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#piper. it is a post apocalypse.

slocumjoe · 1 year

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I put this in the tags but no, actually, Piper's writing still pisses me off. And not like, usual "haha Bethesda is so bad lol" but like.

She's a JOURNALIST.

I'm a writer myself, guys. I've written on the Hayes code, on PTSD and masculinity, on fatphobia and classism and the infrastructure of America, yknow, activism shit. I've done it for grades, for my own platforms, and I've gotten offers and opportunities to do it for work.

When you are writing about stuff like this, you have a responsibility. You cannot write about sensitive topics without grace. In Fallout 4's narrative, Synths are a direct allegory for enslaved black people. There's literally a Railroad. GLORY IS A STAND IN FOR HARRIET FUCKING TUBMAN.

So, Piper is enflaming the racism, the witchhunting, she's making it worse for everyone involved. And she wants to keep doing it until she gets her way. It's so fucking irresponsible. Going along with the slave allegory, Piper is accusing the mayor of being of African American descent, and therefore unfit to lead the 'normal people'. "Jesus, Rory! Thats a fucked up thing to say!" YEAH. ITS A FUCKED UP THING TO WRITE INTO A NARRATIVE. Piper is LITERALLY STARTING POST WAR MCCARTYISM!!! AND NO ONE NOTICES? WE JUST SKIP BY THAT BECAUSE AWWW BABY SISTER :(((( HELLO????

#like i just wanna shake her and scream that being right is not more important than peoples safety #it isnt!#you remember that time when people cared more about arguing with terfs than protecting trans people???#we're still in that time but #piper is doing the same! shed rather fight a percieved institute agent than actually help and comfort her community!#information and news can be scary #but if ALL OF IT IS someone is lying and hiding it from you #thats called rage bait #its called fearmongering #piper. it is a post apocalypse.#ALSO #PIPER IS A REPORTER AND DOESNT KNOW ABOUT QUINCY.#SHE TELLS DANNY AT THE GATE YOURE A TRADER FROM QUINCY #QUINCY HAS BEEN RAZED FOR A WHILE PRESUMABLY.#PIPER! MAYBE FUCKING REPORT THAT ONE OF THE LARGEST SETTLEMENTS WAS TAKEN OVER????#CHRIST ON A CRACKER PIPER #REPORT ON THE RAILROAD? THE GIANT BLIMP FLYING INTO BOSTON? THE MINUTEMEN?#NOPE. MCDONOUGH EATS NOODLES WEIRD #IM GONNA LAUNCH YOU INTO THE SUN PIPER!!!!!

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lady-owl · 2 years

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Dropping some more of my recent Fallout 4 fanart, this time a Sketch to Line Art WIP of Piper Wright and my alternate Sole Survivor (I wanted her to have a more Pre-War resemblance, but pushing the 1930′s and 1940′s aesthetic more).

This is also part of a much larger scene illustration that will also include Hancock and Nick Valentine since I’ve been wanting to draw more of them, too. I’ll be sharing their WIPs once I get their line art finished up.

[See more of my Fallout Fanart tagged here]

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asbestieos · 1 year

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i was digging througj old discord messages and found more crazyb niki-centric horror that i thought up!! what the hell was going on in early ens era asta’s mind . under a readmore because theres a lot theres so much

(auto) cannibalism mentions, starvation, silly severe depression moment, zombies//

niki becomes the patient zero of Unidentified Zombie Disease, but he isnt 'turning' the way popular media depicts the undead usually do, and thus no one - including himself - notices at first. but slowly over the course of weeks, his hunger stops being satiated by normal food. at one point, he furiously cooks up meals of all types in a vain attempt to please his tastebuds - to no avail - sweets are the first to go, then fruits, vegetables. finally, even meat stops filling his stomach. in fact, everything is making him sick enough to vomit. its pointless to keep trying to cook and eat when he cant keep anything down. but his nose is sharper than ever, and its telling him the people around him are delicious - not just the sweet-smelling mayoi, but also alkaloid, his audience, his circle friends. kohaku, himeru, rinne. himself.

when niki stops cooking, rinne takes it as another depression period. niki's known for them; hes either cooking, working, or laying in his room staring at the ceiling. thus, rinne's several solutions include forcing him to eat take-out, stealing multivitamins and supplements to forcefeed him, waterboarding him showering niki himself to keep him from stinking up the apartment, even slipping him sleeping medication to see if a good rest would alleviate the hunger - the usual things that push niki out of his depressive state. when he comes back to the apartment to see niki gnawing on himself, though, he realizes something is deeply, deeply wrong, especially when niki looks so inexplicably skinny, feels so horribly cold, seems more like a wild animal than an actual person,

rinne asks him, very firmly and seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him. niki says he doesnt know, but rinne smells really good to him. he says he wants to eat him. not as a joke. really eat him. rinne can tell by the way niki drools -and, like, the literal inches of flesh missing off niki's arm- that this is true, and if rinne didnt have a strong grip on him, niki mightve actually tried. for the very first time ever in his life, rinne considers calling 911 but mentally berates himself instead and decides to simply have a unit meeting to figure out How In The Hell To Proceed with this

the solution is kohaku gives niki the dead bodies of those he's commissioned to kill /joke

#piper ens posting #glad to know that my favorite enstars activity early on was Putting Characters In The Horrors!#specifically Putting Niki In The Horrors #this may be the fault of my very first enstarrie friends #im sure it is. darn them /Lhj /pos #im also sure this was bc i read a really dark zombie apocalypse BL one shot #it was really goo #uruwashiki shuen in my mind and in my heart always

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socialistexan · 2 months

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After my full series watch through, I've put together a list of guilty pleasure Doctor Who stories.

These are stories that are either 1) rated poorly by the Doctor Who fandom but I really enjoy, 2) stories that I ranted poorly but really enjoyed, or 3) have aspects that are widely mocked but I love. I'll try not to count stories that are rated above a 7 by the fandom that I am even higher on (like Warriors' Gate, Kinda, The Haunting Of Villa Diodati) with one notable exception.

(formated as Story (my score / fan score): reason why)

The Chase (7.9 / 6.6):

I adore the campy and just flat out wacky vibe of this serial. From the companions dancing to the Beatles on the Time-Space television to the Daleks fighting Dracula, the Frankenstein Monster, and a Banshee and LOSING. Just so much fun. Pure 60's nonsense.

Monster of Peladon (6.6 / 5.3):

Anyone noticing a pattern? I love camp. I love wacky designs. I love off the wall ideas and bizarre design. I love Alpha Centari. Is this story good, oh g-d no. Did I have fun? You bet.

Invasion of the Dinosaurs (8.0 / 7.5):

Only because people love to hate the rubber Dinosaurs in this episode, but I absolutely adore them. I'm a sucker for kinda crappy practical effects, like, that's why I'm watching this show. I ordered the lemonade!

More under the cut since this is a long post

Image of the Fendahl (8.1 / 5.8(!)):

How is the story not more embraced as a near-classic by the fandom? I'll never know. It has fantastic direction, acting (even from the guest cast which was a rarity in classic Who at times), tone, atmosphere, and vibes. The story is a little derivative of, say, The Daemons, and it has a slightly slower pace with more quiet scenes (though that's a positive for me), but that's really it.

Black Orchid (7.8 / 6.5):

I tended to be higher on shorter serials that felt right for their length and didn't overstay their welcome, and this is that kind of story. Was it amazing? No. Did we get a few fun moments in a non-scifi story? Yeah.

Timelash (4.0 / 4.2)

This is one of the worst episodes the show has ever done, but at least it's the fun kind of bad. It's just so out there and takes so many chances, I kind of commend it for that. It's in that So Bad It's Good territory for me.

Paradise Towers (7.4 / 6.4):

This was camp from the lens of the late-80's. The aesthetics and tone are like a surrealist dream. I think Happiness Patrol is a better version of this story, but you really can't top the neon crab eyes, the roving girl gangs in bright colors, the Monty Python style farsical parody of fascism, or the evil lesbian cannibal grandmas.

New Earth (7.3 / 6.1)

This might be nostalgia talking, but I love this episode. Tennant and Piper are delightful. The cat nurses are so much fun. AND CASSANDRA MY BELOVED. I know 10's first season was rough, but man I loved this.

The Halloween Apocalypse (8.0 / 6.6)

I can could put A LOT of 13's episodes on here, because I was higher on a lot of her episodes (Eve of the Daleks is another I could have chosen here), but I'll pick this one because I was just delighted the whole way through. Big ouppy! Dan's house shrinking! A Nitro-9 reference! And it's set on the best day of the year, Halloween!

#Doctor who #the chase doctor who #image of the fendahl #monster of peladon #invasion of the dinosaurs #black orchid #paradise towers #new earth #the halloween apocalypse

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imsuchagoddamnnerd · 2 months

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*.✧ Requests ✧.*

Status:open

Note

I’ve never in my life used tumblr to post on. I can barely work a cell phone and I’m supposed to be from the more tech savvy generation. I apologize if this looks like shit. If anyone has tips to make it look good that would be real appreciated.

Also. There will eventually be smut on here so if you ain’t matte enough to read it. Just don’t. There will be fluff too but if you’re too young. Don’t read the smut.

When requesting it would be greatly appreciated if you gave a small plot summary/idea or prompt. It makes it easier for me and I feel it makes it more interactive for you all :)

Will do:

Most things including, Fluff, Smut, angst, fantasy, modern, horror(I’ll try), soul mates, oc stuff , x reader, canon x canon. All gender pairings, slashers, monsters, etc.

Will not:

underage characters, incest, pedophilia, homophobia, racism, abuse, scat/urine, infantilism.

Even if something isn’t on this list, I still have a right to decline writing something if it makes me uncomfortable.

✎Fandoms✎

Life is strange

Chloe Price, Rachel Amber, Kate Marsh, Nathan Prescott, Victoria Chase, Warren Graham, Mark Jefferson, Frank Bowers. Sean Diaz, Cassidy, Finn McNamara, Penny. Skip Matthews. Alex Chen, Gabe Chen, Ryan Lucan, Steph Gingrich. Others if requested.

Detroit: Become Human

Connor, Kara, Markus. Hank Anderson, Elijah Kamski, Gavin Reed, Rose Chapman, Josh, Lucy, Luther, Simon, Leo Manfred, North, Perkins, RK900, Ralph.

Fallout 4

Cait, Nick Valentine, Paladin Danse, Robert MacReady, Curie, John Hancock, Deacon, Piper Wright, Preston Garvey, Sturges, Strong.

Resident Evil 8

Alcina Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Benneviento, Salvatore Moreau.

The Last of Us

Joel Miller, Ellie Williams(pt2), Tommy Miller, Bill(MxM only), Tess, Henry. Haven’t played much of Part 2 yet.

The Walking Dead Game

Lee, Clem(aged up), Kenny, Doug, Carley, Lilly, Ben. Nick, Luke, Bonnie, Jane, Mike. Javier, David, Kate, Eleanor, Tripp, Ava, Paul aka “Jesus”. Louis, Violet, Ruby, Mitch, Marlon, James.

The Walking Dead TV Series

Too many to list. I’ll do the main cast. Any others will be by request.

This is taking a long time. I’m not listing all the characters from here on. Just assume I’ll know them on request. I’ve been working on this for like three hours.

Red Dead Redemption

Legend of Zelda

Botw, Totk, others on request

Stardew Valley

The Hobbit

Pokemon

Avatar(James Cameron)

Avatar(The Last Airbender)

Skyrim

FrostBite, John Doe, etc.

Slashers(Michael Myers, Ghostface, Leatherface, Brahms, etc)

Demon Slayer

Doctor Who

Supernatural

OC Content:

Fantasy(modern or medieval). Zombie apocalypse. Cryptids. I might even do some OC design requests and stuff eventually.

