#maura tauber
Note
Hey! 7 for Maura; 8 for Nora; and 10 for Trystan. :)
Happy to see some Maura love as always!
#7 for Maura:
Maura has called her sister, Silja many many awful names, insults, pretty much the worst of the worst things you can call a sibling. At one point she's even wished she wasn't related to her, because Silja "was too bossy, too controlling and just is a fucking menace to be around" and every time it hurts Silja more and more but she's learned that her sister doesn't mean those words and it's just because she's tired of being babied and coddled up and Silja being more of a "third parent" figure than her own sister.
Of course, when Silja ends up dying, Maura can never take those words back or apologize, which literally kills her from within. No matter how much she goes back to her grave to apologize and seek forgiveness, she knows she might never get to hug her sister back again. It's why she thinks she gets wounded so easily - Maura feels like she deserves a thousand bruises for all the awful things she said growing up and constantly fighting with her sister when she's been ensuring the other gets to live.
#8 for Nora:
I'm sick of answering in paragraphs so here's a list lol:
This should be no surprise, but throwing things. You can't beat her at darts or bowling or shooting at balloons, she's going to get kicked out of the place for winning everything.
Cooking. Nora learned the skill as a kid to support herself after her dad became emotionally and physically unavailable for a year after her mother's passing.
Soccer. She can still juggle really well. Athletics to some extent. She can run.
Knowledge of public transport. She's pretty good at reading maps and following along. No need of GPS or Google Maps, she's replaced her mind with that of a taxi driver's.
"Look up stuff" which people now call research. Nora got good at it after writing a million book reports and now it helps her surf through a library with ease and look up facts on the internet.
Repairing stuff. Jimmy taught her everything from fixing leaky taps to troubleshooting computers to repairing cooking handles to changing tyres and work with constraints, in general. So even if Nora can't fix something (or find a Youtube tutorial), she can work with constraints.
Driving!! Nora once drove her dad's car for a block as a part of winning a bet. Jimmy taught her all the basic mechanics of driving before she could even turn 15-16, so by her driver's license procurement, she was already ready.
Quick math. She's horrible at it but hey, she learned it.
And that should be it lol.
#10 for Trystan:
I can't really find voice claims and samples, so I'll try my best to describe what Trystan would sound like:
Drakovian accent, of course. I'd say it's got that Eastern European-lilt in it, it's very crisp and clear if I can describe it that way.
I'd say he has a little deep voice in terms of how "deep" it is? It's not too baritone, it's just enough to give him a nice singing voice and a very impressive vocal range.
As for accents and stresses - he tends to stress on the s's and the z's, has a more softer roll to his r's and it's a little difficult for him to make a softer "th" sound, most of his "th"-sounds aren't cushioned by the 'h', so they're very sharp in that area. He also deepens his "o"'s a little and sometimes his u's. I want to look into this a little bit more because this is practically begging a fic on its own.
As for if he's picked up any American accent in his time in New York, well it wasn't anything too drastically different. His emphasis and stresses on the vowels and consonants grew a little softer, a little more blunt on edge and he picked up a couple of slang and that's pretty much it.
___
Thanks for the ask Elsa!
character generator asks
11 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Hanno “Noah” Tauber / Daniel Solace
DARK (2017–2020) / 1899 (2022 – )
created by Jantje Friese & Baran bo Odar
#scifiedit#dark netflix#darkedit#noah dark#hanno tauber#elisabeth doppler#noah x elisabeth#1899edit#1899 netflix#maura franklin#daniel solace#mark waschke#sandra borgmann#andreas pietschmann#aneurin barnard#emily beecham#fflyn edwards#tvgifs#cinematv#tvarchive#usertelevision#mine*#obsessed with these men who are so in love with their wives that they will kill children and who hate andreas p.#they are such liars... look at them making promises they won't keep... such assholes! I love them!#truly the embodiment of the perfect man#also both of them having biblical names#and not being [redacted] in the [redacted] world#truly icons of their time
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
16 was a typo and I meant to ask for 15, if you want to answer that. :)
oh, I will gladly answer this, though I’m terrified of the question :’)
15: What WIP are you taking into next year with you?
The answer to this is… all of my existing WIPs, which is to say a bunch of things that may never get finished, but that I would maybe one day like to return to.
fics I have partially completed at present and fully intend to finish:
- The Quarry fic in which the surviving counsellors reunite in North Kill 7 years after the events of the main game
- Dark fic in which a young Hanno Tauber meets and finds himself attracted to a mysterious stranger who travels to Winden in ~1920 (and that mysterious stranger is his older self, surprise)
- Dark fic in which Noah and Jonas celebrate the activation of the god particle by vigorously fucking
- Dark fic that is just a Jonas/Noah/Elisabeth threesome
- 1899 fic that is just an Eyk/Maura/Daniel threesome
there are far more than this, but these are the ones I feel I’m most likely to actually finish up!
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome to CFWC's "Meet Our MCs and OCs" page. All profiles are submitted by writers from the Pixelberry Choices fandom. We accept new submissions at any time. Please tag @choicesficwriterscreations and we will reblog your MCs / OCs profile on CFWC and add it to this archive.
The MCs and OCs included on the header were selected at random, and their profiles are highlighted in bold below. The header will be updated periodically so others will have the opportunity to appear on it. We hope you'll take the time to learn about all of the wonderful, unique MCs and OCs in our fandom!
As of February 2023, we will be highlighting one “MC or OC of the Month.” (MC-OCotM). We will select one profile at random from the profiles submitted here, however, for full eligibility requirements, please see here.)
Happy Reading!
@a-cloud-for-dreams
Ride or Die: Lyra Lexington
Wake the Dead: Xiomara Calloway
@a-crepusculo
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Marchia Bisognin
Open Heart (LI: Tobias Carrick) F!OC: Nyla Imani Hassan
@aallotarenunelma
Immortal Desires NB!MC: Saini Amanda Rusanen 🏳️🌈
Immortal Desires OC: Skylar Sasha Barnett-Lyons 🏳️🌈
It Lives in the Woods F!MC: Riikka Lovisa Yläkorpi 🏳️🌈
It Lives in the Woods M!OC: Ashley Clark 🏳️🌈
@aesthetic-aag
Bloodbound F!MC: Adeeba Augustine
@amortentiaopenheart
Open Heart: Catherine Valentine
@anntoldst0ries
Open Heart F!MC: Noelle Valentine
@ao719
The Royal Romance/Crimes of Passion F!OC: Croia Thorne
@aria-ashryver
Immortal Desires MC: Luca O’Rinn 🏳️🌈
Immortal Desires OC: Viktor Ivanov 🏳️🌈
@aussiegurl1234
The Royal Romance OC: Alice Thornton
The Royal Romance OC: Delilah Young
The Royal Romance MC: Lily Anne Walker
@bebepac
The Royal Romance MC (1): Mia Jones
The Royal Romance/Heir MC (2): Riley Brooks
@cadybear420
High School Story: Evie 🏳️🌈
@cariantha
Open Heart F!MC: Sawyer Brooks
@choices-ceri
Crimes of Passion : TM!FC: Ceri Rose 🏳️🌈
@choicesfanaf
Open Heart F!MC: Arundhati Kulkarni
@choicesmc
The Elementalists: Rams Erndheart 🏳️🌈
Laws of Attraction: Fiona Lightwood 🏳️🌈
@coffeeheartaddict2
Open Heart F!MC: Casey Mara Valentine
@cryomyst
Open Heart F!MC: Alexandria Lee
@danijimenezv
Open Heart F!MC: Jill Valentine
@doriansapprentice
Open Heart M!MC: Remy Miles
@dr-colossal-pita
Open Heart M!MC: Oliver Valentine 🏳️🌈
@dutifullynuttywitch
Blades of Light & Shadow F!elf!MC: Autumn Nightbloom
Wake the Dead F!MC: Eva Archer
@eleanorbloom
Open Heart F!MC: Eleanor Bloom
@ezekielbhandarivalleros
Open Heart M!MC: Jake Twenboah
@gaiuskamilah
Blades of Light and Shadow F!Elf!MC: Marya Moonglory 🏳️🌈
@genevievemd
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Genevieve McClure
Open Heart (LI: Bryce Lahela) F!OC: Natalie Michaels
@gutsfics
Open Heart NB!MC: Baxter Lucafont 🏳️🌈
Red Carpet Diaries M!OC: Avalon Hammond 🏳️🌈
@harleybeaumont
The Royal Romance F!MC: Harley Hughes
@headoverheelsforramsey
Open Heart F!MC: Meera Bose
@hopelessromantic1352
Open Heart F!MC: Casey Hollyn Valentine
Red Carpet Diaries F!OC: Natalia York
@inlocusmads
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Nora Rose 🏳️🌈
Wake the Dead F!MC: Maura Tauber 🏳️🌈
@jamespotterthefirst
Open Heart F!MC: Lilac Allende
@jerzwriter
Crimes of Passion F!MC Carolina Miosotys Rose 🏳️🌈
Open Heart (LI: Tobias Carrick) F!MC: Casey MacTavish Carrick 🏳️🌈
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Kaycee MacClennan 🏳️🌈
Open Heart M!OC: Tobias Carrick
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey in T/C World) F!OC: Eva Mendoza
Open Heart F!OC: Jessica Phillips 🏳️🌈
Open Heart F!OC: Vivian Carrick
Veil of Secrets F!MC: Astrid Vega 🏳🌈
Wake the Dead F!MC: Zoe Rivera
