#nick valentine x mysterious stranger

[crassinova]

That Man

THIS SONG IS FOR THEEMMMMM FOR THEEEMMMMMMEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU HAVE TO UNDERTSNAD

sorry if the windows are a bother i dont like negative spaces o/

+ (sketch i guess and me rambling)

NO MORE OVERWHELMING SCHOOL AOLS THIS WEEK IM FREE (kinda i have one more i have to finsihed tomorrow but AUAAAAGAAFAHAGSJAHMN!!!!!!

during my school meltdown i made fallout aus focusing on nick and stranger (sadly) I really hope to share them. Theres also my fallout ocs too because I like them i love my ocs and i hope you like them too, i have something planned for them too though its a slow process because again school. eueueueusyyau but hey winter break is coming soon

[s-m-i-w-e-y-teeth]

i hate america rn!!!

The poster is from the show Bones, it was the 200th in the 10th. It was fifties themed and i reallyyy wanted to use it for my fanmade quest

[sleepysailorghost]

More than a mask

It was easier for Tracy to hide how she felt than it was for her to show it.

It hadn’t always been that way, she imagined- and surely she could remember herself as a child, capable of throwing fits and crying till her face was red with rage. But it was as if those feelings were locked behind a vault now.

That, she supposed, was a good way to put it. It summarized everything quite nicely.

The vault broke Tracey and she knew it. Before the end, she had been doing fine for herself. She had a happy and healthy baby, a loving and supportive husband, and good friends. She had been seeing a therapist to help her overcome and come to terms with her neglectful and abusive childhood and learn to be a better mother for Shaun.

It was slow-going. Tracey had a hard time opening up enough to actually let her therapist into her feelings. But she felt that she had been making progress.

A lot of her progress wouldn’t have been possible without Nate, she admitted. Without having met and fallen so in love with Nate, she never would have even thought that she needed help.

But then came the end of the world. Bombs rained down from the sky and destroyed the world of man. But oh- Tracey always survives.

She thought herself so clever, hiding away from the fire cast down against man in the hollow earth, but it was nothing more than a trap.

Nate died for her arrogance, just as surely as if she had pulled the trigger herself. Nate died and they stole Shaun from his arms and Tracey lived, as if her punishment was to keep living.

There is a wound in her chest that never closes.

But it will never show on her face. Not in public, not around another person. Wasteland creatures, though, know her and fear her as the creature who carried death in its arms.

This is the only way she can keep going, she knows. Keep everything contained, and don’t get close to anyone.

It is easy for her to slip back into old habits. The mask she wears just as easily becomes her face, just as easily as she discards her humanity and becomes a doll.

And then she looks for Nick. Initially, looking for him had meant nothing more than a path to find her son.

She noted, of course, that his name was the same as her friend and former partner, Nick Valentine. But she knew better than to hope that Nick was still alive in some form.

And in some way, he was and wasn’t. His memories had been placed into a synth body.

He did not, however recognize Tracey now, so she chose not to evoke their pre-war memories.

Nick may not remember the days they spent working together before, but Tracey did and those memories brought her comfort now.

He pushed, occasionally, at her mask, trying to provoke her into a smile, a frown, to build a friendship with her. But it was harder now for Tracey to let him in, to let up her mask.

She would not let him. And so he stayed an arms length away.

Eventually, he returned to his office in Diamond City, and Tracey returned to the wastelands.

She missed her friend, and hated herself for it. She hated herself for letting him get close enough for her to miss him, even if he didn’t know.

When she met Danse, she appeared like a pistol-wielding angel, rescue from the hordes of ghouls carried in her hands.

This time, Tracey was more cautious than she had been with Nick. It was easier this time because nothing about Danse was familiar.

He didn’t push either, didn’t try to get her to open up to him. They just worked together.

And so Tracey went, looking for her boy as desperately as she could, waiting to either turn up a lead or for Nick to find one.

She and Nick have discussed the kidnapping, gone over every detail that she could recall, but it was more difficult to find one man in a wasteland than you’d think.

The day they found their first lead, it was like any other.

Tracey woke in her house, a feeling of dread and anxiety overtaking her. This was nearly routine for the widow; spiked levels of fear had started following her sleep since she woke in Vault 111.

She carefully reviewed her last memories, remembering laying down for the night in her home. After that, she identified a few of her landmark items, calming her anxiety.

Tracey’s heart filled with self-loathing after her ritual was completed. She wished she was dead.

Getting ready quickly, she headed over to Nick’s office to see if he had any new work or any leads on Shaun.

She walked through the door.

It looked just like she remembered it, the pale cream walls, clean linoleum floors, and her partner Nick sitting behind his desk. She could hear Nick’s crappy coffee maker percolating, and she drank in the familiar aroma.

He looked up at her as she walked in, giving her a slight smile.

“Morning, Tracey. Ready to get to work?”

“Ready,” she said, as Nick got up to pour the coffee. He handed her a mug, black with two sugar cubes, and she absentmindedly took a sip. “How’s Jenny?”

Nick gave her an odd expression, like he didn’t understand what she was asking or why she asked. Tracey didn’t know what she had said wrong-maybe she was more tired than she thought-Shaun had cried the whole night.

She took another sip of her coffee, hoping it would wake her up a little more. She thought Nick needed to buy a replacement coffee pot-her coffee didn’t taste right, oddly bitter and chalky.

There was a picture on Nick’s desk, one she knew well. It was of Nick, Jenny, Nate and herself. They took it at the bowling parlor, a double date. She looked at it, trying to focus on the details, but it wouldn’t come into focus, the faces melting and sliding.

“Tracey?” Nick asked, and the world flashed back to reality. The photo was gone and the office was gone.

Another hallucination, Tracey thought to herself. Nick acted strangely when she asked after Jenny because Jenny had died, the coffee tasted wrong because it was wasteland coffee and they had no sugar, and she couldn’t focus on the picture because she was forgetting Nick and Jenny and Nate’s faces. Because they were gone and she was the only one left.

“Sorry, Nick.” She said, leaving it at that. She hallucinated more frequently than she would like to admit. Tracey wasn’t an expert, but she knew it wasn’t good for her to be loosing the plot like she was, and she knew she couldn’t tell anyone.

They went to the house Nick had found. They followed the tracks he had left. It was almost like he wanted them to follow, but Tracey didn’t trust herself enough to tell for certain.

The trail brought them to Fort Hagen. The building was monstrous to Tracey, a maze of tunnels, doors, synths and robots. Kellogg’s voice taunted her over the announcement system, and she fought not to rise to the bait. She kept loosing her way and having to turn back.

Finally, she arrived at Kellogg's room. She and Nick steeled themselves, but the fight didn’t go well.

It went quite badly, actually. Tracey would have died, if it wasn’t for Nick. Still, she was going to lose her eye, according to the doctor.

She had laid in Kellogg’s room for a long time after he died. She thought she was dying, even after Nick tended to her wounds.

Kellogg is dead, and she lives. Tracey always survives, she thought.

They took Kellogg’s cybernetic augmentations to the Memory Den. Although it took less than a day for them to relive Kellogg’s memories, it seemed to take an eternity for Tracey.

It didn’t make her more sympathetic to Kellogg. There was little that would. It had given them a new heading, and worse, it had given Nick a look into Tracey’s mind. Their minds were connected while they had looked through Kellogg’s memories.

He had seen her memories, seen Nate die, seen her hallucinations, seen her charge at enemies she couldn’t take and nearly die.

“Tracey,” he said, a few hours after they had finished up at the Memory Den. “We need to talk. I think you need help.”

Tracey didn’t know what to say. She felt as though she was mute.

“I know you, Tracey, and I know that you remember that we were friends before the war. I care about you and I am afraid that you are going to die. I have lost everything else, and I don’t want to loose you again.”

“I don’t know how.” Tracey said. “Nick, I’m scared.”

She hadn’t said anything like that since she woke up in the vault. She felt like the bottle was about to explode, like her mask was slipping off.

She stuttered a bit as she spoke next.

“Where do we go from here?”

That was the question. They couldn’t realistically proceed with the leads they had got from Kellogg yet, as Tracey’s injuries were quite severe. So they stayed in Diamond City for a while as Tracey healed and tried to come to terms with the fact that her baby boy was ten years old now.

Ten years had been stolen from her. She wished she were dead.

She and Nick talked a lot. Things they remembered, places they missed, but mostly people they missed: Jenny, Nate, Farmer, and Shaun. She still kept bottling up her feelings, hiding them beneath her mask.

Eventually, she was recovered enough to take up the search again, her mask more firmly fitted to her face than it had been.

And then, it was time for her to infiltrate the Institute.

It was a mistake. She ran through the Institute, looking for her son, and she found him. He was in a small glass room.

“Shaun!” She called, but he didn’t recognize her. He didn’t know who she was. He panicked and then fell limp as an older man strode into the room.

He said that he was Shaun, that he was her son, and then things escalated, he started talking about how she was damaged and how he was going to fix her.

And then she fell unconscious.

When she woke up, she was in a small white room. It looked wrong-and her eye wasn’t gauzed up anymore. There was an eye where there wasn’t one previously.

I have to get out of here-I have to get out here! That was the only thought running through her head.

She clicked through her Pip-Boy, frantically trying to teleport back out-anywhere was better than here!

Her panicked fingers struggled with the dial, but she disappeared in a beam of white light. As her feet touched the ground, her mask slipped-no, it fell and she collapsed, howling with the pent up rage, fear, and sorrow.

No one approached her-as if they were frightened of what could make the icy knight turn into a maelstrom of emotions. She clawed at her eye, trying to pull the monster out of her head.

She didn’t remember a lot after that. She was later told that the Brotherhood had sedated her and took her away. For sometime after that, Tracey laid and did nothing. She felt as if she was truly broken, as if she had no hope.

