#i made an outline for a prologue chapter the other day
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↳ ❝ [ ALICE IN BORDERLAND AU ] ¡! ❞
୨⎯ e. williams x reader ⎯ ୧
MDNI! you and ellie meet another soul, which brings you hope... but quickly takes it back again
this isn't the best since i'm sick but i was impatient to finish it so enjoy !! next games n chapters should be more interesting 🫡
warnings: mentions of death, acid/poison, pressure and fear
prologue ⋘ chapter one ⋙ chapter two
DAYS ON VISA : 1
the last few hours were a mist of confusion and denial. you and ellie were wandering around the city without much sense nor any plan. all of the walking has drained your energy and you could feel your legs begin to ache with each step. the silent streets offered only a glimpse of reality, yet it was one that made little sense, leaving you both with conflicting feelings of doubt and concern, not sure what to believe or do next. though the silent city seemed to offer no clues as to where everyone had gone, its silence became a disturbing reminder of the reality of the situation, as if to taunt you.
your wandering eventually brought you and ellie to going into building after building, and despite entering each one with the hope of finding someone, they all offered the same eerie result. you could hear nothing inside, aside from the faint echo of your footsteps as you walked through the rooms.
"wait, this one's locked" you began, standing in front of a not big house with its front door firmly shut. you tried pulling on the handle, but found it firmly locked from within. in the midst of all the chaotic disappearance, this was a strange sign of... normalcy? you wondered, if only for a moment.
"maybe they locked themselves inside" ellie suggested. "i mean, who wouldn't, after something like this happened?"
it made sense; the unknown and sudden nature of the emptiness could have easily sent people into a state of panic, desperate to hide away from the unknown and keep themselves safe. the closed house certainly seemed to suggest this possibility, a sign that someone was still here, just locked away from the outside world.
the two of you stood outside the house for a few silent moments, debating what to do next. everything remained empty and still, aside from the sound of your own voices speaking softly in the chilly evening air, and your feet shifting on the cold ground beneath you. you tried pulling on the handle a little harder, but still it did not budge, remaining firmly shut. the absence of any noise made the situation all the more unsettling, as if the house itself was a silent witness to the chaos unfolding around it. your heartbeat picked up speed as you began to contemplate the possibility of breaking down the door, and as if reading your thoughts, ellie reached out to touch your arm, a gesture to remind you to keep your composure and remain collected.
you paused mid-motion, suddenly recognizing the sound of footsteps just outside the door. it didn't take long to realize that someone was indeed in the house, their actions producing the faint echo of footsteps on the floor. the sound was quiet, but distinct, as if whoever was inside was walking slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the noise they made.
you stepped back from the door as the hidden occupant's footsteps stopped. after an uneasy few seconds of silence, you heard the faint sound of a lock clicking, followed by the soft whoosh of a door knob turning. the sound of the door shifting in its frame filled the silence, as it opened slightly, revealing nothing but a crack of darkness on the other side. the vague shape of a shadow behind the door was all you could see, its identity still a mystery.
you remained still, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness behind the door. the faint outline of a human shape remained, albeit without any clear details. a soft breathing drifted out from the door, its subtle yet distinct rhythm hinting at the presence of a person. it was the only sound within the silence, filling you with an uneasy feeling, though nothing compared to the sudden appearance of a whisper. in a quiet, barely audible voice, the person behind the door spoke.
"hello...? is someone there?" the voice drifted softly through the air, its whisper almost sounding like a faint breeze. it was clear that whoever was waiting behind the door was hoping to avoid attracting attention, though their question was a clear sign that they were aware of your presence. the shadows created by the dim interior and the dim exterior light made it impossible to decipher any details about the person speaking.
"yes" you answered, the sound of your voice filling the air to confirm your presence.
you remained still, letting the person behind the door take the lead. with a quiet and subtle creak, you could hear the door slowly inching open to reveal the shadow behind it.
the figure turned out to be a man, his eyes meeting yours in a silent glance as he took in your presence. while he had a look of caution in his eyes, his demeanor seemed calm and reserved, almost apologetic in the way he watched you. he looked to be way older, perhaps in his mid-40s or so, though his worn and overworked appearance made it difficult to pin down his exact age.
"come in" the man said, softly gesturing for you to follow him inside the house. he slowly walked past the door frame, letting his body pass into the darkness of the interior while expecting for you to do the same.
you cautiously looked at ellie, as if to ask her what to do.
"do we have a choice?" she shrugged and encouraged you forwards. "ladies first."
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
you stepped past the man into the kitchen, ellie close behind you. the light was dim, yet much brighter than the rest of the house that remained shrouded in darkness. you could see everything more clearly, including the man himself. his appearance was somewhat tired and overworked, though his soft demeanor betrayed no sense of danger. he had not spoken since he led you inside, keeping a respectful distance as he allowed you and ellie to settle into the kitchen.
the man looked at you both, taking in your appearance with an understanding look. "newbies, i'm guessing?" he asked, his soft and calm voice indicating that he was well aware of your confusion and uncertainty. his look of understanding remained unchanged, as if he fully understood your doubt and the situation you found yourselves in. "i'll cut to the chase then" he said, stepping a little closer and speaking in a more clear manner. his demeanor became slightly more serious, as if he was taking on the role of the one in charge of the situation. "do you know what's happening right now?"
"we know that everybody's disappeared" you told him, gesturing the space around with your hands. "everyone. all of these buildings are empty."
the man's expression remained neutral, giving off the impression that he had already known this, and thus was not the least bit surprised by the news. instead, his demeanor conveyed a sense of solemnity and understanding of the gravity of the situation. "yes, that's right." he nodded.
the man began to fill ten shot glasses with water, laying them neatly on the counter top as he talked. one of the cups seemed suspicious, because he carefully took it out from a drawer, already filled. "something big is happening in the world, like nothing i've ever seen. something powerful and unknown, beyond our understanding. i think it's better to focus on what we do know. there's no point in trying to piece it all together, we'll just go crazy. we have to accept it. we can worry about how all this happened later, for now we should think about what needs to be done." the man took the suspicious cup and placed it between the other nine glasses, seemingly making no distinction between it and the remaining cups. he quickly rearranged them, making you unable to remember which one was the different one.
the man suddenly smiled, his whole expression shifting into a more playful and cheerful tone. "well, i guess we're playing a game." he looked at the glasses, which he had now carefully arranged in a pattern where all of them looked the same. he pointed at them with an excited smile on his face, as if to challenge you and ellie.
GAME 1 : 3 of ♦️
- the players may not physically interact with the dealer
- there are 10 shot glasses arranged in a row on the counter. each glass contains water, except for one glass which contains a lethal poison
- the player and the dealer will take turns playing the game. during the player's turn, they have 1 minute to choose one (and only one) of the following two actions; failing to do so results in an immediate game over:
- make the second player drink the contents of the leftmost glass (from the player's perspective) on the counter, and remove that glass from the row
- make the second player drink the contents of the leftmost glass and the second-leftmost glass (from the player's perspective) on the counter, and remove both glasses from the row
- apart from the abovementioned actions, the player may not interact with the glasses and/or their contents in any other way (e.g. the player may not pour away the liquid in the rightmost glass)
- during the dealer's turn, he has 1 minute to choose one (and only one) of the same actions as the player, except he takes glasses from the right from his perspective
- the game begins with the player's turn
- at any point in time, if the dealer drinks the poison, the player receives game clear
- at any point in time, if the player drinks the poison (or breaks the game rules as stated above), both players receive game over
ellie hesitated, the gravity of the man's explanation sinking in as she processed the situation. "you're crazy" she said, looking at him with a mixture of bewilderment and confusion. the man remained nonchalant, seeming unfazed by her words.
you then piped up, asking "what if we don't want to... play?"
the man stepped aside and reached into a drawer, withdrawing two cell phones and pressing one into your hands. as you turned it on, a plain black text revealed: days on visa: 1. you peeked at ellie's but it showed the same thing as yours. he then gave a brief explanation of the visa, which he assured you are the remaining days of your life that will increase everytime you play a game by the difficulty of it.
you both sat in silence, taking in the information. you had thought all the rules of the game had already been revealed, but now you had this new information to take into consideration. you looked at ellie, who shared your bewildered look of confusion as you processed the knowledge that you both only had one day left to live.
"are we supposed to be satisfied with just one day?" she asked, her voice containing a frantic touch of amusement.
you both had a hard time choosing, and the man seemed to be growing impatient with your reluctance to begin the game. after a few more moments of silence, he broke in, seeming ready to make the first move. "i'll go easy on you, i swear, newbies. you go first. choose one or two, just pick something."
"this is three of diamond. if you win the game you get another three days added to your visa" the man explained. he didn't seem to care about the implications of playing a life-or-death game every day in order to simply prolong your life for another 24 hours. he simply expected you and ellie to accept the circumstances and begin the game without question. "it's not like you can choose anyway, but you couldn't have come across a better chance. i mean, it's a simple game, there's really nothing else to say. one of the glasses has acid in it. so choose wisely, play carefully, and good luck." the man ended his brief explanation with a playful smile, as if he was really looking forward to starting the game regardless of your decision.
after a few moments of hesitation, you decided to play it slow and choose one. you carefully picked the first glass between the ten and held it up to ellie's face, waiting for her to take it. her head tilted back and she lifted the glass to her lips, drinking the whole liquid in a single gulp. you watched her, still unsure about the whole game, expecting her to either burst out in pain or scream as the acid burned her throat. instead, she simply set the glass down with a contented sigh.
the man watched your expressions closely, smiling brightly at the sight of your relief. but though her lips were not burnt by the acid, the game was not over yet. he nodded, indicating that he's ready to play.
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
you'd made it through eight glasses and each had been safe. the odds may not be in your favor, but you had managed to beat them up until now. finally, you were at the final round of the game, with only two cups remaining. as you realized the dilemma in front of you, you also realized there was only one logical choice: you had to choose one glass, because even if you tried playing two, it wouldn't spare you from death, ellie would still be drinking poison. the only way to avoid it was to pick a single one and hope for the best.
you reached forward and carefully picked a cup, feeling the tension build as you held it out to ellie. she looked at you with a nervous expression, clearly feeling equally stressed about the situation as she prepared to take yet another sip of what potentially could be acid. you held your breath as she lifted the glass to her lips, sipping from it. after a full swig, she lowered the glass without a reaction, just as she had done four times before.
with only one glass remaining and the man's turn, you knew that there was a one hundred percent chance this would be the acid shot. he seemed to understand this as well, smiling cheerfully as he nodded to the glass in front of him. "it's my turn, isn't it?" he chuckled and gave another small laugh as he picked up the glass and raised it, as if to celebrate a victory. "to the remaining two!" he toasted and gave you an understanding smile, as if to reassure you both that the game would end well for you. "you might not want to see this, though."
as the man raised the glass to his lips, his eyes met yours with a serious and focused expression. he did not shy away from your stares, knowing that there was no point in avoiding you the sight of consequences. you could not move from the unbelievable sadness of witnessing a life ending before your eyes, and yet you felt ellie's hand consciously grip your arm, pulling you away from the tragic scene.
✧˖°
game inspired by: HippoOfGreen on reddit
taglist: @ellieswife @coff1nn @abbyily @littlegingerperson2 @marianeski @onlinelesbo @mayagrahh @acatstalkingyou @rayslender @imprettyandpink @sillymelodyy @destructive-path @ellieslutybitch @elliemywife @saxiigami @flowexr @dsybouquet @ellieswifee @stickynachomaker @elliesaesp @elliezlils11utt @pank0w @xiaos-wife1 @machetegirl109 @teawithnosugar @lostwsoo @iove-bbb
#ellie in borderland#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie x y/n#tlou ellie#ellie#ellie x you#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams x female reader#the last of us#the last of us part two#ellie the last of us 2
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IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)
summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.
warnings: short and sweet! (none)
a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo
sneak peak | pinterest board
(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.)
It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.
It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.
Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.
To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze.
She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.
The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.
He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song.
The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view.
Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window.
In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.
He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.
What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.
She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.
Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.
That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.
He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.
He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck.
“Hi.”
His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs.
It was September.
“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”
“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.
She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.
No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.
The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.
Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.
“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.
What was that called? Heterochromia?
He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”
She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”
He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”
The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books.
She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some study material done early.”
Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.
She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.
He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.
He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.
He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie.
He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.
He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”
She sighed, “Can I tell you something?”
Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.
He nodded.
“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”
Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.
He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.
The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless.
When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”
She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”
Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.
He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”
She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”
Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”
“Natalia.”
“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.
“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”
Something clenched in his chest.
#sidney crosby x oc#sidney crosby fic#it's never over prologue#nhl fic#nhl series#sidney crosby imagine#sidney crosby oneshot#sidney crosby x reader
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Falling Through The Cracks : Hazbin Hotel x reader
[ Prologue: The Price Of Overtime ]
Word count: 2.7k
A/N There isn't a lot of interaction with the characters yet bc this is just establishing how reader got there, but there will be with most of the hotel in chapter 2 🙏
This was bc I reached 300 followers. Thank you for getting me to that milestone 💛
Cw SFW, gn!reader, stalking, slightly descriptive depiction of violence, death, vomit(?), reader has a bad time pretty much
Your steps echoed out in the darkness as you walked down the pockmarked sidewalk. The only thing keeping you from falling flat on the pavement with how dark it was was barely working street lights.
It felt as if you were walking in a different plain of existence at 12am through the eerily silent and abandoned streets, the unnatural lights which cast a sickly yellow glow over everything only added to that impression.
Normally, you would have knocked off at your job before the sun had set to avoid the crazies out at night in your city. Overtime rates seemed worth it this morning, though; a decision you absolutely regretted now.
In-between the cries of the crickets, frogs and the other normal sounds of the night - a quiet sound like a second pair of footsteps had been following you for a while now, although each time you looked over your shoulder and stopped in the middle of the gloomy patches of light lining your trek home, nothing was behind you and the second pair of steps stopped along with your own.
This constant seeking of reassurance did absolutely nothing to calm your steadily rising hackles, however.
As your eyes scanned the abandoned streets all around you, your hair stood on end. Something was there, and you could feel it. Somehow the lack of life made it worse then if you could actually see whoever the person was following you.
