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vavoom-sorted-art · 5 months

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Of Kings And Kids - Chapter 1

Welcome to @gaiaseyes451 and my Christmas collab! We'll be publishing a chapter every day, whith the fifth and final chapter going up on the 26th of December!

Head to AO3 to read the entire chapter.

*~*~*

Aziraphale stood at the town’s well, clay cup in hand, and drank, grateful for the cool water. While the journey from Nazareth hadn’t been particularly arduous, the angel was happy for an opportunity to rest after traversing the loamy, rolling hills; especially after guiding a flock of sheep and goats for the last five days. Michael had assured him, when she was briefing him on the Mission Messiah assignment, that Heaven had an alias prepared this time. Somehow, Silas the shepherd who was leading his flock of bovids to Bethlehem for the autumn livestock auction was not precisely the backstory Aziraphale had expected. Nevermind that Bethlehem had never held a livestock auction before, best not to question these things.

Bethlehem was built around the town’s well which stood in the center of a courtyard. Most inns and lodging houses surrounded the well while private residences were scattered among the slopes. The city was surrounded by a modest wall with roads granting access from the North and South. The land itself was lovely rolling hills with lush grasslands and natural grottos, perfect for grazing livestock. It would have been conspicuous if a shepherd had moved at the same pace as a woman who was about to give birth, so Aziraphale had arrived ahead of the holy family. He was glad for the chance to get acquainted with the town and for the brief respite before the real work started.

Preparing for the arrival of the Messiah really was quite stressful.

Having filled his waterskin, Aziraphale was about to head off to one of the rest houses to sample the local cuisine when a familiar voice called out.

“Hello, angel!”

Aziraphale stopped short. While he was always happy to see this particular demon on his assignments, having him this close to the savior’s birth was a tad disconcerting. He turned and greeted him warmly, even if his smile was a bit cautious. “Crawly! Hello.”

“Ah, actually, call me Crowley.” He said, casually.

“Oh, have you changed your name?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah, not officially. Just tryin’ it out for a bit. ‘Sides, little odd to have a nobleman called ‘Crawly’.” He said, gesturing to himself.

Aziraphale took a moment to take in Crowley’s garb.The demon was wearing his hair a bit longer, russet waves held out of his eyes by a beaded headband. He was clothed in his preferred hues in a deep charcoal robe and cloak made from fine linen with patterns embroidered in red at the neckline and hem. The cloak was fastened at the shoulder with an onyx snake broach and synched at the waist with a burgundy leather belt with a serpentine fastener. The robe drew his eyes down to strappy sandals that accentuated Crowley’s calves. His wrists were adorned with wide, silver cuffs that emphasized his svelte arms and long fingers.

Aziraphale dragged his eyes back to Crowley’s face and attempted to make eye contact through the dark lenses. “Well, hello, Crowley. What brings you to Bethlehem?”

*~*~*

Keep reading on Ao3 to see additional illustrations! We'd love to hear your thoughts! Find all chapters and additional content for this story here.

big thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support!

Happy Holidays and Happy Reading!

#Of Kings And Kids #good omens #good omens fanart #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #art #goodomens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanwork #ineffable christmas #christmas #christmas story

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gaiaseyes451 · 5 months

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Of Kings and Kids - A Good Omens Christmas Story

I'm super excited to announce that Chapter 1 of Of Kings and Kids is officially live on AO3! This is a collaboration with the incredibly talented @vavoom-sorted-art. We will release one chapter a day until all five chapters are available - the last release will be on 26-Dec.

Head to AO3 for the full Chapter AND additional, gorgeous illustrations!

An Excerpt:

----

Preparing for the arrival of the Messiah really was quite stressful.

Having filled his waterskin, Aziraphale was about to head off to one of the rest houses to sample the local cuisine when a familiar voice called out.

“Hello, angel!”

“Ah, actually, call me Crowley.” He said, casually.

“Oh, have you changed your name?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah, not officially. Just tryin’ it out for a bit. ‘Sides, little odd to have a nobleman called ‘Crawly’.” He said, gesturing to himself.

Aziraphale dragged his eyes back to Crowley’s face and attempted to make eye contact through the dark lenses. “Well, hello, Crowley. What brings you to Bethlehem?”

----

A warm thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support on this project with thanks also to @sohoscribblers

#good omens fic #good omens #good omens christmas #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction

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vvhimsicals · 3 months

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muse - silas , ski lodge attendant , he / him . plot - plot inspo in source ! but basically a love affair between the two , your muse always sneaks away to silas when they're having issues with their partner . open to - f/nb , 23 +

"want me to make you forget all about it?" silas asked, pulling the other close to his chest. it was silent for a moment before he cupped their cheek, leaning down closer so their faces were just inches apart. "you know you deserve better than that."