Please I’m begging y’all to request something. Anything. Please. I’m not 100% sure how commenting or whatever works, but please just request anything. Idk how to set up a request button so just commenting works

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voltstone · 3 months

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Back Again (F!SS x Piper Wright One-Shot)

|| Perhaps it’s your naive hope that keeps you from breaking down completely. But you know Blue will come back. She will. Blue said as much. ||

In other words, Piper Wright walked out of Diamond City with the woman written as the “View from the Vault.” Though, well, the city folk were quick to suspect that there was something else going on between them… And they weren’t wrong. So when Piper walked back into Diamond City without the woman, there was something wrong. Especially the longer she waited on the Publick Occurrences rooftop. Alcohol in her breath. Less shouting and interrogating for interviews. It was all just…wrong.

[8,547 Words] | [Last Edit: 4/15/2021] (Full One-Shot Post)

“GOD DAMMIT PIPER! I’LL FIND MY WAY, JUST GO! GO AND GET TO THE CITY!”

You still don’t know how you did it. Just left her like that.

“I’LL COME BACK AGAIN! OKAY?! OKAY?! JUST GO! GET OUT OF HERE!”

But, all there is to do is listen to Blue’s screams from when she hurled herself away, narrowly avoiding the two deathclaws that had sprung out of the horizon. Her voice drowned by the suit’s helmet. Bullets and fire igniting her face through the visor…

And then think. Listen to her voice, and then think about how you just left her with the traces of the Glowing Sea rife along the hazmat suit. Which you had to ditch after its helmet cracked from the gunfire of a few raiders—who you also ditched. In the same canal, in fact. Tied together by the ankles of the suit and just booted over the side.

Cracked helmet or not, you’re now really regretting that panicked decision. You don’t care if your haste had saved your ass because radiation is a bitch, and the last thing you need is to be caught in the building storm as it crawls from behind. Rancid thunder and lightening of spitfire—it’s all just the icing of your luck, honestly. And—

You stop short and hold out your hands to confirm that, yes, it is—in fact—raining, and absolutely, the water stings in ways you believe wasn’t a thing before the apocalypse some hundred or two years ago. That’s what Blue told you anyway…

“Shit…” you breathe tightly, forcing yourself further down the road. The echoes of gunfire and more of Blue’s voice replay themselves—the ones that melded in the distance, desperate to keep the deathclaws away from you and instead submerged within the Glowing Sea.

And it did work. Yet, that’s the one thing that keeps your jaw sewn together, and your eyes hard on the outskirts of the city. It worked, and Blue is lost in that radiated wasteland, and you’re alive, right at the foot of Diamond City. Your home. So yay, you’re alive and well. Good time as any to get struck down by the storm. With that thought, you almost just let yourself face-plant into the deteriorated asphalt and beg for the rad storm to just send a bolt right up your ass.

Almost.

You don’t really because…uh, well, to be frank, you’ve asked for similar things before, and the Commonwealth thought it would be funny to give you those scars. Hence why you’ve vowed to never ask for the impossible because—well boy howdy—turns out you would find the Children of Atom in the sewers. And yup, sure, you’d get poisoned too. Oh and let’s throw in the damn rad storm that, you know, just happened to make its presence right after your vacation in the Glowing Sea. Right. Real nice of the Commonwealth there. Quite the joker.

“Piper…” You barely acknowledge the guard before he adds to his grumble: “Paper’s been running good since you left.”

You halt in place with a groan. Who is that anyway? Johnny? Tim? Dan? You turn around and scowl, “Not a surprise. Nat’s capable.”

With his next, rather invasive, question, you know it’s Bobby from behind the mask: “So…that woman. The one from the newspaper? ‘Out of Time’ or somefink? Or 'View from the Vault?’ Y’ left with her, didn’t you?”

You narrow your eyes, working your jaw. Like you really needed the additional, constant reminder. “Yes,” you murmur, “I did… She’s capable.”

“R-Right…” You turn away and barely catch Bobby’s quiet, “Hope so.”

Oh what the hell does Bobby know? He’s just the stupid guard of the bunch. All talk and no brain. Or, well, brawn too. All talk and no double b’s.

So forget him. How about you deal with the closed gate that most certainly closed the moment you stepped out? Arms crossed, you watch the speaker with a tight lip. And, slowly, Danny’s voice mumbles, “…uh, Piper? Is that you again? Kinda creepy just lurking in front of the door like that.”

You roll your eyes and snap, “Would you just let me in, Danny?! I may be one for the law and all that, but don’t think for a second I’m out of stuff I can stick up your—”

“Okay! Okay! Jeez, Piper! Just like— Pipe down, will you?!" You arch a brow and tap your foot. "So, uh, like…go through the guard’s door. Mayor’s not too happy. Well, I mean, he’s never happy with you, but anyway, yeah. Still wants you out, and there’s a storm and everything, so you know, protocols.”

You hum, “Uh huh. Right, Danny…”

“So, yeah! I’ll let you in secretly. Wait, no. Discreetly… Discreetly? Discreetly, yeah. That’ll look better on my referral—”

“Uh, Danny? About that storm and everything?”

He pauses. “Yeah, what’s up? It’s getting pretty gnarly, isn’t it?”

“I’M STILL OUTSIDE!” you bark.

“Shit, right! Okay! Guard door! I’ll unlock it, okay?! I-I’ll make sure nobody sees you—uh huh!”

You click the roof of your mouth irritably as you stalk over to the door, and by the time his frantic jangling of his keys and lock wrenches the thing open, you’re sopping wet in acid rain. You flick your hat roughly in your hand as you storm inside, splattering fat droplets of water against the concrete. Danny wheezes and shuts the door, muttering something about how guard duty outside wouldn’t be fun at this hour. (Lucky they got the saps like Bobby to stand watch, then…)

He haphazardly reaches your side and rushes, “You’re not just going to walk out from the front door like that, are you?! People will see—”

“Make sure he writes discreetly on your referral then, Danny,” you retort, slipping on your press hat.

Danny deflates, and as you walk down the front entryway, he grumbles, “Ma’s right… You are a bully.”

Whatever. So you’re a bully. With a lazy, though gruff, wave of your hand, you stroll down to Publick Occurrences, which right front and center to the entrance anyway. So, like, Danny doesn’t need to worry his pretty head. Not tonight, at least. Well, really not ever since you’re still a citizen, and legally you shouldn’t be kicked out every single time you try to get back in. In short, you’re protected by the law. Some laws. …a law, with a former lawyer to back you up.

Every. Single. Time. You can’t just let yourself step two strides in front of you before reminding yourself of who just just up and left. You can’t, can you?

“Piper!”

You stamp to a halt and twist around. She’s gotten taller… A smile manages to worm itself on, and you squeeze Nat’s shoulder as she hops from the newspaper stand. “Hey! How’s the paper runnin’?”

“Good,” Nat chirps with a quick, added, “Ever since Blue fixed the printer…” Her frown is slow to come, and it has the same, conflicted grace that forces your smile to dwindle. “Wait, where is—”

“Glad that it’s doing well,” you cut across, slipping away from her lingering side-embrace. “I guess I was wrong about the ol’ nuts and bolts.”

“P-Piper…? What happened?” Your hand closes around the front door’s handle, though you hesitate to open it. You hear Nat’s footsteps behind you, and she asks, “Did… Did you guys make it to the Glowing—”

Your other hand raises, and you snap, “Just—!" It hangs there for a moment, and your smile is not one at all but instead a tight, distraught glower. You don’t guide it to Nat, however. You keep it focused on the door. "Just run the paper,” you deadpan before slamming the door behind you. The front of the house spits back at you as a welcome, the metal and wood groaning against your steps as you make your way up the stairs. And at the height of them, you pause, chewing the inside of your cheek as you hold yourself.

You need something to do. A way to think. But not too much. Just enough to forget about how to remember. So you sit your ass down at the terminal because, sure, here’s an idea: while you wait, you can write about some of your adventures. Maybe you won't publish all of them, necessarily, but to write about… About Blue and… And the struggles outside the city…

You feel your lips flatten into a hard line because you damn well know you’re not going to be typing anything. Not at your terminal for any private matters, nor the typewriter that’s not far from you—for printing. None of it. You just— You know that the story isn’t over, right? There will still be tales and news and paragraphs to detail. It— It can’t just end with two deathclaws tearing after Blue and into the Glowing Sea, gunfire and clips of her voice behind you… I-It just can’t be.

How… How did you just leave her…?! How were you able to just walk all those miles within that day, and wind up back at your house? It didn’t even feel like a home anymore, despite hearing Nat’s voice, and seeing your typewriter, and feeling the terminal underneath your palms as you strangle the screen through a hissed cry.

“D-Damn it…Blue,” you whine softly, resting your head against the screen. It blips to life, but all you can think about is that Pip-Boy on your vault dweller’s wrist, and then the blue of her suit, and a starry night… Her kisses and hugs and the way she cradled you that one night.

God, why did you leave?! Why did you listen?!

It’s all you ask. It’s the only thing you ask, and come to find, you have one answer:

Because Blue told you to, and she promised that she’ll come back. And she will.

I know you will, Blue… I-I hope you do.

[+ + +]

You don’t know how long you’ve just been staring at the ceiling for. An hour? A few minutes? Equally plausible. Oh, and did you take a nap? Who knows! Probably, if you’re feeling this sluggish. With a blink and a swallow, you also determine that you’ve been drinking too. On your bed with a leg hung over the side. As you move to reach for— Oh, yup. Here’s a bottle. With a light grin, you arch a brow and crack open the lid. One of Vadim’s concoctions, you’re sure. Nuka-Cola with some vodka—though he always adds something else. An extra kick since the vodka isn’t enough for him.

And not enough for you too, it seems. Especially tonight. You drain a good chug of it before coughing yourself back across your bed, the clinks of more bottles rolling underneath the bed-frame as you do so. The Nuka-Cola mix is still tight in your hand, and you rock your jaw in thought, eyes back to the ceiling. You also wonder if Nat had checked on you within the past few hours. Or, well, during the storm that had rolled by. Did anyone inside know about it before you did? Maybe not. Mayor McDonough has always been the worst with that… It’s like he wants everyone to go all ghoulish just to be able to kick—

H-Hey! Now wait a minute! Is that why that fuckin’ synth’s always trying to lock you out?!

You stew for a moment and hiss, “Dumb, wired bastard.” Another few sips. “Gonna earn yourself another fuckin’ story for that… Piece of scrap shit…” You teethe the edge of the bottle’s neck with a thoughtful eye closed. Of course…if you did do that, you would be tossed out with another gaping hole up your ass—one that isn’t natural. And dammit, Nat would be stuck here to pick up the pieces of your mess. Damn. And he’d get away with it. You know it. He knows it. All because he looked at you in the odd, inhuman way you grew to recognize from Valentine. Of course, Nick’s nothing less than human. He’s just, well, fitted with robotic parts. But there is that look. Oh, there is that look—especially when he’s brought in front of a bowl of noodles as if it’s nothing more than just calories to gain and burn.

The mayor, however, is nothing less of a scumbag.

Which is why you're sure that he’s absolutely a sy—

“ACK!”

You wrench upright and choke on the neck of the bottle, spraying the booze across your little nook. Holding the base of your throat, you scowl. (It’s not the first time you’ve accidentally tried to drink while laying down. It’s very embarrassing. You know you’re not three, but… Yeah. Embarrassing.) With the bottle now empty, you roll your eyes and toss it to…someplace. You aimed for the corner of the room, but you’re now watching it roll underneath your bed. There’s a brief blip of curiosity to what you’d find under there, though the list of all of your habits deter you. At this point, there might as well be a skeleton under there.

So with your hand kept on the base of your hat (for balance, you think), you teeter towards the roof door and step through. The rain has cleared by now, though the roof from its straight platform to its edges is still slicked with simmering water. You look across the main hub of Diamond City, and the steam from the acid rain wafts with the neon lights, and you can hear the sopping steps of very few of your city folk.

Up above, though, is what really draws your attention. It’s a complete and utter blanket of stars—bright pearls poked into a sheet of black, singed with purples and greens.