Maybe it was paranoid bullshit in reality, but you would far rather it be your mind playing tricks on you than die finding out it was real. You quickened your pace.
The seconds ticked by extremely slowly due to your hyper-awareness of everything going on around you, your eyes darting around to try and catch sight of whoever it was; instead only finding the shadows of tree limbs which were all too human-like and the occasional bird which was startled due to your presence.
You were just a few minutes away from home, so if you could just reach it-
You startled, becoming rigid where you stood, trembling as jittery adrenaline began flowing through you as you heard it.
The low sound of a whispering voice flowed out of the inky darkness, a melodic sound which tickled at your ears and made your mind feel strange, almost like zoning out.
It felt.. Nice after the long day you had had. It felt right. You couldn't quite understand the words being spoken, it sounded like some kind of long-forgotten dead language, but it lulled you into calmness.
‘Wha… are y…’ A half-formed thought which was drowned out. Your eyelids felt heavy as the stress of the day weighed on your shoulders, the siren call feeling like a warm hug in comparison to the fear of the unknown that was quickly ebbing away.
‘What… you.. doi..’ You just wanted to sleep so badly.
You swayed in place, body stubbornly fighting your mind's desire to collapse and do as the whispering voice was seemingly telling you.
The stranger's words would have fully ensnared you if your rational thought hadn't screamed out finally after its continuous suppression.
‘What are you doing!’
You snapped back to reality, suddenly aware of the way the footsteps had grown louder, a glimpse of the outline of an inhumanly tall person just out of view under the poor lighting visible from the corner of your eye.
Oh fuck.
It was like a fire was lit under you all at once as you finally comprehended just how royally screwed you could have been had you waited for whatever supernatural bullshit this was to catch up with you. You ran as fast as you could, a primal response to flee suddenly waking up and prompting you to haul ass as fast as you could away from the figure.
The world blurred around you as you passed lines of trees and occasional benches on your way, your scared mind fearing that any of the long shadows cast could be inhabited by whatever it was.
Your heart beat out of your chest, feeling light-headed with the mixture of fear and adrenaline as your ability to quickly move kicked into high gear.
Your throat and lungs burnt, hair plastered to your forehead with sweat uncomfortably, but you didn't stop even once as it gained on you.
Whatever it was saying only grew louder - what was gentle and appealing to your ears now stung them and made your head hurt, loudly ringing within them.
You should have just taken a normal shift.
Hey, at least you'd die with a bunch in your bank account though, huh? The pessimistic thought made you laugh out loud despite the pain and fear combing into nausea within you.
You were confident that to any nosy onlookers safely within their houses, you probably looked batshit insane with your wild mess of hair, terrified expression and shaky laughter, running away from ‘nothing’.
You were so fucked.
Tears stung your eyes, blurring with your throbbing headache brought upon the voice now screaming its commands at you.
It fell on deaf ears ironically as you continued the breakneck pace away from it.
You made the mistake of snatching a glance behind you again, throwing your head around and trying to remove the hair from your eyes in an attempt to see if the figure was still present. The toe of your scuffed up converse caught within a large hole in the sidewalk painfully, and you went spiralling downwards.
You cursed loudly.
The next few seconds seemed to move differently as if you fell in slow motion, heartbeat echoing in your ears as the sound of the voice abruptly ended.
Beat beat.
You squeezed your watering eyes shut instinctually as you made eye contact with the grey pavement you were now falling towards.
Beat beat.
You put your hands out in front of you to try to stop yourself from going face first into the ground.
Beat beat.
An odd cracking sound akin to electricity echoed around you.
Beat beat.
You braced for impact, your thoughts a jumbled mess of fabricated monsters you envisioned were going to catch you any second and longing for the mundane problems which had seemed so hard before this.
Beat beat.
...
Collision with the ground never came.
What?
The feeling of falling suddenly intensified as time became normal again, hot wind whipping at your tear-stained cheeks and quickly drying them. You opened your eyes.
And promptly began screaming.
The vision of the tops of buildings which were cut into a pentagram shape turned your already struggling brain to mush as you realised you were now falling from a great height into a city rather than just a small distance to the pavement below.
Visceral fear filled you as you quickly approached a seemingly much worse, more gruesome fate.
The tall walls of highly built units rushed past you as you fell with no hope in sight of stopping.
As the garbage ridden streets of the strangely shaped city came into view, you almost managed to cry despite the hot air as a gut-wrenching scent like burning meat and hair hit your nostrils.
Great, you'd die in filth. At least in the streets where you were you would have died with some dignity, but this nightmarish, oddly red landscape robbed you of even that.
'I'm so dead.'
Everything went dark just before your body collided with the alleyway below, your brain trying to afford you one last favour so you wouldn't feel anything from your supposed impending doom.
-
Vaggie didn't know what to expect on that morning when she and Charlie took a walk through the streets of hell after the announcement that the next extermination would be moved up.
With one hand in her hopeful girlfriend’s to try keep her from running off into the violent streets full of terrified demons killing each other, the other on her trusted spear, she surveyed the shitshow that was the streets of Pentagram city as best as she could with her one eye.
They were trying to recruit more people into the hotel; hoping that the news would lead people to their doorstep with hope that they could escape the next oncoming attack from heaven.
However, it was as if the depravity was dialled up to a hundred. People were desperate, but they weren't desperate in the way that she and Charlie were looking for.
She shook her head at the carnage occurring in the messy streets, all the more outlandishly sinister with the way the red glow of the sky in the Pride ring shone down on everything.
“Everyone is uh, sure more… lively today, aren't they, Vaggie?” Charlie spoke up from next to her as a demon ran full speed at the two of them while yelling nonsense, promptly being cut down in place effortlessly by her spear.
Vaggie sighed softly as her yellow eye looked down at the body to her right, making sure they were dead before pulling out the point of her spear with a sickening squelching sound that prompted the princess to shudder, hand trembling in her's slightly.
“I don't think we're going to find anyone here who..” she trailed off as her eye which was analysing everything going on with rapt attention caught sight of a sinner’s unconscious body being hauled over the shoulder of a more than suspicious looking demoness.
She was unsure of what exactly drew her attention to them, however that's when she began noticing certain.. differences.
Your form was far too small and fragile-looking to be that of a normal resident of hell. Her brows furrowed as she squinted to try get a better look at you from where you slowly started to stir as the demon holding you leaned down to try pick at a freshly fallen body; presumably to pick-pocket them.
Charlie hummed in confusion at the way she stopped speaking, following her line of sight.
She too watched in unbridled surprise as your tangled head of hair raised to reveal your face looking up at them with tired and unfocused puffy eyes.
Your undoubtedly human face.
After you finally grasped what was going on, you startled and began squirming to try and get away from the person holding you around the middle in an uncomfortably tight grip. Your horrified, glossy eyes looked around wildly as the one keeping you in an iron grip yelled at you to stop before landing on Charlie and Vaggie, who were gawking at you in disbelief.
The way that you stared at them as if they had two heads despite looking relatively normal as far as people down here went was the last indication that the two of them needed that you definitely didn't belong here.
Vaggie cursed as Charlie let go of her hand and rushed over to try and help you, steps crunching loudly on the mixture of broken glass and bodies strewn across the ground.
The fallen angel shook her head at the princess blindly rushing in with no weapon, raising her spear to strike the sinner down before they could harm Charlie, fighting to catch up with the overly enthusiastic blonde.
Your world pivoted suddenly as your captor whipped around upon hearing them approaching, turning you to face a graffiti-ridden wall instead. You swallowed down bile as you fought to keep from throwing up with the sky-high nausea filling you at just about everything going on.
This had to be some kind of weird dream. Those weren't actually dead bodies around, right? You weren't actually followed home by a weird supernatural creature, right? Maybe you were just actually unconscious, passed out because you were so tired after the day. Surely that was it.
Your thoughts ticked over into nonsense as your panic grew and grew to the point that you barely heard the altercation happening right next to you.
That is, until something warm splashed against your face and knocked you back to the reality that didn't quite feel real at all.
The person holding you collapsed, and you felt your brain go blank as you saw the silver blade of the shorter woman’s spear sticking out of her back, impaling her all the way through.
You barely felt the collision with the ground.
You slowly pulled yourself out of the now loose grip of the dead sinner who held you with your jaw slack, pupils impossibly wide while you trembled numbly, your mind fighting to make sense of what was even happening.
Bringing your hand up to your cheek, you felt at whatever had splattered on your face, barely able to even feel the heat of it.
It was when you pulled your hand back to find dark crimson staining your palm, that you finally retched loudly before vomiting next to the corpse.
This was all, in fact, very real, and you were in very real danger with whatever was going on.
Your instinct was to run again, but your whole body protested painfully at that idea. You could barely move at all at that point, confined to where you were, whether you liked it or not.
If the two women trying to talk to you - who you couldn't hear for some reason despite their lips moving to form words - decided you were next then you'd lay down and just let it fucking happen.
You were too damn tired to fight it at this point, and your pessimistic brain insisted that considering what had happened, you'd just probably end up being killed elsewhere in this shithole anyway.
You braced yourself for some awful weapon as the blonde woman pressed her hand into her pocket for something as she crouched down in front of you, squeezing your eyes shut in hope you wouldn't have to see yourself violently murdered in the same way that other person was.
Your eyes cracked open again, brow furrowed hard in confusion as something soft brushed over your cheek where the blood had now begun drying against your grimy skin instead.
Charlie swiped her handkerchief across your face, hoping to at least try to give you some relief from your obvious distress by removing the blood off of you.
She was used to hell; all the fighting, murder, blood and whatnot, but she imagined it must've been difficult for someone new - let alone someone who hadn't even become a sinner - to witness hell in about the most brutal, reality-altering way there was.
It made her heart clench with sympathy the way your exhausted eyes looked up at her, mind very clearly shot from your complete lack of response to her questions about how you got there.
Charlie looked to the side as Vaggie crouched down next to her, red pupils wide and looking at her girlfriend as if asking a silent question.
“There's no way that they would survive out here… We need to take them back with us?” Charlie slowly proposed the idea, hesitant but more than ready to argue her point to Vaggie.
Vaggie's half-lidded yellow eye looked down at you, taking in the way you could barely keep yourself awake after it was clear the violence had finally ended.
The hotel for sure had some characters who'd be nasty around someone like you.
Alastor would be an absolute pain to deal with; the cannibalistic overlord probably would be itching to taste human flesh again for the first time in decades.
Then there was Niffty.
She shuddered thinking of the recent situation of the small maid putting drain cleaner in Angel's drink and waiting with sick enjoyment for the pornstar to chug it, only to end up with a nasty surprise. What would that do to a human?
Vaggie took a deep breath through her nose as she pondered the headache keeping you in the hotel would cause. “Yes. Yes we do.” All of the issues that this would stir up in the hotel would be better than letting some poor, still-living soul who somehow managed to get down here fend for themselves against the harsh conditions of the streets of hell.
Her heart may have been dulled in all the years she had been alive, however, it still beat in her chest despite everything. Even she couldn't bear to think about the alternative.
Charlie let out a sigh of relief. She was thankful they were on the same page about this, she wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing she hadn't taken you in.
You wouldn't last a day with the kinds of freaks who'd pounce on you out here.
The princess retracted her handkerchief from your face as it was clear you were calming down now, and she instead gently rested her hand on your shoulder.
“You're safe with us. We'll help you, don't worry.”
Those words wrapped around you comfortingly despite still sounding a bit far away in your hazy state, and your eyes fluttered shut as you muttered out a barely audible "thank you”, before collapsing again.
Charlie laughed quietly as Vaggie moved to pick you up off of the ground before you fell in anything.. gross - er - more gross while she shook her head.
“A living human in hell. How does something like that even happen?” Vaggie asked Charlie, hoping she had some clue of what went on considering her lineage. She found no such solace, however.
“I have no idea. I've never once heard of a still-living soul passing through to hell from earth.” Charlie smiled ecstatically at Vaggie, who cautiously regarded your sleeping form as she picked you up bridal style as if you'd shatter in her arms otherwise.
Charlie stood alongside her and could barely contain her excitement. “buuuut, if we can keep them virtuous enough to still get into heaven while they're under our protection, then they can be proof that our program works!” She exclaimed brightly.
Vaggie smiled despite the doubt licking at the edges of her mind.
She had a very bad feeling about this.
*Throws you this and runs*/j
There might be some scuff, but I refuse to hold this back for even longer bc I said it'd be out like 2 days ago already 💀
If you'd like to be tagged when I update next, then lmk!
Falling Through The Cracks Masterlist
#Falling Through The Cracks - fic#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin hotel Niffty#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel fanfiction
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west
prologue
pairing: Joel Miller x nb!character
word count: 2.7k
genre: period western/horror
summary: Dakota Territory, 1879. Joel Miller, a widower, lives on the outskirts of Deadwood with his brother and daughter. After travelling north from Texas two years earlier, they've put down roots in the community. Tommy came for the gold rush, and Joel came to keep an eye on Tommy. The end of the world arrives piece by piece, and then all at once.
warnings: glaring historical inaccuracies, canon typical violence, allusions to a suicide attempt, essentially just the opening of the show/game but set in 1879 with some bits adjusted, the horrors of being a person in the 1800s, nb love interest is essentially a reader self-insert but is named (tho won't appear till the next chapter), it will be a slowwwww burn.
a/n: Ok, a funny thing that didn't come up in my research till I was ninety percent thru the outline and halfway thru the chapter but had independently decided on 1879 as the setting -- Deadwood actually burned down on September 26, 1879. Figured it was serendipitous. Happy Birthday, Joel! 🫠
The day the world ended, the sun rose bright across the valley. Autumn was just starting to emerge and dust motes appeared suspended in the bright sunbeams, forested wilderness surrounding the town of Deadwood. The leaves weren't changed, not fully, but here and there you could find a red tree amongst the green ones, and you knew they'd follow soon.
Joel was exhausted. His head ached. His bones ached. He could already feel the stiffness in his muscles from yesterday's work, and today would be no better.
The first few cries of the rooster hadn't done so much as stir him, but now as morning truly broke, he could smell mouth-watering aromas wafting up from below, heard the bustling in his kitchen and his belly rumbled, waking him up right quick.
