#fo4 fic

Happy 10th birthday (jfc where did the time go) to Fallout 4, my darling my beloved my happy place.

I can’t wait for people to get to know Jules better, but I don’t wanna spoil too much so for now I just keep my mouth shut and draw pictures. But she has finally emerged from the vault, you’ll get more from here on out.

That lyric is so HER tho.

MacCready watches in the dim red light as a woman shoulders her way through the door. She’s tall, a foot taller than him at least, and built like a yao guai. She’s also armed to the fucking teeth, with two heavy bags and a rifle slung to her back, not to mention a sweet-looking pistol strapped to her belt. Her face is a stony mask of nothing, which comes with the territory in Goodneighbor, but for some reason her gaze is unusually piercing. He realizes there’s only one entrance and exit in his dark, dingy little lounge.

MacCready takes a risk on an intimidating new client, only to discover she comes as a package deal with the shadow on the wall.

Here are five albums I imagine being either liked/loved by and/or describing my Lone Wanderer (Annette Davis), Courier Six (Calinda Carter), and Sole Survivour (Nora Norwich). Their stories are linked here via my Fallout fics masterpost.

Lone Wanderer/Annette Davis

Amorphous (Icon For Hire)

Messy (San Roman)

Speak Now (Taylor Swift) + click here for the best version of Better Than Revenge

Life Screams (Lacey Sturm)

Unbreakable (Fireflight)

Courier Six/Calinda "Cal" Carter

Death In Venice Beach (The Bombpops)

Holy Fvck (Demi Lovato)

Gothic Summer (The Veronicas)

To The Wolves (Stitched Up Heart)

Black Sky Sunrise (Crashing Atlas)

Sole Survivour/Nora Norwich

Kenotic Metanoia (Lacey Sturm)

For Those Who Wait (Fireflight)

Call Me Hysteria (Crashing Atlas)

Memento Mori (Flyleaf)

Darkness (Stitched Up Heart)

Maybe it's because I've started wearing my 'Maxson coat' again for the fall/winter season (yes, I seriously have one IRL. I love this coat so freaking much, lol. It's ridiculous how much I love this coat, lmao. And I've gotten *SO* many compliments on it from people! But I digress...), but I've been thinking of 'Shadow of Steel' a lot lately (my 'Fallout 4' fanfic, for anyone who doesn't know).

Truthfully, I really never stopped thinking about it. Even in my busiest days, it was still always in the back of my mind. I never wanted to give up on it, and even when I thought I might have to just let it go forever, it was still lurking around in the back of my brain, demanding I continue the characters' stories (especially since Nora is still technically kidnapped in it and I actually feel bad about it, and Arthur Maxson hates me for it, LMAO).

I don't expect many people to still care about this fic - and considering how much time has gone by since I first started writing it, I wouldn't blame you. And it's not a short fic, either. It's quite long. So to anyone you might want to read it or start over from the beginning to refresh their memory of it, it's a bit of a feat.

Looking back on it, there's parts of the fic that I'm not crazy about - either b/c I'm not 100% thrilled with the way I wrote stuff at that time (quality-wise), or little tiny decisions I made with characters here & there. However, people who have commented on the fic have been sooo generous, kind, and flattering to me regardless, and I can't even put in to words just how much their words have meant to me (especially a review that I actually got kind of recently, to my surprise, and it blew me away... if you're reading these words now, I will respond to your comment as soon as I can! I haven't forgotten/ignored you! <3 )

SO.

Here's my 'thought': despite everything, I DO want to continue writing this fic! Even if no one read it, it's still something that's important to me - even if I can't put into words why, exactly.

If even one or two people reading this would be willing to continue enjoying a future of 'Shadow of Steel', I put it to you - would you rather see: - a 'rebooted do-over' of 'Shadow of Steel', starting from the very beginning - the main plot would be exactly the same, but small (insignificant in the long run) details would be updated/rewritten in a way I feel more satisfied with - and once caught up to the current point, the fic would continue from there. - OR - - I just keep whatever's already there there, and just continue straight on from this point.

The new chapter for my Paladin Danse slowburn fic is up now on ao3! 💕

On Love & Loss

For mature audience, TW: Grief, Fear, mild gore

Chapter 3: Rules be damned, I will help her [part 1]

Description: Soldier's fortunate enough to board the Prydwen are expected to adhere to her rules. The rules protect the sanctity of BoS intel, dangerous technology, and future plans involving the Commonwealth. This knowledge in the wrong hands could devastate the BoS. Understandably, tensions run high and rumors rampant as Paladin Danse carries the unconscious body of Nora, General of the Minutemen aboard. Can Paladin Danse convince the Brotherhood to accept her?

Chapter 2 - The Paladin, Chapter 1 - The General

a quick summary: lecter d. longfellow, born resident of far harbor and adopted son of old longfellow, is taken to the commonwealth for a change of scenery to deal with the revelation that he is, in fact, a prototype synth himself; a cyborg between a gen 2 and gen 3 and falls in love with none other than john hancock.

all warnings needed for the fic are tagged! but to give you an idea, things that will be prominent throughout chapters are drug usage, alcohol abuse, and topics of death, among other similar topics.

you can give it a read here:

And on a Wednesday!

Tagging: @alder-berry @wastelandhell @bokatan @kyngsnake @twolargepepperoni-and-a-calzone @vnknowncrow and anybody else who would like to share from WIPs!

This is from a companion story: Fly Away Little Bird:

“Damn! Throat’s been cut! We got an attacker!”

The raiders all stood and spread out, looking around frantically for her. But Sparrow had been prepared for this and had moved to the opposite side of the camp. She slid up to a log that had just been vacated by a stocky raider and waited for the man to come around the log to look for her. As soon as he was in range, she sliced his hamstrings and then slid her knife up his leg as he fell, nicking an artery and leaving him to bleed out. 

Two.

A hail of gunfire peppered the ground where she was at. One bullet hit her arm, the pain a sharp bite, but she didn’t let it slow her. Instead, she stood and ran towards the one with the wicked energy weapon, leapt, and stabbed into the raider with her knives. The raider screamed, high pitched and pained, and tried to pull Sparrow free. She held onto the knives and dropped her weight down, letting her body weight drag the wickedly sharp edges down and through the leather as if the leather was paper. The raider dropped as a bullet winged her shoulder. 

Bean was going to be pissed.

She landed on her feet and spun, tracking the two raiders who held guns up and pointed at her. Diving forward, she let the wet ground sink under her to pull her from sight, counted to five as bullets landed in the muck around her, and then pushed up to her feet, jumping free of the mud and running towards one of the remaining raiders. 

The second raider fired at her as she ran and she dodged, throwing herself forward and towards the first remaining raider. They squawked and danced backwards, trying to get away from her so they could fire. She grinned and came up and pushed them, watching as they fell into the fire, roll out, and run towards the water. 

The bark of a gun behind her reminded her that there was still a raider. She felt the bullet hit her just above the last gunshot, also going through her arm. The pain was starting to get bad. She needed to end this.

She grabbed a burning stick and threw it at the raider, who dodged out of the way. It gave her enough time to throw one of her knives and hit them in the chest. The raider went down. 

She walked over to them and kicked their corpse, pulling her knife free. She picked up the slim rifle and looked through the scope, grimacing at the vision of the last, steaming, raider. She hated guns. She hated rifles. This one was too long to shoot from her shoulder, so she lowered it to her hip and saying a begging prayer, fired.