@julia-highstorms
Open Heart F!MC: Rei Sato
Wake the Dead F!MC: Kiera Tomoe 🏳️🌈
@justyourusualash
Veil of Secrets: Ananya D’Souza
@karahalloway
The Royal Romance F!OC: Harper Gale
@khoicesbyk
The Royal Romance MC: Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys
@kyra75
Open Heart MC: Anya Webber
@ladylamrian
Blades of Light and Shadow: Astrid Bloom
It Lives Within: Amber Burke
Nightbound: Alex Clarissa Fontaine
@lem-20
Open Heart F!MC: Cecilia Gibson
@liaromancewriter
Open Heart F!MC: Cassie Valentine
Open Heart F!OC: Sienna Trinh
Open Heart M!OC: Max Valentine
@lizzybeth1986
Perfect Match: Basil Park 🏳️🌈
Perfect Match: Hazel Park 🏳️🌈
Perfect Match: Nilukshi Sigera
The Royal Romance: Esther Noelle DuPont
@lorirwritesfanfic
Bloodbound MC: Samantha Holden
Desire & Decorum MC: Daphne Wang
Open Heart F!MC: Evelyn Bennington
Perfect Match F!MC: Natasha Park
Ride Or Die MC: Carla Mendoza
@lover-also-fighter-also
The Elementalists: Anitah Russell
@lupinobi
The Crown & The Flame OC: Amira Castleroy
@lucy-268
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Claire Rose
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Charley Valentine
Open Heart (LI: Tobias Carrick) F!MC: Samantha Carlson
@missameliep
Blades of Light and Shadow F!MC: Arwen of House Nightbloom
Desire & Decorum F!OC: Elizabeth Foredale
Wake the Dead: Malia Jones
@mm2305
Open Heart F!MC: Olivia Alexandra Valentine
@moominofthevalley
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Emily Rose 🏳️🌈
@mydemonsdrivealimo
Foreign Affairs M!MC: Kennedy Grant 🏳️🌈
Open Heart M!MC: Jensen Valentine 🏳️🌈
@niaellariious
Blades of Light & Shadow M!MC: Raine
Laws of Attraction M!MC: Michael Quint
@noesapphic
Blades of Light & Shadow F!MC: Brienne Erinae Nagoni 🏳️🌈
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Neera Elena Rose 🏳️🌈
Desire & Decorum F!OC: Countess Celestine 🏳️🌈
Desire & Decorum F!OC: Joanna Mills 🏳️🌈
Desire & Decorum F!OC: Hayley Parker 🏳️🌈
Desire & Decorum F!OC: Marianna Sinclaire
Guinevere F!MC: Guinevere 🏳️🌈
Kindred: Amaryllis Lilac Woodstock 🏳️🌈
The Royal Masquerade F!OC: Olive Aster Rys 🏳️🌈
The Royal Romance F!MC: Eclipsa Sonia Ice 🏳️🌈
The Royal Romance F!MC: Louise Rys
The Unexpected Heiress F!MC: Claire Hayes 🏳️🌈
@oh-so-youre-a-nerd
The Elementalists M!MC: Dayin Torres 🏳️🌈
Laws of Attraction: Julian Wind Velez 🏳️🌈
Open Heart: A'Aek Vilaidara 🏳️🌈
@openheartforeverinmyheart
Open Heart F!MC: Adelina Nari Lee
@peonierose
Open Heart F!OC: Luna Auclair
@peonyblossom
Desire & Decorum F!MC: Ophelia Parsons Capulet 🏳️🌈
Laws of Attraction: NB!MC: Sav Zarza 🏳️🌈
Open Heart (LI: Bryce Lahela) F!OC: Vivian Hernandez 🏳️🌈
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) F!MC: Sadie Oakley 🏳️🌈
Open Heart (LI: Ethan Ramsey) M!MC: Sydney Valentine 🏳️🌈
Open Heart (Tobias Carrick) F!OC: Kayla Herrera 🏳️🌈
Red Carpet Diaries F!MC: Jackie Hunt 🏳️🌈
@petiteboheme
The Royal Romance: F!MC: Ava Flores
@phoenixrising308
The Royal Romance/The Nanny Affair MC: Ariel Russo
Various Series MC: Jessica Garcia
Various Series OCs: The Garcia Family
@potionsprefect
Open Heart F!MC: Victoria Clarke
@princess-geek
Desire & Decorum MC: Beatrice Foredale
@ queenmiarys
The Royal Romance MC: Juliana Rodriguez
The Royal Romance MC: (LI: Liam Rys) Amelia Ramos
@rosepetals1
Perfect Match F!MC: Arielle Park
@starrystarrytrouble
Open Heart F!MC: Eve Valentine
@storyofmychoices
Blades of Light and Shadow: Daenarya of Riverbend 🏳️🌈
Blades of Light and Shadow: Iliana Maria Volari
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Lilah Rose
Open Heart F!MC: Ellie Shepherd
Open Heart F!OC: Olivia Hadley
Open Heart M!OC: Makoa Lahela (Bryce x Olivia Son)
Open Heart F!OC: Malia Lahela (Bryce x Olivia Daughter)
Red Carpet Diaries F!OC: Alex Hunt
The Unexpected Heiress MC: Christie Hayes
@squid-princess-teach-swallow
The Royal Romance: Kate Brooks
@tessa-liam
The Royal Romance MC: Riley Brooks-Rys
The Royal Romance F!OC: Riley Brooks
The Royal Romance F!OC: Sophia Taylor
@theinvisibledreamergirl
Open Heart F!MC: Klaudia Craig
@thosehallowedhalls
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Emma Rose
@trappedinfanfiction
Crimes of Passion F!MC: Sofia D’Angelo Rose
Open Heart F!MC: Celia Moore
Open Heart F!OC: Zoe Pierce
Wake the Dead F!MC: Avery Wright
@tveitertotwrites
America’s Most Eligible: Charlie Howard
Open Heart F!OC: Adelaide Barnes
Open Heart F!MC: Claire Evans
Red Carpet Diaries: Brooklyn Moore
@vampirkit
Bloodbound: Lucy West 🏳️🌈
@zealouscanonindeer
Open Heart F!MC: Aspen Kallie
Open Heart F!OCs: Jade and Tatum Ramsey
Open Heart F!OCs: Ramsey Children
#choices fanfic#choices fic writers creations#choices mcs profiles#cfwc original characters#cfwc mcs and ocs
56 notes
·
View notes
Note
What's your favorite part of being arospec?
What's your least favorite part of being arospec?
7. Ever been to a Pride event?
For what characters you wish. Thank you!
thank you so so much for the ask, kyra! i'll answer for maura my wake the dead mc:
favourite part of being arospec: not having to deal with the trivialities. besides being aro, she's running a whole post-apocalyptic society - she doesn't do romance, plus she is going to be super busy anyway. she doesn't have to succumb to such rigid romantic relationships.
least favourite part: not getting to know the terms or the impeccable history behind the arospec identity. I know in a fic, I do have maura come out as 'aroace' but I'd like to think most of what we know about aromanticism might be lost. so she wouldn't have anyone to relate to, in terms of experiences or have any written records of her identity's long history in a post-apocalyptic society. it's a heartbreaking reality.
ever been to a pride event?: nope for maura lol. june is their summer solstice month, they're busy running away from drones and fortifying their homes with bricks.
thank you so much for the ask <3
arospec ask game
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
s.n.o.w ~ maura, shannon
My 100 word insanity, more details here
wc: 173, strong language. unfortunately but it was super fun to write! Thank you for the prompt Elsa!
Prompt by @jerzwriter : "snow".
Maura groaned as she lifted her leg up. The wound, made by a couple of drone claws- sharp as nails, was bleeding profusely. “Shannon!” she yelled, tossing her backpack. “Can you get me some snow?”
Snow coats were enormously helpful. But Shannon came back with a bottle.
“The heck’s this?”
“Scientifically Numbing Opalescent Wellness Juice.”
“That's what you call it?”
“Yes. Don't question science. Drink up.”
“Is this supposed to help?”
“A lot. Helps numb the pain so we can treat the wound.”
“Right.”
Maura immediately passed out. Shannon motioned for her team of healers to take her to the infirmary.
“What was that?” Troy asked.
“Insanely alcoholic corn liquor. She's never going to take care of herself on her own or get rid of her I'll-put-a-bandage-on-everything solution.”
“Wouldn't she be upset that you lied?”
“I did say it numbs the pain.”
A pause.
“I don't know if I should be impressed or shit scared.”
“You should be.” Shannon flashed a pretty smile. “All right, let's get moving.”
***
#maura tauber#maura & shannon#wake the dead fics#100 word drabble exercise#shannon being a badass scientist is everything to me okay she can knock drones out with pipe bombs do not sell her short#w:inlocusmads
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
secret for the oc asks 🖤
not-so-nice oc asks
Going to keep it to my MCs for now, if that's all right! Thanks for the ask!
What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?
Nora: It's that she helped her former girlfriend escape the country due to false criminal charges against her during her time on the police force. It's kind of a guarded secret - the whole thing with Aneesa is kind of a state secret. It is likely she'll never tell anyone because one, Nora swore to secrecy and two, it's a massive, massive risk. Three, if this ever finds its way in a permanent record, Aneesa's whole life would be jeopardized. So yes, lol, there's a reason why she doesn't talk about her past often and keeps it just to her childhood and the "knows" so to speak.
Killian: That she has accidentally set the mayor's supply of grain on fire. Killian wanted to aim at a tree and set that on fire with a bow tipped in kerosene and lit up, because she was a kid in Riverbend with nothing much to do. Unfortunately she was just learning how to shoot arrows. She shot it a bit too far, it crashing into the roof made out of hay. Luckily she mananged to escape. Nobody knows who did it, but the mayor did end up convicting his arch-nemesis anyway. Killian got off scot-free. Even her brother, Kade doesn't know.
Guinevere/Gwen: Guinevere wasn't supposed to survive childhood. Her father, the ruler of Carmelide, was given a "prophecy"-esque statement from a travelling passerby who claimed to have acquired special powers that made her see into the future. Gwen wasn't supposed to live because the magical abilities that made her, her - inherited from her mother's blood- would drain her life away, regardless of whether she learns how to wield it. She eventually made it to adulthood when her father shared this with her. Gwen doesn't tell people about this because she's afraid of the potential fallout and the fact she's lied about being a mage who developed magical abilities.