You trip over yourself and are nearly thrown over the edge. Lucky for you, your hand snagged the lone pipe that you’ve yet to figure out where it connects to. It fumes with heat, and sometimes it smokes, so it’s important in some whatever way. And tonight, it caught your fall. So yay.

With a light groan, you sink onto the rooftop, eyes back to the sky high above. It even looks similar to the night or two prior. Well, it should since the constellations haven’t really changed within seventy-two hours—give or take some. Or maybe forty-eight. Oh who knows and who cares? You're hammered!

You laugh quietly to no one. All alone. With those stars…

And, to yourself, you barely whisper the name of whom you hope is able to see them. But, well, Blue probably can’t. She’s still stuck in a haze of radiation, after all. Alive, dammit. Alive with two deathclaws wrangled and beaten.

There’s a choked cry that escapes you, and you rub your eyes with your sleeve.

She has to be alive…

[+ + +]

Because if she isn’t, then why was it just this night? How goddamn cruel does a joke from the Commonwealth have to be? After that first night, it just decides to whisk her away from you? Just like that?!

Whatever the case, cruel or not, you don’t stop yourself from revisiting it. How the two of you found a small, makeshift shack for the night—her power-armor off to the side with a hazmat suit at its feet. The two of you in its doorway, looking out into the night’s sky with a dim lantern set on a few broken shelves behind you. Tossed blankets and pillows (with curious stains, of course) scattered on the inside. You with a lit cigarette, and Blue with her share of the cram…

“Doesn’t get any calmer than this?” you muttered through an exhale.

She grinned into the can and nodded. “Yeah. Suppose not. Though there’s still a bit more excitement than when I just reclined in a chair way back in the day.”

You snorted a laugh, which forced your cheeks to burn and gaze to dart away (because what adult snorts anymore?). Even so, you remarked, “What an old timer you are…”

“An old timer slowly being roasted by the radiation…”

“Well, I mean, you do eat all of those canned food like they’re nothing,” you murmured.

Blue shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Habits die hard, I guess. It doesn’t help that the cram tastes the same.”

“That should be concerning.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.” The can was tossed backwards into the shack, her eyes outward. You inhaled more of your cigarette as she murmured, “Still… Sometimes it’s nice finding the things that are kept the same. The stars are another thing, you know.”

You hummed gently, “I’m sure it is…”

“And…you know what? With those few things, it’s easier, I guess, to get used to everything else,” she said. You watched her profile, and deep in your chest, you felt more of the fluttering that had been plaguing you for months. A nice, timid thing. Coy though persistent. …especially the latter that night, as it turned out. With another exhale, you turned away to blow it to the side, if to also collect yourself.

“What other things?”

“Hmm?”

“The stuff that stayed the same.”

She pondered for a moment, then said, “Nuka-Cola. Probably is a concern too, but I’m not complaining…” Blue thought for another minute. “Codsworth—or, at least, most of him. I think he’s lost a few bolts while I was in the vault. …uh, and I think your hat too.”

You blinked. “W-What?”

Blue chuckled—the way that always twisted your heart and burned your gut—, and she turned towards you. “Yeah… I mean, of course I doubt I’ve seen that one before. And it's…dirty.”

“Hey, I’ve tried my best,” you retorted playfully.

“I know, I know,” she snickered. “But yeah. It’s what everyone always pictured reporters and journalists to wear. So, I mean…fitting.”

You felt the brim of it with a quiet smile, then murmured, “I mean, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t inspired by the look. And lucky. Clothes that fit and match are rare, you know.”

“…yeah.”

You eyed the grey tie and under-layers of the Silver Shroud outfit, the trench coat laid on the floor behind you. “I guess costumes do well though,” you said, a bit sly.

Blue rolled her eyes and replied, “Well, it’s not so much a costume anymore.”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

You giggled (again, what kind of adult—? Never mind), and answered, “Yeah.”

“Okay…” Her voice dropped, and it peeked the…well, persistent fluttering that really had no business growing throughout your torso the way it did. “And what’s your opinion on women running around in costumes all day?”

You swallowed. Well…damn, did you have an answer. But the answer was…something. Like a big something.

Even if you constantly get in over your head, and earning the wrong side of people is your talent, this is just— Wait, yeah. Forget even—you do get in over your head, and you do so through your talent—which is earning the wrong side of people. So what were you about to do? You didn’t know what you were doing. You’re still even surprised yourself. Maybe it was the smoke, or the booze the few hours before, or just…um, w-well, the mood of it all. Intimacy, you guess. Regardless, you leaned in after she arched a brow curiously, and the touch of her lips against yours was… It’s not like you’d never kissed anybody before—never mind had a short fling—, though this felt deeper. Like it meant something other than a drunken bump in the night.

Mainly because when you broke away at the feel of your scalding cheeks, startled by embarrassment, Blue had followed and quickly snagged you back in. She wasn’t going to let you get away with that. Not so easily, anyway. And with her leeching your timidity away, you numbly put out your cigarette with the edge of the doorframe, and she left you breathless as you flicked the rest of the stick away to somewheresville.

You didn’t really know if you should say something—about…well, something stupid, really. Probably about how gum-like her lips were, except without the radiation. But, again, stupid, so all you could do was groan into her and allow Blue to hold you tight. Which she did. Very, very well. Enveloped you from the rest of the world so she could have you, in that shack, all to herself. It was the reporter side of you that wanted to just have everything in words, or narrated, or anything in between, but the woman side of you—which Blue was most definitely focused on—wanted everything how it was: no words.

Retrospect is a bitch, yet you can’t help but feel that foresight was what drove the two of you that night. Keeping the words out of your mouths to not waste time. Neither of you knew that there would be two deathclaws, and then the prospect of traveling with both at your tails within the Glowing Sea… No. The most Blue probably knew was that you needed an itch to be scratched, and by her only.

And you? All you knew, and all you know now, is that you were falling… And falling… And falling…

You just don’t want to wake up. Not if it means slipping out of Blue’s arms.

[+ + +]

Well… Fucking ow.

You hiss as you strip yourself from the road of acidic mud and stare groggily into the outline you so graciously left. You can even see the rim of bubbles along the silhouette of your head that, ultimately, were the breaths which suffocated you awake. You gaze around in the midst of your stirring hangover, and everybody around you is frozen and rightly startled. Then you glance up at your roof as a bottle (maybe one that snuck out) teeters over the edge, only to clink its way down to a soft, gentle landing.

Right. Yeah, okay. Let the flesh and bone have the fun splat and just give the glass some cushion…

Oh, and where’s your hat now? Let’s see… Oh yes. Nice. So deep in the mud, having landed underneath your chest, that you have to go wrist-deep to get it out. What the absolute, applaudable, signature prank there, Commonwealth. Real snazzy and stuff. As you thwack! the mud out of your hat to pile itself in one slopped mound, you’re quickly discovering that you could have not landed in a more soggy part of the street. Whether that was luck or misfortune, you don’t know. Humiliating luck probably. Or petty misfortune. Tato tato.

“What happened?! Are there mole-rats—” Everyone turns to look at Nat, who stops dead to stare at you. For a moment, you seriously believe that she thought you’re a mole-rat yourself at first glance. “Oh…” she grumbles, deflating. Then there’s a frown, and Nat glances up at the roof before you again. “Did you just—?!”

“Ech…” you spit muck before getting to your feet. You stuff your hat into your coat pocket and mumble, “Imma shower…”

“What?! Don’t act like you didn’t just fall from the sky!” Nat bickers, and you groan before twisting around.

Already, before you even point towards her chest, the small crowd that had gathered is slowly stepping back into their morning routines. “What are they teaching you?! The sky isn’t the roof, Nat!”

“I— Well they taught me that that’s called a hyperbole!” She sets her hands on her hips in a way that terrifies you. It looks too much like a mirror’s reflection. You hate it. “I thought that was something you know well!”

Maybe the reflection standing right in front of you snapped something into place. Or you’re terribly, sort of, hungover. Regardless, you spit, “I know how to write the truth about what’s happening around—outside those walls and everything—whether people like it or not!”

“Well, okay,” she hisses, “you idiot. I was saying you know that 'cause you’re the writer. You actually care about that stuff!”

“Pfft.”

Her eyes bug out, and you turn your back to her and trudge towards the door. "P-Piper!“ you hear Nat snap. "Where are you going?!”

“I’m goin’ through the back!” you answer with a shove of the door. “Relax!”

“The back’s through the freakin’ roof!”

You bark through a hiccup, “L-Language! You little shit!” and stagger inside. You barely catch Nat slapping her hand across her forehead with a roll of her eyes. You’re half-way up the stairs (then down a few steps, then up again) when you hear Nat’s slam of the door.

“Piper! You just fell from the roof!” she snaps.

“I am not drunk…” you assure her, and though it’s the truth, it also feels like a lie. You can hold your drink alright, but damn, hungover doesn’t seem accurate.

Nat, too, finds a way to poke a gaping hole in your claim: “You just fell off it!”

“A-And?! I know how to get to the shower, Nat!” you retort. “Alone… It’s not the first time.” You push through the door to curl around its hugging wall, then down the staircase towards the back of the house. As you stagger across the dirt landing, you bet Nat’s really regretting her excitement to have the third door upstairs (to the roof) instead of the back like any normal place. Nevertheless, because yeah, you have indeed found your way to the shower while drunk before, she lingers at the height of the stairs with her arms folded—presumably with the familiar scowl in tact as well.

The shower is just a haphazard shack built into the side of Publick Occurrences. Enough walls to cover, though it’s all wood except for the makeshift plumbing. You sway at the clothing rack before you decide that, yes, you shall clean both yourself and your clothes all at once. And as soon as the faucet is turned, and the water garbles and spits the first wave of water out, the soaking of your clothes into your skin is, clearly, the correct choice. When it filters out into its usual stream, even more so.

You don’t, however, anticipate the soap and rag right underneath your boot, so the moment you reach to find said soap, you flip.

Har. Har. …Commonwealth.

Though you do have to give the vindictive, comedic force some credit: as it turns out, being eagle-spread, face-first into a clean pool of water is so much better than the packed, sopped mud of the street. So you just lay there, letting the water puddle around your cheeks while you inhale the metal that makes up the shower floor. The drumming of the water almost masks hurried steps from down the stairs. You can feel your sister’s dry sarcasm before you lift your head: “You know, this is a lot more sad than if I just caught you naked.”

You flop back. “Oh hush…” you muffle into the ground.

“A-Are you trying to drown yourself?!" Yes. Yes you are. So you wave your arms roughly from over your shoulder to get her away. This is a private matter, and it has nothing to do with Nat. Other than her being your sister, and you her…guardian. Of sorts. Kind of. Legally and by all accounts, yes, but sort of cause, hey, you’re a failure who always dips out, right? And oh look, you’re so much of one that she’s taking care of you; Nat, with a labored sigh, wrenches you upright by your shoulder and grumbles, "Now would you quit being stupid and take a normal shower for once?”

“Yeah, yeah…” you drawl, completely disregarding what she meant by for once… "Now git so I can…whatever.“

Nat squints at you, then mumbles, "Fine. I’ll just be selling…the newspapers…”

“Good.”

“…right.”

She does leave, though, and you’re still underneath the pattering of the shower. You can’t help but feel like it resembles the rain just the night prior a little too much. Nor can you help that, as the mud soughs off your clothes and face, you still feel so empty. Honestly, the mud might as well be all of your weight, and it’s now just going down the makeshift drain. You don’t know what to do with yourself other than just curl up and lean further against the wall. There still isn’t any tears that threaten—you’re just too dry even now—, and perhaps it’s your naive hope that keeps you from breaking down completely.

But you know Blue will come back. She will. Blue said as much.

[1 ½ Months Later]

An anomaly happened.