#open.#indie rp #independent rp #if u saw my previous silas muse no u didnt im revamping #silas.

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aclickbaittitle · 5 months

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History through the lens of Unwell: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery

Unwell’s last episode was published on September 12 of 2023, lucky for me I have not yet listened to the fifth season so Unwell can last as long as I want it to. In fact, I don’t want to finish it until I write an article about the story.

This is that article.

History, in the most simple terms I can put it, is the study of the past as it relates to the present. We learn and study it, not just to know what our ancestors in 500 B.C. got up to but to understand ourselves in the wider context that is time, the universe and humanity.

Unwell is a fiction podcast about Lillian Harper moving to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town’s boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house’s strange assortment of residents. (Courtesy of unwellpodcast.com)

History in Unwell takes various shapes, the most obvious is the resident historian of Fentwood House: Abbie, who has come to Mount Absolom to pursue a doctorate in history with a focus on urban planning. The Fentwood House itself is a historical site of the town, with Dot (the owner and carer), being a vessel of oral history for it: always talking about different wild anecdotes of her ancestors and the house, there is also the various documents said ancestors left behind, which became a crucial plot point in season 4. And of course, there are the ghosts.

Ghosts on Unwell are complicated to the point that even themselves do not quite understand what they are, but I would like to argue that they are “living” memories of the town.

(Spoilers for the next part).

Nora is the ghost of the observatorium, an astrophysicist from the early 20th century.

Nora’s control and keeping of the echoes people have walk through the observatory could be seen as her “archiving” different moments of Mount Absolom and the voices of different people, plus her astrophysical and engineering knowledge that allows Rudy to fix / continue the creation of the observatory’s telescope (her telescope) is similar to the way people from today look at the discoveries and knowledge from people in the past to further their work.

Wes, who works at Fentwood House, keeps in a way alive the story of the establishment through his spooky tours, and it is through him that we get to see how Mount Absolom in the 40s or 50s looked like.

And then there is Silas, one of the founders of Mount Absolom. Silas or Reverent Lodge, represent that darker history the town wants to erase and/or forget. I do not only mean trying to white-washed it (there’s this nice scene in which Abby calls out the “Thanksgiving” myth) because it is more complicated than that, I think… in a way… Silas is a representation against modernity and expansion: his chapel is under an observatory- like how one may substitute religion for science in the modern world, he is fiercely protective of the forest around Mount Absolom and doesn’t like how the town is expanding to its borders, he reproaches Dot (and others) for forgetting traditions, etc. There is truth to Silas’ critics which is what makes him so compelling, and the fact that through his friendship with Lily he doesn’t appear to be that much of a racist compared to his contemporaries. In other words, Silas is the bogey man that carries with him the past the residents of Mount Absolom don’t want to talk about.

However, Ghosts, Landmarks, and Historians is not only the way that Unwell engages with history. It is the way to move the plot forward.

The characters throughout the story have to engage with the past in order to overcome obstacles. To discover the mystery they end up digging up those sweet first type sources, interviewing people from the past or who know about it, exploring ancient sites, asking the story behind the town’s festival and cultural practices- in a way there is no much difference between a historian and a detective (Abby often wears both hats in the show) just how far away is the moment they are investigating.

A theme of the show is also the power of knowing your history and that of the place you inhabit. If there is a character that embodies this theme the best is not the historian but Wes, there is a difference between the Wes of the first season who just knew where he lived, to the Wes of the fourth season who knows the name of his parents, the school he went to, the detective radio-show he like to listen after school; when Wes learns the history of the boy he was he becomes (as much as you can at sixteen) self-actualized. Dot, on the other hand, has the opposite story as her illness slowly devours the stories she has hanging around in her brain.

And then there is Lily. Lily is a beautifully complicated character, in the beginning of the story she denies any connections or ties she could have to the town, Fentwood House and even her mother, but through the course of the show she is forced to grapple with that notion, to confront her younger self and the relationship she had with her mother, to realize that she too forms part of the history of Mount Absolom, and through that start healing, and help the town heal as well.

I love history, if life is good to me I will probably end up teaching it. But engaging with the past is hard, so much of it is covered in blood, so much of it asks for you to look at the present with other eyes, to reinvent yourself time after time. But there is power in it, there is power in looking at the past and seeing how it reflects in the present, to know that even if you feel alone there were millions before you that paved the path you walk on, to step in buildings or walk through the forest and know they will keep an echo of you as they have for everyone else. Unwell knows that power and it shows it through a story that is engaging and through characters that are captivating.