He scrunched his face up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and went over to the basin to splash cool water on his face. He stared at his reflection in his glass. Another year older. Another strand of silver in his hair. Thirty six. He'd made it to thirty six.
He pulled a shirt from his drawer and frowned. It was soft, cotton, and one of his favorites, but he was sure this one was torn at the shoulder, left to waste away in the oft forgotten mending basket. He shook it out and peered at it–sure enough, it had been torn, but now it was mended with fine, careful stitches.
Sarah. It must've been.
That girl was busy herself, but it warmed him, that she'd taken the time to mend her old pa's shirts without him ever having to ask.
He dresses quickly, tucking in his mended shirt, buttoning his trousers, adjusting his suspenders. He wasn't a vain man, but he takes pride in his work, and his mama always told him "It ain't about vanity, Joel. You take yourself and your appearance serious, others will too."
He grew up with little, but his mama was an accomplished seamstress. Her mending was impeccable, and any time she found a discarded bit of fabric, she'd bring it back to life and make it twice as pretty as she found it. Joel reckoned she was the best dressed woman in all of Texas. She collected issues of Good Housekeeping and Harper's, taking account of all the latest fashions. She built corsets and cages and all the ladies would flock to her to do them up just as pretty.
Joel combed back his hair. Stared in the mirror for just a moment longer, lost in his memories. Nodded, and stepped downstairs.
"Pa!" Sarah grinned at him as he entered the kitchen, "Lookin' mighty fine this morning."
She pulled him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you, baby girl," he grinned back, "You makin' us breakfast?"
"Yep!" She nods, and hands him a plate. Drop biscuits, a little burnt, swimming in gravy, a cup of wild berries on the side, and a hot cup of coffee.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the spiraling tendrils of coffee vapour and let out a delighted hum. "You spoil me, kiddo."
"'Course," she nodded, and took a big bite of her own biscuit.
"Uncle Tommy home?" Joel asked, and Sarah shook her head, a couple of biscuit crumbs scattering around her, "Nah, he went out early today. Said he wanted to get done with his work early so he can celebrate your birthday."
Joel raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate my birthday?" he scoffs, "Stop by the saloon or lose all his money at cards and still make it on time to dinner is more like it."
He took one last gulp of his coffee and placed the mug down.
"We'll have a nice night," Sarah assured him, "An' I told Uncle Tommy he best be here in time for supper or else. And I'm makin' you a cake."
"Okay, baby. You'd best be off to school, now. I'll get these dishes taken care of."
"You sure?" She asked.
"Positive."
Sarah nodded, pulled off her apron, tossed a few of her favorite books in her satchel and tore out the door.
Joel went off for his work. Only two years they'd been in the Black Hills, Joel, Sarah and Tommy, but they'd made a nice little home. They came up after Sarah's mama passed, and Tommy heard about the gold rush. He insisted it was all because of the rush he wanted to come, but Sarah always suspected he came because he knew Joel would follow, and her pa needed a change of scenery. He'd almost faded into a ghost himself, sitting round their empty old house, nearly lost in memories. Grief had a way of consuming him.
So they'd traveled North, left Texas behind for good, and made a new life for themselves.
The schoolhouse had been around since before the Millers arrived in Deadwood, but there hadn't been a teacher till Spring of this year. Joel was glad Sarah finally had a chance for a proper education. Smart as a whip, that one, and hungry for knowledge. He couldn't wait to see what she was gonna do.
There weren't a lot of kids, or even that many women in the community outside of the brothels, but the Millers had established themselves. Tommy was something of a wild card, getting into bar fights more often than Joel would prefer, but he'd never gotten on the wrong side of a quick draw, and he had enough charm he managed to get out of most of the trouble he found himself in. And Joel–Joel was reliable. Whether he was fixing someone's step, or making sure to haul that extra meat back after a hunt to ensure one of Sarah's friends would have enough to eat, he could be depended on.
The day the world ended, Joel saddled up Delphine, his dapple grey, and mounted her, tools packed neatly in her panniers. Today, he'd be working on repairs at the general store. They rode from their home at the outskirts towards town.
As he approached, he slowed to a walk. Something felt off, like there was a tension about to snap. But no one was bleeding, and some days on the frontier that felt like a high enough bar to clear.
Along Main Street, he could hear strained voices.
"The telegraphs stopped coming-" He heard one man say.
"Problem with the wire?" Another asked.
The first man shook his head. "Naw, had some of my guys inspect it. Everything should be workin'. It just- it ain't."
"How long's it been going on?"
"Been five days now. Never seen it like this before."
"Ain't seen any coaches for weeks now, too. It's like the route just stopped altogether. Don't know how to get word to my folks back east about the new baby if we've got no mail and no telegraphs."
The day the world ended, Joel made it home by sunset, just in time to find Sarah plating up their dinner.
"Good day?" She asked, and he nodded.
"Yeah, got lots done. Next time you go by the general store, you'll see a door that swings smoothly on its hinges and brand new windowpanes."
"That's great, Pa!" she smiled. It warmed her to see his pride in his work.
"Uncle Tommy home yet?" Joel asked.
"No," Sarah frowned, "Thought he'd be back a couple hours ago, too. Guess you're right."
"Reckon he's lost track of time. Though- Huh, I didn't see him at the saloon when I rode by."
"There's always the cathouse?" Sarah suggested, and Joel snorted and shook his head. It wasn't an impossibility.
"Well-," Sarah paused, "There'll be cake waiting for him, but at least have your supper before it gets cold."
"Thank you baby," Joel smiled, took his plate from her, and dug in.
The night felt heavy, something in the atmosphere pressing like a weight through the world. All the food was eaten (besides a small plate left for Tommy) and the cake was cut, when the gunshots started outside.
Sarah started and Joel bolted upright, swinging around to grab the rifle by the door without a second thought.
"What's happening?" she asked.
Joel shook his head, crouching down by the window, pushing the curtains aside and peering through.
"I don't know, baby. Just stay calm, stay low. We're gonna be okay."
There was no one directly outside, but the gunshots continued, and the more Joel stared, the more he could see smoke rising from town.
"Looks like a fire," he told her, "Don't know what the shootin's about, though. And–" His eyes narrowed, heartbeat pounded. "We gotta block the door, baby, there's someone coming."
"Is it Uncle Tommy?" She asked, eyes wide and voice small.
"No, I don't think–" Joel had grabbed the heavy mahogany table by the legs and started tugging, but did a double take out the window. "Wait, you're right!"
It was Tommy, galloping towards their home on a mount Joel didn't recognize. Before Tommy was even a hundred feet away, Joel could hear him call out his name.
"Joel!" Tommy bellowed, "We gotta get outta here!"
Joel swung the door open and Tommy stumbled in.
"Somethin's happening," he wheezed, breaths coming quickly, panic etched across his face, running to the cabinet and filling his pack with ammo. A knife. Another revolver. "We gotta pack up anythin' we can't afford to lose. The town's on fire. There are these people, fuck, Joel, it's like they're the Devil's got 'em."
"Like the Devil's got 'em?" Joel asked, pulling two bags from pegs by the door. "The fuck you mean? You been on the shine again?" He turned to Sarah. "Start packin', baby. Clothes, medicine. Cash, too, you know the drawer?"
She nodded and ran upstairs, and Joel turned back to Tommy, fumbling through papers and photos, knowing he had no time for sentiment but couldn't bear to leave without trying to think of everything.
"They're fuckin' possessed," Tommy explained, "Won't listen to reason. It's a fuckin' mess in town. A few coaches came through today and there were men on it raving, saying some kinda devilry was coming through. They seemed crazy, so we just laughed. Didn't think much of it."
He shook his head and ran a palm down his face. That's when Joel noticed the blood on his sleeve.
"Jesus," Joel said, "You hurt?"
Tommy shook his head, confused, and then looked where Joel was looking and exhaled. "Naw," he exhaled, "That blood ain't mine."
"So what happened?"
"Well," Tommy continued, "An hour or so later we heard screaming. Turns out a couple folks who'd come in by train from down South a day or so ago, who weren't feelin' all that well, they'd been to the doctor and went crazy. Started twitchin'. Bitin'. Proper bitin' people. They got these things in their mouths, these weird fuckin' tendrils-"
Joel stared at him, a muscle in his jaw tensing.
"I know it sounds crazy, Joel, but something bad is fuckin' happening. Don't know what it is. All I know is people are tearing each other up. And we gotta get outta here."
Joel was silent a minute and then nodded, solemn.
"Okay." He took a deep breath. "We're gonna get outta here."
"We are," Tommy agreed, "But we both know the only way out is through town, and it's a shit show right now."
"Fuck," Joel hissed and looked out the window again, "Looks like the whole town is on fire."
"It is," Tommy nodded, "But we can avoid Main Street. Go to the outside, and around to the thoroughfare."
"Fine." Then Joel called upstairs, "We gotta go, baby!"
Sarah re-emerged, two bags packed full. "I got clothes for both of us. Money. Few other things."
"Thank you, baby."
They saddled up their horses, Tommy on his stolen mare, Joel and Sarah on Delphine.
Joel hated this, hated that they had to pass through town to pass by Deadwood and across into the Black Hills, but they were at the edge of the gulch. No way to go but through.
Before they rode, Joel cupped the back of Sarah's head with one hand, closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He nearly didn't, worried her pa would be embarrassing her. But he did. For the rest of his life, he was always glad that he did.
As they rode through flames, they saw the foundations of the place they called home begin to crumble. It was chaos. It was worse than Joel ever could have imagined. The town was engulfed in madness, men eating one another toppled over onto the dusty ground. Smoke choked them and made their eyes water as they rode through with cloths pressed to their mouths, trying to avoid the worst of it. There were a few folks who had built barricades and stood beyond them, guns aimed, trying to take down the most violent of the possessed. It was horrifying, their friends, colleagues, and neighbors engaged in a fight to the death. It was wrong wrong wrong and by God it was the end of the world.
They saw the younger Adlers torn to pieces, and the elder running on all fours as she tried to rip apart someone else.
"Hold onto me, baby," Joel said, pulling her in in an attempt to shield her from the bodies. She'd already gotten a glimpse and couldn't help but stare, and she stared for a moment before she felt nauseous. Then, she screwed up her eyes and held on tight.
They saw Jimmy's place in flames. The baker's. The saloon. There were women running from the brothel, still rouged and bright as they aimed their guns at the monsters around them.
Through side paths and shortcuts, down alleyways and in the gaps between houses, they rode desperately through Deadwood. The buildings Joel had helped erect and the repairs he'd completed in the past few years had given him an intricate knowledge of the settlement. They rode fast and sure, evading the devils that clutched at the air, reaching for their ankles as they rode by.
Makeshift barricades had been put up all along the outskirts of town. Each way they turned, there was no way through. They rode back and forth, crisscrossing the streets as they tried their best to pull away from the writhing bodies in the dirt.
It wasn't till they passed the very last buildings down Main Street, right by the edge of town, that they slowed.
The sheriff lay dead, a bullet right between his eyes, bleeding out on the dusty street corner. A circuit rider loomed ahead of him on his mount, hands resting on his shotgun that, slung over his shoulder. Blood drenched his forearms, spattered against his coat, so soaked it shone visible even against the heavy wool. There was a fear in his eyes, a terror that unsettled them.
When he saw the Millers, he straightened and raised the weapon.
"Preacher, let us through," Tommy said, and the homilist darted his eyes between the men.
"Can't let anyone past," the man said, "This here's the reckoning. No one's gonna escape the inevitable."
Tommy raised his revolver. "I ain't askin' again. Let us through."
The preacher steadied his shaking hands and aimed his shotgun "But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up-"
It's hard to say who fired first.
In a split second, two gunshots rang out, fragmented echos of one another. The preacher fell. So did Joel and Sarah.
The bullet grazed through Joel's side, and he clutched at his abdomen, holding the wound.
"Joel-!" Tommy cried as he flung himself from his mount, the preacher dead and already forgotten.
Joel rolled over and crawled towards where Sarah lay. The bullet that had gone through Joel pierced her belly and she shook, blood spurting and pooling from the wound.
He tried to apply pressure, tried to slow the bleeding, but her screams and sobs stilled him.
"I'm sorry, baby," he cried, and she shook, eyes darting around, trying to focus and failing.
"Pa-," she croaked.
"It's okay, baby girl," he lied, "You're gonna be okay."
She exhaled in a final gurgling puff, blood spattering across her perfect face, and Joel howled.
She was gone, he knew it, but still he cradled her.
Tommy stroked her hair and wiped the blood off her cheek. Joel pressed his head to her chest and wept, horrible strangled heaves caught in each exhale.
The day the world ended, Joel's world ended, too.
They carried her body with them for miles, Joel holding her close even as he felt her begin to cool and stiffen. Time escaped them as they rode, and around sunrise, they found a creek with wildflowers blanketing the banks. A small herd of pronghorns leaped along the water.
Tommy dug a hole and Joel told her stories, rocking her back and forth in his arms. All the ones he could remember, that she loved so much when she was little. Told her to rest easy now, baby.
They lowered her into the ground, and Joel wept. Tommy assembled a small cairn at the head of her grave. Joel looked down at his mended shirt and realised it was ruined with blood. The last gift from his daughter, and he'd ruined it.
Joel embraced Tommy. Held his brother close and told him he loved him. Muttered something about needing a moment to himself and wandered off.
The day his world ended, Joel tried to follow her into the darkness. A gunshot rang out, echoing through the hills.
Tommy ran to the sound and found him, crumpled but very much alive. He held his big brother close, cloth pressed hard to his bleeding temple, brushing away his streaming tears as he cried himself, terrified to lose all of his remaining family in a single day.
The day the world ended, the last two Millers were covered in blood and filth and tears. All they had was each other, their horror and their fear.
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Happy Storyteller Saturday!
When you finish a first draft, how does it look? Is it readable or does it have more holes than a swiss cheese? What are your next steps, and how much changes?
Hey Elli! Happy STS!
First of all - I believe every idea is at least somewhat salvageable. I hope to one day get to the point where I somehow managed to adapt the short stories I "wrote" when I was in kindergarten.
Okay my first drafts are...weird. They differ greatly from most people. Let's talk about a few examples so I can explain.