You were (and still are) slugged in the couch, Nuka-Cola in one hand with a cigarette in the other when, remarkably,Mister Zwicky comes in through the door to Nat’s directions for an interview. Just, like, without being prompted by you. No convincing to be had. By this point, you’re sure you reek of desperation underneath the nightly guzzling of alcohol, so maybe that had something to do with it. Or this is all a rouse and the city is plotting to throw you out through an over-arching scheme—who knows at this point?

Though the fact that it’s Mister Zwicky sitting on the other side of the couch, patient and collected as ever, is what peeked your interest. Not that you’re doing anything about it. You’re just sitting there, baffled, while trying to come up with a question. And after a minute passes, you come up with a well-articulated and definitely not pathetic, “So…um, you have something for the paper?”

“I believe so,” he hums. “Definitely something that could spruce up the news after last weeks article on…remedies for bloodbugs, was it?”

You answer, tightly, “That’s an important thing for people to know…”

“It is, it is,” Mister Zwicky says with a nod. “But…well,” he adds, “that was the most, err, striking thing you’ve written within the past few weeks.”

“…really,” you reply, blunt.

“Unless you count that…thrilling article you wrote after quite the trip to the Dugout Inn.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know that?”

The old man shrugs and says, “Well, Piper, you could’ve only written that drunk on Vadim’s drinks.” Mister Zwicky pauses, and he briefly eyes the small, gathering pile of empty bottles at the edge of your coffee table. “Not to mention that it had your infamous zest that you get those nights.”

“Huh.” So that explains the morning you woke up on the printer. And to Nat’s confused shouting once she realized your hand was in the ink. And that the ink was out in the first place. Nevertheless, you inhale more of the cigarette and lean into the couch. “I thought that one would’ve been a good one to read.”

“…if people got through the typos and awkward syntax,” he murmurs under his breath. You stare at him with a twitch, and the schoolteacher raises his hands. “Now, now,” Mister Zwicky says, “I get it. But never mind all that… Uh, well, sort of.” He scratches the back of his neck and breathes a sigh. “I'm here because I do have something for the paper. Nothing like what you’d usually put down, but…well, hopefully something to pick it all back in order. If you’re still able, anyway.”

“I can still write,” you grumble defensively.

Mister Zwicky nods along. “Yes, I think so too. So can you? Write about some of the stuff the kids are working on. Some nice things that they could turn in for the paper.”

“Like some big group project for a grade…?” you ask lazily, through a puff of smoke.

He sways his head side-to-side as he answers, “More like a…'view from school’ sort of thing. Different perspective of the world? A new insight?”

You work your jaw in consideration. Mister Zwicky’s always known how to fluff your good side—even when you had to sit in front of his desk to hear about whatever detention Nat had that day. Speaking of, is there no school today? That or it’s one of his few break hours. “…m'okay. I’ll bite,” you drawl carefully. “What would they be talking about anyway?”

As you flick the end of your cigarette into the ashtray, Mister Zwicky replies, “Well, some of what they thing about the city, stories they’d like to share.” He pauses, and you brace for his next few words: “…what they think it’s like on the outside.”

You braced for it, and it still stings. You inhale another drag, turned away, and sigh a quiet, “…right.”

“L-Look, Piper. This isn’t you, is it? Hell, you’ve managed to get the folks around here worried.”

“Yeah, a good two if you’re up in arms with Nat,” you retort.

“There’s more!” he insists.

“By how much?!”

Mister Zwicky pauses again, this time with a slight wince. “More, I assure you… Even so, everyone’s noticed. You usually crank out a few months’ worth of articles and stories and such for the paper with each visit. About the outside. Everything you’ve investigated and the like…”

“Yeah? So?”

“You’ve gone radio silent this time, Piper.”

You tense your jaw and shake your head. With your leg folded over the other, and arms crossed, you grumble, “And what? This whole school-thing is this grandiose pity-party to get me to write a word about the Commonwealth? Well here you go! Bullshit. There. I did it.”

He watches you sadly, and dammit, how many times are you going to just take that side-glance without just hucking your bottle at a face? Okay, well, a couple more apparently because you can’t bring yourself to do it. Even so, you hate it. You hate the way his pity carves itself into the aged lines of his face, so you turn away. Mister Zwicky heaves a sigh, and he murmurs, “I should’ve known… You’ve been grieving, haven’t you?”

“Waiting. I’ve been waiting,” you correct, each word spat out.

“In this age…they’re the same thing, Piper. You know that,” he murmurs grimly. “What did it?”

For a split second, you forgot that the Nuka-Cola is just the soda you grew up with and not Moonshine. So much so you stare into the bottle in confusion before a slow, whispered, “A pair of deathclaws… Right at the Glowing Sea’s doorstep.”

He nods, hands together. “That’ll do it,” the old man grunted. “And, uh, you’re just hoping?”

“…waiting.”

Mister Zwicky thins his lips. “Yes, of course.” He turns to you again, taking his eyes off of his hands. “It’s that woman, right? The one in the blue jumpsuit— Or, well, in that Silver Shroud coat, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer quietly.

“I see. And you think she’ll be back?”

You frown, though answer wholeheartedly, “I know, teach. She’s going to be back. I-I just know it.”

“She better…”

[+ + +]

You didn’t leave the couch hours after Mister Zwicky left, nor when Nat had trudged in, the stack of newspapers under her arm lighter than when she brought them out. Not by a lot, mind, but noticeably lighter. And then she slumps at the other end of the couch, to which you can’t help but notice how much it reminds you of yourself. If only Nat knows to never do that. Be like you. Since, well, you’re a secret-not-really alcoholic who likes to romp around the Commonwealth and get into trouble, write about said trouble, then advocate to other people about how to avoid those said troubles.

But you doubt she does, given that it seems to be her talent, parroting you.

Or sassing you, either or: “Are you dead or just lazy? You haven’t moved all day.”

“Dead,” you scowl. “How many got the paper?”

“More than last month,” Nat murmurs. “And they’re actually reading it and stuff.” Your scowl deepens. You almost ask what they do with it usually, but you figure learning about how defiled your line of work is on a regular basis is…not going to be something that will help your self-esteem. Like you have one to begin with. Regardless, even if you wanted to ask, Nat notes her own line of thought before you could: “Probably because it’s different than normal.”

You grumble a breath and finish your bottle of Nuka-Cola. “Yeah… Next week’s gonna be on the school.”

“Really?”

“Kind of.”

Nat ducks her head back and groans. “So he did ask you about that assignment.”

You hate that your knee-jerk reaction is to do the same, so you just tighten your grip on your kneecap, hunched forward with your head in your other hand. …so he did make that for a grade. Maybe a good trip down to the Dugout Inn is a good idea for tonight. “Yeah, I guess,” you finally respond, hollow, both to your internal decision and Nat’s outward comment. However, that said, Nat’s quieter than she usually is, and you turn to her passively curious. “What is it?”

She tenses before her jaw tightens in thought. “So, um… Well, it’s nothing.”

“Okay. What is it?” you press, the nosy reporter in you peering out.

Nat shifts in her seat and holds herself. “Um, so uh, why do you go with Blue so much?”

You freeze, then turn your eyes away. “Oh… Well, uh, she's…” You frown and shrug. “She’s real important, Nat. A-And I mean, I just… I—”

“If you’re about to try and say it, I already know you’re gay, Piper,” Nat deadpans.

Your words die at the base of your tongue, and you rush, “I-I’m not gay! I like men t—” You blink while she continues to stare at you, confused, and you sigh. “Never mind.” Preference for women or not, you’re definitely going to keep those few nights where some hotshot managed to find his way beside you at Vadim’s bar. Always some wanderer because the men in the city are…gross. But, you’re definitely not going to tell her because they all meant nothing other than letting off steam, which Nat wouldn’t understand anyway. You squint at her as her confusion begins to break. Well…Nat shouldn't understand.

“…ew.”

“Nat!” you snap, now wickedly flustered. You then tense your brows and ask, “Who told you that stuff?!”

“Sheng,” Nat answers bluntly.

You hiss air. “Sheng Kawolski?!”

“There’s not any other Sheng around,” Nat grumbles. “But yeah,” she adds, almost nonchalant, “he did. After he tried to kiss me again.”

You’re going to pummel a child. Over the head. With your typewriter. Maybe even sandwich his face into the printer so that he’s the next story. …but then again, that would be murder, so not exactly a good plan. Aggression towards one stupid boy aside, you slump back into the yellow couch. You don’t even know if you’re sober enough at the moment to walk out the door over to his house anyway. That, and now as you think of it, Sheng is the one who brings purified water to Diamond City. And good, purified stuff too. Better than the few who came before him, anyway. So…you guess you can’t pummel a good cause either.

“Piper?”

“Hmm?”

Nat frowns, her eyes to her lap where her hands wring together. “Why have you stayed for this long?”

You nearly choke when you ask, “W-What do you mean by that, sis?”

She watches you at the sound of your attempt to lighten it. You can practically hear it—how sis is continuously pinging around her thoughts. “I-I mean… You always leave. And I know it’s just 'cause that’s what you do. For the newspaper and stuff. And you’ve always done it 'cause…I dunno. But, like…” Her frown stitches itself tighter, and she pulls away. “You haven’t even walked out of Diamond City since you came back. Not even for some trading…”

“I, um—”

“Because Blue said?” Nat mumbles. You can’t find your words. You only manage a shrug and a meek nod. “…do you love her? Like, like that?”

It takes you a moment, though you nod again and whisper, “I-I do…yeah.”

“And that’s why you’re just waiting here? Because she said she’ll come back?”

“I know she will,” you murmur. “I know. She’s told me to run before, to this shed. Twisted my ankle before I could but I… I got to watch her.” You smile and say, “Took down this sentry bot on her own. And these things are huge, Nat. I always avoid them even when they’re off. But she did it. Ripped out its power cell and used it for her own suit.”

Nat blinks, in awe, and asks, “She has a suit…?”

“One of those military ones, yeah. Power-armor.” You hum a laugh and note, “Multiple, actually. She lugs her favorite around but leaves it outside the city.”

“Wow…” She frowns after a moment. “But…w-why did you leave?”

You shrug, drained by the sudden shift, and breathe, “Because… I don’t know. She told me to go to the city, and she never did before.” You chew the inside of your cheek and turn away from Nat’s grim sympathy. “Don’t look at me like that. I know she’s going to come back.”

“…but she told you to walk so far away. She—”

“Nat! I told you, she’s coming back!”

“I-I’m just saying! Why do you keep saying that anyway?!”

Your throat tightens, and you lean into your hand, against the arm of the couch. “Because the moment I don’t,” you whisper, “that’s when I’m going to starting thinking about it, and then I won’t stop believing she’s dead, and… Nat, she has to come back. I don't— She can’t be gone.” To your heavy chest, you feel Nat scoot over and rest into your side. It’s the closest she get’s to a hug, so it’s a nice thing. Subtle, though substantial in Nat’s own way. You swallow your whimper. “Sometimes you have to suspend the truth until your hope runs out…”

Nat shifts against your shoulder and murmurs, “Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?”

“Or just human,” you mumble. You wrap your arm around her and rub the side of her bicep. “If or whenever you go out there for your own adventures, you’ll understand… The people here need the truth before it comes, but if it already has… I mean, let it pass in their own way.”

“…and your own way is believing that Blue’s alive?”

“She is,” you answer firmly. “She has to be.”

A long, long stretch of silence passes. And as the seconds drag by, stars pepper your thoughts again. Stars, and that shack, and Blue… You can’t stop thinking about it. You just can’t. So when Nat eventually breaks the silence, there’s nothing within you to defend against your gradual tears: “When she does come back, you’ll go outside again, right?” You hold your head weakly, and everything within the past couple months falls on you. One with Blue. The other without. But you hope that you’ll get another night again. At least one. Just one is all you as for now.