Maura: Contrary to canon, Maura killed her very first drone not at the age of 25, but at the age of 11. The drone in question was her roommate back in the Tower. She had gone out on a specialized mission, being an older kid, and came back with a drone bite that went unchecked. Maura noticed her turn in the middle of the night and swiftly grabbed an axe and pushed it into her. She eventually disposed of the body by throwing it off her window and getting to the medic to get treated for any possible infections. It's a memory she's repressed for a long, long time so it's hard to even confide in someone because she can't bring herself to remember if it even happened or if it was all a dream. Partially the reason why Blackstock ended up keeping an eye on Maura, while imposing even harsher restrictions and medical surveillance, age limits for Foragers and investing in grilled windows.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
maura's apocalyptic anthems
(let's just pretend music exists in the wake the dead universe)
misery meat // sodikken
tongues & teeth // the crane wives
thermodynamic lawyer esq, g.f.d // will wood and the tapeworms
squaring up // sir chloe
sugar pills // idkhow
90s kids // namika
american healthcare // penelope scott
hell nos and headphones // hailee steinfeld
eighth wonder // lemon demon
memento mori: the most important thing in the world // will wood
problems // mother mother
meteor shower // cavetown
bury a friend // billie eilish
the cave // mumford and sons
ends of the earth // lord huron
ghosts // the national parks
two of us on the run // lucius
funeral dream // ky vöss
helsinki // the national parks
despair // leo
dog days are over // florence + the machine
Plausibility Sidebar: I HC Maura wouldn't have had the chance to explore music before the 00s because...zombies. She'd have probably found vinyls or recorded music in pendrives, in mp3 files in people's belongings. And with a bit of help from Shannon, she'd have been able to fix things up and recover those files.
Her taste in music is very.. grim lol. She's been through shit, she's allowed to be gritty with her music taste methinks.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
"surviving the apocalypse is a bit like experiencing blunt-force trauma. you know everything that's happening around you until it hits."' - MAURA TAUBER, WAKE THE DEAD
Because it is Aromantic Awareness Week, here's a little moodboard (which also features some Ace-ness). I will be writing a fic to go with it soon, but I'm just cramped up with a lot of stuff lately and the writer's block thing isn't making it any easy.
Happy Aro-spec Week, kids! Stay spunky and make sure your pet green-scaled dragon is getting their eight-hours of sleep!
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Promises Made, Promises Kept
A thirty day writing challenge project:
Day Ten: Write with the title, "Promises Made, Promises Kept".
The universe has a funny way of assuring people. It takes everything from everyone and leaves them with scraps, before slowly supplying them with shrivels of hope.
Featuring: Maura Tauber, Sledge from Wake the Dead
Slight Gore/Teen+/WC: 1.9k
The Park Street neighborhood was a paradise the same way a desolate sewer would be a home for fugitive rats. It was empty; its buildings hollow and full of regret and shame. The people in it were told they'd be leaving and it was just a little mixup, that's all. The Drone situation was merely an outbreak and that, people would likely return home after their time in mandatory quarantine camps. And yet, they never returned.
Maura grew up in Park Street. To see it in a devastating condition was heartbreaking, but it was nothing new anyway. Behind her was Sledge and the two of them were on Scavenging Duty - gathering medical supplies, any morsel of something they could find - anything for them to get through the winter with clothes on their shoulders and food in their stomachs. Sledge surveyed the small community, as they walked briskly against each other; between long and boxy apartments. Tall, narrow and almost hollow. The act of living went from being a privilege at birth, to a chore during adulthood and in the recent years, a matter of great pride. To have survived so far; to see the children at Camp Cypress grow up with knives and armours and who were taught to defend and hold their ground was a bit of a gut punch, because children were.. children.
They were young.
Maura could imagine the days. She was just a little kid - about four years old during the summer of 2018 and about seven before the Outbreak. At some points in her life, she'd played several games of street football. She'd especially hated Gina Weissman; this notorious pig-tailed girl whose parents had just gotten her a Wii console when she could barely recite her ABC's. She hadn't been a very bright child but they'd play football like the funny men on TV.
To think that Gina Weissman was now dead was a tough pill to swallow. Likely torn apart by a Drone and she'd have been so young too. Helpless. She'd have run away with her Wii console, crying for her Ma and Pa when they were long gone and Turned. She'd have been likely bitten by one of them too. Gina Weissman was Maura's sworn enemy, but to conceptualise the fact that she was living when everyone else who'd grown up with her, who'd shared the same laughs, the same jokes and sometimes even the same food from the plate - were all gone.
"We can look for a different place." Sledge said. "I doubt there's anything good here."
"No, I know this shop just down the street. It's this pharmacy and they'd probably have coats and jackets and cardboard boxes."
"Alright, then. Let's make it quick."
***
The pharmacy was more of an apothecary owned by this gentle man named Stephan. He was half Italian and half Cuban and would narrate all sorts of stories. He'd kept the old ladies entertained and the young children out of trouble and his pharmacy had the biggest TVs. You see, when Maura got into petty little fights with her friends from class, her dads would put her on probation to make her learn her lesson. Which meant no TV, no mobile phones or tablets and absolutely no music. It is safe to assume that Maura spent all her summer afternoons, tending to her rough wounds as she listened to Stephan speak about his uncles and aunts and his weird cousin Allie, as the big TV played all the latest daily soaps, sometimes even reruns of news broadcasts and if she were really lucky, late-noon marathons of all the best Pixar movies.
The pharmacy was now a crumbling piece of infrastructure. The beams were filled with patches of dried blood, like a five year old's finger painting drawing. The columns were slowly losing themselves; being subjected to corrosion - the slowest and most painful forms of death there ever existed. There was no more Stephan or his stories or the TV or anything, really. The fridge where the best lemon sodas were cooled down, was broken into smithereens. Bloated corpses hung low and they had to be careful with their eyes and feet, because even the slightest of sounds might trigger a wave of chaos.
They couldn't make any noise. It was too dangerous.
Sledge signed in ASL. Check the cash register if you can find stationery and novelty stuff.
Maura signed back; a hand holding a shopping bag and her other hand doing the signing. We need jackets, plumbing stuff and duct tape.
Sledge gave her a little nod. She proceeded to walk to the end of the aisle in the silence. Maura turned to the cash register and quickly studied its workings before holding on and opening it without making any noise. She spotted loose change, which were unnecessary at this point and several collection of pens and pencils. Maura pocketed the stationery, then turned to the drawers to see if she could find soap. Stephan usually had an assortment of homemade soaps somewhere here…
The first thing she noticed were several bars of ginger soap. Delighted, she grabbed them all in a handful and put them inside the bag as slowly and steadily as she could. The next thing she saw were some important heavy-duty equipments. Well, as heavy-duty as screwdrivers and other tool kits could get. Either way, it was better than nothing and besides, they were running short of them anyway. Thirdly, there was a collection of pictures. Which was not odd, considering Stephan was the only one who managed, purchased and maintained the store and it was perfectly reasonable for him to store any and all important things if he wanted to.
Maura grabbed the pictures and shifted through them as quickly as she could. As Shannon once claimed, "The greatest of cures and ideas stem from the unlikeliest of places." So it was only warranted she go through personal documents - anything that might help them survive and get a scientific edge over the Drones.
The first was a picture of Stephan in his shop. It was old, crinkly, the kind of picture a grandpa would have preserved in between pages of a book, only to open years later and reminisce about the good times. It was back in 2019 when Polaroid pictures were incredibly popular and having them on your dormitories or on your walls made you preserve certain key memories. Stephan was accompanied by a girl and Maura recognised the face instantly.
Gina Weissman.
She looked so happy. She had long red hair and always wore a pink shirt. She'd been -- six then, by the looks of it and she had her arm around Stephan's side, like she was an incredibly proud daughter and had a winning smile. Gina Weissman wasn't Stephan's daughter or anything. She was just the neighborhood girl who was mean to everyone and had Wii parties every other Saturday. Captioned with the date and time and other little quotes and something in hasty Italian.
Maura turned to the next one. This time, it was a different picture. Stephan, Gina and her mother were standing in front of a beach on a winter's day. Her father wasn't pictured but it is likely he could've been the one taking the photo. Stephan had his hands cover his eyes and he had bits of gray in his hair. Maybe he was a family friend. A friend who was more than that. An old uncle, maybe.
Maura recognised the beach and the sky. It had been Silja's eleventh birthday and they'd gone to the beach to celebrate because Silja had always wanted to get one of those candy floss on a stick things they had in little rolling stands. It was all that she ever wanted and Papa and Dad had taken them there. Dad talked on and on about birthday wishes and promises and so on and how eleventh birthdays were important and what he did and everything, so much so that it got extremely boring and Papa had to silence him with a proper kiss, to which Dad became intensely flustered. Silja had chuckled and Maura had gagged and the four of them then enjoyed some falafels under the night sky.
The third and final picture had a clear shot of the night sky, with a comet whizzing by at just the right time. Underneath the picture, it said: Made a wish! and once again, in rapid, but now coherent Italian, it read: Non auguri! Promesse! Accadranno sicuramente. (Not wishes, promises! They'll definitely happen)
Her Dad had said the same thing. "You don't wish for things. You make the universe promise you that good things will happen and I tell you, the universe never fails to listen. It's hard to get there, but it is worth the run."
Silja had asked. "Is it sort of like the time when you had to run after Papa in the pouring rain because you had this massive fight?" to which Papa laughed and Dad shook his head, exhausted from being the butt of all jokes. He'd taken it well, except later that night when they'd all gotten home, ready for some celebratory dessert as a little surprise for Silja, he'd taken a bite out of her icecream in mock resistance.
Why?
Why did they have to leave?
Maura stuffed the photographs in her bag and searched the drawers for anything extra. There was nothing else left. She decided to hold onto those pictures. If Gina Weissman wanted anything, she'd have asked for everyone to keep talking about her. And if Stephan wanted anything as his last wish, he'd have hoped people would continue to tell stories, have some fun, enjoy a night out in the starry sky, make unlikely friends and find a family - even if they aren't always by blood.
Sledge emerged from the back aisles, carrying a bag full of coats and a duffel bag full of parts.
Did you find any food? She signed.
No. Just soap. Maura signed back.
We should head up to the next street. There's a bakery.
Okay. Let's go.