The Secret Portal
Started as a school project in fourth grade (age 10). It is readable but it's so silly. Mainly because I was ten. I've somehow managed to string it together into what it is now but the first act is the only recognizable thing.
The second version of TSP I wrote over a year later. My first step was to make it longer and have chapters. That was about it.
The third version was about a year after that. I decided I didn't like my story ideas to be stretched out across a whole book, so I combined the first two books into one. I alternated the POV and worked more on the details. My descriptions and characterization was better, though I was constrained by the limitations of following the older drafts.
The fourth version was a year and a half after that. We're nearing the end of eighth grade - I'm 14. I'd done a lot of other writing but I decided to go back to TSP. This time, I had full scenes and character introductions and even a halfway decent (emphasis) prologue. Pacing was getting better, and the story beats made more sense. I alternated POV, but realized the need for it being very deliberate whose perspective I was in.
One hole I figured out was how to differentiate my heroes and villains. Jedi and Carmen originated as villain roles but when I thought about it making them good, or honestly extremely morally gray, made a lot more sense. I soon developed a plot, a world, character arcs...
While I refer to all of it as Draft Four, I kept up with this version for so long there are technically multiple drafts of TSP in this section. I didn't start the document over until 2021.
How did I go on from here? Well, I focused on refining story beats. Characters and their voices. General pacing and descriptions. World building.
So definitely not a traditional process lol.
More detailed behind the scenes is linked in my intro post
School of the Legends
I basically hit the reset button every time. I had the idea of "fairy tale retelling" for years.
For SOTL, I did write a dual first person POV short story with Úrsula and Beau and discover third person worked better. But as SOTL it technically only has five chapters drafted. I'd say that just tossing out everything worked here.
Other
Most of the others I wrote as a kid and as I grew older I modified it to my current maturity level, taking the same plot points and fleshing them out. When I was 13+ I started outlining and planning more details and characters. More plot twists and arcs.
Sooo I don't really have the typical first draft experience. Essentially what I do is this:
Nothing is unsalvageable.
Figure out what is salvageable.
Write down ideas I have during reading old drafts.
Identify the holes.
Figure out how to fill the holes/brainstorm
Figure out everything you still don't know
???
Profit
Hope this was a satisfactory answer lol
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @fairy-tales-of-yesterday
#the secret portal#tsp#teaspoon#storyteller saturday#school of the legends#writing blog#writers on tumblr#writing community#writers of tumblr#writing on tumblr#writeblr#writeblr community#behind the scenes
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Combined Snippet Sunday and WIP Wednesday
so, a little late, and a little early. thanks @fangbangerghoul for the tag!
i had a lovely 4-day weekend doing NOTHING but playing starfield, and then stuffing my face with texas de brazil on the 24th, and sushi on the 25th. i also, frankly, didn't get much writing done. i do have a chapter on the editing board, almost ready to be posted, but i wanted to wait until i have the next chapter at least drafted, which i did this weekend. plus, a bunch of outlines and notes. so, somewhat productive?
anyway, you can check out the prologue and first chapter of my fic, To the Shore over on ao3
without further ado, onto the snippet/wip!
Akila
Hwa was always a late riser, and today was no different. She and Sarah returned the previous evening at almost midnight after successfully retrieving another artifact. Hwa was thankful and pleased that she had her own room at the Lodge. Sarah reassured her that, yes, the room was hers to decorate as she liked, within reason. After the artifact was placed with the others, and she performed her perfunctory check-ins with the other members, she almost ran to her new room. As soon as she got in, she made sure the door was shut and locked. She threw her haversack on the bed and stripped down to only a skimpy tank top and panties.
This was the first time she had a bedroom all to herself in years. And, it was a HUGE bedroom. The bed was a king sized bed, full dresser and bureau, bookshelves, sitting chair, and even a safe. On Neon, only the very wealthiest, like executives at Ryujin or Syndicate heads, lived like this. However, she had since learned that, while this was larger and nicer appointed than most homes, homes in New Atlantis for average people were still quite a cut above anything in Neon. Even living accommodations in the Well, where she actually felt more comfortable, were nicer than Neon.
Hwa dumped out the contents of her haversack on the bed and started taking inventory of the treasures she found. There were a lot of Chunks food, which was great because they were hermetically sealed and could be squirreled away. She ate some Chunks chicken, and wrapped up the rest in a towel. While the safe was nice, she was more than cognizant of how easy it was to break into one. No, she thought, needed a better place. Instead she’d prized up a floorboard under her bed. It was here that she stashed her food supplies. Sure, it was cliched, but no one would ever think to look there, at least not these rich people; they’d check the safe, first.
She picked up the wooden duck and arranged it on the bench at the foot of her bed. The light planetarium was placed on one of the bookshelves. But her prize for the mission was down at the bottom - a ParsecPooch plushie. She shook it and giggled delightedly at the 8-bit music, and squeezed it tightly to her chest. Hwa kicked the haversack onto the floor, stripped naked, crawled under the covers, and curled up around the plushie.
#snippet sunday#wip wednesday#fanfic#starfield#sam coe#space cowboy#oc#spacefarer#romance#fluff#trauma#cptsd#autism#i hate doing tags#my thinky-blob wasn't meant for this
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I would love to know what the major differences are between the LATBG that was intended to be published in its entirety in one month and the LATBG of today
So, it turns out I had horribly misremembered everything regarding my timeline for this fic. Whoops!
I found an old version of the document from 09/26/2022, 5 days before I uploaded the Prologue. In that draft, I had apparently written up until when Steve and Eddie meet up at Dustin's house, which is Chapter 20 in the published version. (For reference, until I skimmed that document, I was convinced that I'd conjured up Lucy sometime in early 2023 and that I had only written up until Chapter 13 by that point.)
Each chapter got a major overhaul before I uploaded it, so that Halloween deadline was always a pipe dream, but the events of those chapters remained largely the same.
However, that draft included an outline for the rest of the story. Those events are pretty different from what happened in the final version.
Some major differences between that outline and the final version include:
Vickie was going to be brought into the fold much earlier, for the sake of having a double-date before Steve and Eddie even got together. They were all going to watch the 1970's Carmilla movie, during which Steve was going to make some Interesting and Sad Observations about why that movie was "allowed" to be made. Unfortunately, I could not figure out how to do this without Steve and/or Robin coming across as careless about Eddie's safety.
Steve was going to go back to work sooner, which would have provided many convenient timeskips once Steve was Cursed. Thus, events like dinner with Wayne, Steve and Robin getting matching friendship bracelets, Eddie and Lucy tracking down Steve near the train tracks, etc. weren't going to happen.
Lucy's back-alley vet adventure was going to be an entire chapter. This would have explored Eddie's feelings about not being able to talk to his other friends for the indefinite future.
Eddie was possibly going to continue living at Steve's house in the guest room after he reunited with his uncle. Theoretically, Eddie would have asked Steve if his "offer was still good" about letting Eddie stay there. This would be shortly after Steve had a panic attack about his parents potentially discovering Lucy. I was pretty conflicted about this.
Steve was going to wonder whether Eddie had accidentally "Charmed" him with vampire magic and discuss it with Robin at work. As hilarious as that could have been, I'm glad I decided to ditch the idea. I didn't want to deal with the implications of a gay man (in my headcanon for this fic anyway) being suspected of doing something like that, even if Steve was sure that it was just an accident.
The hand-licking was still going to happen, but it would have been in Steve's kitchen instead.
Steve wasn't going to realize that he was Cursed until he saw the clock, because the hallucinations were going to be more subtle.
Whether Eddie ended up living in Steve's guest room or not, he was going to be there the morning that Steve saw the clock. When Steve stopped answering him, Eddie was going to break his goddamn door down.
Eddie was going to be present for the "Steve is Cursed" meeting and it was going to be ugly. Steve was going to essentially throw Eddie under the bus when Eddie alluded to the whole "Steve thinks that Dustin wishes he'd died instead" thing because he really didn't want Dustin to know that.
The Final Battle was going to be totally different...
EDIT: Original Ending (SPOILERS for the finale):
Vecna, who had been saving up his energy all week, was going to actually (albeit very briefly) control Eddie and break him out of the lab. Before Vecna gained full control, Eddie was going to ask Lucy to chew his foot to slow him down. This would have allowed Lucy to beat Eddie to the Upside Down, and luckily save Dustin from a demodog.
Once puppet!Eddie got closer, Lucy was going to start convulsing as she tried to resist puppet!Eddie's commands to attack everyone. Puppet!Eddie would close in on Steve, slam him into a wall and dislocate his shoulder, and taunt him. Steve, in a stroke of brilliance, would decide that was the best time to kiss Eddie for the first time. (There is a specific piece of fanart that inspired this scene lol.) Vecna, seizing the opportunity to be especially cruel, would have chosen that moment to draw Steve into the Mindscape (basically mocking him like "oh u really thought that would work huh?").
El would kill Vecna quickly, but as a parting gift, Vecna would trap Steve in a warped version of the Mindscape. This Mindscape would rapidly erode Steve's sanity, until he would start to beg for someone to just kill him already. El would start to worry that Steve might end up like her mom if he was left there for much longer. Eddie, upon hearing that, would get the idea to bite Steve to buy them some time for El to find Steve and draw him back out.
I scrapped this around 02/12/2023 when I talked with someone on Discord and realized that this made no sense based on what we knew about how Vecna's powers worked. If Vecna died, there was no logical reason for the Mindscape to persist. I was willing to take a lot of liberties (ignoring the spiders and shit), but not to that extent. I came up with the published finale shortly after this!
Other noteworthy changes that I made along the way:
In the very early planning stages, many major plot changes were made because I stopped to consider the ethical implications of certain character choices. For example, the Basement Arc was originally going to be a lot longer, until I realized that Steve couldn't justify hiding Eddie away for much longer while Dustin and Wayne were so agonized over his death.
Lucy was originally going to be more attuned to Eddie's moods, but I decided it was funnier for them to essentially compete for Steve's attention.
Eddie wasn't going to confess his feelings until a bit later.
The night before they planned to fight Vecna, Steve was going to call his parents, only for that to turn into a horrible hallucination. After ending that call, Steve was going to call Hopper and propose the Contingency Plan.
Dustin and Robin's reconciliation-with-Steve chapters were going to happen after they beat Vecna. I wanted to focus more on Steve and Eddie at the very end, so I reworked that.
The final few hallucination concepts were pretty last-minute, so I'm surprised that I liked how they turned out.
This is...likely a much longer response than you were expecting...but uh...I hope it was interesting!
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{Nopal's 2023 Writing Round Up}
I will start by saying that 2023 was a pivotal writing year for me because it marked the start of sharing my writing online and starting this blog! With all of that came of course, the formation of my own little community 🥺
I've made so many lovely friends along the way, fallen in love with their characters and stories, and I just feel so privileged and honored to experience the worlds they've created. I'm so glad I took the plunge and met all of you, even if it was really scary at first! Thank you all for being so welcoming, kind, supportive, and for making space in your hearts and days for my silly little characters and their stories 💙
That said, lets take a look at some of my writing highlights from this past year! Throwing this under a cut because it got long (of course it did lol)
{Total Words Written}
160,512 (as of 12/27)
This excludes tumblr posts, miscellaneous notes, and outlines. It includes WIP work (AASOAF 3, M.O.W), WIP adjacent work (AASOAF 2 companion/release material and side stories like Chanterelles), and miscellaneous prose pieces (Pare, Fetch, and Bowl of Brown). I don't have much to observe here other than holy shit that's a lot LOL.
{Longest Chapter}
7043 (AASOAF 3: Axtapor - 16 First Seed)
This chapter is the first battle sequence of AASOAF 3 so it makes sense for it to be the longest so far! This category's runner up is the Part I finale of M.O.W, Halcyon, at 6663 words.
{Shortest Chapter}
638 (AASOAF 3: Mariel - 3 First Seed)
This chapter is a little go between chapter with a tiny bit of whump in the mix. It might get longer after I get to editing it, we'll see! For this one I excluded the prologues of both AASOAF 3 and M.O.W because it kind of felt like cheating otherwise. Both are <300 words.
{Most Loved by the Author}
Some Lines! (Snippet from AASOAF 3: Mariel - 27 Sun's Dawn)
I limited my choices to snippets I'd posted since it felt weird to make a new post and be like that one! I like that one! lol Appropriate content warnings have been listed on that post as, unsurprisingly, it contains body horror who could have guessed lol. The runner up in this category are the cryptic little monologues I wrote leading up to Tierra Madre (linking to the AASOAF 3 masterpost for ease if you want to check out all four pieces!). These link up the overarching story the prologues of each book are telling and hints at how they come into play in AASOAF 3.
{Most Loved by the Readers}
Covenant (AASOAF 3's Prologue)
For this category I excluded meme posts and the like, ranking the winner based on notes that piece received. As for the runner up, its actually a tie! It's between AASOAF 3's WIP Intro and, surprisingly, Lexlar's character intro lol. He would be so proud and flattered that he's more popular than his other Lizardfolk counterparts!
{AASOAF Original Telling vs. AASOAF Canon Telling}
475,524 (OT) | 381,725 (CT)
Now I know this wasn't all done in this year but it felt right to put in here since I'm getting closer and closer to finishing the canon telling of AASOAF with each day that passes so I can't help but look back to where it all started. These word counts include words in each version of the WIP and the dead darlings of each while excluding Fay's discovery writing (120k+), side stories, WIP adjacent work, spin-offs, and oneshots.
I'm really not sure if canon AASOAF will surpass original telling but that's because the story back then was a lot of Fay and Wilkes origin story work and the tale of their romance which isn't explored in canon and also includes Mariel and Axtapor's stories. Two reasons for this, Fay and Wilkes getting together all happens before canon begins and because canon focuses primarily on Mariel and Axtapor's romance. In any case, those are some FAT numbers holy mama. Putting this post together was actually the first time I saw them side by side like that.
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For the writer's ask game, in the basics, 1, 2, 9, and 10? 😊
1 — music: I do! It's usually something ambient that fits the atmosphere of the scene, preferably no vocals so as to not distract me. I have amassed a small playlist on YouTube that I put in the background when I'm writing, it's mostly horror OSTs, one Midwestern gothic mix with a bunch of songs, and compositions I enjoy. Sometimes I just loop something and let it rip.
