyn had taken the opportunity to scout ahead with Bruce,her mabari playfully prancing through the soft dusting of fresh snow, barkingas if he hadn’t a care in the world. A few paces behind her, Alistair washumming some Chantry hymn, pausing occasionally as if he had forgotten thelyrics. It made her smile, forgetting if just for a moment that they didn’thave a Blight to end.
“Does each snowflake really look different from thenext?” he suddenly asked. “I…wunduh…”
Evelyn creased her brows together, perplexed by his tone andturned to face him. Instantly, she was unable to control her giggling, coveringher mouth with her gloved hand as she found Alistair standing there—his headtilted back, tongue out in an attempt to catch the slow falling drift ofsnowflakes. He realized she was watching and blinked.
“Wha—?”
“You are insufferably adorable,” she chuckled.
Alistair whined, straightening. “Insufferable?”
“I think you’re focusing on the wrong word, Alistair,”Evelyn stepped through the powder to him, reaching up to ruffle the fallensnowflakes from his hair.
His lips twisted in thought before his eyes widened inrealization and he was looked at her in mild embarrassment. “Oh—oh!”
Evelyn grinned. “What do you think about that?”
Alistair’s expression was hard to read as he stared at herfor a moment, eyes darting across her face. In one swift moment he leaned overto press a kiss to her cheek. It was fleeting, but it left her surprised andwith a bubbling warmth radiating through her chest. She blinked herself back toreality, tucking her shoulders up as if to hide her face into the fabric of herscarf and cloak.
He flashed a self-satisfied smirk. “That’s what I thinkabout that.”
💕 How is your OC like with physical affection? What are their boundries? Do they enjoy being touched or is that a no-go? Is there any reason behind this?
Madelyn loves physical affection. Touch is her love language, so she is particulaly needy for it. However, she knows that not everybody is comfortable with the notion of it and holds herself back a lot. She’s partial to hugs and loves to give them to her friends once she gets permission to do so. Anytime she finds somebody who is comfortable with little friendly/plutonic touches, she finds it much easier to get along with them. (This is probably why her and Deacon click!)
Rosie isn’t so inclined to physical touch, mostly because she’s a shy girl. She grew up feeling uncomfrotable with it (and was picked on a lot, so touch = bad). As she’s gotten older, she’s had to relearn this, especially when it comes to romantic behaviors, as she really likes kissing (and...other activities). Mostly, she just needs a heads-up and eased into touching, and her permission first. That, or she really needs to trust the person. Otherwise, you can expect to be pushed away...or Rambo-knifed.
👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)
“I see a lot behind these shades, including the way Charmer charms her way across the Commonwealth. She’s a natural--that beautiful smile and red lipstick (where the hell does she find it?), leaves people hanging on every word. A ray of sunshine and you’re desperate to be burned.”
“Stitches was one hell of a nerd growing up in the vault and annoyed the hell outta me. She’s still a nerd, but she’s the most bashful, nicest gals I know. Lucky me she gave me a second chance. And yeah, she’s really quiet but if you say the right thing or crack the right joke and you’ll get her laughing and damn if that aint’ the sweetest sound around.”
Top five comforts in this CRAZY nonsense world we live in right now. ❤️
WRITING
Creative outlets are important! I write to keep me distracted and most of the time it works! Keeps me in a happy little bubble! I also love sharing it for everybody here! I put this in a reply, but I hope it sparks joy!
Ice cream
Mostly because it is now officially summer time on the West Coast as it has been over 100 degrees F for the last two weeks. I like to chop up bananas and put it over vanilla ice cream because I’m weird.
VIDAGEMS
I’ve been replaying Fallout: New Vegas... again. Again. The saga of corrupted game files and glitches continues. But I’ve actually been managing and haven’t run into anything weird. I made a brand new Courier Six named “Lucky” Daisy... trying to figure out what she’s all about.
Obligatory Animal Crossing on the side
My cat, PETER
He snores so much and doesn’t know how to socially distance; he hogs up so much space as he is the largest cat in existence. (This is not true, but he is very large).
Pop music
I have been loudly (very loudly) singing and serenading my cat to keep myself entertained and energized. Mostly 80s New Wave but then I will put Prince vinyls on or just jam out to Taylor Swift or The Weeknd. Or Carly Rae Jepsen... Anything to help me dance up and down my stairs.
2. What biome/state are you hoping gets a Fallout game next?
I would love for Bethesda to take us outside of the Americas. Like take us to Canada, or Europe...but we all know they are cowards and will never do that. Even though the lore would make those games so GD interesting.
Honestly, a return to California or the West Coast wouldn’t be bad, especially with new game mechanics. But if we are talking a completely new area of the country, I think they should go for the Midwest. Chicago maybe, or Wisconsin.
Or a state/area that borders Canada so we can have potential DLC that takes us into the wilds up there. Maybe I just want to see a giant, mutated moose, okay?
