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Queen Helter of Skelter

I am amazingness incarnate. I exist only to rule the Kingdom of Spectaculosity and to make the world a totally magnificent place. Basking in the glow of my sheer fabulousness has been known to cause random implosions, nosebleeds and fainting. Do not bask on an empty stomach or while operating heavy machinery.


To find a list of all my OuaT stories, just click here:


To find a list of all my Fallout stories, just click here:


To find a list of my publications, click here:


To buy my novella, click here:


Ask me anything


do u ever have that default username that you always use and if a site already has it taken youre like . speechless

(via mumblingsage)

History in Lights

Anon prompted: I’m so tired of this

Masterpost of fills here.

History in Lights

Boone doesn’t speak a whole lot of Spanish. Never had much need to, what with Manny always somewhere nearby and happy to translate. Most he knows is a handful of old cusswords, but from what he can tell, Raul’s worked his way through those already, charged head on into something else.

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When your cats find a plastic bag and do the thing.

whatifqueen asked: Your Fallout prompt fills have been my fic highlights of the week.


I’m glad! I love writing them so I’m happy they have an audience.

All Hail

reetm prompted: All hail the Queen!

All Hail

Domino doesn’t intend on going. It’s not as though his world revolves around her. Certainly, he has other plans.

But she sends him an invitation, gold gilt on cream—his gold on House stationary—and he’s known Marilyn just long enough to hear her when she doesn’t speak. She has something exciting boiling on the horizon and she wants him in a front row seat.

Well, who is he to turn down a date with a queen?

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Dear Cute Shy Anon:

I love you. You are stinky cute.


Disney princess Charon in a pre-war park stroller dress and combats because the hulking ghoulified muscle mass was otherwise just too terrifying in his original combat armour. 

let’s be real, I would probably be MORE scared if a hulking rotten man came up to me in a pretty pink party dress than if he came up to me dressed like a sane and rational individual. (though I totes have a thing for men in combat boots and dresses so… probably depends on if he’s armed.)

Mama, Call Your Dogs Home

chocochipbiscuit prompted: I’ll run to you

Mama, Call Your Dogs Home

No one notices a quiet dog.

His back to the shadows, Antony bears witness when the fort falls. He stands with one hand on Lupa’s collar, the other on his blade, watching dog after dog streak from Caesar’s tent. And they are his dogs, raised and fed from his hands. They should not run. There is nothing in this world that they fear.

Yet, they flee. Every one.

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reetm prompted: blood in the water


Back in the vault, the only thing that could get Butch and Dr. J in the same room together was a kitchen full of Sunny wielding knives like a future raider. She’d set her mom’s old holotapes running—maybe mix in some of his dad’s, too—and that’d be it. Kitchen meant neutral territory and clean hands and not a fucking word from the peanut gallery if you wanna to eat.

So when Butch wakes up to banging pots and the Doors blaring through their Megaton house, he doesn’t even bitch about it.

If Sunny’s cooking, it’s a goddamned holiday.

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Okay I reread this again and I can’t stop laughing about the fact that he dragged half a brahmin home for her like he’s some big mean cat. And I don’t know if they planned it first and she knew he was bringing it home or not but it’s definitely funnier imagining him going out with some vague mention of meat and hunting and showing up at the house again with a dead cow slung over his shoulder like it’s a damn trophy.

Butch is probably exaggerating about the size of the cut (he does that), but otherwise, yes. Charon totally went out for something like gun parts and came back with a giant hunk of meat: “You said you liked to cook, so I brought you a thing.”

He tries to act all cool about it, but he’s so stinking proud, he can’t help sneaking glances at the kitchen.

Future Perfect

benjibreak prompted: Cold, sleepless

This one follows on the heels of A Legacy, but only in a you-had-to-be-looking-in-the-background kind of way.

Future Perfect

She doesn’t tell them. Months, it must have taken, but she doesn’t say a word. 

Arcade likes to think she could have come to him at least, likes to believe that his opinion is worth something in her estimation, but obviously not. She had to know what he’d say to this.

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