[reareaotaku]

Masterlist III | COMPLETED

Finished: June 7, 2024 [12:27 PM CDT] *= Slightly NSFW/NSFW Masterlist I Masterlist II Masterlist IV

I Am Not Okay with This

Stanley Barber

Stanley Barber Headcanons Late Night Calls Backseat Driving*

Stranger Things

Mike Wheeler

My Sweet Valentine I Loathe You [Mike's POV]* Mike Wheeler & Jane 'Eleven' Hopper Headcanons Jealous Mike Wheeler Headcanons Brother's Best Friend*

Lucas Sinclair

My Sweet Valentine

Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

My Sweet Valentine Mike Wheeler & Jane 'Eleven' Hopper Headcanons Jealous Eleven

Maxine 'Max' Mayfield

My Sweet Valentine

Billy Hargrove

My Sweet Valentine

Steve 'The Hair' Harrington

My Sweet Valentine Mean Little Boy I'm in Love with You

Nancy Wheeler

My Sweet Valentine Nancy Wheeler & Robin Buckley Headcanons

Robin Buckley

My Sweet Valentine Nancy Wheeler & Robin Buckley Headcanons

Johnathan Byers

Johnathan Byers Headcanons

IT

Richie Tozier

Richie Tozier Headcanons

Karate Kid

Daniel Larusso

Daniel Larusso Headcanons*

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves

I Can't Lose You Sick Reader

The Goldfinch

Boris Pavlikovsky

Run Away Boris NSFW Headcanons* Injured Reader Mean! Boris Headcanons You're so Drunk*

Theodore 'Theo' Decker

Run Away Theo Decker Headcanons

Celebrities/Influencers

Matt Sturniolo

Matt Headcanons

Blue Beetle

Jaime 'Blue Beetle' Reyes

Jaime 'Blue Beetle' Reyes Headcanons

The Turning

Miles Fairchild

Miles Fairchild SFW/NSFW Headcanons* No Where 2 Run* Reader is Sick School is a Bore [PT 2 of School Girls] Made into a Woman* [Pt 3 of School Girls & School is a Bore] She's the Only Girl I wanna Love* [Pt 2 of Mary is the Girl that I wanna Fuck] Soft Schoolboy Headcanons Maid of the Rich Kind Nanny! Reader* Stalker 2 Be

Ben 10

Ben Tennyson

Yandere! Ben Tennyson Headcanons

Clone High

I Am Not a Clone Series

Where the Fuck am I? [Part 1]

Fear Street

Christine 'Ziggy' Berman

Christine 'Ziggy' Berman Headcanons

Nick Goode

Nick Goode Headcanons

Rick & Morty

Morty Smith

Morth Smith Headcanons Evil Morty Headcanons

Scooby Doo

Fred Jones

Fred Jones Headcanons Fred Jones Mystery Inc Headcanons

Hex Girls

We're the Hex Girls & We're Going to Put a Spell on You

Corpse Bride

Emily the Corpse Bride

Yandere! Emily Headcanons

Young Sheldon

Georgie Cooper

Georgie Cooper Headcanons

When You Finish Saving the World

Ziggy Katz

Yandere! Ziggy Katz Headcanons Jealous! Headcanons

We Are Who We Are

Fraser Wilson

Fraser Wilson Headcanons

Shazam

Freddy Freeman

Freddy Freeman Headcanons

Game of Thrones

Daenerys Targeryan

Male! Daenerys Targeryan Headcanons

Ghostbusters

Trevor Spengler

Jealous Headcanons

Don’t Tell a Soul

Joey

Joey Headcanons

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Rodrick Heffley

Crazy Party What if Rodrick was Jealous?

Wednesday

Wednesday Addams

I Don't Love You Singing my Love [Pt 2 of I Don't Love You] I Know You Got Issues & I Do Too [Male! Wednesday Addams] Male Wednesday Headcanons +drabble

Spiderman

Gwen Stacy

Gwen Stacy Headcanons

Scream

Stu Macher

Stu Macher Headcanons*

Batman

Dick 'Richard' Grayson

Save Me, Baby

Damian Wayne

Superboy vs Robin Damian Wayne Headcanons Love in High Places [Pt 2 of Superboy vs Robin]

Barbara 'Batgirl' Gordon

Barbara Gordon Headcanons

Tim 'Red Robin' Drake

Tim Drake Headcanons

Superman

Jon Kent

Superboy vs Robin Love in High Places [Pt 2 of Superboy vs Robin]

Clark 'Superman' Kent

Superman Headcanons

Lolirock

Iris

Genderbend Iris Headcanons

Shrek

Arthur Pendragon

Arthur Pendragon Headcanons

Kim Possible

Kim Possible

Schoolboy Crush

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Jessica Rabbit

Jessica Rabbit Headcanons

Mario

Princess Peach

Princess Peach Headcanons

Princess Rosalina

Princess Rosalina Headcanons

OC

Prince Alexander

Yandere Prince Headcanons

Ace

Grumpy x Sunshine Headcanons

Nightmare on Elm Street

Glen Lantz

Touch Me

That's Not My Neighbor

Francis 'Milkman' Mosses

Milkman Headcanons*

Goofy Movie/ An Extremely Goofy Movie

Max Goof

Max Goof Headcanons He was a Skater Boy

The Lion King

Kovu

Kovu Headcanons

Beetlejuice

Astrid Deetz

Astrid Deetz Headcanons

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

'Leo' Leonardo

Leonardo Headcanons

'Donnie' Donatello

I Do Not Like You

[danses-with-dogmeat]

2K Event Prompt Masterlist

Here is a list of all the prompts for my 2K Celebration Event! I'll be updating as I go with the links, so you should be able to click on any of them once it's fully completed 😊

Please be sure to pay mind to the ratings of each work as well, and to the details on the prompts themselves once you click on the links so that you're mindful of any saucy explicit material!

Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy! 😁

A: Arcade Gannon -- Fluff -- SFW

B: Benny Gecko -- Fluff -- SFW

C: Charon -- Fluff -- NSFW

D: Deacon -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

E: ED-E -- Fluff -- SFW

F: Fawkes -- Fluff -- SFW

G: Gob -- Fluff -- SFW

H: Mr. House -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

I/O: Old Longfellow -- Hurt/Comfort -- NSFW

J: John Hancock -- Fluff -- NSFW

K: The King -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

L: Lily Bowen -- Fluff -- SFW

M: Mysterious Stranger -- Angst -- SFW

N: Nick Valentine -- Fluff -- NSFW

P: Preston Garvey -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

Q/U/X: Ulysses -- Fluff -- SFW

R: Raul Tejada -- Hurt/Comfort -- NSFW

S: Sunny Smiles -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

T: Three Dog -- Fluff -- NSFW

V: Veronica Santangelo -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

W: Whitechapel Charlie -- Angst -- SFW

Y/Z: Yes Man -- Hurt/Comfort -- SFW

[yama-does-art]

Unfortunate Valentine

Fallout 4 Fanfic Nick Valentine x (f) oc

Status: Permanent Hiatus

Warning: None

Word Count: 621

Takes place after rescuing Nick and back at Diamond City in his Office

Mysteries were Nick's bread and butter. Always has been, for as long as he could remember. It was part of the reason why it was so hard to differentiate himself between the human Nick and the synth. Call it passion or clever programming, when presented with a question, he was driven to find the truth, where ever the road may lead. So imagine his giddiness when one such mystery was presented to him in the form a young woman by the name of Riley Briarhart, who was now sitting across from him in his office.

Just a few hours ago, Miss Briarhart had rescued him from infamous mob boss known as Skinny Malone. A woman on a mission, to be sure. One minute, he was being harassed by the current thug guarding his cell, the next, the vault door sliding open with the man on the floor. At the time, he thought she was just another scavenger. Her features were covered by an assault mask. She wore shoulder pack, leather shinguard and elbow pads, over a ragged set of flannels. Typical attire for wastelanders. If he was being honest with himself, he was preparing for a struggled as he was unarmed and the stranger walked toward to him unflinching. Yet he could not decide what was more jarring, the fact that she offered him her hand or that her first words to him were, "Are you hurt?"

Apparently, she was there searching for information about Vault Tech. The dame didn't even know who or more astonishingly, what he was. As she put it, "Just there at the right time and place."

He took the lead, but the longer she followed, the more he noticed how atypical her behavior actually was.

At first it was little things, like how she picked up seemingly random scrap yet ignore the more valuable loot, to how skilled she can pick a lock on a chest or locker. Then he noticed that his audio sensors were unable to pick up her movements, or how she would count off the number of triggermen in the following room.

There was point while traversing the vault corridors that he faced the barrel of a submachine gun. Most of the previous guards they managed to slip past or intimidate into relinquishing their fire arms. Before he could raise his pistol, the girl darted infront jabbing the ghoul in the gut causing him to collapse. Upon closer inspection, the hitman was merely paralyzed. She showed him that she had a hand-held taser that can incapacitate upon touch. As far as he knew, the only tasers that were capable of that were attached to protectrons.

Then upon facing Malone it finally clicked. This human, a head below his eye level, traversed through the entire vault full of triggermen, all without spilling a drop of blood.

After some convincing, Valentine managed to purswade Miss Briarhart to stay in Diamond city for the night on account that he may be able to help be able to aid in her search. What ever that may entail. Of course he wanted to help the girl, she after all saved him, it was the least he could do. But a small part of him relished at the thought of a new case. He wanted to know more about this stranger. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he could recognize a mystery when when he saw one. She was an anomaly. Her behavior was atypical. Normally he was pretty good at reading people. Part of the job really, but this girl put him at a lost. Just who the hell was she?

[glitchvault74]

Gateway Drug

Rated: T

Characters/Pairings: Mysterious Stranger/Nick Valentine

Summary: Nick knows what addictions can do, and yet he still clings to his own personal addictions...

----

New one-shot! Requested by @falloutglow :>

[chaosintheavenue]

Fallout Opinion Survey- Results!

Thank you so much to all those who took part! We had 421 usable responses in total :D

One quick note- the nature of the data this time around means that most of the auto-generated charts are usable as they are, which does mean this post will be very image-heavy. I’d be very appreciative if someone who knows how to write image descriptions for charts could add them on!

Without further ado, let’s get into the results...

The Basics:

Favourite DLC:

Dead Money- 115 (...nice) Old World Blues- 94 Far Harbor- 76 Lonesome Road- 53 Nuka World- 27 Point Lookout- 17 Honest Hearts- 11 The Pitt- 9 Mothership Zeta- 7 Automatron- 3 Operation Anchorage- 3 Broken Steel- 2 Vault-Tec Workshop- 1

Favourite faction:

Followers of the Apocalypse- 146 Railroad- 62 Minutemen- 45 NCR- 23 Kings- 22 Brotherhood of Steel (all chapters combined)- 20 Yes Man/Wildcard Courier- 18 Great Khans- 14 Enclave- 10 Caesar's Legion- 8 Raiders (76, Nuka World and general combined)- 8 Institute- 6 Chairmen- 5 Unity- 4 Atom Cats- 3 Mr House- 3 Boomers- 3 Freeside- 2 Responders- 2 Children of Atom- 2 Ghoul settlements in general- 2 Hubologists- 2 Tunnel Snakes- 2 And the list of those with one vote each: The Family, Think Tank, Reaver Movement, Ciphers, Broken Hills, Powder Gangers, Reilly's Rangers, Acadia, Goodneighbor, Underworld, White Glove Society, Omertas, Jacobstown, post-Legion Ulysses, Cult of the Mothman, 80s, and talking Deathclaws from Fallout 2

Favourite companion:

Arcade Gannon- 75 Nick Valentine- 53 Hancock- 39 Veronica- 38 Deacon- 30 ED-E- 26 Raul- 23 Boone- 22 MacCready- 13 Christine Royce- 12 Dogmeat (all)- 11 Fawkes- 10 Preston Garvey- 10 Charon- 9 Rex- 9 Butch Deloria- 8 Goris- 8 Cait- 7 Danse- 7 Piper- 7 Lily- 6 Marcus- 6 Rose of Sharon Cassidy- 6 Curie- 5 Porter Gage- 4 Dean Domino- 4 X6-88- 3 Strong- 3 Ulysses- 3 RL-3- 3 Ian- 2 Dog/God- 2 Codsworth- 2 Joshua Graham- 2 Old Longfellow- 2 Lenny- 2 Ada- 2 And the 'list of ones': Tycho, Katja, Follows-Chalk, Sydney

-

The Lore:

(other titles specifically mentioned in the final question: Metro and Doom)