2 — pantser or plotter: A bit of both. Mostly stories pop up in my head as messages from God and I do not dare question. I make outlines, but rarely. My current WIP has a vague plan of events, and my Vampire chronicle has like 2 Google Docs and a conspiracy board, full Charlie Day style.
9 — current WIP: I've always dreamt of writing a book and I've been doing so sporadically ever since I dropped out of uni last year. It's called "Postmortem", I have the prologue and 4 chapters done, and chapter 5 is going smoothly. If I had to describe it, it's like a sci-fi urban coming-of-age story set in a small town in Nebraska about a dead girl and her dad hunting ghosts. My girlfriend calls it "pure anime" (affectionate). I'll enclose an excerpt from chapter 5 under the cut (translated into English as I wrote it in my native tongue).
10 — deadlines: I am bad with self-inflicted deadlines, so I don't bother. I don't feel like forcing words out of myself is right, my uni already does that for like 1000 bucks a term. Then again, that explains the leisurely pace of my book writing process doesn't it...
Mio spat on the pavement, then turned exactly ninety degrees with the precision of a soldier, and stomped away from Hunters’ Hall. She could probably wait around; the tiny patch of concrete here acted as both the parking lot and smoking spot for the locals. Yet the mere act of waiting seemed a grueling task in itself, not to mention talking. She could taste the ennui already. A stack of convenient lies upon more convenient lies made up the legend she’d repeat and slightly alter in each town Doc and her stopped at. This time it was “Mio Miyawaki”, yet another empty promise of a person, one that could answer every question about herself without ever telling anything important, nod along in conversation while never revealing what she really thought, and mislead everyone into believing that she was actually, truly genuine despite not even being real.
“Well that’s just great.”
Mio didn’t really hate this bleak reflection of herself. Neither did she like her.
She turned around the corner. The passing-by truck dragged a gust of hot air past her, and Mio instinctively clasped a hand over her nose. In Carrion, summer was always a haze of smog descending into the valley, a mix of exhaust fumes, burning trash and forest fire smoke. Unable to escape the clutches of the trees, like a sea not being able to escape its shores, the sickly fog of ash and stench stayed calm and still. Then, autumn winds would carry it away, and heavy clouds full of snow would come instead. The town, therefore, existed in a constant state of rigor mortis. No life was possible there – aside from, perhaps, the writhing of parasites in roadkill.
The smell of burning and grey ash didn’t feel as annoying as the odor of tobacco in the fog, both gently tickling and cruelly scratching at her throat from the inside.
Her jaws dragged against each other, an industrial chew of machinery, and Mio only felt it as a thin streak of blood ran down her chin. She’d chewed her lower lip into raw meat. Wiping the blood was a mechanical, meaningless gesture. The red of her uniform jacket soaked it up all nice. Neither blood nor ectocardium really stained it.
All so that the illusion of calm wouldn’t be disturbed.
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WIP Whenever
So. @quietborderline knows this but I’ve been debating a major re-write and finishing of An Andromeda Tale after the whole… taking of my words thing last month and it’s really been sticking with me. I’m currently working on my WIP Big Bang (yay for trying to write 50k in a month!) which I can’t share per the rules of the Bang… and I’ve been outlining my July Rough Trade project which is going to be quite the fandom departure for me as well.
I may have overcommitted to things is what i’m saying… but i’m also seriously going to try and edit AAT… and have a regular posting schedule (yeah I know i’m not great with deadlines). So. For WIP Wednesday/Whenever… have a partially rewritten prologue with some new chapter art (aka procrastination at its finest).
Tagged by @outtoshatter and no-pressure tagging @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @tkwritesdumbassassins @missanniewhimsy @megasaurus-regina @westernlarch @kikiroo @whimsyswastry and whoever else wants to play along.
Banner by radio chatter.
Title: An Andromeda Tale: The Making of a Pathfinder and a King, Book 1, Prologue.
Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda
Pairing: Endgame for everything is MReyder. There’s a bunch of other pairings that make an appearance in the course of the story including some OCs.
Summary:
Scott Ryder never saw his life going this way, not that anyone ever asked him his opinion. Now he's pathfinder with too many people depending on his young shoulders and trying to figure out what he actually wants for himself. Reyes Vidal, man of mystery, former pilot and now sometimes smuggler. Who knows where he came from or his motivations but he's come to Andromeda to change his destiny. What neither Scott nor Reyes could have predicted is what their lives would be once they came to Andromeda.
Tags/warnings: first revision (aka Grammerly committed manslaughter) version that needs more editing and re-writing, Alec Ryder’s A++ parenting. Aging the Ryder twins up slightly as well as Reyes because I can.
From the journal of S Ryder, 2185 CE December 3rd (2 days prior to launch of Ark Hyperion)
No one asked me what I wanted to do in life or if I wanted to do this. My life’s path has been chiefly decided by forces outside of my control, first my career path into the systems alliance as a marine, then my career determination of spec ops as a biotic, and on to N School for training. Nowhere for me to go but obtain the same designation as my father or else be seen as a failure. No one asked me if I liked my life in the Marines—had I been asked, I’d made do with my options and felt at times that someday I’d be happy with life as a marine and exploring the galaxy one boring posting at a time.
Sure, my last posting made it clear I would go nowhere once The Arrest™️ happened.
Thanks, Dad. My career really needed you to participate in and run illegal AI research. You could have at least tried not to get caught with your hand in the government funding cookie jar and make it extra licentious.
The bottom line? When you’re the only son of a famous N7 Operative, options may seem open, but they really aren’t.
My twin sister, Sara, somehow got herself out of the situation I found myself boxed into. I love Sara, but some days I hate that she got out. Then again, getting out isn’t what she seems to have wanted in the first place.
My father, Alec Ryder—yeah, the disgraced N7 who has been in the press and got arrested for illegal AI research—has pulled off the ultimate guilt trip. Sara didn’t require any guilt. She’s joined of her own accord. I’m to report to processing tomorrow at 0730 for the Andromeda Initiative, and I’m going into cryo tomorrow evening.
Dear old Dad is playing God with my life and has made it clear that Andromeda is the only option left for me.
Since I’ve lost the few friends I can talk about anything with after signing the non-disclosure agreements this afternoon, I’ve decided to follow the suggestions of an old captain. When you can’t talk about it with anyone without destroying your security clearance, try processing through writing and then destroy the evidence or encrypt the hell out of it.
I’m going to try writing down my feelings and covering them with enough encryption that Dad can’t get into—I’ve learned a lot more tech skills than the last time Dad decided I couldn’t have my own thoughts as a teenager. Hopefully, he’ll finally have learned to let me have my own thoughts and space (boundaries aren’t a new concept, Dad). And if no one ever reads this? Well, then, this journal is just for me and whoever manages to break into it--hopefully far in the future when I’m dead, and it doesn’t matter anyway.
In the short time I’ve had to think about this, I’m worried about what we’ll find when we get to Andromeda. Then again, something is coming—something terrible. The rumors that Commander Shepard isn’t dead and that something bad is happening with the Collectors—I’m not sure how much I trust what I’ve heard and not heard. The rumors around the outpost weren’t reassuring before I left, but something has the vets spooked. I suppose running away to Andromeda might be less risky if the rumors are true. But why do I feel like I’m running away from my duty then? I don’t know how to process everything lately. I suppose I’ll just have to be a professional and take the role Dad’s giving me. Maybe I’ll figure things out on the way.
I did see Sara before she went to final checks today—one last meal together in the Milky Way. She told me she was looking forward to a grand adventure as a family. She’s so optimistic about Andromeda—it’s hard to be concerned when she’s so happy. From my perspective, we’ve never done something as a family that’s ended well. Maybe this time, it’ll actually happen. I haven’t really been around or available for Sara since Mom died. I regret not doing what Mom wanted, but I thought maybe I could make my own choices and be a real, proper adult for once. Mom would be happy I’m going—I just wish I could have had the option to say no or yes. I don’t know if I’d be here if it were my choice. I’m ending things here for today. Hopefully, I’ll have time to write before the deep, frozen sleep of 600 years.
#an andromeda tale#mreyder#mass effect andromeda#AAT-rewrites#Wip whenever#wip wednesday#scott ryder#epic slow burn
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You said you liked to share BNGN trivia, so you got any tidbits?
some assorted trivialities (spoilers for a fanfic up to the latest chapter):
the fic was originally envisioned (and partly written) as a series of drabbles! if i had kept that going, it would currently be 5,376 drabbles long.
tiramisu was written into the outline entirely as bait/tribute to my partners, who are big siamese fans. she is now the most popular oc i have ever made for anything. i considered writing an origin story fic for her back when there was a jjba oc zine in the works, but it fell thru and now it only lives in my head. it involves multiple murders : )
bngn is not phf-compliant bc i did not want to read it. to make up for this i promise to find other horrible things for fugo to go through instead <3
probably not news to anyone by this point but here is some explicit confirmation: the first prologue that opens the fic is not about doppio
there are so many cases of foreshadowing in the form of jokes or joke-adjacent statements at this point that i cannot actually remember them all. if you see me make a silly comment in this fic there is at least a 20% chance it's actually a very sneaky mean comment hiding behind the linear progression of time
when i first drafted the outline act 3 was much much shorter and had a few drastic differences. one of these was that polnareff (or at least one of him) would have survived to support the gang much as he does in the original VA, but i could not think of anything fun for him to do that didn't detract from everything else, or at least nothing more fun than the inexplicable spectacle of two dead polnareffs after all of the build-up towards him. rip, rip.
speaking of fun: i wanted to have every major character get at least one really cool moment, regardless of how central they were to the story. i didn't want anyone to feel like you could cut them out completely and it wouldn't matter, i wanted to keep that ensemble feel of VA and give everyone room to affect the story in important ways, even if the fic still obviously has its focusses. of the ones i've published so far, i think i like mista's intervention in the Trish & Dop vs Fugo fight best out of those moments because i just had so much fun writing and visualising it and he felt like a natural fit to provoke fugo's own position in the story as a person fixated on the objective facts (which he was canonically Not Wrong about, in terms of sticking with bruno being a dubious plan for anyone fond of staying alive) to face off against someone who operates more on vibes and rolling the dice.
way back in the depths of drabble-draft the flashbacks were going to occur chronologically, followed by the present day stuff. but as i became aware that this was growing into something i realised that this would be stitching two pretty drastically different fics together back to back, and decided instead to use the current format. in theory this was purely going to allow me to show doppio's relationship with diavolo alongside his absence from him, so we can see simultaneously why he values and misses him so much and what he's becoming without him. in practice it led to a bunch of smaller changes that built up into, among other things, the premise of the entire canon divergence. technically, all of the flashbacks in act 1 and 2 "take place" during ch. 30. there is an implication to this that so far nobody has commented on ;)
i spent an amount of time researching macdonalds in italy that i will never ever get back
speaking of researching things that don't matter to anyone but me: everywhere a major scene happens is based on a specific spot i hand-picked on google maps. i roamed a lot of italian countryside via satellite trying to find the Exact kind of big, ugly, concrete-floored farm i had in mind for the first secco fight
technically this fic (or at least the extended universe around it) has sorbet and gelato VA-style origin stories to go with their fanstands (which i had a lot of fun with, workshopping around ideas for things that would make for excellent and suitably juicy assassination tools but vulnerable in a stand vs stand battle). much like tiramisu, so does my second stand-using oc brodo (who also cameos in 'I Think We're Alone Now', because skulking around trying not to be noticed is his speciality) the third, katarina, is only mostly goncharov-inspired, and Heart of Glass was originally going to be one of the chapter titles for this fic. another song with a very similar title still will be!
i had no intention of narancia being as big a presence in the fic as he was, but the longer i wrote the more i realised that he's just too fun to put in a room with doppio. the scene where he accepts the truth made me feel genuinely like a bit of a horrible person because i'd enjoyed building up their friendship so much and it was one of those chapters where i knew Exactly what the character would want to do and exactly why it would be the thing that would hurt them the most.
when i was hammering out the outline for what would become this fic an artist i had been following released a song that i put on in the background while i wrote, and then stopped writing and went back to listen to it properly twelve or thirteen times because it was eerily vibing perfectly with some of the themes i had been kicking around in my head trying to make something out of. it put a few seeds in my head in the way that some things serendipitously do, so much so that i almost named the whole fic after it. in the end, i decided to affix it to just one chapter where i felt it would best set the tone for the imminent descent to come. that chapter would be chapter thirty-eight.
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An Indecent Proposal- Chapter 11
A03,Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5,Chapter 6,Interlude,Chapter 7,Chapter 8,Chapter 9, Chapter 10
Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:
Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.
She needs a true Targaryen heir.
It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.
Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.
Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.
A/N: So originally, I was going to do a ten year time jump as they did in the show, (117 AC to 127 AC for this story), and only refer to events that happened during the gap. But after getting reader feedback on the Daemyra discord, I decided to write the ten years in short segments over the course of three chapters because I didn't want to skip 10 years of Daemon x Rhaenyra moments.
I outlined the bullet points of each year, sat down to write 117 AC and then I ended up adding extra scenes.
Then I decided to do each year as its own chapter. So the next 11 chapters will cover a year in Daemon & Rhaenyra's story. I hope you enjoy the shift in style for the middle part of this story.
117 AC
When Rhaenyra gave birth to her twins, the maesters had been less than helpful. So when she suspected she was once again with child, she summoned Kalinda and Merosi directly. They had helped her through nearly a day of laboring, while the Grand Maester Mellos and his lower maesters had observed and criticized the Essosi techniques of Merosi and ridiculed Kalinda for being baseborn with little education.
Rhaenyra asked them to move into a dwelling near the Red Keep and established a monthly allowance for their upkeep. With funding from the Crown, the two midwives were able to help many others in King’s Landing.
Rhaenyra was relieved that she would have her two midwives close at hand, for she wanted many more children. Partly to solidify her legacy, but mostly because there was no one she loved more than Alyssa and Jacaerys. Daemon told her one night that they could very well rival Good Queen Alysanne and Jaehaerys with their progeny.