#unwell podcast #podcasts recommendations #article #audiodrama #audio fiction #fiction podcast

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ghostradiodylan · 5 months

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[Worst Christmas in July ever, huh Kaitlyn?]

So I’m drafting away, sketching out everyone’s lingering regrets and thinking Dylan probably would feel pretty shitty about suggesting that party. But, objectively, would it actually have been any better to stay inside?

Given that we know the werewolves can track them by scent, if they'd all congregated inside that would have been a pretty obvious place for Kaylee, Caleb, and Silas to all end up. Because they'd be inside, the counselors wouldn't have had the gun from the storeroom (because who plays with guns indoors? hopefully no one.) and the one from Mr. H's office would take a minute to go get, being behind a locked door and all. Imagine one of the werewolves coming down the chimney, absolute pandemonium, everyone runs for the door... two more werewolves outside. I think staying in the lodge would actually have been a complete bloodbath and they benefited from being outside where they could scatter.

Of course, it also would have made for a very boring video game, but that's not what we're focused on here.

In short,

#the quarry #dylan lenivy #kaitlyn ka #the quarry fanfic #bunny blathers #the brainrot is brainrotting

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wolfawaycamp · 3 days

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angsty rylan pls...

tw: canon-typical violence, major character status ambiguity

🔮The darkness of the morning is cold, and so are Ryan’s blood-soaked clothes as he walks back to the police cruiser.

Lagging behind Laura and Travis, his steps are unsteady, and he’s holding his side— turns out werewolf healing will still leave a substantial surface wound after healing your punctured lung— and when he pulls his hand away, it’s sticky with both new and old blood. Ryan coughs forcibly, spitting out a clot of old blood onto the wet pavement, and Laura turns and raises an eyebrow.

“‘S fine, I’m fine,” he clarifies, clearing his throat as he does, and Laura nods skeptically as she climbs into the front seat of the vehicle.

“You’ll need stitches,” she states, a little too matter-of-factly, reclining her seat slightly to lean more comfortably on the headrest.

“What?”

“For your side. The stab wound. You’ll need stitches.” Ryan nods weakly, not caring that Laura can’t see him, and wipes blood from his lip with his shirtsleeve. He fixes his gaze out the window into the dark forest, almost expecting the cruiser to be charged by the white wolf again.

But the white wolf— Silas— won’t come. He won’t follow the blood trail to the cruiser, and he won’t chase the headlights as the three of them pull away from the scene. Laura’s ended the curse, the threat— threats, plural— are gone.

And still, on the ride back to the lodge, the blood on his shirt sticking to the leather seat of the car, there is nothing running through Ryan’s mind but images of Dylan. Dead. In every possible way.

Bleeding out, stomach ripped open, just feet away from the safety of the lodge doors, or the life fading from his eyes as he tries to staunch the bleeding from his throat, torn out by inconceivably large claws, or worst of all: Dylan in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the radio hut, his head blasted to nothing by the spread of the shotgun as Ryan shot at his wrist in a futile attempt to sever his hand.

An image that could very well have been real if Ryan hadn’t taken a brief second to collect his thoughts before he raised the weapon.

He hadn’t done it. He hadn’t taken the shot, and in the end Dylan had been thankful, putting it to the back of his mind as he kicked dirt and hid a smile as Ryan told the regrouped counselors about the feedback loop.

Ryan grinds his teeth and presses his forehead against the cold cruiser window to keep himself from retching. That stupid smile.

There’s no way Dylan is alive.

There were too many threats, god knows how many werewolves were roaming those woods, and a hell of a lot can happen in five and a half hours. Sure, Kaitlyn is capable, but Dylan is flighty and self-sacrificial and all kinds of things that could have, and probably had, gotten him killed.

Dylan’s neck at an unnatural angle as he lands limply on the floor below the lodge balcony. His face bloodied and bashed in, his body slumped forward against a boulder. Fire flickering in his eyes as blackened burns crawl up his cheeks. A werewolf grabbing him and pulling him limb from limb like a toy.

Ryan swallows hard, fighting the bile crawling up his throat.

His mother was right, all the way back when he was ten and Sarah was four. You only realize how much you love someone when they’re dead and gone.

Ryan slips his hand under his shirt and presses his fingers into the knife wound. He sucks in a harsh breath, shaking like a leaf as he leans into the pain. He can feel new, warm blood trickle in a stream down his side and soak into the hem of his torn pants.

The pain becomes unbearable and Ryan pulls his hand back into his lap, clammy and trembling through his whole body. He has to squint his bleary eyes to refocus, blinking away hot tears that threaten to escape and run down his sticky, bloodied face.

He passes out then— from the stress or exhaustion or pain, he isn’t sure— but he doesn’t wake until he feels the cruiser jolt to a stop at the lodge.