Characters headcanoned as synths: The Sole Survivor (by far the most common theory), Sturges, Deacon, Preston Garvey, the Lone Wanderer in Broken Steel, James/Dad, Dogmeat, Three Dog, Parker Quinn, Charon, Courier Six, Tinker Tom, Zeke, Arthur Maxson, Father/older Shaun, Piper, Travis Miles, Mysterious Stranger, Caesar ('cause funny'), Joshua Graham, most Children of Atom, Desdemona, Myrna, Marcy Long, Mr Burke, Vault 76 Overseer, Trashcan Carla, Cricket, many BoS and Enclave members, Reaver Movement members, Redeye, Moira Brown, Dr Zimmer, Ranger Ghost, most birds, Arcade Gannon, Elijah, Lizzie Wyatt, Kellogg, Mama Murphy, Nat Wright, and Sierra Petrovita

(please note I'm not all that familiar with Fallout 4 lore, if any of the FO4 peeps here are canon synths then I didn't know about it lol)

Fan theories/headcanons from the final question that cropped up repeatedly (in approximate order of popularity):

Vault-Tec started the Great War

Alien involvement with the pre-war US government and/or the Great War

Horses are still around

Talking Deathclaws are still around

Occult/eldritch influence (e.g. the Dunwich building) is widespread

Charon is a survivor of Vault 92

Deacon is a founder of the Railroad and his 'real' backstory was another lie

Veronica and Christine reunite

Sarah Lyons is alive

Gen 3 synths and ghouls still need to eat, drink, sleep and so on

Ghouls only turn feral in specific circumstances (suggestions include prolonged isolation and relying too heavily on radiation instead of food as a source of energy) and it is not inevitable

International travel and immigration continues

Danse and Harkness were sent to the Capital Wasteland by the Railroad together

X person is actually multiple people- suggested for Deacon, Legate Lanius and Vulpes Inculta

The US is the either the only place that was nuked or the only place that hasn't rebuilt and recovered, and the rest of the world is just ignoring them and carrying on as normal

Cass is the Chosen One's daughter

Mama Murphy is the Chosen One

No-Bark Noonan is the Chosen One (lots of Chosen One theories popping up lol)

All subsequent Dogmeats in the series are named after the legend of the original Dogmeat

Father is not really Shaun

MacCready is lying about Duncan being ill (or one person even suggested Duncan existing)

Yes Man overthrows the Courier after being upgraded

The real Lone Wanderer died at the end of the vanilla game even if Broken Steel is installed, and the Broken Steel LW is a synth

Deacon once worked for the Institute

Deacon deliberately leads people to theorise that he is the Lone Wanderer to throw them off

Deacon is or was once a ghoul (also plenty of Deacon theories)

The Mysterious Stranger is a time traveller who protects the various PCs to maintain the timeline

Appalachia was turned into a barren wasteland by the nuclear trigger-happiness of the Vault 76 Dwellers (possibly interesting aside: my brother, who buys into this one, has gone as far as to theorise that the original Great War used very low-yield weapons and wasn't that severe on the environmental level (as far as literal nuclear war goes, that is), and it was the Vault 76ers nuking the hell out of Appalachia that triggered a continent-wide nuclear winter and sent the ecology of the wasteland into the state it's in in all subsequent games)

Glory is not a synth

The (in-game) reason for lore clashes and retcons is that the plot of each game is a retelling  of the story as it's passed around in the wasteland, so some details have been embellished or mixed up

I’ll be coming back to the theories from the final question at some point, but aside from that, that's a wrap! There isn't really much potential for me to play around with the data here like with the OC surveys, so this was more just me presenting the data as it came in without commentary. Still, I hope this is somehow interesting/insightful!

[disney-scribbles]

Inktober Prompt 15: Mysterious The Mysterious Case of Nicholas Valentines Feelings

[crowpocrypha]

Consider:

Nick Valentine x Mysterious Stranger fanfic

Thoughts?

[falloutglow]

Writer Tag

Tagged by @glitchvault74 & @valkyriejack thanks yo!

Tagging: @roachvalentine, @its-sixxers, @memailikesnukacola, @bigwinged, @deacons-wig, @saintdeanthomas AND ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS!!! If you see this I TAG THEE

1.  How many works do you have on AO3?

Just recently 74 total!

For just Fallout its 26

2.  What’s your total AO3 word count?

Total: 163,825

For Fallout: about 55k

...I wrote so goddamn much for Pnat years ago its unreal XD

3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

I’m ignoring the overall fics and just going by Fallout only HAHA

1- Wrong (Its Hancock/Nick Valentine so I’m not surprised)

2- Waking Up (for whumptober 2020; Deacon/Nick Valentine)

3- Sensors and Sensations (Mysterious Stranger/Nick Valentine....are yall seeing a pattern here?)

4- Take Me Out With the Crowds (Nick Valentine & Echo (oc) ;w; hell yea 1st fic where they interact haha!!)

5- On Top of Sanctuary Hills and Far Away (my chapter fic that introduces my psyker gal Echo!)

4. Do you respond to comments?  Why or why not?

Sometimes, so long as I can remember! If I’m on mobile...usually harder to respond haha but if I’m on my computer its much easier. I’ll do it mostly cause I wanna let the commenter know I appreciate the kind words and having them take the time out of their day to tell me how they feel about my fics! Plus, its a way to build a bit of a community on ao3

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

In my personal opinion....either Lee’s Library (Walking Dead Telltale video game) oooor one of the many bad endings in Counterbalance (Paranatural) because ya gurl wrote a Choose Your Own Adventure fic and boy howdy. it depends on which end you get XD

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmmmm, honestly not sure? Hella subjective honestly.

7. Do you write crossovers?  If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

*SIIIIIGH* I used to. I’m not as obsessed with crossovers like I was as a kid. Technically, the craziest one I wrote when I was like 12 (damn preteen me had such a drive) was some wild and hella ambitious Camp au of sorts with a bunch of cartoon shows mixed with some ocs. There were...soooooo many characters to keep track of, easily like 30. Possibly more, maybe less.

I never published it cause it was for me to be super self indulgent and back then I also had to share a computer/laptop with my sisters and mom. I did not have access to flashdrive/usb yet, but damn did I fill like a notebook and half up with that goddamn wild au.

I wonder if its in one of the totes in the basement....hmmmm....

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. It was a long time ago and I don’t remember it nor do I care to remember that shit. Anyone who leaves hate on fics? Keep it to your damn self. Don’t hate read. That’s such a childish thing to do and you don’t like it? Why waste time on something you hate? It makes 0 sense! Go find something self indulgent and learn how to be nice.

9.  Do you write smut?  If so, what kind?

I...have... No I will not elaborate...

10.  Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No idea.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Bold of you to think I’m that popular lol

12.  Have you ever co-written a fic before?

...Yes? I think so???? But it was a long while ago. I’m mostly a solo act lol

13.  What’s your all-time favourite ship?

PTH I’m a multishipper I cannot!!! Okay fine Nick Valentine x HAPPINESS LET HIM BE HAPPY I say while putting him through shit HAHA

(u_u I like to also ship him with my psyker oc Echo... why write fic if yaint being self indulgent?)

14.  What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

That’s like all my WIPs tbh. The fact that I finish a wip is a goddamn miracle.

Though I’d LOVE to do my fallout haunted house fic with the END squad I’ve called “Follow You Down”. However, dunno if or when I’ll ever actually make it more than some massive chapter fic idea involving haunted mannequins, literature references, ghosts, and eldritch horrors.

15. What are your writing strengths?

My brain is a goddamn corkboard. I can slap down ideas like crazy and somehow create an elaborate way to make it work.

16.  What are you writing weaknesses?

... *leans against a closet door that won’t close* Haha funny thing. You know how I just said I have a fuck ton of ideas? >_>;

I’m also a slow writer, but mostly cause I think my words through.

17.  What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Nah. I don’t think I’m qualified. Now if its a bilingual joke? I’m aaaaall over that shit haha My personal fav: “Why do French people prefer to have small breakfasts? Because one egg is un oeuf!” 

18.  What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Danny Phantom. It is also the first fandom I looked up fics for LOL

19.  What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

OOF that’s a hard one... It’d have to be between On Top of Sanctuary Hills and Far Away (fo4) aaaand my most recently posted fic The Crooked Tooth (fo4)

The former cause istg it felt like I unlocked something while writing that fic. Pre-Sanctuary Hills fic I STRUGGLED at getting a higher word count. 1-2k was my maximum. 3k was an achievement! Both of these fics I’ve hit over 5k for!!! I’m still flabbergasted by this development! And... the latter is sooooo self indulgent hahahaha got that cute cute comfort, mutual pining (while both being idiots about it), while also slapping in that good good spooky shit >:3c

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (3/18)

Chapter 3: People Who Do Things

The Valentine Agency duo visit the Memory Den where Madelyn engages with a mysterious stranger in exchange for information about the Railroad. An old friend helps Nick discover alarming evidence that could crack the case against Eddie Winter wide open. Later, Madelyn returns to Boston Common to ‘follow the Freedom Trail’ and bumps into a familiar face.

“I admire people who do things.” - Bruno Anthony as played by Robert Walker (Strangers on a Train, 1951)

x - x

Art for this chapter by @its-sixxers​ :D 

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

January 15th, 1958

“You can’t trust everyone.”

Madelyn spoke the words aloud, gauging Nick’s response. They were on their way uptown, trying to drudge up any leads they could on Montrano’s assassination. The last few days hadn’t managed to secure any valuable information, even from their most trusted of sources. Even their newest recruit, MacCready, had nothing to offer. The streets were quiet—gripped by fear—just the way Eddie Winter wanted it. Now they were switching tactics and stepping directly into enemy territory by visiting the very institutions run by the Winter crime family. It was a dangerous game, but somebody had to play it.

“Is that what that note says?” Nick asked in response, flicking his gaze to her as he drove. Madelyn was alarmed for all of a few moments—he was a detective, after all—it was his job to figure things out. “You’ve been worrying over that piece of paper for weeks now.”

She looked over the words and the well-worn creases where she had folded and unfolded it, even though the words had been seared into her mind the first time she read them. “I received it on New Year’s Eve, at Faneuil Hall. I don’t know who it’s from. I—I meant to tell you about it.”

He looked amused, which she took as a good sign. “No skin off my nose. Looks like you were following its advice,” he teased. “Pretty enigmatic, if you ask me.”

Madelyn was in full agreement. “Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being followed?”

“Comes with the territory,” he replied before realizing her genuine unease. “Hey doll, if you’re really that concerned, we can—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, snapping herself away from the lingering fear. “I’m sure I’m overreacting. We’ve had some run-ins lately that have me spooked, is all.” She tried to lighten the mood. “You never take me anywhere nice.”  

Nick’s brows stayed furrowed, hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel, her joke soaring right over his battered fedora. “Don’t remind me. Jenny is still cross that I took you to a crime scene.”

Despite the tension, or maybe because of it, Madelyn laughed. “Well, we didn’t know it was one before we got there. She should be more upset about the blood on your socks.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

At first, when they reached their destination, Madelyn wondered what they were doing at the Olympia Theatre. As far as she knew, it was a reputable establishment, with no known ties to the mobster families in Boston. She stared up at the marquee through the window as Nick rounded the car to her side, opening the door and offering his arm. She took it graciously, still fixated on the theatre signs until he nodded towards a side street with a single, burning red bulb as a guiding light. Luckily, he was just about the only man she trusted to lead her down a darkened alleyway, daring to laugh at the absurdity of it all. At the end of the cobblestone path there was a red painted door with a golden placard that read—The Memory Den.

“You’ve been here before?” she assumed in a playful tone.