If there was anything she learned from Papa and Dad and Stephan, it would be a lesson in hope. Dad was a person of reason and yet, he believed, till the very end, that it was nothing more than the universe paying him back - telling him that it'd one day fulfill its promise. The promise of finding love and a family. Dad would complain. He'd spent years talking about how his twenties flew by with him moping about as if he was in a doomsday of his own making. Everyday, he'd beg the evil puppeteers that controlled his life; his every step, to be a lot more kinder. And with hope came trusting those promises. Trusting that even though nature was cold and cruel, there was something about it that made everyone feel instantly at ease.
Stephan had talked about it too. How lonely it was, being of mixed blood. He spoke Italian but he was never Italian enough. He spoke Spanish but was never Cuban enough. And there was this family that showed him hope; showed him that even in the darkest corners, that even in the crooked little mind of a vindictive little child spoiled with Wii games and three-tier birthday cakes, there existed hope. The promise that everything will be okay and the hope to fuel that belief. To trust the process and to understand that though, not everything happens within a reason, it isn't the end.
The Universe had always kept promises. It delivered right when it meant to - carefully playing around until Dad "happens" to bump into Papa; listening to Stephan and placing him right at the Weissman's place.
And if it hasn't fulfilled a promise just yet, it means it isn't the end.
___
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I drew the ASL concept from A Quiet Place where you had the same situation with hyper-sensitive creatures with insane hearing abilities. Though Maura and Sledge don't have difficulties hearing, they prefer to use ASL in places where they're not sure about the Drone infestation and it is required to be quiet.
Thank you so much for reading! (I ended up finishing both Day 9 and Day 10 prompts today, which is.. the 25th of January 2023, if you must know lol!)
Tag List:
Perma: @tessa-liam @writing-not @peonierose @trappedinfanfiction
Wake the Dead only: @aallotarenunelma @jerzwriter @cariantha
30 Days: @jerzwriter
Once again, I am super duper sorry for spamming your notifications lol. Please do let me know if you'd like to be tagged for this or if you'd like to be removed/added, etc. I want to keep people's preferences in mind!
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Train That Never Left
Maura explores an abandoned train station and comes face-to-face with her past, in the form of a helpless, half-diseased child.
Featuring: Maura Tauber, Troy Hassan and The Child (OC) from Wake the Dead.
Word Count: 1.6k | Mentions of Gore/Death | 17+
A/N : This is an angsty one shot and has a lot of gore and violence in it, mixed with a lot of grief and pain. So if you're unable to handle it, it is perfectly fine.
"I can see the train!"
"Course you can. You've got binoculars and I don't."
Maura led Troy past all the crumbles and creepy-crawlers to the abandoned train station. There laid many bloodied bodies of Drones their way, along the snow; their eyes popped out and their teeth a pale shade of yellow floating atop a pool of black mucus, but they didn't mind. Troy's feet crunched against the skinned bones and he quite enjoyed doing that - mostly to piss off Maura because she was one of those people who enjoyed a certain way and any slight deviation would cause her major anxiety. Of course, he didn't want to be the source of someone's anxiety, but to have her throw a glance or two at him made him feel a bit accomplished.
There wasn't a lot out there to accomplish in the world at the moment. Perhaps he could shovel snow; become the world's first Professional Shoveller.
"Station 42A. Platform -- Three."
"Yes. Sledge really hammered that down. And Shannon sneakily retrieved all that data like a very cunning fox. And then-- you've got Angel, who was very savage about her wrongdoings and -- Eli who sort of sniped people."
"It's Eli Sipes."
"He's better off as Eli Snipes."
"Get him to change his name and I'll shave my eyebrows for you." Maura decided.
"Better yet, go up North and get us the fresh berries."
Maura stared at him. "Not a chance. Unless you want me alive. I'm happy to -- y'know, die for a really good cause, but -- it's death. There's no turning back, so pick your battles wisely."
"I've already picked mine. Berries for a name change. Deal?"
"No."
Sledge had been right. There indeed was a massive shelter left abandoned at the train station. Nobody had thought to notice it for obvious reasons, but it could perhaps house a second base camp and plus, it was rich in iron. The Builders would be very glad to know that there still remained some hope for their roofing project. And Shannon had been right too. Having scavenged the whole area for old records and anything she could get her hands on, she'd concluded that the infrastructure did support a variety of sustainable activities. So much so that with Angel and Eli's timely help, they were able to remotely understand soil patterns, weather conditions and everything even before going in person to survey the facility.
The discovery was huge. It could lead to even bigger things.
The train station was hauntingly beautiful. With only their echoes accompanying them and their shadows giving them a little less of a lonely experience, Maura and Troy gazed around the place - awestruck and yet, dumbfounded. It had only been twenty years but it looked ancient.
The walls were covered with a thick layer of grime and green; a representation of all the good times it stood for. The concrete floors were buried under a thick layer of dust that screeched as they pressed their booted feet against them. Dried blood had been caked everywhere, leaving behind a faint trail of red and torn paper as a deadly reminder of the times where the station stood still. The halls were silent; holding themselves together as the last of the screams from adults and children drowned down for the sounds of the Drones to take over. Thick patches of grass peeked from the cracks in the concrete - slowly reclaiming their own territory; giving them a sign that it was time. The Age of Men had long passed on.
HAMILTON STREET - 3:00 PM : one of the boards had said. Perhaps if the board had eyes, it would've seen it all. The packed crowds of people running up to the trains, the chatter from the enthusiasts as they climbed to their seats and several others occupied with themselves and their music. The train would give off a low thud, a little jerk before taking off on the tracks - speeding up every now and then. If the board had eyes, it would cry. It would weep at the repeated waxing and waning of humanity, weep at how a single mishap had contributed to a global catastrophe and would instantly find ways to destroy itself and its own kind.
"We've got to see the storage room."
"I'll check the stationed trains."
"Great. I'll meet you here in thirty minutes. Scream if you need help."
"You too. You know the rules."
Troy nodded with uncertainty in his eyes. Their main objective was to get one of them home safe.
Maura stared at the empty corridor, her stomach falling flat against her back. The tunnel never seemed to end - going on and on and on, in a fractalised pattern. The windows remained demolished and destroyed; their once strong glasses that held together people as they walked by foot, carried their lofty luggages to visit family and share the wonderful memories during the holidays.
There would be nothing like that anymore.
Nobody to visit. Nobody to see. Nothing to look forward to, after a long sluggish year. No big cakes and certainly no train rides filled with yearning for the journey ahead. There would be no panicked relatives, scheming ahead of time to get to the platform in time, no children to cry and nobody out there, on the other side, waiting ever so patient by the phone and enquiring every hour or so as to where they were at the moment.
The train that once stood for something, was left abandoned. As if it were a child's plaything; worn and tired after repeated use. Except, in this case, it wasn't. It waited patiently for the child to arrive; the child to pick it up and play with it all over again, to fall in painful longing for nostalgia and a reminder of all those good times. That child would never come visit the toy again; hold it in their hands and cradle it as if it happened to be their whole world. But the train - the "Toy" - still waited. Waited everyday, counting down to the seconds for someone to pick up the engines and start it all over again. To feel the low hum of the thud below, as the train carried them across rivers and oceans, over bridges and through narrow plains, big cities and small towns - everywhere, all at once.
Maura grabbed onto a railing and patiently hoisted herself on the cushioned chair.
It was still a public train, after all. One that crossed states, but also cared to make pitstops near the outskirts of the city. So of course, with the tables provided; despite their rugged surface - a stark reminder of their expiry - they carried so many memories. Maura doubted the one she was sitting before had been cleaned, but then again, it was abandoned. Probably abandoned during the night of the outbreak - when everyone was forced to go home and never turn back, ever again.
Maura's breathing hitched a little. She began taking shorter, quicker gasps of air. The atmosphere in the train was extremely dusty. Her heart quickened - beating faster than she could comprehend her thoughts together. And suddenly, the world began shifting just a little. Maura sat back, composing herself as her comprehension of reality turned and coiled around, cutting the thin air in two; starving her of oxygen and depriving her into instant fatigue. Something was wrong.
Run. Her Papa had said. Run like the wind, girls! I'll join you...
That's when she heard the low growl. The slow throbbing and the silent pacing - as if someone was walking towards her.
She stood up, holding her knife at the door, waiting with bated breath.
And then, emerged a child.
The child was diseased. Entirely. He had specks of grey and black in his hair, but hot red boils throughout his skin. His cheekbones were visible and his ribs were hollow enough to see there was almost no blood in him. He'd been starving for days on end - possessed by the ravenous virus that refused to let go of him. The teeth he had were sharp as a knife; perfect and ready to kill and his tongue had grown, dipped in filth and venom. The child had two hands, one more shallow than the other with the nails a violent shade of grime green and black.
The child was crying. Weeping. Tears escaped his eyes as he looked at Maura. He was clinging on for his dear life - possibly fighting the disease with whatever he could find. His mouth was caked with white snow, as if he'd been eating handfuls of them for every meal and his legs - God his legs. One was covered in rotten pus and sluggish yellow. He'd been eating his own leg, out of starvation. No matter how infected it really was and how much it killed him inside.
The child couldn't speak.
HELP ME!
The child stared at Maura with his big beady blue eyes - tears welling up, only for a treacherous mix of black blood to drip down his chin.
The child raised a hand - as if to hold onto Maura's inviting arms - to somehow hug her close; to feel some warmth after all those lonely nights in the cold, dying for a little bit of love. All those nights coddled up in the train station; sitting alone in the berth, while he looked outside at the fresh snow pouring like buckets and yet somehow, the bone-deep itch he'd had for so long refused to leave him. And how he'd prayed! He'd prayed for everything and now, he was merely a boy held together by pieces and strings of flesh. A boy with no name, no family and now, diseased. Oh how he'd love to enjoy the snow for once in his life, without being ridden by the misery, the pain, the greater grief the world had imparted on him.
Help me. Please. Help me.
He groaned weakly.
Help me.
Maura's breathing quickened - anxiety overwhelming her. She unsheathed her knife.