So you can’t answer your sister. You suspect she knows the answer to it, of course, but it’s never verbalized…

[+ + +]

It doesn’t come to a surprise that the last, good night comes back to haunt you again. And you know you’re still in that measly bed of yours with beer bottles just toppled over by the legs of its frame, but holy shit, you can allow yourself just one continuous sleep thinking about it, can’t you?! Just revisiting how Blue cradled you against the wall of that makeshift shack, teeth grazing and nipping new marks along your shoulders, clothes slacked and unkempt as the two of you continued to uncoil yourselves as the night went on.

Perhaps it was the mere inkling of something separating the two of you—something like a pair of deathclaws—that did it. Had you and Blue just explore, and touch, and kiss without rest. An in between of sex and lovemaking, you supposed then and suppose now. Not that it wasn’t the latter, though you wonder how much inexperience with Blue’s body would qualify as such. Maybe it does, you still don’t know.

Regardless if it was sex, or fornicating, or lovemaking, or just screwing around for the hell of it—that all doesn’t matter, does it? Not as you hold onto one moment in particular, where you clung onto her shoulders, hips moving to the rhythm of her hand, as she whispered delicate, sweet things in your ear. Things that, really in any other instance, would sound corny and ridiculous. But shoot you for finding “You’re so soft…” and “I don’t want to let go of this" nice to hear while she’s goading hot sex out of you with that starry night high above the shack. Corny and ridiculous be damned, her way of words with the melding edge of her tone did you just right.

Oh God, how right Blue did you.

Her breaths slicked along your neck as you hissed air into her ear, uncaring of the wall flushed against your back. And once you tipped over the edge, you couldn’t have been any happier with your bumbling, spur-of-the-moment kiss at the mouth of that little shack. Blue was right there. Right with you. So when she murmured, quietly, "There we go… I got you. I got you…” you believed every word.

You still do.

Though you wish you could’ve done the same as what you did that night: give back. Roll Blue against the strewn blankets along the wooden floor and just give it your all. Send her on cloud nine. Over her own edge. Right underneath the film of stars and night, glinting through the roof of that little shelter of yours…

[+ + +]

And now?

It is certainly the time of night where those same stars glisten, though you find that you’re not as fond of them anymore. Part of that is a lie, actually, since even the thought of those stars bring about the good memories of Blue, but then again, the good memories remain to be the equivalent of burning the back of your hand with your cigarette. And you like your cigarettes. So, you know, it’s an appropriate comparison.

You laze your way upright and meander over to your desk. With Nat asleep, now’s a good time as any to hit the bar, right? With a bitter scowl, you dawn your hat and creep down the stairs. From around the stairwell, you can hear her light, dozing snores. Good, you think. She’s having a good sleep tonight. You debate lingering to watch for a moment, though that’s immediately shattered since you don’t know what you’d do if she woke up to you standing there. So, within a few minutes, you’re out the door, striding mindlessly for that hitch of beer. Maybe you’ll try to scrounge up some pastry or bite to eat for Nat later, if you’re sober enough.

If…

On a stool you slump, eyes heavy and glazed from the neon lights hung around. They carve deep shadows along all of the shapes and curves of your hands, and you breath a deep breath before folding your arms and slouching over the counter. A thought then hits you: what if, just for fun, the Commonwealth is going to decide to poison you tonight? That would be fun, right? And this time, if you try to throw it up again, people don’t do anything about it? Or they will…but because you’re a pathetic scrub. Yeah? Fun, right? The world could just piss all over your parade right now, regardless of how lonely your parade is. And alcoholic.

Damn, you really are a mess without the consistent adrenaline pumping through you, aren’t you? A sack of fermenting tatos without that sweet, sweet ringing in your ears? Or the burn of radiation after a quick, accidental dip in a lake—and you really don’t understand how Blue’s able to just swim in the stuff…

You slump further into the counter, drumming your fingers in thought as you wait for whatever disgusting beer would be served—maybe poisoned, who knows? Though, at the thought of Blue coming by to lay eyes on your body sunken in the mud, suffocated and poisoned, isn’t something you want. Not even in the midst of your bitter, sour and snide turn of events.

Where the hell was Takahashi with the beer?

Wait.

Dammit. Hold on. That pile of noodle-serving scrap doesn’t sell beer… And you’re not— Oh for the love of God, you’re not even at the bar. Stupid noodle stand.

…oh well. Where the hell was Takahashi with the noodle cup?!

You slap down a handful of bottle-caps, and immediately a bowl of noodles slide themselves across the counter and into your cheek. Disgruntled, with a noodle plastered over your nose, you glare to the side where the robot stands, washing a bowl in their mechanical hand.

“Nan-ni shimasu-ka?" Takahashi buzzes.

You chew the inside of your cheek. That sounded rude. In a soured note, you grumble, ”No, I knew where I was!“ Even so, you get back to your bowl, starting with sipping the strand of noodle off your face. As you indulge, a second bowl slides by, and it clinks against your own. You pause and turn towards the robot. "W-Wait, what?! I didn't—”

Actually, did you pay for two?

Before you can investigate the exact number of bottle-caps you’d just slammed onto the counter, you see a shadow slink up the bar, and you hear the crunch of steps. That silhouette. You swear it looks familiar.

So, albeit with hesitance, you turn around.

Even in the dim, neon lights, you know this isn’t just the Commonwealth being the cruel jester it tends to be. If it is? Well then, you just hope your next spot of beer is poisoned.

Regardless, because you know it’s not, you whisper, “B-Blue…?”

“Well…I did say I would come back, didn’t I?”

“Blue…” You laugh through a choked breath and tilt your head to the side with a quiet, if sad, smile. “You… You um…”

She blinks, then shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, well, I did just get my hair cut.”

“N-No… Your—”

Blue plucks her sleeve. “Oh yeah. Found this in some bunker. Pretty nice, isn’t it?”

Okay, well…the maroon suit is nice, but, “That scar… You…”

Caught red-handed, Blue shrugs and grins sheepishly. Three jagged lines right across her face. Deep and unruly. “I, uh, actually lost those two by popping in this parking garage—it was…way off the map. But, uh, yeah. Didn’t expect the third one…” Her words trail off as you embrace her, head nestled against her neck. There’s nothing to stop your breathless cries into her collar, and she hums a laugh as arms wrap around your waist. “So, uh, yeah,” she murmurs quietly. “The Glowing Sea’s a bitch to go through…”

“God, Blue…” you breathe.

“But I did say I’d come back. Nothing was going to stop that…”

You nod and pull away to peck her cheek with a tender, long kiss. “I know. And you did.”

A/N: She is my wife and yes, Piper has blown me up on numerous occasions. With molotovs, any other throwables, and a launcher in a very, very small room. No I won’t stop giving her throwables. Did reconsider the grenade launcher though… Hope you enjoyed! :D

#volt's library #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companious #piper wright #female sole survivor #sole survivor #fanfiction #one-shot #ao3 #wattpad #Second-person #the commonwealth has a vendetta against piper #but she got a bowl of noodles #also loosely based on a frantic trip to the glowing sea in which i told piper to go (by accident lol)#there were three deathclaws and a radscorpion #and i play exclusively on survival mode #reposted from last account #if this looks familiar it's because i yoinked it from my last (dead) account

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farharbour · 5 months

Text

oc interview

i was tagged by @hibernationsuit, thank u!! 🫂💖 i'll tag umm @mercuryislove @reaperkiller & @bisexualocs! don't feel obligated to do it though lol. anyone else who wants to do this can just say i tagged u, idm :)

i'm doing this for jess because i'm predictable asf:

name: jesse diresta

nickname(s): jess, blue (by piper, it annoys him but not enough to ask her to stop using it)

gender: trans man (he/him)

star sign(s): cap sun (cusp) + pisces moon + virgo rising (yes i picked his star signs first then gave him a birthday to match nghfjdhdf)

height: 6' / 183 cm.

orientation: bisexual / polyamorous but he's not weird about it

nationality/ethnicity: american (italian; his nana (maternal grandmother) immigrated from italy)

fave fruit: kiwifruit, but honestly post-war he's just happy to get any fresh produce at all LOL

fave season: spring for sure! winter is very hard on him emotionally & there's something comforting about the warmth and life that the spring brings. somewhere in there there's a metaphor about growth healing and rebirth or w/e

fave flower: poppies

fave scent: allspice, sandalwood, lemon-scented disinfectant/hand sanitizer (unnecessarily specific, sowwy)

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: black coffee. it's different post-war and harder to make a good batch even with pre-war beans but he'll still never take it with sugar

avg. hours of sleep: between 4-6

dog or cat person: neither, he's a fish person NHFDFNDHFD

dream trip: he'd always wanted to go visit italy but unfortunately that's not in the cards for him because of the whole. y'know. apocalypse thing.

fave fictional character: any dostoevsky protagonist (his fave book is probably the brothers kramazov) (king of reading!). he also has a soft spot for the silver shroud since that was terri's ult favourite character/series.

number of blankets they sleep with: just one! he runs cold but nick always gives off enough ambient heat for him to be comfy with a single blanket

random fact: he's not that great at hacking terminals, he's just super lucky with guessing the correct passcode and passes it off as pure skill if anyone asks / tangential thought: sometimes he messes up an easy terminal on purpose or acts like it's harder than it actually is just so he can watch nick do it for him and swoon over how smart and talented he is when he very well could have done the same thing LOL and nick knows when he does it too obviously but he plays along. it's flirting

#💬#oc talk #oc: jesse #thanks again red for the tag!! <3 #any excuse i can get to talk about this guy i'll take hehe #tbh i wanted to talk about teressa actually but i haven't given her much thought beyond the basics atp -___-

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hrts4scarr · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐱𝐨 ୧˚

౨ৎ requests﹕closed

౨ৎ taglist﹕open

★ pinned post | ☆ taglist | ★ rules | ☆ main masterlist

— how to request !!

if you'd like me to write for your favourite driver, request their name, trope, concept and anything else! ex : can i request a charles leclerc x reader, best friends to lovers, assistant!reader

— what i write !!

⭑ f1 ⭑ hp ⭑ blurbs ⭑ headcanons ⭑ fluff ⭑ smut ⭑ boy x girl ⭑ age gap (not super big tho.) ⭑ social media au ⭑ person x female reader ⭑ kinks (not super kinky.)

— what i don't write !!

⭑ angst (maybe if im in an angsty mood, but otherwise, no) ⭑ boy x boy (not that im not homophobic, im js not comfortable with writing stuff like that and nor writing original drivers x drivers) (to be fair i love gay relationships. like HEARTSTOPPER, HELLO??) ⭑ anything that has any hate towards to ANY drivers. ⭑ driver/person x oc (i only write person x reader!) ⭑ eating disorders ⭑ self-harm ⭑ mental/physical illness ⭑ cheating ⭑ incest

— drivers i write for !!

⭑ charles leclerc 16 ⭑ carlos sainz 55 ⭑ lando norris 4 ⭑ oscar piastri 81 ⭑ max verstappen 33/1 ⭑ daniel riccardo 3 ⭑ lewis hamilton 44 ⭑ logan sargeant 2 ⭑ kimi raikkonen 7 ⭑ jenson button 22 ⭑ sebastian vettel 5 ⭑ fernando alonso 14 (these are the drivers i feel comfy with writing, i might do other drivers tho)

— others i write for !!

⭑ toto wolff

— pjo characters i write for !!

⭑ luke castellan ⭑ percy jackson ⭑ annabeth chase ⭑ leo valdez ⭑ jason grace ⭑ clarrise la rue ⭑ will solace ⭑ frank zhang ⭑ hazel levesque ⭑ magnus chase ⭑ piper mclean (probably more but those are js my main ones)

— hp characters i write for !!

⭑ mattheo riddle ⭑ theodore nott ⭑ lorenzo berkshire ⭑ tom riddle ⭑ harry potter ⭑ hermione granger ⭑ cedric diggory ⭑ luna lovegood ⭑ ginny weasley (probably more too but these also are js my main ones)

— mcu characters i write for !!