He drags his gaze up the lodge steps, hoping to see someone he knows he won’t.

But Dylan is there, sitting on the stairs to the lodge with his legs tucked up to his chest and a flannel blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair is slicked down to his forehead and his face is smeared with blood, as if he tried to wipe it off and gave up, and his head rests against a rung of the railing, His eyes are closed. He isn’t moving.

Ryan’s heart drops.

Dylan raises his head, squinting into the sunrise, and Ryan wrenches open the back door of the cruiser and topples out onto his knees, dry-heaving into the dirt.

#this was part of a now-abandoned wip i was very proud of #so that's why it's been answered so fast :)#enjoy!!#the quarry #rylan #ryan x dylan #dylan x ryan #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy #angst #hurt/comfort #castor #reunion scene for u #radioheads

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asshlyyyy · 2 years

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You Get Bit (Hacketter Headcanons)

While this is not what I wanted to originally have posted today, it still turned out well. It is something for everyone who wants to read about their favorite counselor. My personal favorite for this headcanon is Jacob.

A little spoiler... I am currently writing a Jacob one shot which will be out in a couple days time for all my people who love Jacob.

Masterlist

warnings: swearing

Abigail:

"I- oh my- I- Can you walk?"

"I can try-"

"You know what- um- I will go get help"

She would then run off to get help

She would be by your side the entire time

Well, that is until you turned

She wouldn't be able to believe her eyes

Her beloved Y/n, once human, now turned into a monster

She would try to keep herself calm by drawing you

Kaitlyn:

Immediate mom mode would come out

She would tend to your wound, but in the end, it wasn't enough... and clearly did nothing

She would try her best to keep you distracted so that you, and mostly her, wouldn't think about what's to come

Would raise her voice at anyone who would come close to her or yourself

Would cry when you forced her to leave

Ulltimetly would complain to Dylan the whole way to the scrapyard

Dylan found it cute how much Kaitlyn was worried about you

When they returned and saw you were still there... but only in a different form

Her heart would break

Nick:

Nick is an absolute wreck

He's pacing around the room

"Do you need anything, love?"

"Do you feel any better?"

You found it cute how your cinnamon roll cared so much about you

Even in the face of danger, he wanted to make sure you were okay

Would lose his absolute shit when you change

He would be that person to believe that you wouldn't hurt him in that form

Boy was he wrong because you attacked him

While he ended up fine, he was more worried about you

Emma:

Wouldn't know it happened until Kaitlyn and Dylan told her

Would blame herself for leaving you alone

Would definitely try to go get you

She would cry in the shelter when it was just her and Abi

Abi would reassure Emma that you were okay

Of course, she wasn't going to believe it until she saw you herself

And she did... and not in the form she was used to

Her scream was loud, she couldn't believe what you turned into

Would definitely yell at you for scaring her when you turned back

Ryan:

After what happened with Nick he wouldn't know what to do

When you got bit he was frozen in his spot

"It's- it's um... it's going to be okay."

On one end he would want to stay with you

On the other hand, he would want to go with Laura to put an end to your suffering

Would ask Kaitlyn to find a place to keep you safe

Would have no trouble shooting Chris

After Silas dies he would rush Travis to get them back to the lodge

Dylan:

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

"Dyl, stop freaking the fuck out,"

"We have to cut it off,"

"Cut off my fucking head??"

Due to the bite into your neck, you couldn't... cut... off... the... limb

"I don't know! I'm freaking the fuck out! What if you turn??"

"Just... stay away from me..."

Your eyes would start to water

He would be full-on crying, but would still try to put on a tough act just for you

"I'm not leaving you,"

"I don't want to hurt you Dyl... p-please"

Would stay with you till the last possible moment

Jacob:

"Oh my god! Y/n!"

"I'm okay-"

"The fuck you are, look at your leg!"

Jacob wouldn't know what to do

He would most likely blame himself for you getting hurt

Just like Dylan, he would be freaking out more than you

Would one hundred percent think you're dying

Would also be full-on crying

"Jacob, please- just- you need to get me to the lodge"

"I-I-I-I-"

"Jacob, honey, I need you to take a breath."

Would carry you to the lodge

"Emma! Kaitlyn! Ryan! HELP!"

He would be close to having a full-blown panic attack

Once morning comes he would pull you into a hug and never let go

Laura:

When she saw you at the pool house, she froze

She expected you to be well and not bitten

After what happened with Max, and herself, she knew that no matter what she had to find Chris

She was indeed running out of time, and she didn't want you to suffer

She would play a tough act when she was around you

Would definitely have a small cry when she wasn't near you

You were her reasoning for wanting to do those ungodly things no teenager should have to

She knew that she didn't have to kill Silas in theory

You were saved

She was saved

Why bother?