Panic flooded the boy's face. He shook his head - his eyes widening with each passing second. He couldn't express shock - no. He was a measly little Drone boy. And he could never be capable of emotions. He could never get the snow and the holiday he'd ever wanted, because there was no cure. And nothing would help him climb out of this hole he'd found himself in. He was the plaything his parents had left him alone to seek shelter at a train station. They'd promised him they'd come back. They'd promised him that they'd find help, find him warm food to eat and a safe place in someone's caring arms and they'd never come back again, after.
Maura brought her knife close to the boy's head. She closed her eyes and the boy closed his; following her unspoken instructions.
With one swipe, she found his head near the corner of the seat. His body drowned in a pool of black blood. The boy hadn't hesitated at all. He didn't attempt to grab hold of Maura's hand and bite her. He didn't even bother screaming like the other Drones. He had been a child and he'd hoped that, perhaps, if Maura couldn't hold him, perhaps the knife could be of some salvation. Perhaps he could get the snow he wanted, now that he'd been rid of the black blood that had poisoned him for weeks.
"This isn't you, Jules! This isn't you!"
For the first time in her life, Maura cried.
A scream.
"Jules, listen to me. I love you. I love you, all right? Help me. Help me, please! Help me help you understand this! If you're in there, somewhere, please listen to me! Perhaps -- you're there. In there, under all of this. Listen -- I love you. Silja and Maura do too. Please. Listen to me."
A bigger scream. Then a pounce. And then, a hand to a stomach, before digging into the bloodied flesh with long, scaled fingers..
"Think of Christmas! Think of the trains! You love the trains!"
Blood poured and the world swimmed ahead, out of focus.
Then, a weak voice followed; hitching and hacking for breath.
"Help me, Jules. Help me."
Tagging:
Perma: @peonierose @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam
WTD Only: @jerzwriter @aallotarenunelma
A/N : Julian "Jules" is their Dad. Aksel is their Papa. I'll probably make an introduction post in due course - once I have a couple of works written for Wake the Dead. Thank you for reading!
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Remorse Is The Poison Of Life
Maura discovers an undelivered Christmas letter from a young girl to her mother, exactly twenty one years ago; before the misery, before the apocalypse.
Featuring: Maura Tauber, Maria (OC), Angel Savage from Wake the Dead
Word Count: 1.6k | Teen And Up Audiences
A/N : Written for @choicesficwriterscreations 's Holiday Challenge, prompt: "A Christmas card/letter arrives in the mail 20 years after it was sent."
Maura knew better than to rummage through the box they'd found on the now ruined Burns Street. A recovery team had once gone there to get some supplies after one of the Raiders risked their life to inform the Colony about a massive storage unit with tons of artillery and raw materials they could use. Among the scraps of metal they seemed useful was a box of papers, letters and whatnot.
Maura didn't have anything to do with the box, for it was utterly meaningless to go through electricity bills and rental agreement slips when the people who received them were far too gone a long time ago. She should've been cataloguing at this hour and keeping watch near the borders and yet, somehow she couldn't help it. Even though family gossip was far from her list of productive things to engage herself in, an otherworldly force begged her to go through them.
Bills.. bills.. bills. Twenty years ago, the cost of living practically skyrocketed. Maura remembered the horror stories her dads used to tell her. It wasn't of ghosts or ghouls or a Scarecrow that haunted children who wouldn't finish their vegetables. Rather it was the Big Giant Money Monster that was ready to eat everyone up regardless of whether they finished their vegetables. And then, the Apocalypse brought an even bigger concern - crashing everything and the whole of the world.
And then, among those scary bits of paperwork, was a letter. It was hard to miss, considering the author had covered every corner of it with glitter and shiny tape. Must be a child.
She gently picked it up and searched for a date to pin it to a correct timeline. After Shannon's Pre-Apocalyptic Recovery Project kicked off, everyone had been contributing to the pile of history and documentation with details about the Old World. Shannon's archive had grown since then; with tens of volumes of data being added by the day. Perhaps if the letter contained something valuable, say a tip about a place that contained something valuable or a broken-down house which could be used to extract bricks from, it was worth everything.
December 18th, 2021. The letter mentioned.
Maura decided to read on.
Dear Mama,
Today has been a very boring day, compared to the others because you weren't there. Aunt Ellie and I baked some raisin bread for Christmas and we went to the Church to do some carolling. They have this week-long program and anyone can chime in. I'll admit, I'm not entirely religious, but it feels nice to be a part of something. You know how hard school had been and how only the prettiest girls with the straightest hair and the clearest teeth could get into those clubs.
Then there was this other thing that happened. Hannah fell sick a day ago and today, one of her friends announced that she was moving away. I don't understand this, because she said nothing about withdrawing from the school or moving. There are some awful rumours - that she grew talons and started chewing her brother's neck. You know how it is with these people. Glad I don't like them very much.
Afterwards, Grandma Stephanie came to visit us and we made some jam to take it to our Christmas Carol group. We're having this party for Juniper Newbury who ended up getting this nasty case of throat polyps. It's mostly a "Get Well Soon" party because Juniper is our lead singer and without her, we'd have to go with Stacey Peterson or Polly Wu. They're fine, but they aren't as good as Juniper.
Then Mr Van Pelt sent us this form at school to fill up. It was this "Beyond The Classroom" program which helps kids train for college and find their footing pretty early on. Unfortunately there was no option to become a fossil scientist or an archaeologist like you are. When we shared answers, Valerie looked at me as if I threw up out of my nose or something and asked if I was preparing for an apocalypse. I didn't understand the joke. It was probably some TV reference.
Strange things have happened, but it feels like Christmas, right? You've got the strange weirdos lurking about on the street, screeching and chasing people. Santa Clauses kidnapping kids; though I have heard stories from Kinley and his friends who work at the mall and they're horrified. As if those Santas actually eat people. I really hope we can move out of this crazy little city. It isn't something I particularly enjoy.
And their laughs! God, they laugh like one of those annoying little grandpas who are most definitely a bunch of creepy pedos. That or maybe they're probably heartless zombies preying on kids. I bet my money on the pedo thing.
Anyway, here's me writing like an angsty teenage 2009 Tumblr girl or something. Not that I'm on Tumblr. I'm totally not, trust me. But it feels great to open up. Thank you for being there, Mom. I know you don't particularly enjoy receiving letters - the paperwork alone is enough to give you a massive headache, but it kind of helps me after everything that went down with Dad and the others.
Merry Christmas! And please come home. I couldn't care less for shirts or those imitation Ugg boots I saw somewhere. I just want you to come home so we can put on some movie, eat sugar until we pass out and cry our hearts out to emo music. Not to mention the presents! I've picked out something for you and I bet you'll love it! You won't know unless you get here on the 25th.
Love, Maria.
The letter was now twenty one years old, with crinkly yellowed edges. Maria and her mother were most likely dead. But their mail wasn't. It was in a forgotten box in an abandoned storage unit in a street that had nothing else, except broken-down buildings; the aura of a nuclear-esque apocalypse still fresh, prominent and equally haunting. The nostalgia was hard to miss. Twenty one years ago, the world was a rather delightful place. Letters were sparsely used, but when they were, they'd be decorated and dipped in scent; showered with a lot of love and dedication and so much joy.
Christmas used to be like that, as the letter seemed to describe it. It was a celebration of family, cakes and other great food, creepy mall Santas and overpriced presents, sick children, not-so-sick children who'd just wanted a couple of days off till the holidays and teachers who wouldn't stop with the awful homework. And then, of course, big dinners, Christmas trees, carolling, gossiping. Everything.
Twenty one years later, there was no more Maria. No more Valerie or Hannah or Kinley or any of those choir singers. No Aunt Ellie or Grandma Stephanie. Nobody who'd live in a house and feel safe. Nobody to make the dinners and set the tables. Nobody to adjust the pictures on the walls when they tip, just a little or dust off the vase to pass it over to their children.
There were no cheesy Christmas movies with the protagonists falling in love under the snow. There would be no more of them made, directed or produced. There were no more of those friendly neighbours who'd bring over hot pies and help shovel the snow off. No petty teenagers milking the neighbourhood for cash just so they could blow it on stupid crap. Nobody.
And the worst part? Maura wasn't there to see any of it happen. To her, the "magic of Christmas" was unbeknownst to her; only partially described as a "sugar high" feeling of love, melancholy and the steadfast moment of time. And she'd only heard of them - just the stories from the Elders from Sunflower Creek, a few journals and diaries she'd studied in detail. The Magic of Christmas was a feeling; a thing she was supposed to understand but that understanding could never transpire into a recreation of the same homely feeling.
Love, Maria - the letter had said; a salutation so simple, so easy to write down on a piece of paper but its meaning was so lost and frowned upon in a world where there was no oneness and everyday was an unfathomable battle to survive. Everyday started off the same and ended the same way and with each passing minute, they felt smaller and smaller - their meanings and hopes lost in a world where half of them slept with their eyes open and the other half preyed for flesh at night.
Twenty years.
That should've been enough for a piece of paper to go through rain, wind and storm and subsequently disintegrate. But it didn't. It frustrated Maura, but she couldn't bring herself to tear it into shreds or shoot it until the words bled out of the page; its memory dying slowly and steadily. She couldn't even bring herself to leave it abandoned in Burns Street - the same street that would've been filled with colour, joy, bits of red and green and white everywhere at once; the lights beaming up the narrow road and the kids walking around, boldly with their parents on the tow; cars with different number plates whizzing back and forth.
Burns Street was empty now; with bloated bodies of zombies and corpses alike, decaying as a heavy sheet of snow covered them up from head to toe. A painful reminder of how things were before.
This misery will never end, but the memories won't die until we tell them to.
Maura held onto the piece of paper. She carefully folded it across the edges and slipped it into her pocket.
"Isn't it Christmas?" she emerged from her cabin to a hardworking Angel, who was sharpening wood with a small knife she'd made on her own.
"What's Christmas?"
Tag List:
Perma: @tessa-liam @quixoticdreamer16 @peonierose
Wake the Dead Only: @aallotarenunelma @jerzwriter
A/N: I hope you enjoy this angsty little one shot! I don't exactly celebrate Christmas, so I'm very sorry if I've gotten some bits of it wrong - the culture and everything else. I wrote with TV knowledge in mind (The Middle Christmas specials are practically the reason why my mental health isn't absolutely chaotic yet), so if I do end up getting something wrong or incorrect, just let me know in the comments!