⭑ peter parker (spiderman) | any film/actor ⭑ stephen strange (doctor strange) ⭑ tony stark (iron man) ⭑ steve rogers (captain america) ⭑ thor odinson ⭑ natasha romanoff (black widow) ⭑ wanda maximoff (the scarlet witch) ⭑ bucky barnes ⭑ loki ⭑ gamora ⭑ peter quill (star lord) ⭑ miles morales (more but are js my main ones)

— x-men characters i write for !!

⭑ alex summers (havok) ⭑ scott summers (cyclops) ⭑ jean grey (dark phoenix) ⭑ james/logan howlett (wolverine) ⭑ charles xavier (professor x) | before x-men: apocalypse ⭑ erik lehnsherr (magneto) ⭑ raven (mystique) (more but are js my main ones)

Even if my requests are closed, you can request for a second part and I might consider it. Otherwise, requests are closed. If you have any questions, don't be shy to ask me! <3

if you break these rules, request for things i clearly stated that i wasn't comfortable with writing, "just write this, it's not that hard," hate towards any drivers, then you can leave.

Please be patient when requesting. Remember, I only write for fun, so it's not like a job. Which means that I won't be able to write every minute of every day.

Please be specific when requesting. It'll help me get a better visual/thought of what you want me to write.

Please understand that I can't write every single request. i'll lyk if i can't write this request or if i don't feel comfy with writing it.

#౨ৎ﹔💌 ┄ scar's rules ! 🪽#⪩⪨﹔💌 ┄ scar talks ! 🪽#rules #hrts4scarr #lvrzzscarr

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chaosintheavenue · 2 years

Text

Fallout Opinion Survey- Results!

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

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

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

The Basics:

Favourite DLC:

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

Favourite faction:

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

Favourite companion:

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

The Lore:

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

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

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

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

Vault-Tec started the Great War

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

Horses are still around

Talking Deathclaws are still around

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

Charon is a survivor of Vault 92

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

Veronica and Christine reunite

Sarah Lyons is alive

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

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

International travel and immigration continues

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

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

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

Cass is the Chosen One's daughter

Mama Murphy is the Chosen One

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

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

Father is not really Shaun

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

Yes Man overthrows the Courier after being upgraded

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

Deacon once worked for the Institute

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

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

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

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

Glory is not a synth

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

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

#fallout #survey #this was a bit all over the place lol #but as I said there's not much actual analysis I can do with this data

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slocumjoe · 1 year

Text

Peer-Reviewing “The Synthetic Truth.”

And a long rant about irresponsible journalism

This will be a long read. As mentioned before, I was going into careers for this thing. But I’m not anymore, it’s been a while, and I’m doing this for fun in my free time. So, if you notice something I don’t, feel free to point it out. The coolest thing about my Piper rants are the other writers nodding furiously. But at the same time, disagreement is a source of learning, so don’t be shy if you have a counter-point to anything.

The point of this is to pick apart Piper’s reporting and figure out everything wrong with it. Why? Because people agree with me when I say she’s bad at her job, but I don’t think they understand just how bad. The articles themselves are long, boring slogs to read through, full of filler paragraphs and unimaginative ways of making a point. They’re forgettable. Pair that with the fact that many likely haven’t read them, and it’s easy to buy into Piper’s shtick of being a sharp, charismatic field journalist.

Consider this post a refund.

Noodles. We all eat them. We all love them. And Diamond City's Power Noodles has supplied this sustenance for the past fifteen years. From the stilted mechanical cadence of Takahashi's programmed Japanese, to the fragrant steam that wafts from each bowl, to the scalding tang of each delicious mouthful - the ordering and eating of noodles is but one of many shared human experiences. Or is it?

October, 2287

The Synthetic Truth

Piper Wright

This opening is weak and poorly connects to the next paragraph. The thesis of this article seems to be that Diamond City has a synth issue; we’ll get to that later. Noodles have nothing to do with the overall idea of the article, and she’s wasting a lot of ink on it. Remember, this is a post-apocalypses newspaper. You’d think she’d want to make things easy on her printing press and not waste her resources.

Now, the closing line here is awful. I’ve seen classmates ripped to shreds for hypothetical questions. Do not ask hypothetical questions, especially if you’re not going to outright respond to them. It’s a lazy way of getting to your point. I can just see my writing workshop teacher’s red ink on this one.

Also, I have two nitpicks. Firstly, the description of the ‘noodle experience’ doesn’t work. It described Takahashi, but then the noodles. If it was Takahashi’s Japanese, then something else, then noodles, it would work better. When doing a three-point description, you want 1-1-1 or 3 of one thing. This is 1-2. Doing 1-1-1-1, or four points, is on shaky grounds. 3 is a magic number; not too little, not too much.

Secondly, the line “And Diamond City’s Power Noodles has supplied this sustenance for the past fifteen years” is awkward. With the first three sentences, this paragraph opens with “Noodles. We eat noodles. We Love noodles. Power Noodles makes noodles.” It’s clunky. I won’t suggest fixes because the entire paragraph needs to be thrown away.

I was struck by this very question as I sat at the counter of Power Noodles last Wednesday night, just after 5:00 pm, enjoying a dinner I had so many times before. That's when I noticed our very own Mayor McDonough sidle up to a stool, and engage in the very same ritual. Right hand extending. Mouth opening. Teeth chewing. Yes, eating noodles. The shared experience of almost every Diamond City resident.

This paragraph also needs cutting. Really look at the content of it. It describes the act of eating food. This paragraph wastes ink and paper, time, and most importantly, reader attention. The average person is not going to sit down and read through this, Piper. Aside from the creepy, stalker-like tone of this paragraph, it’s also counter-intuitive to her point.

Piper is trying to convince everyone McDonough is a synth. Here, she describes him doing something that would be very odd for an Institute agent; he goes and gets dinner at the same place she does, while she’s there. Knowing he’d be scrutinized for it. This paints the rest of the article in an unflattering light, as Piper is accusing McDonough of being a synth, while not providing proof, at the same time she’s describing ordinary behavior.

This paragraph also fails to connect to her hypothetical question. Piper asks the question, and describes when she herself asked it. She doesn’t properly acknowledge it. This is a journalism crime. Hypothetical questions are bad, and using one, then shuffling past it, is even worse. So much red ink needed here.

So it must have also seemed to the residents of Diamond City nearly sixty years ago, on an uncharacteristically warm May evening in 2229, as they sat around this very same counter. But that was before the days of Takahashi and his noodles, when the bar served not noodles, but ice cold Nuka-Colas, frothy beers, and stiff shots of whiskey. The barman's name was Henry, and that night, he facilitated the shared human experiences of drinking, smoking, talking and laughing. That is, until tragedy struck.

The focus has shifted from an odd, pointless note about McDonough eating dinner, to the Broken Mask incident. The first paragraph is about noodles, the second is about McDonough eating noodles, and this third paragraph is about how this noodle stand used to be a bar. If Piper was writing about the noodle stand itself, this would be acceptable with some changes. But this isn’t about noodles, it’s about synths in Diamond City, but we’re still talking about the damn noodle stand.

Some nitpicks: ‘uncharacteristically’ can be cut; ‘facilitated’ is an odd word choice; 1-1-1-1 description use, ‘talking’ and ‘laughing’ could be lumped in together under ‘merriment’, ‘partying’, or some such.

This is a matter of personal taste, but I would have left out the final line. That way, it would be of some shock when the tragedy actually strikes. It would better fit the tone Piper is going for. If this article were more objective and historical, prefacing that there is tragedy would be appropriate.

There aren't many among us who are even old enough to remember that evening - although some of the city's Ghoul residents certainly could have, had they not been forcibly removed, thanks to Mayor McDonough's anti-Ghoul decree of 2282. But there is one person among us who does remember, distinctly, the events of that evening: respected matriarch Eustace Hawthorne, who recounted her story in a Publick Occurrences exclusive interview.

Unless Piper wants to make a point about the ghoul exile, half of this paragraph is unwarranted. Simply take the last part about Eustace and put it on the end of the last paragraph. “Eustace Hawthorne remembers the evening well.” That’s all you have to do. Saves ink, time, and reader attention.

"Oh, I was there all right. Sitting right at the bar, sure as you're sitting in front of me now. Twenty-two years old or so, and just looking to have a good time. I was safe behind the Wall - we all were - so what was the harm? And let me tell you, that Mr. Carter made it easy. He came into town earlier that day, said he was from out west somewhere. It didn't really matter. What did matter was his smile, and his laugh, and the way he'd make everyone feel at ease. That night, at the bar, we all just sort of crowded around him. Everyone wanted to exchange a word, or hear about the state of the Commonwealth. And Mr. Carter, he was all too happy to oblige. It was just so wonderful. Until it wasn't."

What Eustace is describing is, of course, is the infamous event known as the "Broken Mask," when the people of the Commonwealth learned for the first time that the Institute, the shadowy scientific organization responsible for the creation of combat androids, had actually succeeded in creating a model so advanced, it could effortlessly infiltrate human society. Unbeknownst to the people of Diamond City, the Institute had somehow evolved their androids into true synthetic humans. Synths.

Eustace continued her account of that evening, and the moment when things turned sinister, and the truth about Mr. Carter was revealed.

"We'd been drinking, and carrying on, must have been three hours. Mr. Carter had four or five drinks in that time. He seemed a bit drunk, I guess, like the rest of us. Then something just sort of happened. He was smiling, but the smile sort of went from his face, all in an instant. And then his cheek started twitching, kind of funny. And I remember watching him, clear as if it happened just yesterday. He reached inside his coat, took out a revolver, and then 'Blam!' - He shot Henry, the barman, right in the head. Didn't hesitate, didn't show any emotion - Mr. Carter killed Henry as casually as if he were paying him for a drink. But his cheek never did stop twitching. Let me tell you, all Hell broke loose after that."

"After he shot Henry, that Mr. Carter shot three or four other people, too. Like I said, all Hell broke loose. The guards came running, they opened fire, and Mr. Carter he kept shooting, and throwing people around left and right. Finally, those guards put him down. Seemed like they had killed a man who had flipped his lid. Gone crazy. And he lay there like a dead crazy man, sure enough. God, it was horrible. But then we saw the plastic and the metal - this was one of them early synths, you see - and we realized it wasn't a man at all. It was then we all knew. The Institute wasn't just 'out there.' The Institute was everywhere now. Among us."

Oh, Piper. Sweetheart, god bless.

Never, ever, ever use a full quote like this. Ever! A cursory Google search will tell you to use quotes sparingly. Any middle-school teacher will tell you to not just drop them in and leave, like you’ve written a paragraph. Every writing resource out there will tell you to do something with a quote, and give it a point. This paragraph fails on all metrics.

When using large blocks of quotations like Piper is doing, for the love of god, paraphrase. Piper, in this section, has two paragraphs; one is saying that Eustace’s quote isn’t done yet, and the other is describing what Eustace is already describing. If I put anything like this in front of any of my teachers, they’d call in for a welfare check, asking if I’d lost my mind over night.. Piper writes nothing of her own substance here. You cannot use a quote like this. Sure, this is an interview, and maybe interview articles have different rules, but surely this is a massive amount of ink, spent recounting Eustace’s winding manner of speech.

I’m doing the same thing here, but the difference is that I am directly examining each paragraph; Piper is just dropping in her quotes and continuing on. This is a rookie mistake. I know Piper wasn’t properly taught these things, but it still is a sign of weak, purposeless writing. If you have a point, and you care about it, and, crucially, it has the legs, you don’t need to prop it up with a quote dump like this.

It was never determined precisely why the synth known as Mr. Carter went on his killing spree. Some suggested he had somehow been remotely controlled by the Institute, who wanted to test his combat effectiveness. Still others felt he had simply malfunctioned (a hypothesis supported by the twitching cheek), and was never meant to kill anyone. But at that time, the "why" hardly seemed important. What mattered was that the humans of the Commonwealth had been truly infiltrated by an organization whose intentions and motives were, and still are, a complete mystery - using a model of synth even less advanced than the ones the Institute has in service today.