Though, she went to do it knowing that you would've wanted her to

Max:

He wouldn't know what to do

He would try his best to try and save you but would have no idea how to

He would clean you up, but in the end, he wouldn't know what's to come

When you transformed, he couldn't believe his eyes

He didn't even know what you turned into

How would he be able to help when he didn't know what you were?

He would be more freaked out than you would've been

Would speak none stop about how worried he was about you

#The Quarry #The Quarry x reader #the quarry kaitlyn #the quarry abigail #the quarry nick #the quarry emma #the quarry ryan #The Quarry Dylan #The Quarry Jacob #the quarry laura #the quarry max #the quarry headcanons #hacketter headcannons

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jarondont · 5 months

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Chapter 1!!!

So I finally finished Ch. 1 of my book Smoke from the Fire- the first installment in The Reign of the Revolution series :DDDDD

Remember that NOTHING is final (but this is what I'm likely going to stick with), and also due to personal reasons this is the only full chapter I'll be sharing. I'll share snippets of certain scenes, certain lines of dialogue I like, or anything else like character-related stuff, but I won't be sharing any more full chapters :(

Word count: 2,056

Anyways, I hope you like it!

Let's begin, shall we?

--------------------

In my life, I’d made a lot of mistakes.

But none quite as bad as this.

All I could do now was close my eyes, clench my fists, and hope that they wouldn’t find me.

Because if they did, I was as good as dead.

---

In case you haven’t seen the overabundance of wanted posters with my name on them, let’s begin with an introduction.

My name is Silas Crow. Guilty until proven innocent; wanted dead or alive.

It’s not that I’ve led a life of crime. Quite the opposite, actually. Up until a few years ago, my parents and I had been living a simple life on the island of Cartris—a territory of Losca, just a little south of the mainland. Popí was a fisherman, although he liked to call himself a sailor. Mimá would sell the fish he caught. She was also well-educated, so she’d reserve some time every day to teach me. When I didn’t have lessons, I’d often go on fishing trips with Popí or help Mimá at the Cartris fish market. Sometimes, Popí would even take us to mainland Losca for a week. We’d sell fish there—at the larger market, so that we’d get more money.

It was a peaceful life. But that was before Endox came around.

Emperor Endox II had been a horrible ruler since about three years ago—shortly after his twenty-eighth birthday, when he killed his father to get the throne for himself, and with him, his mother, since she tried to protect him. Everyone put up with him at first, since we knew how dangerous he was. But then things started getting out of hand.

A few months ago, news spread throughout Losca that Endox’s wife, Meralina, had been brutally murdered by him after they had an argument about matters regarding their son, Prince Faelen. What matters, no one knew. In fact, rumor had it that the man who told this story in the first place was never seen nor heard from again.

Endox only grew more unfair and selfish since then. Taxes had always been high for us peasants, but Endox wasn’t satisfied. A few weeks ago, he raised them impossibly high, and for what? So that he could benefit off of the people’s hard-earned money. He raised them so high that many peasants started dying of starvation.

By then, we’d had more than enough, so we protested. A simple, bloodless protest. But since so many peasants had gathered for the protest, we had Estraham Castle surrounded, and the emperor’s troops panicked.

So they attacked.

The March on Estraham marked the beginning of the Loscan Revolution. Hundreds of lives were lost that day: the emperor’s troops—twenty-seven; the peasants—over three hundred.

My parents included.

It had been one of those weeks where Popí took us to the mainland. But this time, instead of selling fish, we were there for the protest.

If only we had realized beforehand what a mistake that had been.

I could still hear the gunshots; the screams of innocent protestors. Later, I’d find out that only about thirty of them made it out alive. I could still see the horror on my mother’s face as my father was shot square in the chest, blood spewing violently from the wound. I still felt her fingers digging into my arm as she begged me to leave, to save myself.

Then she, too, was shot. The bullet lodged itself in her leg, causing her to cry out in pain and collapse to her knees.

“Mimá!” I screamed, an agonizing mixture of fear and sorrow building up in my chest.

Mimá grasped her calf where she had been shot, but she gathered up her strength to look at me one last time. “Go, Silas, please!” She cried. “Find the Nemesis. Find Hunt. He’ll help you.”

“No!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Come with me, please—I can’t lose you, too.”

“Go,” she whispered, her voice cracking from the pain.

Then she was shot again. As the second bullet struck her in the back, I heard myself screaming, crying, begging for her not to leave me.

Yet she did.

The last words Mimá said to me were, “Vei livé, Silas.”