Nick looked noticeably uncomfortable, reaching up with his free hand to adjust his tie. “Uh, Jenny brought me here once. We were younger, and Winter didn’t own the joint. It’s not your typical dance hall.”

Madelyn didn’t know what to expect, but when they finally entered she was overwhelmed, all her senses overloaded at once. The music was loud and infectious, crowds of couples dancing close—very close—to the up tempo sounds of the live band. There were sparkling, strung up lights that dangled from the ceiling making her feel like she had stars in her eyes—and what was that glorious smell?

“Blueberry pie,” Nick commented, reading her mind as he took her coat, handing off their belongings to the coat-check boy with a generous tip. “But that’s not what we’re here for,” he quickly reminded. She blinked hard, snapping herself free of the club’s distractions so she could focus on his instructions. “Let’s split up. You work the crowd, see if you can find anybody that knows what’s been happening on the street. I’m going to see if I can find Irma.”

“Irma?” she questioned, with an arched eyebrow. “Looks like I’ll miss out on that sweet-talking that you do.”

He shook his head with a soft, albeit nervous chuckle. Was the illustrious Nick Valentine blushing? “Don’t tell Jenny.”

They separated, Nick disappearing into the crowd as he made his way towards a back rooms, looking for the management who ran the Den. Meanwhile, Madelyn slowly surveyed the room, keeping a mental note of anyone that looked questionable as she gravitated towards the bar. The dancing, however, proved to be mildly distracting, bordering on erotic with the way some couples pressed up against one another. A glimpse of her past—dancing with Nate in a similar fashion when they were young and foolish lovebirds flashed through her mind while her ears burned hot. A tingle crossed over her skin and she practically swallowed the entire first glass of whiskey whole before ordering another.

Madelyn decided cooler heads would prevail and braced herself, letting out a calming exhale as she glanced around the club once more. As far as she could tell, there were no obvious signs that Winter’s men were present. If they were, it was likely they were holed up in the back where Nick had wandered off to. It was her every intention then, to charm the bartender into divulging information when she noticed a man sitting at the end of the bar—somebody who looked suspiciously familiar. Yet, she couldn’t place the man with the dark glasses and black, quaffed hair, or the immaculately tailored suit he wore. He wasn’t a mobster but didn’t look like a regular patron either. Still, she had the overwhelming feeling she had seen him before, racking her memory to figure out when and where.

The stranger didn’t seem to notice her staring but if he did, didn’t seem to care, continuing to nurse his bourbon in that little corner of the bar. And then, he flashed the tiniest of smirks, tilting his glass in her direction. Suddenly a shiver ran up her spine and the anxiety she had been carrying since Faneuil Hall blossomed in full force. She gripped her whiskey tight, shooting back the rest of the contents with only one thought—she needed to find Nick, and get out the hell out of there. Without another moment to lose she moved away from the bar, blending into the crowd of dancing bodies as she made for the back rooms. When she glanced over her shoulder, the man from the bar was not far behind.

Rather than fear, Madelyn felt a rush of annoyance and decided to act. In one swift motion, she whipped around, pinning the much taller man to the nearest wall. One arm pressed across his chest, her other hovering near his throat where she held the end of the hairpin she had yanked free from her curls. With a flick of her thumb, the small blade clicked free, now shimmering in the darkness—a wonderful little present from Nick.

She pushed her stalker a little harder against the wall, boxing him in. “Why are you following me?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up over his darkened shades as he choked out a startled laugh, hands raised in defense. “Maybe I just need to use the can!”

He pointed with both index fingers to the doors just beyond her field of vision, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. She pressed again, harder against his chest. “Who are you?”

“A priest.”

Madelyn was incensed. “Bullshit.”

“A sailor’s mouth? Adorable,” he commented whimsically, almost as if he wasn’t being held at knifepoint in a dim club hallway. Then again, Madelyn wondered how easy it would be for the man to quickly turn the tables, considering their size difference. The thought had her easing the sharp end of the hairpin a little closer to his skin. He let out a meep. “You sure know how to charm a man.”

“Who are you really?” she asked again.

He wiggled his fingers where his hands were still poised mid-air. “Somebody with secrets to share.”

Well now, that was awfully convenient. Madelyn narrowed her eyes, still skeptical even as she relaxed, leaning away from him. The stranger sighed in relief as she lowered her arms, tucking her hair back into place with the deadly flower pin and stepped away. She looked him over as he straightened his tie, letting out a little cough as he cleared his throat.

Finally she asked, “What kind of secrets?”

“Ah, information isn’t free, my friend,” he replied. When she didn’t say anything, too frustrated by his sudden appearance, he continued with an amused expression. This time, he gestured towards the main room where the live music had grown louder and faster. “I’ll give you everything that you want to know for a dance.”

“No!” she instantly rejected.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Madelyn hesitated over the man’s proposal in her mind and the mere second thought had her heart racing. What was she thinking? She couldn’t say yes. But wasn’t this all part of the job—the dangerous game her and Nick had agreed to? They weren’t going to corner Eddie Winter if they didn’t take risks, and right now, all she had to do was participate in one dance—not jump off a bridge. An entirely new set of nerves overtook her with the way the man was grinning at her, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. It was all made more difficult by the fact she couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, her own reflection shining back.

“Fine.”

He chuckled, beckoning her to follow. “Come on snake, let’s rattle.”

Madelyn ignored the jolt that shot through her when he gripped her hands, pulling her into the crowd of dancers as the music intensified. She hadn’t allowed herself to be manhandled since Nate’s death. There had been no intimacy, no flirtatious touching and certainly no dirty-dancing in an uptown speakeasy. Being escorted like a lady by Nick around town while they investigated cases certainly didn’t count. But now, she blamed it on being touch-starved and reeled in her focus. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it properly.

As the two fell into the rhythm of the music, she committed to every placement of her feet, every twist of her hip, every movement of her hands as they slid across the man’s shoulders and arms, the two of them gliding through the crowd as the music blared. He snaked an arm around her waist, palm flat along her lower back while he held her other hand in the air near their heads.

He was still wearing the same, fascinated smile. “Well Charmer, what do you want to know?”

“Do you work for Eddie Winter?” she asked bluntly, ignoring the pet name. Even if she had her assumptions, she still needed to ask.

The man guffawed, spinning her in time with the beat. “If I did, would I tell you?”

“Fair enough.”

“Who do you work for?” he asked, the two splitting apart for a brief moment to circle around one another.

Madelyn didn’t lift her gaze from his face, and she could only assume he was staring right back. She decided to be honest, hoping to catch more flies with honey, so to speak. “Valentine Detective Agency.”

Not the whole truth, but what the nameless man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He pulled her back, hands like fire as they glided along her waist to keep her close to him as they moved. She steeled herself, resisting the urge to pinch the nerve in his shoulder and have him writhing like a baby on the floor—Piper had taught her that trick.

“Going after the big dog, hey?” he questioned, not bothering to wait for her response. “Not surprising you’ve run into some dead-ends with all those disappearances. Now with the floaters showing up in the Harbor? Phew. Can’t catch a break, am I right?”

Madelyn wanted to know how he knew about her and Nick’s string of bad luck. She supposed if he knew about the agency, it was easy to hear about the rumors of their constant failures as well, set on by the Boston Police Department. She wanted to know a lot of things, but as the man mentioned the disappearances, she decided to change her approach.

“What do you know about the Railroad?”

The man flashed a low, alluring grin. “That old myth? Everybody knows they’re just a ghost story.”

She wasn’t convinced, especially by the way he seemed completely charmed by the very mention. “I’m not so sure,” she disputed. “What’s this I hear about ‘following the Freedom Trail’?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“From a very reliable source,” Madelyn answered, almost defiantly. “Somebody I trust.”

“Here’s some advice, Charmer.” He spun her away at arm’s length before twirling her back just as fast, this time so her spine was flush against his chest. The stranger’s breath was hot against her ear as he let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t trust everyone.”  

Madelyn’s brain didn’t catch up fast enough. By the time she registered the words, he was gone, disappeared into the sea of people. She spun around on her heels in an effort to catch one last glimpse, to shout a response, but there was no sight of the mysterious man. Unnerved, she found refuge away from the crowd, holding a hand to her chest as she steadied her breathing. It wasn’t just coincidence—he had to be the one who sent her the note on New Year’s Eve. More questions raced through her mind, sending her spiraling. Just how long had he been following her? And for what purpose? Was she in danger?

“Hey doll,” Nick found her near the lobby, his expression shifting into one of worry when he sensed her bewilderment. With him was a voluptuous and beautiful, icy-blonde haired woman, dressed in a red-sequenced dress with a slit that rested high up her leg. Madelyn could only assume it was Irma. “You alright?”

She shook her head and then nodded, before shaking her head again. “I’m not sure.”

Irma let out a hearty chuckle. “Looks like you met Deacon, sugar.”

“De—who now?” Nick questioned, clearly confused. “Madelyn?”

She decided this was neither the time nor the place to have the discussion with Nick. At least now, she had a name—something else to go on. Instead of responding as expected, she glanced between Nick and his lady-friend. “Did you get what you need?”

“Sure, sure,” he responded, taking her subtle hint. He tipped his head towards Irma with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, for all the assistance.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Valentine,” she purred. “Just don’t let your big, softy-self get hurt, all right? And please say hello to Jenny for me.”

Outside, Nick didn’t immediately press for details, taking the time to look over her demeanor to gauge her emotions. Surprisingly, Madelyn had mellowed out, attempting to rationalize her encounter and determine the next best step. Only then did he dare to flash a sideways smirk. “Make a new friend?”

“Find us a new lead?” she deflected, humorously.

Nick laughed, escorting her to his parked Cadillac. “What do you say to more of ‘walking into treacherous lands’?”

Madelyn flashed Nick a teasing grin. “Lead the way, Mr. Valentine.” 

January 16th, 1958

Precinct 8 was the closest police department to Valentine Detective Agency, and it just so happened to be the only precinct in Boston with a somewhat friendly face. Marty Bullfinch—he and Nick used to work together, the closest thing Nick had to a partner before Madelyn came to the agency, and before Marty began hitting the bottle a little too hard. Their last case had them hunting down some golden grasshopper—more of a legend than anything tangible. By the end, the two had gone their separate ways, disgruntled and untrusting of what the other had to offer. It seemed that fate saw fit to bring the two back together at least one more time.

“What is this, some kind of joke?”

Marty’s disposition was alarmingly harsh when he saw the two enter the bullpen, standing up from his desk to sneer at Nick. He looked worse for wear, black hair greying at the sides and thin at the top. He looked haggard, dark lines under blue eyes indicative of a man who hardly slept and drank far too much. Madelyn stepped away as he quickly circled around to where they had been approaching but were now considering high tailing it out of there. Before either of them could take another step, Marty had snatched Nick’s hand in a firm shake, yanking him forward into a tight hug.

He laughed. “Ah Nicky, you old bucket of bolts. It’s good to see ya!”

Madelyn struggled to understand if it was a term of endearment or some in-joke between old friends. Either way, Nick appeared relieved by Marty’s true reaction to their presence. When they separated, the police detective eyed Madelyn with a surprised arch of his brows.

“You replace me with a dame?”

She took no offense, smiling as she extended her hand politely. Marty held it far too delicately, as most men did, sure they were going to break her if touched too roughly. “Miss Madelyn Hardy. Attorney on loan from the D. A’s office.”