I can’t tell if this paragraph looks alright to me because of the horror of the quotation section, or it’s genuinely inoffensive. It’s boring, sure, but it has a point. It lays out the theories behind Mr. Carter’s attack, and then pushes the point that it doesn’t matter; there are now synths among them, hiding in plain sight. The last sentence is a bit of a run-on, though. It could have been broken up into two sentences.

This paragraph gets a solid B. Unimaginative, a bit too long, but it has a purpose and fulfills it competently. It uses too many adverbs, though, but that’s a common issue throughout the article. Precisely, remotely, simply, hardly, truly - it’s a small thing, but once you get an eye for it, you’ll never stop noticing it.

Which brings us to noodles. Specifically, the noodles consumed by Mayor McDonough last Wednesday night, in the same spot that Mr. Carter the synth went haywire, and mercilessly killed several people - after spending hours sharing an experience the people of Diamond City assumed was reserved for members of the human race. They were wrong.

This paragraph attempts to connect McDonough to Mr. Carter through this stand, citing it as a common denominator of Institute meddling, the heart of Diamond City now invaded. But she does this through the fact that Mr. Carter went haywire here, and the fact that McDonough eats here. This is false correlation. Piper herself eats here, but in her eyes, McDonough taking an action that Mr. Carter also took is proof that the Institute is pulling the strings. To her, this noodle stand is a symbol of a lost security. But objectively, she’s still just talking about McDonough getting dinner.

This is not how you do set up and pay-off. I’ll give a demonstration of tying the ending back to your opening at, obviously, the end of this post.

Are we?

You ended. On a two-word hypothetical question.

If my teacher received anything, no matter how well the rest of it was, with a two-word hypothetical question for a closing paragraph, she would have stood up on her desk, pointed at it with her red pen, and gone into exhaustive detail for the remainder of class why you don’t do this.

But for all the bad writing decisions in this article, they aren’t the worst thing.

Let’s talk about journalism, and the responsibilities of it.

Accountability

A keen eye will have noticed the inflammatory nature of this article.

This article is somewhat insidious, as the wording and topic choice leads to a subtle hint towards paranoia. “They were wrong...Are we?” wants the reader to wonder if they, themselves, are in danger of a synth going haywire, or a synth walking past them like anybody else. Piper wants her reader to keep this in mind, every single day. She wants them to never not think about the Institute infiltrating their home.

Piper writes about nothing, but the subtext is everything. She encourages a reader to view everyone with suspicion; after all, if a synth can eat noodles and drink and make merry with anyone, how do you trust anyone? It’s a valid point, yes. But it’s a shortsighted one. How do you trust anyone in the wasteland, synth or not? Someone could be trying to rob you, sell you into slavery, kill you. Piper singles out the Institute as the only real threat in her articles. Need I remind you, Piper is unaware of Quincy’s recent siege and take over by the Gunners?

Quincy was a large, thriving city, and was a major trading hub. There’s a reason Piper picked Quincy as your fake origin. The wealth and resources are why the Gunners attacked in the first place. It was a massacre. On a trading hub. Think of what that would do for the weak economy. Think of how many people would know the traveling traders, or had friends and family living in Quincy. Piper doesn’t go to the Quincy survivors for their account, or Preston for his side of the story as the failed protector. To Piper, the Institute is the most urgent threat to the Commonwealth. She fixates on it. The Institute is a threat, yes. Remember University Point? But Piper doesn’t write about that, either, and there’s been time for the news of U.P to reach Diamond City. For Quincy, I’m willing to forgive her. It was a recent attack. But as a reporter, Piper should be keeping her ear to ground for these sorts of things.

A quick list of things Piper should be writing about, for the good of her community.

The Ghoul exodus, and the pointlessness of racism in a time where you need every friendly hand you can get.

The Gunners and their encroaching presence in the Commonwealth

Quincy being commandeered.

The Brotherhood rolling into the Commonwealth.

News about crops and economy from other settlements.

Homesteading information that would be useful for a post-apocalypse home, such as preserving, tailoring, and the like.

The Railroad.

Goodneighbor, and the difference of leadership between Hancock and his brother.

Dangerous areas in the Commonwealth, safe routes you can take to other locations.

Merchant routes.

Bunker Hill.

The rebuilding of the Minutemen.

Institute top-side activity, such as in University Point, the Mayoral Bunker in the west, and more.

The destruction of the Commonwealth Provisional Government, and why the Institute wouldn’t want the Commonwealth to be united.

But that isn’t what she writes about. Piper writes about synths in Diamond City. Diamond City is already paranoid about the Institute after the Broken Mask Incident. Piper can write about the Institute; she just doesn’t do it in meaningful ways. Her paper literally has an advice column; this isn’t a reputable source of information, it’s her own think-pieces.

If I was a journalist in the wasteland, I would be trying to unify my community. I would be looking for important news, useful information and survival tips, and trying to find answers where there are questions. I would not be rallying my community against each other, telling them that our leader is a fraud, that any of them could be frauds. And then I wouldn’t insist to anyone willing to listen, that no one is believing me, despite the town being in a constant state of dread.

That’s the real problem I have with Piper; she can’t take no for an answer, even when she’s getting ‘yes’. Piper’s articles are working, but because they can’t just throw McDonough out, she blames the residents of Diamond City. She calls them cowards, sheep, brown-nosing. The guards are talking about synths, the residents are talking about synths, people want Nick thrown out after all his good deeds because they just can’t trust him anymore. If you walk around Diamond City, people will tell you they broke up with their girlfriend because she did something weird, so she must be a synth. Cathy at the barber thinks the mayor’s secretary is a synth, because her hair is too nice. The general store owner, Myrna, who has to interact with more people than most, can barely run her business because she’s so terrified that she isn’t interacting with who she thinks she is.

And Kyle, a DC resident, thinks something killed his brother, Riley, and stole his face. Angry, grieving, deluded, he tries to put down the mockery, only for guards to execute him. There were no synths, but someone still died because of the fear that there might have been.

And where does this happen?

In front of the noodle stand.

(See? That’s how you bring things back around.)

Piper writes that the Institute first invaded Diamond City at this stand, the heart of town, and now, a synth leads Diamond City while eating here. But the Institute isn’t what is hurting Diamond City. It’s fear. Everyone turns on everyone else, for fear they’re a synth. There is still violence, for fear of history repeating itself.

Fear that Piper will not stop perpetuating.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #Piper Wright

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asbestieos · 1 year

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u know what i laugh now but if we ever get a lim tatsumi card (highly unlikely) im not safe

#piper ens posting #dance in the apocalypse kicking my shit in btw

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lyssak09 · 1 year

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Masterlist & Things I write for

AN: I automatically write the reader as female so when you re quest please please tell me what pronouns you want the reader to have. Also if requested I will and can write the reader as part of the LGBTQ+ community

Key: Italics means to be posted/its a draft

Fandoms I can write for:

Supernatural

Corpse Bride (my favorite movie ever)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Night Court (1986)

Certain Stephen King movies: Just request one and I’ll tell you if I have seen it or not

Doctor Sleep

Charmed (the original one)

The Labyrinth (David Bowie movie)

Krull (1983)

Secret Obsession (netflix movie)

Day of the Dead: Bloodline

The Walking Dead (seasons 1-7) I get pissed with the show when I get to parts of season 7 so I stop watching and restart from the beginning of the show

Umbrellas Academy

Repo! The genetic opera

Z Nation

Warehouse 13

Repo! The Genetic Opera

Dead by Daylight

Adventure Time

The Big Bang Theory

Friends

Suicide Squad (both movies)

Futurama

Slashers: Ghostface (preferably Stu), Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Jason, Brahms Hillshire

Star Trek: TNG, Voyager, Lower Decks

Nightmare on Elm Street: Movies 1 through 3 (I’m iffy on doing Freddy because he is a dick and child rapist in a lot of the movies. But I will do the other characters for sure)

My Bloody Valentine: Both 1981 and 2009 movies so please be specific with which one you want

Markiplier & Jacksepticeye egos

Masterlist

Supernatural

Yandere Dean hcs

Yandere Shapeshifter hcs

Yandere Sam hcs

Yandere Archangels request

Yandere Castiel hcs

Yandere Lucifer hcs

Yandere Casifer hcs

Yandere Casifer with Trans!reader request

Yandere Archangels soulmates request

Dead by daylight

Platonic Yandere killers reaction to child reader

Yandere Leon with Killer!reader request

Yandere Leon with Killer!reader pt.2 request

Platonic Yandere (HOY) Trapper & Huntress with tween!reader request

Platonic Yandere Huntress & Trapper request

Yandere Nemesis hcs request

Yandere Killers & Survivors request pt.1

Yandere Killers & Survivors request pt.2

Yandere Doctor hcs request

Plantonic yandere (HOY) Trapper & Huntress pt.2

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Yandere Jake Peralta hcs

Yandere Jake with Lawyer!reader request

Yandere Jake

Yandere Rosa

Yandere Amy

Yandere Charles request

Star Trek

Yandere Q request

Yandere William Riker

Yandere Data

Umbrella Academy

Yandere Five with Soft!reader request

Yandere Five hcs

Yandere Luther hcs

Yandere Diego hcs

The Walking Dead

Yandere Daryl with motherly!reader hcs request

Yandere Daryl motherly!reader hcs pt.2 request

Yandere Daryl

Yandere Rick hcs

Yandere Grown Carl hcs

Yandere Michonne hcs

Miscellaneous (Aka writing that doesn’t have their own category yet)

Yandere Brahms Heelshire (The boy)

Yandere Elliot Stabler (L&O SVU)

Yandere Mack Thompson (Z Nation) hcs

Yandere Emily (Corpse Bride) hcs

Yandere Black Mask/Roman Sionis (DC/BOP)

Yandere Pete Latimer (Warehouse 13) hcs

Yandere Homelander (The Boys) hcs

Yandere Joker (Suicide Squad) hcs (Fight me on this)

Yandere Piper Hallowell (Charmed) hcs

Yandere Leo (Charmed) hcs

Yandere Colwyn (Krull) hcs

Yandere Danny Torrance (Doctor Sleep) hcs I love Ewan McGregor

Yandere Max (Day of the dead: Bloodline) hcs

Yandere Victor (Corpse Bride) hcs

Yandere Wilford Warfstache hcs

Yandere Antisepticeye hcs

Ocs

Tyler from my yandere song fic

Evan ( Yandere Landlord)

Daniel (Yandere Slasher)

Hudson (Yandere Cop/Sheriff)

Luke (Yandere Childhood friend/Bully)

Damien (Yandere Teacher)

Zachary (Yandere zombie apocalypse survivor)

Derek (Yandere Hypnotist/ Therapist)

Ashton (Yandere Neighbor)

Zeke (Yandere robot boss)

William (Yandere Prisoner)

Adrian (Yandere Asylum patient)

Devon (Yandere Priest)

Jason (Yandere Step father)

Max (Yandere step brother)

Anthony (Yandere slasher/homicide survivor)

Ryan (Yandere childhood friend)

Ewan (Yandere military man)

Unnamed (Yandere boss)

Unnamed (Yandere AI robot house)

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fryingpan1234567 · 1 year

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OKAY I SAW A POST ABOUT THIS AND I THOUGHT IT WAS VERY INCORRECT SO HERE WE GO I’M FIXING IT

RIORDANVERSE IN HOGWARTS HOUSES

Gryffindor: Hazel Levesque, Piper McLean, Thalia Grace, Clarisse La Rue, Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, Thomas Jefferson Jr., Halfborn Gunderson, Mallory Keen

Gryffindor’s main traits are bravery (obviously), being headstrong, poor impulse control, team players. Hazel? She prevented the apocalypse by killing a giant, her mother, and herself, single-handedly putting Gaea to sleep again. Piper is the girl who told The Daughter Of Athena to ignore her brain and just feel. Thalia was literally immortalized for her bravery on Half-Blood Hill. Clarisse fought the drakon in the Battle of Manhattan and kicked its ass by herself. Reyna’s mother is the goddess of strength and bravery, and she has the ability to share that through her troops. TJ physically cannot say no to a challenge. Halfborn wins brawls with two axes and no shirt. Mallory armed and blew up a fucking car bomb because some stranger pushed her to. This group is the definition of YOLO… I guess except for TJ, Halfborn, and Mallory. They’re more like ‘YOLI’- you only live infinitely.