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not A Machine!
Maura comes out to her friends. They suggest she take up a music career instead.
Featuring: Maura Tauber, Angel Savage, Eli Sipes, Shannon Fox and Troy Hassan from Wake the Dead, Choices.
Word Count: 1.6k | Mentions of Aspec-phobia/Teen and Up Audiences
A/N: Written for @choicespride 's Coming-Out Day Celebrations
Zombie apocalypses were hard. Morale was important. And it didn't help that zombie apocalypses were called zombie apocalypses, when they should be called something scientific. Like a Minor Outbreak or something. The same way Maura should be called an "aromatic asexual", rather than being poked and taunted by bullies (who shall go unnamed) for being "abnormal" and "hormonally imbalanced".
Coming out was hard. Morale was equally important, so much so as support and love and cherishing. The first time Maura brought up the subject to one of the Tower people, they'd called her a blasted animal for thinking that way, especially in the context of "being together as a family" and building to repopulate the devastated Earth.
"So it IS all a sham!" Maura had proclaimed, ever so boldly. "Love is another way to repopulate the Earth! Well, I don't want it."
The Tower guard; a buff woman whose beliefs could be traced thousands of years in the past, had slapped her across the cheek and barked her to get back to her dormitory before the curfew alarms chimed. She'd also hushed the nine-year-old from ever speaking to anyone about it, because to the guard, it was forbidden and Maura should regret being "robotic" and "inhuman".
Over the years, Maura developed a sense of fear everytime one of her friends brought up the subject of romance. And it was quite frequent too. When Silja was around, they'd spoken in detail about it and every time, it was the same thing. Maura would clasp her hands over her ears, get into a huddled position and wait until the conversation was over. People laughed at her for being so "innocent" and being "Silja's little baby sister" for quite sometime and it only made it worse.
"You need to be fixed!"
"Try it! You'll like it!"
"You're going to be so alone and you're going to DIE ALONE. You got that?"
"You have to do it. You have to know how it actually is, before you think of otherworldly conclusions like these."
"But it is a human trait, for God's sake!"
"Oh don't be silly. It is the trauma of losing your parents that's affecting you so much. Its nothing. Just get yourself back on track."
It's just a phase, Maura. I assure you, everyone's felt about people that way. It's all because of our circumstances. Soon enough, it will pass and you'll be okay."
"You have to like someone. At this point, you're just pretending. This is just a big old joke. Face it, Maura. There's worse things out there. Nobody gives a damn. So you'd better change that attitude or you're not getting a man."
"Wait.. you're celibate then? Like the nuns from the Old World? But isn't that.. a choice or something? Something you choose to do?"
"Oh shut up." - Maura kicked a stray pebble into a pool of water. It bounced off the surface of the pond, before landing straight in the middle and sinking slowly and steadily. Behind her, her friends had gathered around a bonfire, celebrating a good night. They'd fortified Camp Cypress to an impenetrable extent.
Angel was quite proud of herself for designing a brand new armour. Shannon had made a huge breakthrough in her research. Troy and Eli were getting along really well. It seemed fine. It seemed as it should be. Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. Sitting on an earthy piece of land. It was an ethereal experience.
"Maura. Join us!" Angel insisted. "Grab a cup. Sit!"
"Okay."
"Shannon's got a Rider boyfriend." Angel egged her friend.
"No. No. I don't have -- I don't --" Shannon started. "No -- I don't -- it is -- okay. Fine. We bonded over petri dishes, okay? It was -- great."
"And Troy and Eli are basically boyfriends."
"Just because we engage in some lowly banter that doesn't mean we're automatically interested in each other." Eli piped up. "Troy will be far down the list of people I'd prefer to -- see that way."
"It's okay. You can say the word." Troy winked.
"-- there's Julia and Greg--"
"Wait, I thought Ella was having --"
"-- Jo! That's Jo!"
"Killy is doing that thing. Caught him with a --"
"It isn't our business to pry into people's affairs, but yes. There has been several of them. Caught the redhaired woman with --"
Maura's head blanked. It went beeeep.
There were lewd jokes. There were suggestive material thrown around. Instantly the professional band of drone-hunters slowly morphed into a gang of high schoolers poking fun at the most obvious of things. Instantly, Maura felt a little sick. Just a little. She hesitated, smiled a little, before the little people in her head clouded her judgement again.
They laughed.
Maura sighed.
There was nothing wrong with them. There was something wrong with her and the people were all right. She was being icky and mean-spirited. It didn't matter what she wanted, because it made the others happy.
"I'm an aromantic asexual." she blurted out loud, almost as if she was pathetic to be that way.
"Wait. What did you say?" Angel paused their conversation.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? It can't be nothing. Maura never opens up about anything and you said something. That's not nothing!"
"Troy. Stop. Maura. Please. Carry on."
"I suppose there's no use hiding it now, right?"
"That you have a teddy nightlight? I think everyone knows that." Angel said.
A pause. Everyone waited for Maura to confirm whether or not she slept with a nightlight on. Or maybe it was something completely different and they couldn't catch that properly. So Maura decided it was high time she told them, at the very least, because even though she wasn't quite fond of people, she loved her crew of people.
"Do you --" she started. "Do you know what it means to be aromantic and asexual?"
"Yes." Troy instantly piped up, followed by an encouraging nod from Eli's side.
"I do have a vague idea, yeah." Angel admitted.
"Of course I do." Shannon offered her a smile. "It means you don't feel either romantic or sexual attraction. I have this book all about it, written by an Old World author. It's in my library right now."
Maura smiled a little.
"Oh. You do."
"Of course we do."
"Then, you'll -- probably know what -- comes after."
"You mean ,'what comes out after'." Troy cracked a pun. Eli took back his encouraging smiles.
"I'm aromantic and asexual. Aro-ace for short. So -- there goes."
"Honestly? Coolest sexuality-name ever." Angel pointed out, earning her a high five from Troy, because they were little kids that way.
"Really?"
"Aro-ace is very lyrical." Eli chimed in.
"How long have you known?" Shannon asked.
"I don't know. Since when I was twelve? It's too hard to look back. Nowadays it is just Pre-Solstice and Post-Solstice. Hard to determine the exact thing but -- you know. It's been there. It started out as a question, you see? A puzzle. And it took me a while to unscramble it and comprehend everything. There were hurdles, obstructions, instances where things got too perplexing. But -- I believed in myself. I don't think many people out in the Old World had that chance."
"They were eaten by drones." Angel swallowed her drink. "Maura? It is so cool that you told us. Did you pick a moment to come out, 'cuz I know you're a massive sucker for rules and you're looking for a best time to come out and --"
"It happened. Sort of. Very quickly." Maura interrupted her before Angel went off on a tangent.
"You should write a book!" Shannon chimed in.
"Books are boring. You should write a song. There are too many boring romantic ones out there. Nobody's heard of an unromantic one, have they?"
"You're all missing the point. Maura, we're very happy you've chosen to tell us. It could've been very burdening to hold onto this for a long time."
"Agreed with Troy. You'd be the best rock-goth ever. Aro-Ace Punk! or something like that. Start your own genre! Be the first one ever to topple the music charts, because you would technically be the first one ever. Doubt anyone's singing anything these days. Can you sing, Maura?"
"You're all missing the point, for God's sake! Tonight is about celebrating --"
"Oh don't you start now--"
More squabbling ensued.
Even if they were frankly terrible at receiving any piece of news, they were still Maura's band of quirky friends. It was one of the very first times she'd cracked a smile that night, beaming as bright as the Sun, as Maura clinked her glasses with everyone else and toasted to a great night.
"You know?" she said, bending her knees to sit cross-legged next to the grave. "You've always told me to be open and honest and stuff. You've preached a load of crap, but it was a good kind of crap, because it -- saved my life somehow."
Maura breathed in.
"It's hard. When people tell you that you're not normal for liking things or preferring a different lifestyle. There's nothing different now, because everything is different. Still -- you know? Let's not dwell on the -- terrible stuff."
She shook her head.
"Thanks. You came to my aid. You were that annoying voice that said, Hey. Just tell them. And I did. And it didn't go all wrong."
Maura smiled a second time. A very strict, yet softening smile.
"If you already didn't know, I'm aromantic and asexual. Still feels so good to say that out loud! It's -- exciting. It's new. It's brilliant. Yet it is old, it feels like I've known this. It's been a part of me. It feels -- different. A good kind of different. Like this realisation of -- understanding.. or something. I don't know. Shannon knows something. She's good at this wordy stuff. I'm not."
Maura stood up and gave the headstone a goodnight pat. SILJA TAUBER, it said.
"Then again, you'd probably have known that. You've always known things."
The sky above went dark, before lighting up in faint hues of yellow, white and blue, as a response.
A/N : As you can see, this was indeed a very personal fic to write. I am aro-ace myself and trying to comprehend it is a journey in itself. Maura's story is built on a bunch of terrible happenings and uncertainty, but one thing is for sure. She knows exactly who she is and she wouldn't change it for a thing.
I hope PB brings out new books which allows us players to have QPRs (queerplatonic relationships) with aromantic and asexual characters, like Zephyr from TE. I also hope PB brings a lot more representation to the table, in terms of aspec characters, because there's so very few in popular media.
Anyway, Happy Coming-Out Day! And also, fun fact, Aro-Ace Week takes place every year on October 23rd till 29th. I might do something for Maura in the coming days! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this!
This is how the aro-ace flag looks like and yes, it is very cool:
Tag List:
perma: @ofmischiefandmedicine @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam
wake the dead only: @jerzwriter
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Great Gratitude-Gorging Feast
Maura comes up with a brilliant plan to team up Eli and Troy together in the kitchen, in lieu of the anniversary of Camp Cypress's First Solstice.