Court was convinced that Alyssa and Jacaerys belonged to Laenor, and while Daemon did not like the fact that another man got to lay claim to his children, Rhaenyra knew he loved them fiercely, and he doted on them in the privacy of their chambers in the dark hours of the night.
Laenor upheld his role as father in public, and he loved the children as well, but he never made any decisions of significance when it came to their welfare.
It was a strange arrangement, but the three were tolerating it well.
***
Daemon and Rhaenyra were curled around each other. The full moon hung high in the sky.
Alyssa and Jace, nearly a year old, both cried at the same time, waking their parents.
Daemon held Rhaenyra back from rising. “You need sleep, love. I will see to them.”
The source of the children’s distress became clear. Their cradle mates had finally hatched.
In Alyssa’s cradle, there was a blood red dragon hatchling with ebony claws, wings, and horns. It was studying the princess with a sort of draconic wonder. Daemon smiled and took one of Alyssa’s small hands and placed it on the dragon, covering it with his own. Alyssa stopped crying and smiled.
“Rhaenyra, come and see,” Daemon said, his voice low.
Rhaenyra joined him and tears came to her eyes. “What shall we call her?”
“Meraxes, in honor of Queen Rhaenys’s fallen mount.”
“Perfect,” Rhaenyra said.
Jacaerys’s dragon coloring matched that of a sapphire, save for the smattering of silver scales. “We shall call Jace’s dragon Vermax,” Daemon said.
Vermax curled up next to Jace, and the babe settled and nuzzled against his cradle mate.
Rhaenyra’s heart clenched at the sight. “They will be phenomenal dragon riders.”
“We will teach them well. I will go summon the dragon keepers. Now that the eggs have hatched, they will need to be trained.”
“Wait,” Rhaenyra said, and she quickly wrote a message on a sheet of parchment. “The dragon keepers are loyal, but not immune to gossip amongst each other.”
Daemon kissed her. “One day, love, we will be free to wed.”
“Are you planning on killing Laenor?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone light and teasing.
Daemon shook his head. “No, but you and I are meant to burn together. The gods will intervene someday.”
***
“The small council still needs a Master of Laws,” Viserys said.
Daemon and Viserys were sharing a midday meal together as they often did since he had become Hand.
“We should write to Rhaenys. She has been passed over too often. It would tie the Velaryons closer to the Crown. And Rhaenys would agree to take the position in order to reside in the same city as her children.
“A woman on the small council? One who is not the heir?”
“It is not without precedent,” Daemon said. “And she is our favorite cousin.”
Viserys nodded. Perhaps it was time to finally mend the breach between himself and Rhaenys. “Very well. I will send a letter to Driftmark.”
Rhaenys accepted the position and within the moon, she arrived at King’s Landing. Her good-brother Vaemond would watch over Driftmark in her absence, as Corlys was still in the Stepstones. Her dragon Melys took up residence in the dragon pit. For the first time in years, the Targaryen dragons and the Velaryon dragons were all together.
***
In the sixth moon of 117, Queen Alicent gave birth to her third son. She allowed no one in her chambers but the maesters
The babe was named Daeron, and he was born without hair on his head. His features, however were distinctly angular and Dornish. His skin was not pale and milky as most Tagaryens, but darker and freckled. His brows were a dark brown.
Viserys was delighted when Alicent presented the healthy child to him. It did not bother him one jot that his son looked more Andal than Targaryen.
Rhaenyra congratulated her stepmother, as was proper, but from the moment she laid eyes on the child, she was certain it belonged to another man. Though she could not say who the father might be. Daemon’s spies still had not discovered any potential lovers that Alicent might have. They simply reported that she had not shared a bed with the king in nearly eight moons.
It was Daemon, however, that broached the matter with his brother over one of their midday meals a fortnight after Daeron was born.
“Does it not trouble you that Daeron does not share any of your features?” Daemon asked.
Viserys shrugged. “Daeron is a strong little babe. He favors his mother, who has blood of the Andals and the First Men. Nature is mysterious. We Targaryens have become so accustomed to marrying other Valyrians that it is easy to forget that Valyrian features are not always dominant. Once the boy has a dragon, his heritage will be clear. If only Syrax would produce a fresh clutch soon.”
“And what of the stolen egg,” Daemon asked. “Are you still intent on trying to recover it?” Daemon was sure the egg had turned to stone without a worthy Targaryen to claim it. Rhaenyra had long ago made her peace with the loss. Daemon and Rhaenyra were certain that Syrax and Caraxes would produce a fresh clutch in time for their third child. They were determined not to waste one on Alicent’s half-breed.
“There are gold cloaks searching each of the Seven Kingdoms. Alicent tells me that Ser Criston Cole and several of his fellows are quite determined to recover the egg for the prince. It was generous of Rhaenyra to agree to give it to Daeron should the egg be found.”
Daemon resisted the urge to smile. Rhaenyra had only done that out of certainty that the egg would never hatch for Daeron. It was enough to appease Viserys at least.
***
Rhaenyra’s labors began in the middle of the night during the eleventh moon of 117 AC
The midwives, Merosi and Kalinda, had the situation well in hand. The maesters were kept away. Viserys had to soothe the pride of Grand Maester Mellos. Laena had been called to sit at Rhaenyra’s bedside, as she had been present for the birth of the twins.
Daemon resented the fact that he could not be with Rhaenyra as she gave birth. If only he and Viserys had reconciled years ago, Daemon could have been holding her hand as she was laboring. It was yet another sin to lay at Otto Hightower’s feet. Daemon was glad to be rid of the whoreson.
Daemon sat and drank wine with Viserys and Laenor as they waited for news. In one hand, he held his goblet, while the other hand fiddled with the pommel of Dark Sister.
“The gods have blessed you again, Ser Laenor,” Viserys declared, raising his cup to his good-son.
Daemon drained his cup. He was accustomed to seeing Laenor credited as the father of his children, but it still rankled. Laenor was well aware of Daemon’s ire, though they never spoke of it directly. “The gods have blessed Rhaenyra, Your Grace, for she is an excellent mother. I am a passable father, but I am grateful that the babe has a devoted grandsire and uncle to provide what I cannot.”
The words mollified Daemon, but only a little bit.
Rhaenyra was only in labor for a few hours. Just before dawn, Prince Lucerys Velaryon was born. He had silver-gold whisps of hair and Rhaenyra’s eyes, down to the exact shape and shade. Rhaenyra chose to take little Lucerys to her own breast for his first feeding, brusquely dismissing the wetnurse.
The night following his birth, Daemon and Rhaenyra celebrated together in private, with sensuous kisses and Arbor Gold.
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PORTRAITS - ten (1)
minors do not interact
genre: nct x reader named Ellie ( bc i hate y/n)
pairing: multiple nct memebrs throughout the series x reader
series warnings: minors do not interact : please let me know if i missed any ( warnings for the specific chapter will not be crossed out): swearing, violence, drugs and alcohol, explicit sex scenes, toxic relations, cheating, toxic family,
wc: 1.3 k
description: she drew 23 portraits of the 23 boys that she worked with. each portrait held a story of her impression of the boy in question. she had absolutely no idea what the universe had in store for her.
note: lucas is in this fanfiction, if you are uncomfortable with that please do not read. minors do not interact
prologue | ten | lucas
link to my masterlist
one year later
your head ached from the feeling of it being slammed into the hardwood floor of the practice room. you could have swore it bounced when it made contact with the force it came down with. you tried to push yourself up onto your elbows, but were pushed gently back onto the floor by your shoulders.
"don't move, you could be really hurt," jeno mumbled quietly to you as you began to look around at the seven other faces that were peering over you with concern.
"i just fell, hard i might add, but I'm okay," you tried to push yourself up again, and this time you met no resistance. jeno sat back onto his heels.
"are you sure you don't want to go see a doctor or something?" jaehyun asked you, his tone almost sounded like he was bored. you couldn't tell if the look on his face was concern, or if he was annoyed.
"i'll be fine, i just supervise anyways," you clamber to your feet with a slight chuckle. jeno offering an arm for support as you made your way to the edge of the practice room where you generally sit. leave it to your clumsy ass to make a fool of yourself.
it wasn't until you were sat down and comfortable that jeno went back to the rest of the group to continue learning their choreography. you pulled the sketch pad from your bag, and used your propped up legs a table. you looked at what you had gotten done so far and smiled lightly. It was more than you had previously remembered.
you had began the lengthy process of drawing each member of nct almost as soon as you had gotten settled in your job. your boss had pretty much left you to your own devices when you arrived, and pretty much assigned you to make sure the boys were doing what they were supposed to be doing. he didn't care much about what you actually did, so you started to draw out of boredom, starting with ten.
when you first saw ten in person, the first thing you noticed as most people do, was his big toothy grin when he meets new people. his teeth are so perfect. following his wide smile, was his perfect nose. it sloped in such a perfect way. you would argue with anyone that he had the best side profile on the planet.
drawing him was a pretty effortless task, as you learned that drawing some of the members would be much more challenging. but ten, he would often sit cross legged in front of you during breaks and before practice started. he didn't know that you was drawing him, but he made the perfect model; perfectly still.
ten was so unbelievably easy to talk to that you two because best friends within a few short days of knowing each other. he would sit and talk about anything and everything while you sketched the perfect lines of his face. you finished his portrait within a week and a half of starting, and it turned out beautifully.
you looked down at the rough outline of the next member you had decided to draw, and scrunched your nose up at the wonky angle you had drawn in an attempt to define his jawline, you erased it and tried again before settling on it. you tried to draw for a few more minutes before casting your sketchbook aside and sighing. drawing just wasn't in your favor today.
***
mark came over to you on their first break, and squatted in front of you. you were suspicious from the start because you guys never spoke much. it wasn't much of a surprised when you had to swat his hand away hastily when he tried to reach for your sketchbook. it wasn't the first time he's tried to snag it. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, seeming overly annoyed today.
"what's in that stupid thing that is in need of so much protecting?" he asked in a tone that was almost hurt, but more so annoyed.
"i'm not protecting it, i just don't want anyone seeing it," you mumbled as you slipped the book back into your bag. "i'll show you when I'm ready to."
"you have been saying that since that book appeared. could you at least tell me what is in in? stories? lyrics? drawings?" he asked and you felt your cheeks heat up as he said drawings. you wasn't super secure in my artistic abilities, it was just something you have always enjoyed doing.
"my lips are sealed," i looked at him apologetically as he got up and walked away rolling his eyes. he walked harder than he usually would causing his footsteps to echo slightly through the practice room.
ten, johnny and jeno were watching you and mark from across the room before he stormed off on you. you watched him leave the room, and rolled your eyes at his behaviour. it wasn't the first time he tried to figure out what you was doing in your book, but you were worried they would find it strange that you have been drawing them this whole time. you didn't want anyone thinking it was creepy.
"you let him get to you too much. don't," johnny said as they crossed the room to you. you looked up towards johnny as he pulled your attention away from the door.
jeno sat beside you and pulled you in close to him. you rested your head against his shoulder as you watched the others fool around with the choreography. they all smiled and laughed, and it made me grin. everyone here had such contagious smiles.
"i don't let him get to me. he reminds me too much of my brother," you felt your smile falter as you said this. ten studied my face.
"i didn't know you had a brother," ten said, his eyebrows coming together in the middle.
"i do, i don't talk to him anymore though," you looked down at your hands, and intertwined them with themselves.
"why not?" he pressed. his face was unreadable as he tried to figure you out. he may be your best friend, but you were not ready to tell anyone how you went about leaving your family and friends behind.
"i just don't," you shrugged hoping that they would move on from this conversation, and thankfully they did.
"a lot of us are going out to get some food once practice is over if you're up to it," ten invited you. you thought for a moment about the last time you all went out, and cringed.
you guys had been out to a small restaurant, and were then dragged to a bar by haechan. you were at the bar for no longer than two hours before almost everyone was plastered, and you, the sober one, was forced to drag jeno, jaemin, winwin, and lucas home. for a girl that is 5'5, and 115 pound girl trying to drag four men, that were significantly taller and heavier than her home was a complete mess. it took you half an hour to even get them outside of the bar, and another hour to get them to the car that was parked four blocks away. even on your days off, you end up babysitting.
"it won't be like last time, i promise," he tried to assure you but you weren't convinced.
"can you really make that promise when jeno, jaemin, winwin, and lucas all have minds of their own, and none of them can seem to stay reasonably sober when at bars?" you asked him, glancing at jeno who had pulled away from you slightly the moment the night out was brought up.
"no, but i can. i'll watch over them if things get out of hand," ten assured you. you finally gave in.
#nct#nct fanfic#nctdream#nct dream#nct127#nct 127#wayv#minors do not interact#minors dni#minors dont read#not suitable for minors#no minors please
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Time to post another story. But this time I planned a larger one.
Fandom: Red Dead Redemption
Word Count: 2,861 words
Title: tbd
What I want to do basically is re-write Red Dead Redemption 2 a little. I know, we need to accept the original writer's vision, because it is already perfect. So on and so forth. And it is, but I don't care, I need my happy ending, so I thought I take it into my own hands.
For this I created a new character. Why? Because, Arthur deserves someone at his side.
I don't want to spoil the plot any further, which I already got outlined completely. Just want to let you take a glimpse into the beginning of my story. (There is no Arthur or Van der Linde gang in the beginning - the prologue will be the introduction of my main character: Gianna Romano.)
Please leave some constructive criticism so I can improve myself. I much appreciate it.
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Please notice, that this chapter contains themes of (implied) violence. All is heard, not seen by my main character.
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Prologue
It was a beautiful day in Saint Denis, Lemoyne. As beautiful as a day can be with the sweltering heat and humid air of the surrounding bayou. The sun was beaming from the sky, but the dark clouds on the horizon were already heralding one of the typical storms that often hit Lemoyne. The streets of Saint Denis were filled with people, carriages, and other urban bustle. The air was filled with the usual hollering of carriage drivers trying to make their ways. The streetcar rang merrily in front of each of its stops. On the sidewalks walked smartly dressed ladies and gentlemen, most likely on their ways to their next commitment. They courteously greeted each other before returning to their commutes. All seemed to be going about one's own business.