Live free.

Those words were since etched into my mind.

I vaguely remembered running away, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as a bullet ripped through my flesh, and pushing through the crowd that was rapidly falling around me. I ran, and I didn’t look back.

After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a small alley. I touched my injured shoulder with my other hand, and it came back soaked in blood. Ripping off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my trousers, I wrapped it tight around the wound and knotted it. That took up the last of my energy and willpower. Leaning my head against the stone wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes.

Vei livé, Silas. Vei livé…

And it all came flooding back.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks as great sobs shook my body. They were gone. My parents were gone, along with far too many others.

And I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, nor did I care. I remembered hearing voices outside the alley and the stomping of boots. The emperor's troops, no doubt searching for anyone who escaped. They never found me, but if they had, I wouldn’t have fought back. What was the point?

Then I remembered what Mimá had told me to do—to find the Nemesis. I wasn’t sure what that was, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t let any of their deaths be in vain.

So I stood and brushed away my tears, hearing my mother’s voice in my head once again.

Vei livé.

“I will, Mimá,” I whispered. “I promise.”

---

Days passed, then weeks, but it felt as if the March on Estraham had happened only yesterday. The streets were plagued with the emperor’s soldiers, or the Dekhrinn, as they had come to be known—Loscan for people of terror.

They accepted this name—in fact, causing terror was their main goal. Whenever they saw the Dekhrinn coming, people hid away in their homes, shut the curtains, and locked their doors. And yet, every day, someone would disappear, usually in the dead of night. But no one dared to fight against them. They were too terrified.

As for me … I lived off of whatever I could find. And I had come to discover just how many alleys Losca’s capital city, Cyvalos, had.

Alleys that were perfect for hiding.

As the stomping of boots drew closer, the only thing I could focus on was the racing of my heart in my ears. The voices became more and more defined until they stopped right outside the alley.

“Have you found anyone?” a deep voice asked.

“No, sir,” a second man said.

“Names.”

“What?”

“Tell me their names,” the first one demanded, irritated.

I heard the crinkling of paper, and I took that opportunity to slightly peek my head out from the shadows. Four Dekhrinn were positioned just outside the alley, their armor shining red and gold. Loscan colors. Two of the men stood off to the side, one twirling his fingers nervously and the other rocking back and forth on his heels. Another Dekhrinn stood with his back to me—the one who had fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The last man stood in front of him, a badge on his shoulder making it clear that he was the one in charge.

“We were assigned four revolutionaries, sir,” said the man with the paper. “Fenerias Hunt, Annwyl Cadarius, Eraka Orelein, and—” he hesitated. “And Silas Crow.”

So they were looking for me.

“You still haven’t caught Crow?” growled the man in charge. A pause, then he mumbled, “The next time I ask for a report, that Silas boy should have been brought to the emperor, alive or dead. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good.” With that, I heard his boots stomp away.

The other three Dekhrinn let out a long exhale as soon as he was out of earshot. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then the man with the list of names yelled, “Well? Don’t just stand around! Find them!” and he, too, stomped away.

The two other Dekhrinn shuffled closer to the alleyway entrance. I ducked into the shadows, my heart pounding.

“How do they expect us to find them?” one wondered aloud. “Losca is huge. They could be anywhere.” Silence, then he prompted, “Henrik?”

“What?” The other man—Henrik—asked.

“Do you ever wondered what would happen if we … you know, ran away?”

Henrik was silent for a beat. “Don’t say that. You never know who’s listening.”

“Yes, but …” There was a shuffling of feet. “Endox—”

“The emperor, Keflas,” Henrik corrected. “Show some respect if you want your head to stay attached to your neck.”

“If the emperor hears what I have to say about him, he’d behead me anyway,” the man named Keflas mumbled. “I think … well, don’t you think he’s a bit unfair?”

I had half a mind to run up to his face and yell, you think? but I forced myself to take a steadying breath.

Keflas continued, “I’m scared, Henrik. Just the other day, Sigourney’s husband disappeared.”

Henrik grunted, finally opening up to conversation although he still sounded a bit uncomfortable. “I heard about that,” he said. “Rumor has it that he was turned in by his own brother. They say you could hear his screams from the other side of the castle.”

Keflas shuddered. “Whatever he said, he probably didn’t deserve and end like that.”

“Exactly, which is why you should shut up before someone hears you!” retorted Henrik.

Keflas mumbled an apology. “Maybe we should start searching.”

Henrik muttered his agreement, and I heard their feet stomp away.

I slowly peeked my head out again, checking to make sure they were gone. Once I was sure that the alley was empty, I tiptoed out of my hiding place. This was my chance.