“A little more than just a dame, Marty,” Nick said, amused.  

“Right,” he nodded, grin a little more nervous as he adjusted his blue patterned tie. “What are you doing here? You know these guys that I work with all hate you, right?”

Nick didn’t waste any time, removing a tattered note from his coat. “Leave this behind at the Memory Den?”

Madelyn resisted the urge to laugh at the way Marty practically leapt to snatch it out of his hands, carefully confirming the paper’s contents before crumpling it up and tucking it into his jacket. Nick had shown her the letter the evening before, or what remained of it—a torn sheet of what read like instructions, signed by Eddie Winter himself. The only problem? A clear evidence marker that showed it should belong in Boston police custody. Irma had informed Nick that Mr. Bullfinch had been at the club, asking too many questions, but ultimately couldn’t resist the lure of a good drink and got careless.

“God damnit Nicky! Are you tryin’ to get me fired?” he snapped in a sharp whisper. “Worse yet, killed?”

“I’m trying to get you to tell me what’s going on,” Nick replied. “Why does Boston P.D. have evidence of organized crime perpetrated by Winter that they haven’t done anything about?”

Marty’s face scrunched up, clearly discomforted with the entire conversation. “Couldn’t you have come here asking for a drink?” he muttered, shifting his eyes around the room. Madelyn noticed that a few detectives and uniformed officers had begun to look their way. “Follow me.”

“Valentine, you aren’t going to get anything from coming here,” he announced, clearly putting on a show as he led them down a hallway out of sight. When the coast was clear, he ushered them into a cramped storage room with a single, low hanging light.

Nick had the foresight to wedge himself between Marty and herself, glaring at the other man. “This better be worth it.”

“Listen, I don’t know who to trust anymore. All the evidence that we collect from low-level busts, from these hits and murders? They keep disappearing. Changing hands. Sent to different precincts for ‘further analysis’,” Marty rambled, pupils blown wide. He was either paranoid or had seen a pattern so startling it could only be true. “When I ask, they say they are trying to match up handwriting samples, that it will take some time. I say, fuck ‘em!”

Madelyn leaned away, startled by his tenacity. “That sounds like a cover-up. A conspiracy to let Winter get away with his crimes!”

“Nothing concrete. I can’t tell who’s on the payroll,” Marty continued, voice atremble. “If somebody ain’t, they’re too chicken-shit to ask the tough questions. But we’re still sent to keep up appearances. Clean up the scenes, make sure to the people, we’re trying to make Boston a better place.”

Nick remained quiet, jaw locked in silent ferocity. Madelyn knew he wanted nothing more than to see Eddie Winter off the streets—by any means necessary. His eyes darkened, narrowing as he focused in on Marty’s jacket. “So there’s more of these self-incriminating notes, you say?”

The other man was just as good as picking up on Nick’s intentions, shaking his head and hands wildly. “Oh no, Nicky. Don’t get it in your head that you’ll be able to get any of these away from police custody. Got em’ locked up real tight across the city. You think you can walk in here because you know me but what are you gonna do in Quincy? Waltz in there and just…” Marty waggled his fingers for dramatic effect. “Five finger discount the joint?”

Madelyn’s chest tightened at the serious expression Nick wore, his intentions clear as day. “Nick…” she warned. “I—we can’t.”

“Yeah Nicky, listen to the lawyer broad,” Marty said in a panicked tone. “Is going after Winter really worth the trouble?”

“Right now there’s smoke burning all over Boston, clouding her in a thick sea of ash. And where there’s smoke, there’s sure to be fire,” Nick described, more determined than ever. “Do you really want to be here when the house burns down?”  

His former partner swallowed hard. “God damnit—no,” he finally relented, rustling through his jacket pocket to return the scrap of evidence. “I’ve told you everything I know but—if I find out more, you’ll be the first to know.”

Nick nodded, finding the agreement acceptable. “Good. We’ll do our best to keep you safe, Marty.”

As Madelyn and Nick made their way from the hallway closet, down from the bullpen and into the precinct lobby, they heard Marty Bullfinch call out to them again in his ragged voice. “For shit’s sake! Next time, bring be a bottle of whiskey—or else!” 

January 17th, 1958

Boston Common.

Madelyn once promised herself she would never return to the lakeside park or the surrounding neighborhood where her husband had been murdered. She didn’t need to walk the snow-covered streets to relive those moments—every agonizing second still etched into her mind each night when she closed her eyes. It hadn’t gotten easier, even a year later, even with the distractions that life had tried to provide her. She wondered if it ever was going to be any easier, or if she was meant to carry around that pain and guilt forever. Her chest tightened, body going numb as she stared down at the very spot, envisioning the stain of blood and the last flicker of life she saw in Nate’s dark green eyes. Quickly, before she succumbed to her grief, she reminded herself that the past was not the reason she was there.

That morning, Nick had finally confronted her about what had occurred in the Memory Den and she came clean about her suspicions that she was being followed. Madelyn couldn’t determine for how long, but between New Year’s Eve and that evening uptown, it wasn’t a fluke. He raised the same concerns that she did, wondering if there was an underlying danger, but after analyzing the circumstances a little more rationally, it didn’t appear so. The two agreed that if anything, somebody or something was trying to convey a message. While Nick worked in the shadows, tracking down Winter’s evidence files, they decided Madelyn would follow-up on the mysterious stranger. What she didn’t tell her partner, however, was where she was going that Friday evening.

The Common park stood empty, frozen still in the dead of night. Madelyn stood in the chill of the icy winter wind, watching as the hands on her watch signaled midnight. She used her shoe to scrape the snow away from the bronze placard on the ground—The Freedom Trail. Boston. Hundreds of tourists flocked to the site every day, but tonight, she was the sole visitor, searching for a clue. Curiously, there was a small smudge of red paint on the corner, something that looked like an arrow. She slowly moved to the nearby fountain that had been frozen over since Christmas, a low light emanating around the cobblestone. A second sign read—At Journey’s End Follow Freedom’s Lantern—more red paint covering some of the letters.

She was so engrossed with the thoughts of where the red brick pathway led—the graveyard next or was it the statehouse—that she barely registered the quiet footsteps and shadow approaching before it was too late.

“Dame like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

Madelyn swiveled to face the familiar taunting voice, briefly alarmed to find the man from the Memory Den leaning against a nearby light fixture, hands leisurely tucked away in his pockets. He was dressed in the same well-tailored suit from before, albeit with a winter coat to combat the chill in the air, and those damn sunglasses.

“You might be the next disappearance that private dick of yours ends up investigating,” he continued with a smirk.

She knew that it would be a battle of wits with his kind, shaking away any trace of anxiousness from her stance and expression. It would take all the field experience she had—or perhaps just pure instinct to handle the likes of him. At least now she knew his name. “Is this you threatening to snatch me away, Mr. Deacon?”

His lips flattened into a straight line before he let out a hearty chuckle. “How formal! Mr. Deacon, she says,” he shook his head and approached. When he noticed her apprehension, he kept his distance. “Just Deacon, Charmer.”

Madelyn found it peculiar but said nothing. Instead, she focused on the non-use of her name. Her need for pleasantries outweighed the minefield of red flags her mind set up. “Please, call me—”

“Charmer,” he interrupted, repeating the nickname with a grin. “Were you going to say Miss Hardy? Yeah, we don’t really do that.”

Of course he knew her name—Madelyn had to wonder what else he knew, and how much of an advantage this Deacon fellow had over her. When it came to information, she didn’t like it when she was left out of the loop. Rather than expressing her frustration, she peered at him curiously. “We?”

Deacon nodded, removing his hands from his pockets to gesture towards himself. “Me, and my many personalities,” he said with such certainty, she couldn’t quite tell if he was joking. He then tilted his head, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

Madelyn hesitated, knowing full well she had no reason to trust the man. A similar feeling to one she felt in the Memory Den washed over her and she stepped forward—be it bravery or impulse, she needed answers—and as Deacon mentioned before, he was willing to provide them. A voice in her mind reminded her that the knowledge she sought wouldn’t come so easily. Information wasn’t free. Still, she wouldn’t have come to the Common that evening if she weren’t looking for something, and she wasn’t about to return to the agency empty handed.

Instead of walking the Freedom Trail proper, Deacon led Madelyn up the streets into the North End neighborhood on the banks of the Boston Harbor. He was quiet, keeping a careful watch on their surroundings—at least that’s what she assumed he was doing, still questioning the purpose or usefulness of wearing such darkened shades at nighttime. Eventually, they came upon the Old North Church, the centuries old building damaged by a nearby property fire a few years prior. She stared up at the impossibly tall steeple and noticed that on the railing there sat a small, burning lantern.

“Freedom’s lantern,” she spoke.

Deacon was impressed. “Now you’re getting it.”

He withdrew a key from his pocket, using it to unlock the rusted chain that would otherwise bar entry to the church. Madelyn took the time to read over the faded plaque set into the red bricks—one if by land, two if by sea—the building was more than a historical site, it was holy ground, offering many heroes of the American Revolution their final resting place. Fitting that it would also be a safe haven for some secret organization. As she followed Deacon inside, she moved her hand over her chest to form a cross—half out of respect at the destruction she saw, half out of the embarrassment she felt for not stepping foot inside a church since Nate’s funeral.

“Ah, et spirtus sancti hmm?” Deacon questioned, his lighthearted tone bordering on offense. She shot him a silent frown, urging him to lead on. It was surprising that after two years, the interior had yet to be refurbished, many of the pews still showing signs of the fire that had swept through. A portion of the upper floor had collapsed, partially blocking the doorway that led to the basement and catacombs, but it didn’t deter Deacon. He waved a hand, motioning for her to move ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

Madelyn shook her head. “Priests first.”

“Oh, I’m going to like you.”

Deacon crouched to avoid knocking his head against the low beam, obliging her request to walk ahead of her down the darkened, narrow stairway. She braced herself along the wall as she followed, watching his every move, suddenly very aware they were surrounded by the dead. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, an irrational thought came to her, telling her this was all an elaborate ruse and she was about to be butchered and encased away in a tomb, never to be seen again. The sheer thought sparked a shiver to run up her spine and she inhaled a sharp gasp.

He glanced back at her, eyebrow raised. “Need me to hold your hand?”

Madelyn was sure she’d ever met somebody so insufferable. Despite herself, she forced back a smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than showing me a collection of dead bodies, Mr. Deacon,” she said the name intentionally, earning a rise out of him. “Been there, done that.”

“I know,” he answered, walking the two a few more paces towards a larger bronze plate, a replica of the ones that lined the city’s Freedom Trail. Wires connected the plaque to a mechanism beyond the brick wall and the further she scrutinized the space, the more she realized there was a room beyond. Deacon flashed another grin as he maneuvered the seal until it clicked a release. “I give you, the Railroad.”

Beyond the false wall was darkness but before she could move forward, Deacon caught her elbow, saving her from falling off the ledge. She was about to say her thanks when the room was flooded with light, Madelyn raising her arm up to shield her eyes. She squinted through the blinding spotlights to the other side of the gutted tomb to see three figures—two women and a man who looked suspiciously like her neighbor, Robby. Before she could speak, the woman in the center called out.

“Deacon, where’ve you been?”

He added his hand to Madelyn’s in a futile attempt to help block out the brightness. “Jesus, Dez—I said no intimidation tactics!”  