Hufflepuff: Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Frank Zhang, Magnus Chase

Puff People traits- kindness and patience, balance and mediation. But they also take those who don’t fit into any other house. That’s my main reason for Nico; it’s like his whole character. Will and Magnus are both healers exasperated by their friends and chaotic partners almost dying all the time. Frank is a shapeshifter with crazy diverse lineage, meaning he doesn’t quite fit anywhere as well. This group is needed to be the mediums of their groups.

Ravenclaw: Annabeth Chase, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Samirah Al-Abbas

Before you come at me for stereotyping Annabeth as an Athena kid = Ravenclaw, Ravenclaws are witty, quick thinkers, and as logical as possible. That’s literally her. This is the girl who came up with, on the spot with a broken leg, to trap Arachne with her own webs. Rachel is The Prophet of the Greeks, and she acts the part. Sam has the best work/school/religion/life balance I’ve ever seen in my life, and she’s nailing all of it. These girls are the brains of every operation and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Slytherin: Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Calypso, Leo Valdez, Alex Fierro

MY PEOPLE- Us Slytherins are cunning and ambitious, duh, but also loyal to a fault and would kill for our family, blood or not. Percy is easily a Slytherin- loyalty is literally his fatal flaw. Jason is interesting, but I wanted to put him here because his actual life goal is getting his orange and purple friends to get along. Calypso would have been a major factor in Percy and Annabeth’s deaths in Tartarus because of that curse she threw at him; that girl holds a grudge. Leo Valdez is the most stubborn egotistical asshole we all love to see, and his sarcasm is one of the best things about him (Percy too). Alex… I really shouldn’t have to explain. They’re like the most Slytherin Slytherin ever.

anyways!! Percy Jackson!! is not a Gryffindor!! HIS FATAL FLAW IN CANON IS LOYALTY. THAT IS A DEFINING TRAIT OF SLYTHERINS.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

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chromaticjester · 13 days

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okay so having finished Mary Poppins i have thoughts. If we skip the soundtrack and the cheerfulness, this is a psychodelic horror ending with possible apocalypse. Hear me out

- you have a trad british family, high ranking father in a royal bank, suffragette leader mother and two terrifyingly well-trained kids. their nanny is a bit of a dick, loses the kids in the park, and leaves the post

- the kids write an ad for a new nanny which a father tears to shreds. instead he publishes his own ad, to which a crowd of women comes in a response

- the demon arrives. she summons the hurricane to banish the other women, and tricks the father into signing a contract with her

- she shows her magic at first to children only, enthralling them, before kidnapping them to another dimension pied piper style, on the way there introducing her minion/lover/familiar?? the musical man with a thousand jobs

-the children returned from the magical dimension mind controlled, she then gaslights them that it never happened. when they get upset she forcefully puts them to sleep

-by the morning, the mother (from this moment on she never again shows personality or political ambition, instead channeling the demon's agenda) and all the servants are mind controlled by the demon's spell

- demon takes kids out on errands, but instead heads over to the house of her trapped, cursed victim, who cannot leave the house and instead is forced into feats of unstoppable, manic laughter. the children, mind-controlled, help her and the familiar torment him

- on their return home father confronts demon, unsuccesfully, she refuses to leave and instead manipulates him into taking the kids, her minions, along with him to the bank

- before they go there, she gives them instructions (weird, gothic catholic imagery here in the context of st paul)

- at the bank the children act as instructed, go against the father, cause a massive financial crisis on national scale, said to tank the stock worse than the boston tea party did, after father gets angry they run away

- familiar finds the children. he takes them on the rooftops where demon finds them, there is a hellish sequence as they watch london on fire and she manipulates the smoke and ash of air polution, mind-controlling the army of chimney-sweeps that the familiar has been infiltrating

- the army, including the children, invades the father's house. they almost destroy everything and he barely manages to stop his kids from leaving with them. he gets summoned to the bank

- at the bank he is about to get fired when the demon's insanity reveals itself in him. he falls mad, laughing madly and infects the chairman with the laughing-man's curse from earlier. the man is later revealed to have died

-father returns home, feared to have committed suicide on the way back but ultimately succumbing to the insanity. he is revealed to be permanently lost in the demon's scheme and gets reappointed in control of the now demonic bank. the demon reveals that she owns the local police and was the one to orchestrate the first nanny's leaving. she leaves, chaos succesfully sawed

#mary poppins #musicals #horror #60s cinema

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alexgilbertart · 1 year

Photo

Older drawings of some of my D&D characters! Lots of exploring costumes and poorly drawn swords lol.

The top one is Istli Firedancer, a level 15 yuan-ti pureblood artificer. She’s incredibly impulsive, always on the go, and an absolute genius when it comes to tinkering.

The last two are of Piper Asterales, a firbolg forge cleric for a campaign that’s over now. The setting was part fantasy, part sci-fi, all post-apocalyptic. She grew up pre-apocalypse and was a blacksmith for her community, managed to engineer a mask that kept the plague at bay for herself, but failed to save any of her loved ones. She managed to retain the heart of gold as she ran into our party in one of the last standing cities, but her good nature gets strained as the party tries to survive on top of dealing with each other’s baggage.

I have even more drawings of these 2 exploring costumes, not sure I’ll ever be totally satisfied with their design 😅 Still thought I’d share! Enjoy :)

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #firbolg #yuan-ti pureblood #artificer #forge cleric #costume design #artists on tumblr #digital #wip

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fnafgamer4373 · 1 year

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TW:⚠️Talks about blood, murder, and death (lots of death)

Surprised I went quiet for so long-

Anyways, it's time to talk about:

My Silly Apocalypse AU!

First off: Who in the ever lovin' hell is Silly? Well, gather around, as I tell you about him.

This is the only drawing I've done with him, but anyways (we're going to ignore the orange belly I gave him without realizing Tinky had it already, if you have color suggestions let me know please)

Sligamore, or Silly for short, is the fanmade Lord in Black character I was talking about in my last post. Silly can manipulate emotions, but instead of pushing them to anger and rage like Blinky, he pushes them to insanity. He toys with them, and almost like Pokey, can control them, hence the puppet face. This level of insanity can lead to something doing something very out of character, leading to arson, murder, and many other crimes.

So imagine he takes over almost all of Hatchetfield?

Now, before I go explaining my entire apocalypse, let me first explain some VERY important details:

This AU is entirely focused on me and my friends own universe. Most of the characters I'm going to mention are OCs of ours, and a lot of those OCs have important connections to certain characters. One of the biggest ones is definitely Alexa Sutton, who belongs to my best friend. Alexa is Henry's spouse in our universe, they live together under the same roof, and all of that. Another OC I should mention is Harper Kennedy, who also belongs to my best friend. Harper is relatively Alexa and Henry's adopted daughter (in their eyes). There's also my main OC Piper Lovelock, who has a very mother-daughter relationship with Charlotte.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that some characters (Nora and my OC Astra for example) use neo pronouns, and you may see me using them a lot. Nora uses She/It/E/Em pronouns, and Astra uses They/Star/Sun (And star is mute).

I figured I'd tell you guys that since it's very important in the Silly Apocalypse AU.

Now onto the AU:

It starts off with very few people: Sam, Mr. Davidson, Emma (no main character moment this time lol), Henry, and Astra (a Beanies OC of mine). It takes about two months to finally realize something isn't right with these people, but the signs have been clear from the start: Glowing red eyes, fits of laughter (random singing if you're Henry), erratic behavior, etc.

The first victim to die is Nora.

Nora is in eir office, wondering why Astra has been so unresponsive, and whats wrong with Emma that she isn't coming into work. It's going through some paperwork, planning a schedule out, before she feels a sudden pain. Sharp pain. Looking down, it sees a blade sticking out of its stomach. E spits out blood, shakily raising her hand to the blade, which is ripped out from behind. Nora bends over, still in shock about what just happened. Turning around slowly, e finds Astra, a bloody kitchen knife in hand, staring at her with a wild grin and red eyes.

Before it can react, it's suddenly pinned to the desk, being stabbed repeatedly until they pass out (and die). Astra is completely oblivious and keeps stabbing Nora, unaware of a horrified Zoey standing by the entrance. Zoey locks sun in the office, before running back to the front in tears, where Piper and Ryan (another of my friends OCs) are currently.

They try to ask what's happening, but Zoey is too shaken up to properly talk, simply telling them to call the cops. Which was their first mistake. Sam (we'll get back to him in a moment) had already infected the other cops in the station months prior, and once they reach Beanies, they kill and infect whoever is there. Piper is the only one who escapes, running back to their apartment where Emma is.

Focusing on another character now. Charlotte is at home, getting lunch prepared when she's attacked by Sam. She's confused, and she doesn't know what exactly is going on or why her husband is trying to murder her. In an act of self defense, she kills him with his own pistol. Scared and in shock, she takes the gun and runs off, trying to find her friends.

Going back to Piper for a moment, Piper has made it back to the apartment, trying to tell Emma about everything that happened at the Cafe. Emma, however, seems out of it, holding herself back from attacking her friend. Emma tells Piper that they need to run, and how a mysterious 'he' has taken over. Piper is confused, and wants to know more, but Emma is already gone. Piper takes a baseball bat and runs, knowing that she'll need something to defend herself with. Eventually, she finds Charlotte, and the two of them stay together.

Switching to the office crew: Ted, Paul, Bill, Melissa, and Ken Davidson (yes, his name is Ken, and I will call him such). The crew is wondering what's going on outside the office, and wondering what's happening to their boss. Melissa informs Paul that he is needed in Ken's office to have a little talk. Nervous, Paul obliges, and everyone else waits. After waiting for quite a while, Paul stumbles out, being chased by Ken. He's been infected, and he's shouting at everyone else in the office to run. People left and right are either dying or being infected, and the crew have no choice but to run. In the heat of the moment, Melissa is separated from everyone else. She finds Charlotte and Piper, and the three of them decide to stay together to find the others.

Now for the final character: Henry. Henry knows something is wrong, that some kind of apocalypse is going to start. Alexa is trying to get through to him, while Harper is begging for her to run. Henry tells them both that they need to get away from him before he accidentally hurts them, as he struggles to fight off the infection. Reluctantly, Alexa takes Harper away, grabbing her cane (also a sword) and her mobility aid dog, Bear. The three of them are left on their own, forced to face the horrors of their once loving (that's a stretch.) town.

Back with the office crew, Ted and Bill are hiding away in an alley, trying to think of the most logical (well, Bill is at least) reason as to everything happening around them. What they didn't know, was that there were other people hiding as well. At least, until a girl in a red flannel and orange beanie pops out, threatening to hit them if they get closer. You guessed it! Deb is in the alley, and she isn't alone. Alice peaks out from behind Deb, and runs into Bill's arms. The two girls explain how they were on their way to Beanies when they saw everything that happened, and they ran to the alley to hide. The four of them stay together for the remainder of the story.

And that's basically how the story starts!

Bill, Alice, Ted, and Deb are all one group, and the second main group to focus on. Melissa, Piper, and Charlotte are one group for now, until they end up finding Harper and Alexa; these 5 are the main stars of the story.

I really do have so much more to explain, and so much more to talk about in this AU. There's death, betrayal, fury, and so much more (and in true Starkid fashion: some comedy). I would be happy to talk more about this if anyone really wants me to, along with making art and designs for the characters!

Thank you to those that actually read through this whole thing 💜

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