On a little bench away from the lively hustle and bustle, a teenage girl sat engrossed in her book. Her walnut brown locks were braided into a braid and pinned up high. Her nose, adorned with freckles, was wrinkled and her almost black-brown eyes ran steadily over the sentences of the pages. The position in which she sat was rather unseemly for a young lady of her age and standing. She had, for example, one leg crossed under her body, while her right foot tumbled under her seat. Glistening in the sun was her lightly tanned skin, an inherited trait from her parents.
A paragraph later, Gianna slammed the book shut and heaved a sigh. It was far too hot to read. She caught sight of an elderly lady with a parasol walking leisurely but elegantly past the bench she was sitting on, and she instantly noticed the upturned nose in her direction. Flustered and now becoming aware of her sitting position, she neatly let both legs glide to the floor in front of her. Visibly more satisfied, the lady walked on and turned her gaze forward again. Another sigh escaped Gianna as she leaned back.
Hurried footsteps and laughter of young women announced their presence and made her look in the direction from which the crowd was coming. "Gia! Gia, you need to help me!" cried the blonde girl at the head of the group to her. At this, Gianna stood up, crossing her arms with the book behind her, a roguish grin on her lips. "Help you with what, Alice?" her voice was warm, yet firm. As the group finally reached and surrounded her, Alice grabbed onto her shoulders. "It's Alfie.". In response, the other girls giggled. "He's sweet on Alice!" a red-haired girl chuckled, and Gianna pulled a knowing face. The girls all continued to giggle except for Alice. "Argh, Erin!" was Alice's complaint, yet even she couldn't hold back a giggle. "We'll figure it out," Gianna promised, as they set off in the direction of the park.
They found a nice spot in the garden where they settled into their conversations. "There's Alfie!", Erin suddenly whispered to Gianna lightly nudging her in the side. Gianna's gaze fell on a young man no older than herself. He had black hair, cut short. His clothes were neat, if a little too tight in places. His pants were also a little too short. She didn't know why Alice didn't like Alfie, but that wasn't her decision either. "Ladies, prepare for a bit of theatrics. We shall show Alfie that Alice is not interested, and he shall be left with no choice but to retreat." she conspired with her friends. Eager looks hung on her lips, though Alice made an uncertain face. "Are you sure about this, Gianna?". "Trust me, my dear Alice. We shall make quite the impression! Now all you need to do is follow my lead!", Gianna confidently reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. It was her warm smile that seemed to convince the young blonde. She nodded. Meanwhile, Alfie seemed to have spotted them and was now walking determinedly towards the group, his gaze locked on Alice, a skittish smile on his face. When he reached them, Gianna began.
"And then I said, 'I shall be an actress, adored by thousands!' and the people cheered all around!" exclaimed her voice loudly through the park as she dramatically stood up in front of her friends. "Oh, great Gianna! You would make the grandest actress in all of Saint Denis!" the girls chimed in and began to laugh. Alfie's expression was now extremely unsettled. Gianna could see in the corner of her vision that his previously resolute steps were giving way to hesitation. In fact, he tried to speak several times, but then seemed to reconsider. Her friends, however, were careful not to look in his direction. The coup of it all was to make him feel like no one would be able to notice him straight away. Eventually, one of her friends was supposed to pretend that she had just realized his presence. As if on cue, "Oh, Gianna, look! Alfie is here. He surely wants to express his admiration for you, too," Alice ushered in an exaggerated, hushed tone. In a sweeping gesture, Gianna whirled her body around, gave a deep bow "Ah, Alfie! My ardent admirer!", she theatrically waved her handkerchief as if fanning herself, "What brings you to our humble gathering?". Alfie now looked more than nervous, almost bewildered. "Uh, well, I just thought I'd join you all. I, um, wanted to talk to Alice.". Gianna raised her eyebrows, "Alice?" her tone striving to be ignorant and surprised. She turned to Alice, "How peculiar! Whatever for?". Alice mumbled sheepishly, "Oh, um, we only talk about nonsense. About…er….the weather!". Gianna leaned down to Alice. "The weather, you say? Fascinating!", she stage-whispered, "I suppose you two must be discussing the mysteries of rainbows and thunderstorms!". She gestured toward the sun in the sky, then toward the dark clouds on the horizon. With the girls giggling, Alfie continued to look at them in puzzlement. Several times he made to speak again, but it took him a while before the words left his mouth. "Well, um, actually, we talk about…other things, too," he finally said shyly. Embarrassed, he glanced anxiously to his right and left before his gaze flitted momentarily to Alice. At this Gianna placed herself in the line of his gaze. "Ah, young love! How enchanting! But dear Alfie, I must be honest. Alice's heart is as free as a bird in flight!", again she punctuated her dramatic words with the appropriate gestures, "Her thoughts are filled with grand adventures and the allure of the stage!". Her expression finally turned serious before her gaze bored deeply into Alfie's. Around them, the group nodded emphatically. Alfie cleared his throat, though before he could open his mouth, Alice cut in, "Yes, that's true! I have dreams, you know!". "You see, Alfie, Alice is destined for greatness!", Gianna said slyly, "Her heart is not yet tethered to anyone's, for she dances to her own tune. I'm afraid young love may not be in her script at this time!" She compassionately put her hand on Alfie's shoulder as her friends applauded her performance. Alfie, however, was turning beet red. "I see. Well, uh, it was nice talking to you all. I'll, um, leave you to your grand adventures then.". With one final look at Alice, he turned the other way and walked away quickly.
Gianna called out after him, "Farewell, dear Alfie! May your heart find its own grand adventure!". With that, she bowed deeply to the applause of her friends. Then they all burst out laughing. "Gianna, that was brilliant! Thank you!", Alice gushed. With a triumphant grin, Gianna merely replied "The critics seem to be pleased today." before rejoining the general laughter of her friends.
In the afternoon, the young ladies said goodbye to each other. Gianna made her way home. As she walked along the sidewalk, she thought again about Alfie. Actually, it was not nice how they had treated him. Surely his mother would complain to her mother if he told her about today's meeting. Then she would be in for a scolding from her parents again. But it had been worth it to her. If she could make Alice happy, she had no problem getting into a little trouble at home. Stepping through the small garden gate at the back of the family home, she made her way to the back of the house. It was one of the nicer Saint Denis houses in the more luxurious neighborhood, even if it wasn't as big as the mayor's house. Nevertheless, besides the first floor, it had another floor, in which her room was located.
Skilfully, she slipped into the house undetected. Past the kitchen with the cook, then up the stairs, avoiding the fourth step from the bottom, because it creaked treacherously, and then finally at the end of the corridor into her little domain. Before dinner and the evening bath, Gianna wanted to do a little writing. She was rather fond of creating little stories or writing down the events of the day. For this purpose, she had set up her own little space in the intermediate space between the panels at the back of her room. There, one of the large wall panels was loose. It was easy to remove and to put back from the inside so that no one could suspect that a small hiding place had been set up there.
Again, she pushed herself behind the panels. Thank God she wasn't that tall, so she had no problems to sink down on the cushions she had placed there. She turned on the small lamp. Here in her little hiding place she was often when she was inspired. No one bothered her there. With a small smile on her lips, she pulled out the new fountain pen she had received from her father and began to write.
By the time she set the pen down, the back of her neck ached. She didn't realize how long she had sat in the same position, so focused she had been writing down today's events from the park and further embellishing them. Stretching, Gianna wondered if she should sneak down to the kitchen to see how far along dinner was. Maybe she could tease her little brother a little, too.
All of a sudden, there was a crashing sound that reached her ears. Seemingly it was coming from downstairs. Muffled voices penetrated through the wall panels. Then another rumble, followed by a loud outcry. Gianna's eyes snapped open. What was going on here? Cautiously, she pushed the panels open a bit. "She must be here somewhere," a rough masculine voice called out. It was followed by footsteps down the corridor, directed toward her room. Just in time, Gianna closed the panels again, at the same instant her room door was pushed open. "There's no one up here!" another male voice rang out, far closer than the first. Gianna held her breath. "Maybe she's under the bed! Go on, take a look. She must be here somewhere!". Footsteps crossing through her room. Carefully, without wanting to make a sound, she switched off the lamp next to her. She didn't know whether the beam of light might be seen through a potential crack between the wall and the panel. A shiver of fear crept down her spine. Where were her parents? What about her brother? These men seemed to be up to no good. The footsteps moved away from her again, out into the hall. "There's no one there," the second voice rang out. "Then come back down!" the first called out. More thudding told Gianna that the man was doing as he was told: he was descending the stairs. She pushed the wall panels open again warily. Her room lay in the dark, the door was only ajar. "Where is your daughter?" she heard someone yell angrily. "I don't know, please let my family go. They are innocent.", Gianna again froze at the door frame of her room. It was her father's voice. Never had she heard him speak with such anguish and begging. Feeling her heart tighten, she continued slowly down the hall. "Innocent or not. What Mr. Brontë says will be carried out. And he wants us to silence all of you. So one more time. Where is your daughter, Romano?". Perhaps, with luck, Gianna would be able to make it downstairs and get outside. Maybe she could inform the law. The voices sounded like they were coming from the foyer. The bottom of the stairs were not visible from there. She slowly descended the steps, her moves measured. "She's not here," her father's voice sounded again. A slap and her mother's shriek. "Let's try again. Maybe that will loosen your voice." Gianna could hear her father was sobbing and her mother's whimpering. Tears ran down her own cheeks. She needed to hurry. Almost all the way down she was. The voices in the anteroom continued to interrogate her parents, interrupted occasionally by slaps against her mother, as well as her father's pleas.
Only five more steps to take. A small sigh of relief slipped out of her, almost inaudible. Unmistakable was the jarring creak of the fourth step from the bottom. The voices in the anteroom abruptly fell silent. Gianna stopped dead in her tracks for a second, but then ran without hesitation. No longer was there any point in proceeding quietly. She ran resolutely through the back door and, instead of taking the gate in the fence, she dashed straight through the hedge at the side of the garden to the adjacent property. Behind her she could hear the back door being flung open once more, heavy footsteps on the porch following her. However, she did not turn around, instead running full speed ahead. Ever thinking of making it to the lawmen as fast as she could.
Completely out of breath and trembling with fear, she fell through the sheriff's door. The imposing building also had an anteroom with a reception desk. Behind it, several cells could be seen. Her clattering, loud and disorderly arrival had caused almost all heads to turn toward her. Gasping for breath, she grabbed the counter in front of the reception desk. "You must help me, good sirs! My family is being attacked right now!" she brought out with difficulty. "Good girl, take it easy. Now, why don't you catch your breath? What exactly happened?". With all her might, Gianna tried to calm her nerves. Then she recounted briskly what she had just experienced and heard at home. The officer listened patiently and led her to an adjoining room. There, Gianna finally took a seat. Only then did she notice that her legs were trembling. Whether because of the dire situation or her desperate sprint, she didn't know. They handed her a glass of water and assured her that they would take care of the situation. Men were already on their way to her house, they added. A thankful smile appeared on her face.
They eventually left her alone in the adjoining room. From where she was sitting, she could see straight into the front room through a pane of glass, but her place of seating was not immediately apparent. As she slowly regained her strength and sipped her glass of water, she took a closer look at the building. Most of the cells were empty. Only at the end was a person curled up on their cot. What exactly had happened that her family was now in such danger? She knew that her father worked as a lawyer mainly for Angelo Bronte. Just like her parents, Mr. Brontë had also immigrated to America from Italy. She vaguely knew that he was known in the American-Italian community for his not-quite-legal business dealings. But she had never given the man another thought. When she had asked questions as a child, her father had always evaded them. She shouldn't worry her head, had his answer always been. The pleading voice and pained cries of her parents echoed in her thoughts with a heavy heart. The law could hopefully free her parents soon. Also, she did not know where her brother was. Perhaps he had been able to hide as well. At worst, he had also been in the room with her parents.
It was then that the main door opened and two men entered the building. They too made their way to the reception area and spoke to the lawman there. While Gianna couldn't hear what they were saying, she clearly saw the lawman nodding his head in her direction. Another cold shiver ran down her spine. It seemed odd to her. Through the glass, the men turned their eyes in the direction indicated. And for a split second, their eyes met Giana's, until she ducked to the side and scrambled out the back of the room. In fact, this struck her as very odd. In a hurry, she scurried crouched through the building and finally found a door out the back. She had to get out of this mess. And she needed to get out soon.
-------------------------------------------------------
The prologue actually doesn't end here. I still have a bit to write before I can end the chapter. But I thought, I provide this part and the next at a later date maybe.
Let me know what you think. Would you like to read further? Do you have any other constructive criticisms for me?
And thank you for reading! I really hope you liked it :)
#fanfiction#rdr2#Red Dead Redemption 2#originial female character#original character#implied violence
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◟༺✧༻◞ Teyvat chapter storyline preview: Travail —Chinese translation script—
The war has already begun— a continuation of the previous war. The gods encase the outlines of "desire" in seven types of brilliant light. With this, they demonstrate that their authority can be exceeded. Yet smoldering remains lie buried underneath the foundations of reality as a warning to those who overstep their bounds:
"That divine throne in the high heavens was never a seat reserved for you from the start."
But oh, you who oversteps your bounds, do not stop walking here. For none can watch the fire burn from the other side of the river. Watch...
—Act. Prologue: Mondstadt. Mea libertas meus canor (My freedom is my song)—
For the giant dragon who guarded the city of freedom for thousands of years. Doubts about [the concept of] "freedom" have begun to surface. A "freedom" that was ordered by a god— can it still be called freedom?
—Act. I: Liyue. Ruat caelum fiat pactum (Let the contract be made, though the heavens fall)—
In an audience of many, the God of Contracts was assassinated. At the very end, he shall sign a contract to end all contracts.
—Act. II: Inazuma. Perpetua perennis impervia (Perpetual, perennial, impervious)—
Under the immortal Shogun, the era of the Sakoku Decree ordered by the Shogunate sees no end. The god who pursues "Eternity"— What kind of eternity does she find within the eyes of ordinary mortals?
—Act. III: Sumeru. Sub floreis lumen sagacitatis (Under the flowery light of sagacity)—
Wisdom is the enemy of the God of Wisdom. Knowledge is a bait floating on the surface of the sea of ignorance. In the city of learning, the scholars are pushing for foolishness, and the god's wisdom has raised no objections to this.