With a snap of her fingers, the lights dimmed to a more reasonable setting, allowing Madelyn to readjust her sight. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing as the dark spots slowly faded away. Only then did she realize Deacon had yet to release his grip of her arm—she decided to say nothing about the infraction, for now. What she needed was answers—now.

“Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked, emphatically.

The woman across the way nodded, signaling Deacon to escort Madelyn across the way to where they could have a more civilized conversation. The others loitered nearby, listening on. Even there, Deacon held onto her and she wondered if he was doing so to keep her put, or to offer her some semblance of familiar comfort in a strange place. Either way, she didn’t bat his hand away, focusing on the red-headed woman as she spoke.

“I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad.”

She said it plainly, as if it was of no consequence. But there it was—the truth. The Railroad wasn’t some fairytale, made up by Bostonians to scare each other in the night. They were real and apparently operating out from the ruins of the Old North Church. One question nagged at Madelyn’s mind—were they friend, or foe?

Desdemona continued before she could ask. “We went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting with you.”

Madelyn shifted her gaze to Deacon, to her neighbor Robby, to the silver-haired woman standing guard, and back to Desdemona. “Why? You clearly know where I work, and where I live. A simple hello didn’t suffice?”

“I assure you, you have nothing to fear. In a world full of suspicion, treachery, and hunters—our organization must play our cards close to the chest. In our line of work, we have made many powerful enemies—you never know who you can trust.”

Deacon’s fingers tightened along her arm and she thought about the note—his note and words. Madelyn was only beginning to understand. “What exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors,” Desdemona replied, resentfully. “That the Railroad are the perpetrators behind the many disappearances in the city.”

Madelyn nodded, knowing full well she and Nick had added that very theory to their case notes. It was one of the many reasons she had decided to follow the lead downtown in the first place. Desdemona sighed, shaking her head as she pulled a lose cigarette from her jacket pocket.

“There is some truth to the matter,” she continued, the smolder of her smoke casing an eerie glow on her face. “We seek to help people leave the city of their own volition. Battered women unable to divorce their husbands, unlucky bastards who can’t repay their debts to the loan sharks, or sometimes, just a person who wants to get away and begin again.”

“It’s all kosher,” Deacon quipped, as if sensing Madelyn’s tension. “New identities in new towns—and we have an agent within the Boston P.D. who clears the files for us.”

Madelyn was still skeptical of their intentions. “Are you saying you had nothing to do with the last twelve disappearances?”

“That, or the murders,” Desdemona shook her head. “We’ve ceased all activity to switch focus on gathering intel. Haven’t harbored anyone in months. Our main focus now—rather it was—is on dismantling the web of lies being fed to this city. The disappearances, the murders—we might be the only people stupid enough to fight back.”

Madelyn’s heart warmed at the idea, thinking of herself and Nick before focusing on the bigger picture. “Was?”

“We aren’t hiding out in an underground tomb for kicks,” Deacon remarked. “Two months ago—do you remember reading about that gas leak in Lexington that left a bunch of people dead?”

Desdemona hushed him with a wave of her hand, choosing to fill in the remaining details herself. “The media covered up the deaths, as expected. But it was no accident. We were targeted.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Madelyn asked.

“Likely the same people who are out to see that Eddie Winter does not spend another night in prison. The same people who are responsible for making so many Boston citizens disappear in the night, and perhaps the same people who have given you and your detective a string of bad luck.”

Desdemona’s claims were powerful, if true. She motioned to the very man at Madelyn’s side. “What remained of us were lucky to survive, thanks to Deacon. Now that our resources are limited, we have not had as many chances to help those in need or track essential people down.”

“Except for you,” Deacon mused, leaning close to her ear. At that, she finally wiggled herself from his grasp, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

“Why me, exactly?” she questioned. “Despite your limitations, your theory isn’t any different than the agency’s. I’m not sure how we can be of any help.”

“We won’t lie to you,” Desdemona voiced, eyes sharpening as Deacon made a small disagreeing sound. “Your name had come up in our intel too many times for it to be coincidental. So we sent out a few agents to ensure you weren’t a threat. Signaled Deacon to make contact and, well, now you’re here.”

Madelyn wasn’t pleased. “I still don’t appreciate being stalked.”

Deacon shook his head. “Don’t call it stalking. I’d call it…social distancing. Except, well, without the social part.”

“Where is this intel coming from? Winter’s men?” Madelyn asked. If so, she needed to follow-up with Nick, immediately. However, the uncertainty in Desdemona’s expression gave her pause. “Do you not know?”

“We were still in the process of decoding what we had when we were forced to find a new safe house,” the other woman explained. “Many of our resources were left behind.”

“That’s where you come in,” Deacon chimed in.

“Excuse me?”

Desdemona sighed, flicking her cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with the sole of her leather boot. “Consider this your formal invitation to join our organization.”

Madelyn was caught off guard. She knew immediately what the dangers of joining a fringe, underground society would bring—the unknown frightened her and thrilled her all the same. Yet, she was also aware of how Desdemona and her fractured group were likely the last people left in Boston willing to take a stand against the darkness that threatened to envelop it whole. If she offered a lending hand, it could make all the difference.

“Okay,” she finally agreed with a nod. “I’ll join.”

“Now we need to know what to call you. Secrecy keeps us alive, and code names are a part of that,” Desdemona explained before Madelyn could interject—why couldn’t she just use her own name? “What’s yours?”

She ignored Deacon’s overjoyed expression as he leaned closer. “She’s already got one, don’t you, Charmer?”

Desdemona looked between them curiously, waiting for Madelyn’s approval. With a sigh, she nodded, agreeing to the moniker. At least it was fitting. The expression on the other woman’s face told her she thought so too.

“Welcome to the Railroad,” Desdemona offered a fleeting smile. “Agent Charmer.”  

[danses-with-dogmeat]

2000 Followers Celebration!!!

& Fallout Alphabet Poll End Results!

Hey all, so the secret is out! (Kinda) But all these past polls have been the prelude to my 2K Followers Celebration BONANZA. (That's not the official title, I just wanted to use the word BONANZA).

Anyway, a HUGE, MASSIVE thank you to every single one of you folks who are a part of this little community and who've supported me and my fanfiction writing journey for the past few years (which is crazy that it's been that long, omg.) But I love and appreciate you all SO MUCH and am absolutely baffled that I've made it to this. I thought 100 was crazy, then I thought 1K was crazy and then it just kept on going! Ahh, I'm just so so so glad that there's a thriving Fallout community out here of amazing writers, artists, and fans that are still so involved 😊

I don't know what I would do without this space, so thank you all for being a part of it <3

ANYWAY (x2) Here are the final results to all 22 polls that I posted, with more event details just below!

So I've posted the 1st place winners, 2nd place, and then a 3rd "runner up" position that will only be filled by non-companion npcs, just to give them a chance to shine, and me a chance to write for some folks I'm not as used to. For the purposes of the 2k event, I will only be using the 1st place winners for the 'prompts' (which I'll explain in another post), and then a few of the 2nd placers and (almost) all of the runner ups will be used in ANOTHER upcoming event that I'm going to start prepping for (because I'm an insane person).

--

A:

1st: Arcade Israel Gannon

2nd: Arthur Maxson

3rd: Dr. Amari

B:

1st: Benny Gecko

2nd: Butch Deloria

3rd: Beatrix Russell

C:

1st: Charon

2nd: Craig Boone

3rd: Caesar

D:

1st: Deacon

2nd: Danse

3rd: Dazzle

E:

1st: ED-E

2nd: Easy Pete

3rd: Edward Deegan

F:

1st: Fawkes

2nd: Fahrenheit

3rd: Fantastic

G:

1st: Gob

2nd: Glory

3rd: Gary(s)

H:

1st: Robert Edwin House

2nd: Harold

3rd: Harkness

I/O:

1st: Old Longfellow

2nd: Captain Ironsides

3rd: Oliver Swanick

J:

1st: John Hancock

2nd: Joshua Graham

3rd: Julie Farkas

K:

1st: The King

2nd: KL-E-O

3rd: Kent Connolly

L:

1st: Lily Bowen

2nd: Legate Lanius

3rd: Red Lucy

M:

1st: Mysterious Stranger

2nd: Magnolia

3rd: Moira Brown

N:

1st: Nick Valentine

2nd: No Bark Noonan

3rd: Nate/Nora

P:

1st: Preston Garvey

2nd: Primm Slim

3rd: Pickman

Q/U/X:

1st: Ulysses

2nd: X6-88

3rd: Dr. Usanagi

R:

1st: Raul Alphonse Tejada

2nd: Robert Joseph MacCready

3rd: Rotface

S:

1st: Sunny Smiles

2nd: Sturges

3rd: Swank

T:

1st: Three Dog

2nd: Tinker Tom

3rd: Travis Miles

V:

1st: Veronica Santangelo

2nd: Victor

3rd: Vulpes Inculta

W:

1st: Whitechapel Charlie

2nd: Wiseman

3rd: Winthrop

Y/Z:

1st: Yes Man

2nd: Captain Zao

3rd: Yefim Bobrov

[hrglobalmagazine]



While many people don't want to have a huge age gap, boyfriends, or girlfriends, these celebrities will surprise you by their partners. Even though some of the couples received massive backlash from the public, they showed off nothing but love for each other that make you jealous. These couples always had their secret to maintainthe beautiful love story despite the big age differences. So, follow the list to find out your favorite one!

David Foster and Katharine McPhee: 35 Years

Born in 1949 in Victoria, British Columbia,Canada, David Foster is a famous Canadian composer who is well-known for numerous high-profile soundtrack. He has been married to Katharine McPhee, who have 35 years age gap. They were first met in 2006 when Foster mentored McPhee and other contestants on season 5 of American Idol. Before Katharine McPhee, he was previously married to Yolanda Hadid, Linda Thompson, Rebecca L. McCurdy, and B.J. Cook and hada total of 4 children from 4 relationships. Katharine McPhee was born in 1984 in Los Angeles,California, USA. She is an actress, known for Smash,The House Bunny and Shark Night 3D. She was previously married to Nick Cokas beforegetting married to David.

Sean Penn and Leila George: 32 years

Sean Justin Penn is an American actor, director, and filmmaker. Sean Penn specially known for his versatility and intense performances. He has won two Awards, for his roles in the mystery drama Mystic River and the biopic Milk. October 2016, he was romancing actress Leila George, after they were photographed sharing some PDA in the ocean. More than three years later in January 2020, the couple, who have nearly 32 years between them made their official solo red carpet debut as a couple at a Haiti charity even in Los Angeles. Sean, by the way, is only a year younger than Leila's father, actor Vincent D'Onofrio.

