#potato answer

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. 

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. :)

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.

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.”

Back to my Dragon Age roots! A CLASSIC OTP!

Alistair x Evelyn Cousland

360 words | Ao3

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.”

x - x

💕 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.” 

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 

(yes! thank you so much! my writing block spell is OFFICIALLY BROKEN) 

Brynjolf x Fiona

Touching noses together

754 words | Ao3

Brynjolf was bored.

Not that life in the Cistern or the Thieves Guild was boring—but jobs were far and few between, at least the exciting ones—and so, Brynjolf was bored. That afternoon he was pretending to make busy by loitering near the alchemy station, and it had nothing to do with the fact Fiona was working there…or maybe it was.

Fiona hadn’t been with the Guild for very long, but ever since he had recruited her, and gone on a few missions with the lass, he couldn’t help but find her interesting—for the lack of a better word. Captivating was better, but he didn’t  feel like using such a heavily weighted term quite yet. Not when he was certain Delvin could read his thoughts, already giving him enough gripe for corrupting the newest recruit.

He watched her carefully, admiring her skill for mixing potions and poisons—she was certainly far better at it than he would ever be. She knew he was nearby, perched up on the table and toying with some containers, but otherwise paid him no attention. He was still trying to figure what made Fiona…Fiona. Baring their trip to Falkreath the previous month where they had quite the drunken heart-to-heart, he had yet to learn much more about her. But he wanted to.

“Tell me more about your parents,” he called out, absentmindedly twisting a jar of mushrooms in his hands. Fiona visibly flinched, hands faltering as she continued to chop ingredients for whatever potion she was mixing.

“W—what?” she looked at him, brows furrowing before her expression went neutral once more. “A little unexpected…”

Brynjolf chuckled, shrugging at her startled state. “Just curious.”

He could tell she was hesitant and for a moment, the silence dragged on with only the sounds of the alchemy table echoing between them. Finally, Fiona sighed. “I don’t have a lot of memories…” she trailed before the smallest twinge of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “They used to embarrass me with their public displays of affection.”

Brynjolf laughed at that. “Ah, so that sort of thing embarrasses you, lass? I’ll have to remember that.”

Fiona shot him a warning glance, but it was all tease and no vitriol. “I must’ve convinced them to stop because the only thing I vividly remember is their nose kisses.”

“Nose kisses?”

She eyed him skeptically. “Oh, come on Bryn. Don’t tell me you’re so lewd that all you know is messy tongues and rough snogging.”

“I know things about kissing,” he playfully argued, crossing his arms in defiance. He paused, wondering if he could get away with a little flirtation. “Though, I wouldn’t mind a demonstration.”

“Of course you would,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Brynjolf sighed, relaxing slightly where he sat. He expected her to leave the conversation at that—sure he was disappointed, but he was used to that by now, especially with Fiona. But soon he noticed her glancing at him from over her shoulder, nervously fluttering her eyes away when she realized he had caught her looking. He smirked, watching as she bottled the potion she had just refined and with a few, slow careful steps she was standing right before him.

“Change your mind?” he asked, careful not to sound overzealous, even though there was a certain kind of pitter-patter to her heart that he couldn’t explain. Fiona didn’t answer, instead positioning herself between his knees, resting her hands along the table on either side, framing his body.

Brynjolf stayed perfectly still, not daring to close his eyes until she tilted her head closer, the tip of her nose brushing against his. The contact caused a spark to shoot all the way down to his toes, his gut igniting with an emotion he had been struggling to quell since that first fateful meeting in the Bee and Barb. It was so innocent, so unlike any kiss he’d had before and perhaps that’s what excited him more. Fiona’s nose pressed a little harder against his, sliding against the bridge in a gentle sweep. Her lips were close enough to his that he could move a fraction of an inch and be kissing her for real, but for once in his life he found restraint.

Fiona eventually leaned away, and when she did, she was smiling as if she had stolen a secret from him—one he hadn’t even realized he had been keeping. Brynjolf could only smile back. At least with Fiona around, he’d never be bored.