—Act. IV: Fontaine. Iustitia omnia vincit (Justice defeats all)—
The God of Justice is an ardent admirer of all the farces that take place in the courtroom, even yearning to judge her fellow gods. But one thing is very clear to her: the Heavenly Principles are the one thing she cannot make her enemy.
—Act. V: Natlan. Surge vir fortis I natam victoriam (Rise, O strong man, and go to your destined victory)—
The rules of war are carved into the bodies of all living things: The defeated become embers of the fires of war, while the victors will reignite. The God of War confides this secret with the Traveler, because she has reasons for doing so.
—Act. VI: Snezhnaya. Ducam regina mea gloria haud pluribus impar (Let me lead my queen to near unmatched glory)—
She is a god whom no one will love ever again; She is a god who will never love anyone again. The reason why people follow her Is because they believe one day she will finally be able to raise a flag of rebellion against the Heavenly Principles.
In an eternity with neither beginning nor end, humans shall live a peaceful life without dreams. But in the blind spot of the gods' gaze, there are still people who want to dream.
—Act. ▇▇: Khaenri'ah. The dream yet to be dreamed—
All humans have that innate quality which makes them human; We are not the residue left behind from filtering out those who were "chosen by the gods." From beyond this world, we will obtain the power to reject this world.
Now, you who have traversed heaven and earth— Your travels and journey have ended, But you have yet to cross the final doorway. If you have understood the purpose of your travels, then come forward. Defeat me, command me to step aside, and prove to me that you are more suitable than me to rescue her. After that, go forth spin all the threads of fate anew.
My memory has already suffered too much erosion, but I will always remember, that she also loves these flowers.
#◟༺✦༻◞ fragments of light from the roots of truth ┊reference.┊#I've just come across this#and honestly I find it so interesting#one of the greatest mysteries to me#was the translated 'prove to me that you're worthier than I#to rescue her'#this makes it much better in my eyes#less shippy too for that matter#because it felt like some fight#over to see who deserves more to rescue Lumine or something#also the fact that it's outright said in the ending#that his memory has suffered from erosion directly#that surprised me#but it's a really good touch nonetheless#anyway I have more to say but#I'll stop the ramblings on tags now jfhjg
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The Story of Castor Windchime!
I know no one is going to care about this, but I finally got Castor’s backstory done! From his childhood at Hexside, to the morning of A Lying Witch and a Warden! I’m gonna start outlining a full longfic after I get done with chapter 3 of my Raeda fic (which I should also outline, now that I think about it). The fic itself will carry off from this which I’m thinking of turning into a prologue chapter. Then maybe I’ll make a prologue spin off, who knows?
Have fun!
Paragraphs: 15 and a half.
Word count: 2619.
Our story begins at Hexside, many years ago…
Meet Castor Windchime! A student in the Illusions track, he is best friends with Eda, Lilith, and later, Raine. Castor always had a love and knack for storytelling since he was little, retelling to his parents the little adventures he would make up in his head. But to him, just telling a story wasn’t enough, which is why he found an interest in illusions and a curiosity for bard magic, both types of magic giving him the ability to get people immersed in his tales. Now Castor wouldn’t really call his life all too interesting, having a pretty standard life. Studying at home, getting good grades, even going to a couple after school writing clubs. But that doesn’t mean everything was good, Castor didn’t have much of a social life, only really having a few acquaintances in class and a burning hatred for Odalia, not unlike most students. Most days, he and a bunch of other people in the Illusions track were all looked down and picked on for their choice of magic. If anything, the distaste of illusion magic was worse in these days compared to Gus’s time. Most of the time though, Castor was alone. That is, until he met the Clawthornes.
Castor and Eda met one day when he was randomly picked to be her assistant in a prank. Much like everyone else in school, Castor commonly experienced and witnessed the pranks and schemes of this troublemaker who had made one hell of a name for herself. There were a lot of times he would see ginger hair and a yellow school uniform pass by somewhere in a blur. Eda’s latest idea required some illusions in order to work and judging by his light blue uniform, Eda felt Castor would be perfect for the job. He accepted, albeit reluctantly, not entirely sure if this was a good idea or if it would be worth it. Long story short, he had some of the most fun he ever had in his life while also getting along really well with Eda. The wild witch called him to action again a week later, introduced him to Lilith, and soon set the standard for how things would be for these three from here on out. Fast forward a month and suddenly they were all sitting at the same table during lunch, hanging out after school, and being study buddies in some cases. Castor finally had great people he could call friends. He could get used to this.
A few years later, around 7 months before the curse, the trio had been best friends for a long while, Castor and Eda having teamed up for over 300 pranks by now, oftentimes info dumping on each other about thing likes Grudgby or wild magic. Castor and Lilith were also really close, being a pair of history nerds who would commonly study together, with Castor always cheering on the sisters during Grudgby games. This is what normally happened each day, a fun time for all, until after Eda almost got expelled. Castor was the first to hear of Eda’s day at HECK and thus the first person to hear about her new friend, Raine Whispers. With a want to learn bard magic, Castor was ecstatic when he was told of Raine’s bard status, hoping to get some tips on the magic he’d been practicing and was really excited to meet them sometime. But what neither of them expected was for Raine to appear at their lunch table the very next day.
It wasn’t long before Castor and Lilith began to notice some sparks flying between the bard and wild witch. Lilith didn’t think much of it at first, but after a bit of convincing from Castor, she had to admit, they were quite cute together. Castor thought it was adorable, wanting nothing but happiness for the two if they did one day get together, but it did hurt quite a bit, too. You see, Castor had been holding onto some feelings of his own for the last couple of years. He started crushing on Eda only a few months into their relationship, but never let anyone else know that out of fear of making it weird, if he got rejected that is. From his point of view, that was more than likely. He wasn’t jealous per se of her and Raine being close, but rather kind of mad at himself for not telling her sooner. Nonetheless, he and Lilith would sometimes talk about Raeda’s pining (ship name coined by Lilith herself), with Darius often joining in. Eda and Raine’s crush on each other wasn’t lost on anyone but them, which led to Darius commonly getting annoyed by their pining.
In terms of their friendship, Castor and Raine were like two peas in a pod, not unlike him, Eda, and Lilith. The two had a lot of experience working together during Eda’s pranks when they got a bit more complex than before, and Castor’s skills in bard magic were getting better with Raine's teaching and guidance. Overall, Castor thought they were a sweet, cool kid. He could relate to them as well, what with both of them getting looked down upon for their choice of magic. He loved hanging out with them and Eda, he was as happy as can be. He thought nothing could mess this up. But then he started getting an all too familiar feeling. He was…crushing on someone else? To his surprise, he was. And it wasn’t just anyone, it was Raine. Yet, he was still crushing on Eda. Crap, he had a crush on both of them. This was not good. He found that his heart would flutter when around either of them. No no no, he couldn’t be crushing on two of his best friends!
Castor panicked for weeks over this, even ranting to Lilith in their hideout about not wanting to ruin the friendship. He felt that if he got rejected by either of them, especially now that Raeda was finally together (much to his joy), then hanging out with them would feel too weird for comfort, which is exactly what he wanted to avoid. When he eventually came to terms with it, the situation sounded much worse out loud. Unfortunately, he would forget one day that he would be taking a couple more lessons with Raine who would be bringing Eda along with, which led to all of his feelings being overheard by the two as Castor vented to Lilith again. As much as he didn’t want to do it, it was too late, and he awkwardly confessed to them right then and there. Just as he feared, things got a bit weird between the trio for a couple weeks afterward, but he didn’t outright get rejected, thankfully, they all just needed some time to figure out their feelings for each other.
Then one day, they all met up at the hideout, ready to talk. Eda went first, revealing that she too had a crush on Castor, said crush only coming back after his confession. Raine went next, their feelings for him having begun only weeks after meeting him, a full 2 months before Castor said a word. The illusionist himself went last, revealing the details of his feelings, before getting out a much better confession, silently praying to the Titan he wouldn’t get rejected, at least not badly. He awaited an answer, getting caught completely by surprise when the two witches standing before him grabbed both of his hands and gave him a warm, but awkward smile, a silent declaration that yes, they accept and are all willing to give the relationship a shot. Admittedly, Castor really couldn’t stop the dorky smile that appeared on his face at that moment.
Fast forward 2 and a half to three months later, things couldn’t be better. Castraeda (also coined by Lilith) are hopelessly in love with each other (already past the wonderful first kiss!), Faust had retired and made Bump the principal, Raine was top student in their bard classes, and tryouts for the Emperor’s Coven were just a week away. Oh right…Coven Tryouts. Eda’s curse was really taking a toll on her since that day. The day everything went wrong. Everyone was there for her. Her parents, Raine and Castor, even Darius and Bump. Raine and Castor were there at tryouts when it first happened, Castor having to hold Raine back from rushing in to save Eda before they got hurt by everything being thrown by the audience. Everyone did their part in helping Eda through it the first couple of months before she dropped out.
When she did, the whole school heard about it in no time, mostly due to the lack of pranks, traps, and her usual chaos. Some were thrilled, others missed her, others thought they’d be happy about it only for school to feel too quiet or calm without the air being accompanied by her chaotic laughing. Darius missed her, but would never actually admit it. Her lovers, on the other hand, were heartbroken. Sure, they’d see her after school and hang out, provided the curse wasn’t acting up, but school days just didn’t feel the same. They tried to come up with their own chaos, but it proved difficult without Eda, who was always the mastermind behind their plans. Both Clawthorne sisters were gone, with Lilith going through rigorous training and was probably a scout by now, and that left only Spellcastor and his darling Songbird. Even his palisman Munchkin, an orange mouse that he carved with Eda and Del a couple years before, was missing their talks with Owlbert.
Because of it all, Castraeda made the best of the following summer, having a blast to make up for some lost time. It even led to the discovery of their hill when Eda saw it in the distance once. They kept going back up there, marking it as the trio’s signature spot for dates and days on the town. Even years later, the three could remember the beauty of that hilltop almost exactly. The field of snapdragon flowers, the calm, crisp breeze, the wonderful view of town, the music they made echoing through the air and being carried by the wind. Sometimes, Castor swears he could hear the music, when there was nothing there. They even spent Eda’s birthday up there, giving her the mandolin that she would play for years to come, Raine already giving her lessons. Multiple escapes to the human realm took place, too, after Eda told them both about the portal.
Castor, Raine, Darius, and their acquaintances spent a few more years at Hexside before graduating, in which a few split up to pursue their dreams. Darius went into the Abomination Coven, Perry went on to become the BI’s top reporter, and Alador and Odalia formed Blight Industries. The polycule on the other hand didn’t really have any plans to jump into their futures just yet, instead opting to take things slow. Eda eventually began to restore her father’s old tower and move into the Owl House, Raine started picking up a few gigs around the isles and making a name for themself, and Castor took up making a few short stories that became fairly popular, but nothing too big to make him a household name. He stopped after a few years. They set off to do what they wanted to do, but weren’t in the market to do anything major for the time being.
Some years passed, about 11 or 12 years after they started dating, and Eda was beginning to act a bit strange. Castraeda’s love for one another kept growing by the day, but now Eda was growing distant. Skipping over some of the more painful bits (you know exactly what’s coming), things got rocky and Raine knew they had to end it with Eda. Castor on the other hand, was not willing to go through with it, loving them and Eda way too much to do it. Castor stayed behind at his home, not ready for it to end, as their favorite spot became plagued by the memory of the day Raine broke it off with Eda and joined the Bard Coven. Castor and Raine tried to make it work together, but with Raine joining the Coven, it was difficult to do so. Sadly, they both knew it was inevitable and split, leaving only Castor and Eda.
After Raine and Castor bid their adieu’s, Castor rushed over to the Owl House to comfort Eda, even staying there for over a week to keep her company and help around the house. It reminded them both of the many times the trio would help take care of each other when one of them was sick. You should know how this ends. As much as neither of them wanted to do it, with their futures in being wild witches entirely uncertain, it was time they separated as well, especially with both of them needing time and space to themselves to recover from losing Raine. Their goodbyes were long and hard, but they did make one promise to each other: That they were going to stay friends and keep in contact, making sure to call or say hi whenever either of them needed. Castor was determined to keep this promise, but a small part of him knew it wasn’t going to last long, as the trio officially went their separate ways.
10 years went by. And in that time, everyone’s lives changed. Raine was climbing up the ranks of the Bard Coven, Eda became the famous Owl Lady and public enemy number 1, and Castor became a well known supplier of potions and ingredients, delivering them all around the isles with the help of Munchkin. As you can imagine though, things weren’t all fine and dandy. The Emperor’s Coven was onto him, slowly figuring out his wild ways. Before long, his home was attacked and raided while he was out making deliveries. He made quick work of salvaging what he could, packing whatever he had left, and booked it for the Owl House, the one place he knew he could hide, at least for a while. That night was…weird, to say the least. Hooty was happy to see him again, Eda was overjoyed, but what really caught Castor’s attention was whatever the heck was napping on Eda’s couch.
Eda told him the whole story, apparently she adopted this King of Demons when she found him abandoned on an island a few years ago, and called him her roommate. King was weird around him at first, but gradually got used to his presence as Castor tried to work out what to do. It was actually Eda who suggested he move in, finding it pointless that he had already spent two weeks there and was still attempting to find a place to stay. He had all he needed right there at the Owl House. Plus, she could use some extra hands with King. Within a couple days, Castor set up his own space in the one extra room and was declared as Eda’s second roommate. Were things going to get weird with their romantic past? Absolutely. Were they ever going to address it? Nope. They were gonna stay strictly friends until they felt the time was right.
5 years passed, things were largely the same. King had gotten bigger, Lilith kept pestering Eda about joining the EC, Eda and Castor worked the human collectibles stand, and things were well. That is, until…
“And this…this’ll make good kindling.” “Excuse me, sorry, that’s mine, thank you!” Was that…a human?
(End ridiculously long backstory)
#toh#the owl house#toh oc#toh self insert#toh oc x canon#oc x canon#toh selfship#self ship#oc background#oc backstory#castor windchime#edalyn clawthorne#raine whispers#castraeda
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Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc
The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!
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