Emma Heming Willis and Bruce Willis: 23 Years 

Bruce Willis was born in 1955. Actor and musician Bruce Willis is well known for playing wisecracking or hard-edged characters, often in spectacular action films such asThe Sixth Sense(1999). He married his second wife, Emma Heming Willis,in 2009 and has two daughters up to now. They are Evelyn Penn Willis and Mabel Ray Willis. Emma Heming Willis is an actress and producer,known for RED 2 (2013), Perfect Stranger (2007) and The Comebacks (2007). She is less than her husband 23 years, but their love story is other pieces of evidence that age is just a number. The pair always shared their happy momentson Instagram, and they were reportedly hand in hand whenever showing up together. Before Emma, Bruce got married to actress Demi Moore.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Camila Morrone: 23 Years 

Leonardo DiCaprio and his 23 age gap girlfriend, Camila Morrone, still kept the relationship blooming and had the intention to settle downthroughout three years of dating. Leonardo DiCaprio was born in 1974 in Los Angeles, California. He is known as the hunky lead actor in moviessuch as Romeo + Juliet (1996) and Titanic (1997). After that, Leo became a leading man in Hollywood blockbusters. He has dated more than 20 gorgeous ladies from Victoria Secret's models to famous actresses. But until now, Leo still was reportedly having sweet actions with his girlfriend and had no signal of the separation. Camila Morrone is an American model and actress. Morrone started her career as a model andhas appeared on the cover page of Vogue Turkey in 2016. Besides, she is the ambassador for a lot of famous brands. 

Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart: 22 Years

Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart firstmet at the 2002 Golden Globe Awards when Ford was 60, and Flockhart was 38. They officially got engagement in Valentine’s Day, 2009. They married that same year in Santa Fe, NewMexico, and have one adopted son named Liam Flockhart Ford. He is a talented actor who got tons of hitcolossal with the role of Han Solo in Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope (1977). Calista Flockhart is famous for the TV series 2020 Supergirl. Before Flockhart, Harrison is involved in two marriage relationships with Melissa Mathison and Mary Marquardt and had four children fromthese relationships. 

Jason Statham and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley: 20 year

Rosie Huntington-Witeley was born in 1987 in England. She is best known for her work as Victoria's Secrets lingerie model and as a movie actress. Within a couple of years, she had contracts with Clinique, DKNY, Ralph Lauren and also received the love and admirationof rich and famous fans. Her current husband, Jason Statham was bornin 1967, in Shirebrook, Derbyshire. He gained enormous loud applauses from boxoffice movies such as The Transporter, Fast and Furious franchise. They’ve been engaged for almost four yearsnow and already have a baby. Their relationship seems more reliable thanever, and it's hard to remember when they weren't together.

George Clooney and Amal Clooney: 17 years 

George Timothy Clooney was born on 1961, in Lexington, Kentucky. He is the an actor who made his directorialdebut with Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002). Besides, Looney won his first Oscar for Best supporting actor in "Syriana," and was nominated for Best Director and Best Original Screenplayfor "Good Night, and Good Luck." He is well-known for his romantic love story. His current wife, Amal Clooney, is a Britishattorney. She was born in 1978, in Beirut, Lebanon. In 2014, George Clooney announced his engagementto the lawyer Amal Alamuddin. The couple officially tied the knot in Septemberof 2014, just a year after they met, with a beautiful Venetian wedding. They welcomed two children, twins Ella andAlexander, in June of 2017.

Hugh Jackman and Deborra Lee-Furness: 13 Years 

Hugh Jackman was born in 1968 in Sydney, Australia. He is an actor, singer, multi-instrumentalist,dancer, and producer, also well-known for the Wolverine role in the X-men franchise. Not only the flourishing acting career ofJackman being noticed, his beautiful love story with 13 age-gap wife Deborra Lee-Furness, also attracts the public a lot. Deborra Lee-Furness was born in 1955 in Australia. Hugh Jackman and his wife Deborra Lee-Furnessfirst met on the 1995 set of Australian show Correlli, which served as Jackman's firstbreak out of drama school. The two married in 1996 and adopted two childrentogether, Oscar and Ava.

Chris Pratt and Katherine Schwarzenegger: 11 years 

Chris Pratt was born in 1979 in Virginia, USA. He came to prominence for his small-screenroles and especially well-known for star Lord’s purpose in Guardians of the galaxy. The love story with ten years difference between him and his current wife, Katherine Schwarzenegger, who was born in 1989, leads a lot of mixedcomments from the public. Notably, the two began dating just after ashort time from Chris's split. Chris Pratt and Katherine Schwarzenegger announcedtheir engagement in January 2019 and tied the knot later that year in an intimate California wedding.

Priyanka Chopra and Nick Jonas:a 10 years

Priyanka Chopra is 36 and Nick Jonas is 26 and this 10 years age gap is perfectly okay with them and often they have said it on live interviews that the age difference doesn’t bother them at all.

Priyanka Chopra and Nick Jonas married in 2018 and after their marriage, the duo was trolled a lot because of their age difference.

They, however, have always ignored such trolls and are quite happy with each other.

[wham-bam-alacazam]

Elvira Martin : Laid Bare

Name: Elvira Martin Sex: Female Nickname(s): El - This was a nickname given to her by her ex-husband Nate. She still really likes the nickname and it has a lot of icky sentimental feelings attached to it. 

Ellie - A term of endearment given to her by Cait Age: 27 Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 5 foot  10 inches Weight:145  pounds 

Skin tone: Elvira is very pale. She works hard to maintain her pale appearance, wearing long sleeves and carrying around a parasol to block out the sun. Scar(s): Elvira has a scar along the side of her face. It started about half way down her forehead and runs down by her eyebrow. It’s deep and left over from her days in the military doing field work. A suit of power armor exploded and metal blasted everywhere. She has a few other places on her stomach, arms and legs where the metal scarred after being removed. 

Tattoos:  She has one tattoo of a planchette on her high thigh that is very gothic and dark  

Eye color: Brown Hair: She has straight bangs and a bob of dark black hair. She maintains it very well. Whenever she can, she does her best to wash and tend to her hair. Impairments: She needs glasses for distance. Accent/Voice: Her voice is very smooth and regal. She speaks like she is always in charge. She keeps a tone like she owns the place, whatever dump that may be. Makeup: Her makeup is heavy and always on. She wears sleek winged eyeliner that is somehow always perfectly straight. Her shadow is a dark base with purple around it and under her eyes. Her brows are filled in to keep that thin, arched look. She wears a little blush high on her cheeks but that’s about it. Her lips are always a bright, bold red color with a maroon lining. Freckles/Birthmarks/Etc.?: She had a mole on her forehead that pokes out from under her bangs. 

Clothing: When she’s not in her armor, she wears a tux or a sleek black dress that she’s sewn together herself. Her armor is a vault suit with whatever she can find over it. She often wears a militia hat. She always wears her glasses. Weapon(s): Her signature weapon is a modified black baseball bat that’s been painted with her own intricate and ornate white detailing. It also has razor blades wrapped around it. She likes going in fast and hard. If she needs a gun, its a shotgun or a submachine gun. She’s also been known to use knives when need be. 

Faction Affiliations: Elvira is very much so a lone wolf but she was wrapped into working with the Minutemen and the Brotherhood of Steel. She doesn’t support or stand for much of what the Brotherhood does but she can’t help but feel secure in the familiar feeling working in a military setting with power armor. 

Stats Strength: 5 Perception: 5 Endurance: 4 Charisma: 7 Intelligence: 8 Agility: 3 Luck: 2

Perks: Big Leagues 2

VANS

Sneak

Hacker 2

Locksmith 2

Local Leader

Science! Addictions: Alcohol Loves: 

The dark and mysterious

Honest people

Being Goth

Working on power armor

Likes: 

Alcohol

Tinkering with weapons 

Shotguns

Cats

Neutrals: 

Comics

Morals 

Armor

Faction discourse Dislikes:

Being blood soaked

Her hair being ruined 

Classical music

Super Mutants Hates: 

People with alternative motives 

Being disrespected 

Rads 

Working for free Fears: Assaultrons- She had worked with too many in the past and know exactly what they are capable of, making them a huge fear of hers. 

Turning into a ghoul- While Elvira has nothing against ghouls, she hates to even think about turning into one herself. 

Disappearing- Elvira is terrified that she will disappear one day. That people will just forget about her and that she’s not important.  Quirks: She makes a ‘tch’ sound with her tongue whenever she is thinking or judging someone. Whenever she is anxious or worried she’ll play with her hair. Backstory: She met Nate in the army. She was working in engineering with power armor and he was a soldier. They married young due to pressure from their families. They weren’t really happy but because of pressure from their families, again, they stayed together. It was a toxic relationship on both sides but it all happened behind closed doors. They tried to look normal. Had a kid. Went to block parties. Smiled and waved. But neither were happy. Nate wanted to have a kid. He wanted so badly to have a kid. Elvira didn’t. They ‘had trouble’ having a kid. Their trouble was El continuing to take her birth control. When she finally found out she was pregnant at 26, El panicked. She tried to hide it from everyone, denying it to herself. But eventually she began to show and the jig was up. Looking back, that was the only time she never fought with Nate, purely because of how doting and kind he was being, she didn’t have enough energy to fight with him. After 9 months, she had Shaun. She wanted nothing to do with him and had severe postpartum depression. She wanted to get rid of it. She couldn’t raise a baby. It was Nate baby. Not her’s. She spent days in bed, doing the minimum she could with the baby. Eventually Nate called a doctor to the house to help and they did. She shook the depression and coped with it, but she never got rid of the feeling that the baby wasn’t hers. Of course, it was hers, but it felt so foreign. She started working more and more, trying to stay away from home and Nate ended up staying home with the baby. She got questions about it at work, wondering why she came back so fast but she avoided them all. Whenever she came home, she would always fight with Nate. He was disappointed in her mothering skills. He was angry that she was never home. That she wasn’t a wife anyone. She wasn’t ever a mother. He was the one always putting Shaun to bed and waking him up and changing diapers, giving 2am feedings. She hadn’t even tried to breastfeed. They would scream at each other. She had to work. She didn’t want this. It was his fault that she couldn’t leave. His crazy religious family. It was his constant nagging and complaining that drove her to work herself to death. Elvira ended up cheating on Nate and it came to a snapping point in their relationship. That brings it up to the bombs and the events of the game. She’s slow about trying to find Shaun because she never really wanted a kid but there was always that nagging sense of motherly duty that drove her to find him and the guilt of there being a baby out there alone with a stranger. Although, she was just as much a stranger to him as anyone else. Lover’s Embrace Quotes: 

“Wow you were loud enough to wake the dead.” 

“I did say I’d try anything once..” 

“Ow…” 

“Nothing could capture this moment” 

“Remind me to bring more candles next time we have a seance at the witching hour.” 

“Breakfast in bed, my dear?”

  Relationships Codsworth: He had always been kind to her, despite seeing the failing marriage he was involved in. He stuck around after the war and helped around the settlement because he found that he enjoyed helping people and serving. Elvira turned him over to Preston where she knew he would be happier serving.  Dogmeat: Good boy. She keeps him safe at him in Sanctuary. He stays at the house and is a lap dog. Preston Garvey: Preston and her are close but it is a very business like relationship. She thinks that Preston is too uptight and too driven. He had no goals outside of the Minutemen. But it worked out for her so she sticks around. She enjoys rebuilding the Commonwealth and bringing something other than violence around. Nick Valentine: She and him have very similar humor and get along well. They go out for drinks often. She appreciates his efforts to help her find Shaun and his sympathetic ear that he often leans. He understands. Piper: She gets on her nerves. She’s too peppy and sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong. But she’s doing the right thing. Cait: Elvira gets very attached to Cait after saving her from the Combat Zone. She feels like they were cut from the same cloth. She helps clean her up and takes her all over the Commonwealth with her. They get romantically involved. 