I ran as fast as I dared out of the alley—or tried to. Halfway out, I tripped on a root and fell on my face with a thud.

“Did you hear that?” came Henrik’s voice from the other side of the alley.

“Dakhas,” I cursed quietly. How could I be so stupid?

“Someone’s in there,” said Keflas.

I cursed again, then stood and quickly brushed myself off. Maybe I could still make it out without them finding me.

“There he is!” Henrik yelled.

I glanced behind me. Henrik and the other Dekhrinn from earlier—the one with the list of names—were running towards me while Keflas called for more soldiers.

That settles it, I thought. Time to go.

I sprinted out the alley.

Blood rushing in my ears and the Dekhrinn only a few paces behind me, I turned a corner just as a gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed past me, just missing my ear.

I paused only for a second. Almost there, I thought to myself.

I kept running, pushing past confused passersby whose eyes widened when they saw who were behind me. I just had to get to the docks.

To the Nemesis.

As it came into view, I paused for a second to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. After weeks of searching, I had finally found what Mimá had told me to find. The Nemesis was what seemed like a large trading vessel. Why she asked me to find it, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to get aboard, or else I was dead meat.

“Hey!”

Oh no.

I glanced behind me and saw not two, but eight Dekhrinn running after me, pistols drawn. I eyed the docks again, but it was too far of a run. They’d shoot me down before I even got close.

To my left was a bustling fish market that seemed to go on for miles. If I mixed in with that crowd, they’d never find me.

I whispered a request for the Nemesis to stay at the docks for a little longer, then raced toward the fish market with eight Dekhrinn hot on my heels.

--------------------

So, what'd you think?

Also, keep in mind the names of the three revolutionaries (excluding Silas) they're searching for. These characters are important later 😉

(So is the prince but he comes in in book 3)

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thehollowwriter · 2 months

Text

Warnings: None! But this is super long

Key: Regular text is for the present. Bold is for journal entries/writing, italics is for flashbacks

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Lamentations Pt. 3.2

My grandfather was worried when I got home. I was bleeding quite heavily, and I had a number of claw and bite marks dangerously close to my throat.

It was nothing healing magic and some bandages couldn't fix, but nonetheless, my dear grandfather still lectured me about his heart being too frail for such scares and to be more careful.

"You said he was from the city?"

Silas gazed at the bandages his grandfather was wrapping around his arm and nodded.

"Yeah. You could see it a mile away. He was a pampered bastard." A pampered bastard that knew how to throw a punch.

"Silas, please. If word gets out that you attacked a city dweller-"

"It won't." Silas murmured, closing his eyes. "I don't know why that thief wanted to hunt, and I used that word loosely, tuna, but I don't think he wants anyone to know."

I was right. There wasn't a peep about our fight. No news articles raged about the savage Abyss dweller that attacked an innocent mer just trying to get some food, and no guards came knocking at my door to arrest me.

My grandfather breathed a sigh of relief, and life continued on as usual until something unexpected happened barely a day or two later.

It was a slow day. Silence settled over the empty shop, and Silas was happy to take advantage of the brief reprieve to rest. He was, in fact, on the verge of falling asleep with a book on his chest, and the radio, perched on a small table behind his counter, filled the room with soft jazz. That was one of the perks of living in Midway. Access to technology, and no need to worry about loud noises alerting a predator.

Of course, because the universe seemed to be dissatisfied when Silas felt peaceful, the door then opened, jolting him awake, and he looked up to see the shark from a few days ago swim in.

They locked eyes. It took a moment or two for that spark of recognition to appear, then the green haired mer backed and coiled his tail defensively.

Silas slid his tongue across his teeth and leaned over to turn off the radio with a sharp 'click'.

A heavy silence settled over them, and the other mer swallowed, fins flaring nervously. Their hands twitched at their sides, and they glanced between Silas and the door like a scared guppy.

Silas tilted his head to the side and tapped his claws against the counter. Loudly. Deliberately. When the other looked his way, he fixed a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks to his face.

"How can I help you, city boy?"

The other mer gaped at him. "What?"

"I'm assuming you're here to buy something. Or... do you want to try steal from me again? You're not doing a very job if you are."

Turquoise eyes narrowed, and a growl left clenched teeth. "No- No, sir, I don't want any trouble. And I'm not a boy, I'm 29! I just want some fish."

Huh. Same age as Silas. And suddenly, so very polite.

"I'm going to guess... the yellowfin tuna?" Silas asked, lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Yes. Thre- ah, four, please."

Silas set about packaging the order, and his movements were weary and practiced. The two of them eyed each other's every move, calculated and cautious, ready to attack if the need arose.

Silas handed the bundle of fish over, silently observing the way the other flinched at both the sudden movement and the pain of their injuries.