Featuring: Eli Sipes, Troy Hassan & Maura Tauber (MC) from Wake the Dead
Word Count: 2.5k | Mentions of Gore/Teen & Up
A/N: Written for @choicesficwriterscreations's "For the Boys" event. I had such a fun time writing this! Big thanks to CFWC for hosting this event! I was bummed that Eli and Troy didn't have their moments. They give off such "older, tired brother" and "younger, spunkier brother" energy.
“I’m not reconsidering.”
Maura paused, inching closer to reconsidering the decision. She scanned the planner quickly, searching for an empty slot, but there was none. The kids handled the flowers and the centrepiece. The Builders took care of all reparations before the Ceremonial Feast. The Raiders, along with Angel Savage, were in charge of afternoon border patrol, so they couldn’t possibly be disturbed. The Ironmount Knights had fully occupied themselves in the armoury engaged in inventory-taking, and the villagers from Sunflower Creek offered to do the cleaning and maintenance.
Everything had to go according to plan, and Maura couldn’t afford to make last-minute changes. So she gave Eli Sipes an austere look and shook her head.
“If it is any consolation, perhaps I can supervise while you work. Make sure Troy isn't pulling off any of his crazy hijinks."
“It isn’t the cooking that bothers me,” he affirmed. “And you don’t have to babysit me. I can handle myself just fine. But the concerning bit is..”
“I know what bothers you and it is quite — baffling to me. Eli Sipes--” she let out a chuckle. “Famed for being calm in the face of grave danger, but somehow equally nervous when instructed to work in the kitchens.”
Maura dug into her drawer and removed a delicate leather-bound notebook. She placed it on the desk in front of Eli.
“It is just one hour. Elder Merryweather has offered to handle most of the main courses. These--” Maura pointed to the book. “-- are Shannon’s handiwork. One hour, Eli, and then I’m putting you back on patrol with Angel.”
“Fine. But if anything goes wrong, I will blame you.”
Maura shook her head with a grin on her face as she swivelled around in the office chair. “It’d be such a disappointment if you turned up dead! Try not to!”
Camp Cypress, under Maura’s governance, had its fair share of rules and traditions to upkeep.
First, under the Rules, nobody walks alone. The Camp thrived and survived thanks to everyone’s collective efforts during the Solstice Seasons and one’s personality matrix (introversion, “I work better alone”, shyness, et cetera) was frankly irrelevant to Maura. Everyone worked with a team and were part of a bloc. If they weren’t interested, they were more than welcome to leave and assume the role of a zombie’s breakfast.
It didn’t help Eli.
Second, also under the Rules, Play to your strengths and weaknesses. There was no such thing as a “weakness” according to Maura, just mere excuses. At Camp Cypress, everyone was given an adequate opportunity to play to their strengths and their weaknesses. If one had trust-issues, no problem! There were plenty of people to get along with, to form some sort of support group. Trouble lifting heavy weights? No worries at all. There was always a Raider ready to help. Can’t cook? The Sunflower Creek fellows were more than happy to pass on their culinary wisdom. There was no “can’t” at all.
It also didn’t help Eli, because there was no “How To Make Friends and Get Along” class.
Armed with Shannon’s handwritten recipe notes that she’d surveyed and collected from the many, many groups of people that Cypress housed, Eli entered the kitchen to find Troy Hassan, possibly his worst nightmare, sitting on a table and poking at the stove with an alarming wooden stick. Neither of them was sure what the other was really doing, and Eli was glad to remain that way.
It wasn’t the fact that Eli simply didn’t get along with Troy. After all, they experienced more or less the same trauma, the same losses, pain, grief, love, human emotions and they were humans, so that was something they shared too. But Troy. Ah. Sweet old Troy was just too— what was the word? Mischievous? Childish? Possibly dangerous being left alone in the kitchen? A fire hazard? Eli wasn’t sure, but it was all of them. Teaming up with Troy had never gone well. Eli still remembered the time Troy nearly got them both killed at the hands of one notoriously overpowered Scout. And ever since then, there wasn’t much to do other than simply respect each other’s differences.
“If we’re going to prepare the side courses, we’re going to have to issue some ground rules.”
“Still worried about me setting everything on fire?”
“Actually, that concern runs through my head. Every single day.”
“Aw, you think about me everyday?” Troy shot him a smirk before accidentally tumbling down to the ground from the table. “Ouch.”
“Ground Rule One. Let’s split up. That way, we can cover more dishes quickly.”
“What’s Ground Rule Two?” Troy asked, massaging his shoulders and knees as he stood up.
“There’s only one rule.”
“Could’ve called it The Ninja Rule.”
“Why would I call it that?”
“Because branding motivates people. It’s like calling colourful, but boring candy Awesome Rocks or something. To get kids to eat more and fall sick more. Branding!”
The Solstice Feast that once started to commemorate the liberation of the people in the Tower from Blackstock’s reign and to honour the Fallen, now became somewhat of a traditional get-together thing. Every year, around June, the Camp stocked enough provisions and some extra luxuries, like mushrooms and fresh fruit just in time for the gathering, that Troy had wonderfully dubbed, “The Gratitude Gorging”. It was the one thing everyone looked forward to, and Eli desperately wanted to get it right.
This year, thanks to Shannon’s data-hunting project, they’d successfully put together a melting pot of different cuisines, ranging from the Sunflower Creek’s infamous Cabbage Soup Delight, the Raiders’ Every-Meat Stuffed Turkey, Ironmount’s Royale Ramen Bowls, the Builder’s Dirt-And-Hardtack Cakes and everything else that Angel’s groovy and slightly grotesque brain can come up with, including her Zombie-Brain Surprise, which didn’t in fact, contain zombie meat, rather regular old chicken made to look like a zombie’s head.
“We’re going to start off with Ironmount’s simple salad recipe for the sides.”
Now, cooking in a post-apocalyptic world wasn’t easy. Though the ideas looked good, the recipes weren’t 21st century Michelin star classics. It was more about forging and figuring out what to eat, and luckily Cypress had some expert scavengers. Of course, sometimes the calories weren’t enough and somehow or the other, someone always went hungry, but it was the most they could do. And Eli, though incapable of wearing emotions on his sleeves, was much more capable of feeling sympathy and putting together this one good meal set a precedent for the rest of the year.
“Do not eat them!” Eli grabbed the plastic bag before Troy could sneak in another raw chickweed leaf. “Here’s what you do. Toss some sorrel leaves into that colander— no, not that one! The other one! Yes! God! Seriously, man. Now— according to the recipe, we’re going to need some finely sliced garlic, dandelion leaves and clover flowers. I think we have those in the cabinet.”
“Yep, we do.”
“Oh, great.”
“Is that a Yay!-Great or a I can’t believe for the first time in my life, I was not disappointed-Great?”
Eli blinked, running on nothing but blanks.
“I’ll slice the garlic. You get the ingredients. And wash the leaves!”
“Yeah, yeah, got it. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
“Sometimes that’s very hard to believe. You are incapable of following instructions.”
“I believe my rebellious nature is to be blamed for that.”
“Maura will be disappointed.”
“Oh, I’ve known Maura for all my life and trust me, she can never possibly stay disappointed at me.” Troy proclaimed, boastfully. That I am cooking is a glorious service. Because I never cook and somehow, I’m fantastic at it out of the blue. For instance, I know where everything is! That’s a first for me, because I can never find the strawberry jam those Sunflower hippies make.”
“That’s Angel’s doing. I’ve seen her take some for herself. If “some” equated to “all”, then yes.”
“It’s always Angel’s doing.” Troy sighed. “I just want a frickin’ smear of jam, okay? I’m just so miserable!”
“Life is nothing but an endless cycle of misery, Troy. It’s high time you get used to it.”
“Never in my life did I ever fathom I’d be the one shovelling all the guts from the turkey.” Troy huffed as he cut out a large enough hole inside a butchered-up, de-feathered bird. He was seriously considering a conversation with the Raiders, no matter how much they scared him with their culinary monstrosities. Carefully, he made slow cuts and precise incisions to create some sort of pathway for the stuffing to go through; like some kind of sewage pipe, with mucus, muck, and excrement stuck to the sides.
“You severed a zombie’s stomach for fun a week ago.” Eli said, who was now in charge of word-for-word creating the Raider’s stuffing recipe with a bit of meat, egg, thyme and peppers - or whatever they could find in the garden that wasn’t poisonous.
“Yeah, because it was fun that way. Just going at it, like stab, stab, stab--” Troy raised his kitchen knife and poked it at the air. “It’s stomach practically drooling with black blood and the intestines slowly melting into the biggest pile of goo and clots you’ve ever seen and the skull. The skull! One final blow towards the side- somewhere near the ears and you can hear the loud pop of the bones and subsequent pop, pop, pop of its twisted spines--”
“And--” Eli chimed in, “Their mangly hands!”
“Oh, the hands! You just crush their wrists under your boot and they just--”
“Pop, pop, pop!” Eli chuckled. “My best kill was when I shot a direct arrow from the top of the roof at this Scout. It went right into the roof of its mouth and it let out this huge shriek and tried to get it out, but the arrow was super sharp, yeah? I worked on the arrowheads myself. Some sandpaper and a really sharp flint stone can really help you up the quality of your arrows.”
“So it severed its tongue?”
“Yeah! Its tongue was dripping with blood and promptly collapsed. The arrow had pierced through its throat and whizzed out from the back of its neck. And Scouts are especially weak at their necks; at least the newly mutated ones. It was trying its very best to hold on, but promptly exploded. Literally.. Exploded! You had guts and flesh on the grass and its rotten teeth floating on this big pond of rubbery jelly.”
“Exploded? Did you tell someone about it?”
“I informed Shannon. She said she’ll look into it and see if it was some recent development. Anyway, the stuffing is done. We need to smoke the turkey now.”
“Hold on— aren’t we in charge of the sides and the Sunflower dudes are doing the major stuff?”
“Yes, but the “Sunflower dudes” don’t actually consume meat.”
“Ah, okay, point taken. So it’s going to be all veggies on the table and this one abnormally large freakazoid Sewage Pipe Protein Turkey for the rest of us, then?”
Eli stifled a laugh, but it still showed as a subtle grin. “Looks like it.”
“Why bother with this survivor’s lentil soup, anyway?” Troy complained.