John Hancock: El and Hancock are bros in the first degree. They are very different but they go together very well. She is always ready for a drink with him. They can talk for hours and laugh and joke forever. Robert Joseph MacCready: Elvira likes how she can make MacCready squirm. He’s got a personality where she know how to mess with him and she does. She doesn’t like how weak willed he seemed to be. Paladin Danse: If Preston is uptight, then Danse is… something else. She regrettably works with him often but that doesn’t mean that she enjoys it. She tries to make the best of it but they clash heads just as much as she did with Nate. She and Danse will scream at each other until the world’s end. But when push comes to shove there is one big difference between him and Nate. El will take a hit for Danse. They have a connection on a deep level. A loyalty to something bigger than themselves, even if Elvira’s is gone. Possibly a romance here? Deacon: Little shit is everywhere and El laughs at it. She picks up on his lies quickly and plays into them. They are trouble with a capital T even if he gets on her nerves. Maxson: El and Maxson run circles around each other. They both have very dominant personalities but they don’t clash. They circle each other like dangerous and hungry lions. 

Media 

spotify playlist: x

images: x x 

writing: x x x x x

fic: x

pinterest board: x

[atombombbagel]

🌸 Imagine a Sole who continuously do good deeds to the people even the companions without ever revealing themselves. The only thing that stands out about them is that they wear a shirt with wings printed on the back, earning them title of ‘Guardian Angel’. The companions get curious and sought to find this ‘hero’, failing multiple times. Until one lucky day, Sole gets wounded in the leg, ruining their chance of escape, which then allowed the companions to meet this beautiful soul.

(I switched up the ask a little bit, It’s hard to come up with scenarios with Sole just getting hurt, so I only did that for some, hope you don’t mind

Cait:She’d been looking for someone like them, and Angel that could help her getthrough her most difficult time. She’d heard about them, heard the whispersabout them through the Combat Zone, they’d taken down some big raider bossesand maybe they could help her get out of this shithole. When she’d had the time,she’d gone looking for them but every time she came back empty handed.

“Look what we found,” aman spat, bursting through the doors of the Combat Zone. A person struggled inthe man’s arms, trying to pull against him, but his grip was iron tight. Hepushed them to the ground in front of everyone and Cait stepped out from theshadows. Cait’s eyes roamed the person’s body, her eyes widened when shenoticed the famous angel wings printed on the back of their shirt.

“It’s you,” she said in disbelief,coughing when everyone turned to look at her, “I mean, finally a real fight,had enough of you losers anyway,” Cait pulled the person off the ground, “Getready for a fight lads,” She hollered, causing cheers to come from every dangraider in the place. Sole looked up at her, “don’t worry, follow my lead,” shewhispered with a nod, “Yer getting me the fuck out of here.”

Curie:(So although this makes no sense with Curie’s story, here she is already out ofthe vault and already a synth)

Curie rushed to theperson on the ground who was squirming in pain. They were lying on their back,blood oozing out of a wound in their back.

“I’m going to turn youover,” she informed them, receiving a nod from the person, “what’s your name?”she said as she flipped them over, her fingers running over the patterned wingson the back of their shirt.

“Sole,” they struggled tosay, wincing in pain as Curie lifted up their shirt, showing the bullet woundin their lower back. The bullet had luckily missed Sole’s spine.

“I’ve heard about you,”she said, using a pair of tweezers to dig the bullet out of the gaping hole.Sole cried out, biting down on their arm as she removed the bullet, putting itin a metal bowl behind her. She poured some Vodka on the wound, causing anotherstring of cries to fall from Sole’s mouth. She then injected some Med-x and aStimpak, before helping Sole to their feet.

“I’ve heard about youtoo,” Sole said with a smile, “Thanks doc,”

“Perhaps we could learn somemore from each other?” Curie said hopefully, ever since she’d heard about Soleand all the things they’ve done, she’d wanted to assist them, be by their sidein their travels.

“Absolutely.”

Danse:He remembered the wings, the only thing he’d seen when they’d swooped in andsaved him and his team from a group of ravenous feral ghouls. Before he couldthank them for the help, they’d disappeared without a trace, he’d asked aroundbut nothing, no one seemed to know of this mysterious stranger.

Danse was on route, doinga quick supply run when he spotted a person getting dragged to the ground by a groupof feral ghouls. Lucky for them Danse was quick on his feet and good with his weapon.He darted towards them, shooting the ghouls in the process, the laser rifleripping through the skulls of those undead killers. He held out a hand andlifted the person to up on their feet.

“You’d want to be morecareful civilian,” he said, his gun dropping to his side as the person dustedthemselves off.

“I’ll make a note of it,”they said with a smile, “thanks for your help,” they backed up, “Oh, and itsgood to see you again,” they turned, walking in the opposite direction, turningback to watch the stunned expression on Danse’s face as he realised who he’djust saved.

“Wait, I’ve been lookingfor you.”

Deacon:Deacon always thought that he was the hardest man to find, constantly having anew face, new clothes, wearing his shades to hide his appearance. But thisangel was by far, the most difficult to get a hold of, even for a spy likeDeacon. Desdemona had insisted that Deacon find this person, something aboutthem being an asset to the organisation.

He was walking backthrough the Commons, always on high alert, as he made his way back to the NorthChurch. He was startled when a person appeared from seemingly out of nowhere,grabbing onto his shoulder.

“Didn’t mean to scare youbut I need some help,” they said, clinging onto Deacon’s shirt, he wrapped hisarm around their waist and then he noticed the shirt, he’d found them, well,they’d found him. He dragged them into the Church. They both stumbled alongthrough the tunnels, finally reaching a doorway. The door clicked open andDeacon pushed through it, dragging Sole along behind him.

“Looky here everyone, Ifound them,” He said, with a smile. Carrington stopped what he was doing and immediatelycame to Sole’s aid, helping them sit down on a chair as he attended to theirwounds, “We’ve heard great things about you, fancy telling us your name?”

Hancock:They’ve saved multiple ghouls. Preventeda super mutant attack right outside the gates. Angel wings. Hero.

He’d listened to thestories shared between the drifters around town, he’d offered top caps foranyone who could provide any information or even find them, so he couldpersonally thank them for all they’d done for his town. Reward them even. Butnothing, it’s like they didn’t even exist.

Hancock leaned againstthe dirty brick wall, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he listened to Fahrenheitramble on about something. He wasn’t even really listening. He turned aroundwhen he heard the gates crack open, a person stepping through, nearly stumblingto the ground. Then they did, doubling over and heaving on the ground. Hancockflicked his cigarette to the ground, stalking over to the person, his eyeslingering on the print on their shirt.

“Now have I been lookingfor you,” he said, grabbing them under their arm and helping them to theirfeet. He noticed their battered and bruised face, their cuts extending downtheir arms, they looked like they’d been in an explosion.

“Glad to be of service,”Sole replied, coughing heavily. Hancock nodded towards Fahrenheit and shewalked over, wrapping Sole’s other arm around her shoulder as she helped Hancockcarry her towards the Hotel Rexford. He’d talk to them once they’d gotten somerest.  

MacCready:Although he’d wanted to be the one to take out those bastards, Winlock andBarnes, he’d heard that they’d met an unfortunate end by the one they call ‘GuardianAngel’. To him the name didn’t seem like a coincidence, he’d been looking for someonelike them, someone to help him save his son. He didn’t like taking advantage ofpeople, but he’d heard that this person offered help and they didn’t expectanything in return, not that he had anything to give anyway. He’d looked for them,but he couldn’t locate them.

Sole stumbled down thestairs to the Third Rail, leaning over the bar as they ordered a luke-warm beerfrom Whitechapel Charlie. MacCready had walked out of the back room at thatmoment, spotting them at the bar. And he thought maybe, finally, his luck waschanging. He walked up to the bar, sitting down on the stool next to Sole.

“I’ll have what they’rehaving,” MacCready said, looking over at Sole, “You’re just the person I’vebeen looking for,” he said just above a whisper, leaning in to them.

“You and a long line ofpeople, what can I help you with?” Sole said turning to MacCready and thentaking a sip of their drink.

“It’s my son,” he started.

“I’m in,” Sole interrupted,MacCready was surprised by Sole’s reaction, not a lot of people would jump in andoffer to help a Merc. But he wasn’t going to complain about it.

Nick:(Again, this would make no sense with his story, but oh well).

Being a detective with alot of experience in the field, you’d think that Nick Valentine could trackdown anyone, but this person was harder to find than he’d expected. It was onlyby chance that he stumbled upon them. He been investigating the disappearance ofa man which lead him to a raider base. He’d found the man, not alive but thenhe saw them, tied up to a post, another victim to the sick acts of the raiders.He was nimble, getting them in and out without anyone seeing them.

“Thank you,” Sole said, rubbingthe red rings around their wrists where the ropes had cut into their skin.

“No thank you, I’ve heardgreat things about you kid,” he paused, “not a lot of people would help outanyone in these parts, you’re an inspiration,”

“That means a lot comingfrom you Valentine,” they held out their hand to him and he took it, shakingtheir hand, “I’m Sole,”

“It’s great to finallymeet the girl/ man behind the persona,”

Piper:A story, that’s all she wanted. ‘The Guardian Angel’ would make a great title forone of her stories, she was desperately trying to find them, the scoop too goodto pass up. Even though she was good a snooping and spying, getting informationfrom people, she could not for the life of her find this person anywhere. Itslike they were a ghost.

She was walking back fromanother search when she heard a loud crash coming from the left of her. Whenshe turned around she nearly got knocked over by a person, who’d been runningtowards her. They grabbed her hand.

“Run,” They said, causinga panic to shoot up through Piper. She held onto their hand tightly as theyboth ran through the streets. Piper looked back to see a Super mutant suiciderrunning in their direction. Sole pulled her around the corner and pulled a pinout of a grenade with their teeth, tossing it in the direction of the green monstrosity.Sole dived to the ground on top of Piper as the explosion rang out in the background.

Sole slowly liftedthemselves off of Piper, holding out their hand to help her up.

“Sorry about that,” Solesaid as they dusted ash and dirt off their hands. Piper was speechless foronce, still processing what had just happened, “Anyway, you have a good day,”Sole said with a nod, turning around and walking away. That’s when Pipernoticed the trademark wings on their back.

“Wait!” She called out,catching up with them, “I know you don’t know me but I know you,” Sole turnedto face her, “I have a story you’d be perfect for…”

Preston:Reports had come back to him about a wanderer, who had been helping out variousMinutemen settlements, without his authority, not that he was mad about it, healways needed the extra help. He just wanted to meet this person, tell them hewas grateful for all they had done for him and the people of the Commonwealth. Hewanted to put a face to all the amazing acts the person had done.

Preston was visiting anearby settlement to check on things when he noticed a person walking towardsthem, another person walking by their side.

“You saved them! Thankyou!” a settler said, wrapping their arms around their returned friend. Solesmiled at them.

“Anytime,”

“It’s you isn’t it? You’re the one who’s been helping us,” Prestonasked in disbelief, looking at Sole, they turned to face him with a smile.

“I’m guessing you’veheard about me?” he nodded and Sole laughed, “It’s nice to meet you,” they said,shaking Preston’s hand. He had so many questions for them, but he didn’t wantto creep them out.

“Sorry, Yes, uh Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Likewise. I have somany questions,” She stuttered, making Sole laugh. 

“Of course, what do youwant to know?”