“Because we don’t have cabbage.”
“And it was you with this enlightening idea to replace cabbage with lentils? Seriously? I’d rather eat my left ear, but I won’t, because I’d hate to get up in the morning, admire myself in the mirror for having lived a great life, and find my ear missing from its place.”
“Stop complaining. We’re all doomed to die, anyway.”
“So lentils help?”
“Actually, they do the opposite. They make us healthier and increase our lifespans by eight to thirteen extra years.”
“God-frickin’-damn it.”
“Why? Were you hoping for a quick-early death or something?”
“No. I just hold this massive hatred for lentils, okay?”
“Holy crap, that’s a heck ton of noodles. Guess they’re not just a “side course” anymore.”
“The Builders have been busy. Clearly. Each individual strand of ramen is so efficiently rolled up and stretched. It’s akin to staring into the face of the Sun of Perfection.” Eli exclaimed.
“Are you— flirting with the ramen?” Troy chuckled.
“No, of course not. This is admiration. There’s clearly a difference.” Eli dismissed. “And of course, you wouldn’t be able to notice the difference. You were one boost of testosterone away from kissing that stray Drone that trespassed Camp borders, about a month ago.”
“Ah, but I killed it by shooting its rib, didn’t I? It’s that thing these kids say. What is it? Let me kiss you and then kill you or something like that. I don’t know. The point is, it got the job done! Eli, my friend, you have absolutely no idea what horrors I’m capable of.” Troy said, before exploding into mock evil laughter.
“Hey, Casanova Boy. While you were out there daydreaming, you added sugar to the pot instead.”
“Where did the salt go?”
“Dirt cake doesn’t sound like a word at all.”
“It’s two words and yes, it is frankly an unfortunate name. Do you have better ideas?”
“Muck Cake sounds better. Like some rapper’s name from the 2020s. Lil Muck.”
Eli audibly snorted. “We’re not calling it a “muck” cake. Something better.” he insisted, as he used a mortar and a pestle to crush up some hardtacks into dust. “Something like, say, The Civil Engineer’s Delight, because the Builders are indeed civil engineers, in one way or form.”
“No wonder civil engineers are constantly depressed. Come on man, think of something cooler, like Awesome Rocks!”
“This isn’t a rock.”
“Aah, but it will come out as a rock from the hearth. Seriously, how good do you estimate our baking skills to be?”
“I’m an excellent baker. Not sure about--” Eli gestured to all of Troy. “All of this.”
“So — how did it go?” Maura asked, as soon as Eli stepped into the lounge, exactly two hours later. He didn’t know where the time had gone, but he partially blamed Troy’s poor turkey dicing skills. If it weren’t for his little mess-up, they could’ve been done half an hour earlier, but Eli wasn’t complaining. Not anymore.
“It went — decent.”
“Did Troy behave?”
“You’re enquiring that as if he’s some child--” Eli chuckled. “He’s pretty good.”
“So, you worked well together?”
“I thought we’d be at each other's throats, but things ran smooth. Troy wasn’t at his most hormonal teenage self and he actually is a decent cook and an even better baker, if I have to — admit.” Eli nodded approvingly. “I believe this could benefit Troy. He’s always been constantly on-edge. I’ve observed that it might be the post-traumatic stress disorder. And perhaps he should be encouraged to find such cathartic outlets to express himself.”
Maura peered at him with some curiosity. “That is the most feeling-sy thing I’ve ever heard from you. I like it.”
“This isn’t a recurring thing you know, I just thought it would be--”
“And that’s precisely why from now onwards, you’ll be his permanent Patrol partner.”
“Hold on--”
“I’m putting your name down on the Planner. I can never erase it. Once's it is on the book, it never goes away. That is, until you die, but I think that's highly improbable in the coming years.” Maura said.
“You know what? Do it. Go ahead. I enjoy working with him, anyway." Eli spoke, adamantly.
“You always continue to surprise me, Eli Sipes.” Maura smiled broadly before adding his name against Troy’s. “Have fun.”
A/N: The recipes were adapted from the book, The Art of Eating Through the Zombie Apocalypse: A Cookbook and Culinary Survival Guide by Lauren Wilson. (Except for the Raiders' stuffed turkey. That's just a big old gastronomical delight waiting to happen.)
Tag List:
Perma: @ofmischiefandmedicine, @quixoticdreamer16
If you'd like to be tagged for only Wake the Dead works, which are definitely in the making, please let me know! This is just the first of many coming right up. (But FYI, my WTD works won't contain any MC-centered romance, since Maura's aro/ace.)
Sidenote, I've kind of sort of lost all my tag lists after my, shall we say, "reboot", so if you really wish to be tagged for pure garbage like this, do drop a comment or send me an ask or in whatever way you see fit. Just let me know!
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
What kind of food is your MC's favorite? Favorite dish? Can they make it themselves?
Thank you so much for thinking of me Anon!
I'll answer for all of my MCs if that's all right!
>> JANE
Jane absolutely loves anything that has to do with sweets. Stroopwafels? Heck yeah. Croissants? Sure, go right ahead. Fudge? Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she's gonna eat it all. She also enjoys a good vegetarian pasta from time to time.
Jane is a good cook, if not a great one. She's been sustaining on her cooking skills ever since she stepped into university and med school. She's gotten better at it through the years, adapting the cuisine around her to fit her dietary needs. Lately, she's been obsessed with cottage cheese pizzas and poached eggs.
Of course, living with the great Ethan Ramsey has its perks, especially with food. Sometimes Jane wouldn't have to cook much, considering Ethan is a way better breakfast-chef than she is. Most of the days, she cooks lunch and dinner because it doesn't work with Jane and Ethan to find a common ground on most days. Ethan is so used to incorporating chicken, beef and fish in his diet and the last thing she'd want for him is to change his entire diet considering their living accomodations.
So they make a deal. Ethan gets to make breakfast. Jane takes care of the dinner; ensuring to make it as light and filling as possible and the two of them pool their ideas together for lunch. Since it is just the two of them, they don't have to think a lot.
>> NORA
Nora takes pride in her Chinese heritage. Her favourites are usually a box of egg fried rice or a nice bowl of ramen with baozi. Ever since she started living alone (as alone as living above her uncle's pub gets), she learned that the best way to move on from her parents' passing, to properly grieve them is to take care of herself. It is what they'd have wanted for her. Cooking slowly became one of her hobbies; a cathartic release after a long day of NYPD/PI work.
Enter Trystan a couple of years later. Trystan is an admirable cook. Though he does burn a couple of things and not really good with desserts or baking for that matter and should never be left next to fire or to his own devices, he's still very eager to learn. Cooking eventually becomes their little routine. Whenever Trystan stays over or if they ever don't feel like going out, they turn to making their own food.
Lately Nora has been into Pao Tsai or fermented vegetables. She's into preservation of a jar of cabbages and other vegetables in pickle brine. It was something her Dad did growing up and her Grandma had also done and it is only wise for her to continue to make it on her own. It's a little hard at first, with all the impulsive jar buying, all those precise measurements and reading up on some food chemistry and preservation rules, calling up Aunties from Hong Kong and making sure she isn't eating expired vegetables, but soon she gets the hang of it.
Right now, Nora's pickle brine jar is exactly three months and seven days old. She's very proud of her accomplishment and it tastes spectacularly well with a side of rice.
>> MAURA
Maura is in an apocalypse, so there aren't a lot of options for food. But thanks to tilling their lands and sowing their fields, Maura had overseen several successful agricultural projects at Camp Cypress. Most of the time, breakfast, lunch and dinner consist of game. Freshly hunted wild animals or bred chickens. It's accompanied by a thin soup, some bread if they were lucky enough and for dessert, a fruit of their choice.
Maura isn't too much into the meals in itself but she looks forward to what she can do with fruits. After they bred cows, Maura was able to get milk and churn it into thick cream, which tasted well when paired with apples and oranges. She's made fruit salads in the past, adding a combination of seeds and walnuts in the mix. Maura had also tried making "wine" by soaking a bunch of grapes in water, only to figure out that she'd colossally messed up and she was going to have to hunt down run-down bars and get what she required.
Out of her friends, Sledge is an excellent cook; mostly because she's really good at burning and crispening things. The two of them formulate recipes and meal plans based on the stock of food they have. If they're really lucky, they'd find several shelves of alcohol and stock it deep in their private reserves (sh, don't tell the others.)
___
Thank you so much for sending this ask, Anon!
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
What superlative did your MC get in their high school yearbook? What superlative do you think Ethan got? + what about Trystan & Nora?
& just out of curiosity, did your high school do superlatives & if so— which superlative did you get?
Mal! I love this question! Thank you so much for thinking of me.
>> crimes of passion
Nora: Didn't get nominated for anything. She stayed out of people's way and didn't meddle into this. But had she competed, she'd have won "Most Likely To Be The President".
Trystan: He did his education in Drakovia and had a private tutor and everything, so he didn't exactly get the quintessential high school experience.
>> open heart
Ethan: "Most Likely To Become A Writer" because he was this anti-social little geek who wrote a lot of poetry and short stories and was a part of all the drama and lit clubs. People were in for a surprise when he showed up at their reunion with a doctor's labcoat.
Jane: Jane was nominated but didn't win. Her school had a GSA club, which she was a part of and one of the Heads, so she got nominated for "Best Club Secretary". Unfortunately she lost to Zack Forsyth after an intense tie.
>> bonus: wake the dead
Maura: The Tower people tried their very best to recreate the high school experience, so when she was 17-18 years old, Maura had to *compete* to earn a superlative, rather than through voting. She was deemed "Best Survivalist" by her peers and elders.
___
I'm Asian and we don't exactly have a superlative culture here. The most we get is a farewell party, sloppy sandwiches and a street play put on by the younger kids to remind us of the good times (spoiler: they were not good times).
Thanks for this Ask, Mal!
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
arrestyourdebt
Ryan @ Arrest Your Debt
point-dovo
Point do Vô Açaí
operatorsdime
Got Smut?
goddesangelawhite
Love Angela White
kdasource
WHAT THE BADDEST DO