"That'll be 30 madol."

"Only 30? Wow... that's cheap!" The other mer exclaimed, fishing the coins out of his satchel and placing them on the desk.

Silas slid them towards himself and counted them, then packed them away and smiled again.

"Enjoy. If you have any complaints, please lodge them with me."

A nervous laugh echoed throughout the room. "Haha- uh, sure. Thank you, Mister..?"

"Silas." Said Silas.

"Silas... what?"

"Silas." Silas repeated, glaring.

The other mer raised their hands defensively and laughed again.

"Easy there, lionfish, I was just asking. I'm Morrigan. Morrigan Clearcove."

Silas' silence made their awkward smile drop slightly.

"Okay, not very chatty. That's fine. I'll... I'll be going then. Thank you for the fish. And... sorry about your hunt."

Morrigan bolted out the door in a blur of bubbles, leaving silence to ponder over the new friendly attitude.

"What a strange man."

Morrigan became a frequent customer after that. I later came to learn that his family had heard about my business and figured it could be better than hiring hunters, so they sent him down to buy some tuna to give it a try.

Naturally, Morrigan figured he'd save money and just hunt them himself instead.

"They were right there!" He told me once. "I just figured it'd be easier and cheaper, even if I get into trouble for it."

Of course, he was wrong, and he returned home with not only bruised ego and a bruised body, nut with no fish either. He spent a few days recovering (and getting chewed out) and then came back to actually buy from me instead.

His parents liked the tuna (and the price, of course) so much they decided to send him once a week buy a week's work of fish or crab or whatever else they wanted from me.

I wondered why they didn't just do it themselves, and Morrigan informed me that they have never left the city and never plan to. He, on the other hand, has wandered off many times throughout his childhood until his adulthood, and they figured they'd but his "recklessness" to good use.

And so, Morrigan came to my shop in the early evenings on the weekend, unable to come any other time due to his job.

He was a teacher. He taught at a magic academy for gifted children and was very passionate about his job. I remember him telling me that he didn't want his young students, the ones labelled as "gifted," to suffer the stress that he did as a child, a teenager, and even as an adult.

It was so sweet of him, really. I remember being surprised to learn that of him. And, to be honest, concerned for his content at wearing his heart on his sleeve as he did.

It took a long time for the distrust we felt for one another to fade. Morrigan had the impression I was secretly planning to eat him, and I had the impression he was going to try stealing from me again.

But, as the months came and went, we got used to each other. We became less weary, less guarded. The metaphorical ice began to break, and our interactions became more familiar.

Morrigan was the one who started making casual conversation. Asking me about my day, my hunts, or how my grandfather was, smiling at me and greeting me cheerily.

It was... odd. I thought he was trying to butter me up or something at first, but no, he was quite genuine.

There were a few times when we pissed each other off and got into a tussle, but it was child's play, really. There was no real intent to harm like before. I didn't want to lose a customer, and Morrigan didn't want to lose a supply of cheap but high-quality food.

I think the real "ice breaker" between us was when, due to a mix of my boredom and Morrigan's high strung energy, we turned Morrigan's visits into a little game.

I'm not too sure when it started, but I remember suggesting to Morrigan that he learn to improve his stealth, as he was quite horrible at it.

He, rather offended, told me that he could snatch a fish from right under my nose if he wanted to, and that the reason he failed during our first encounter was because he didn't know I was there.

I then told him that he could try if he wanted, and I'd even let him take whatever he stole for free (only one item, of course), and really, the cost was some free entertainment for myself and an opportunity to hone my perception.

It was quite fun, really, and I enjoyed myself every time we played this little game. It became a routine thing. My grandfather teased me endlessly about this, telling me he was glad I made a friend, even if it was in such an unexpected manner.

Friend. 'Ridiculous.' I had thought to myself. 'Friends? We aren't friends. I don't have time for that, and certainly not for someone from the city.'

Though I suppose that's what we were. Not close friends, not yet, but not acquaintances either. Acquaintances don't play games together.

It may seem childish, playing games at 29 like children, but it was the first time I had ever experienced something like that. Something fun. I would later learn that this (aside from that botched hunt) was the closest Morrigan had ever come to experiencing a hunt. We were both experiencing new things.

We carried on like this for a number of years, and the game evolved , developing rules and excpetions a d everything. It left us excited and anticipating the next visit, and it was a simple routine neither of us tired of.

Every weekend, Morrigan would sneak into my shop using magic or whatever other method he chose and attempt to steal one of my wares, and I would try to catch him out. If I caught him before he could take anything, he lost and would have to pay for what he wanted to steal. If I caught him as he was taking something, I was free to tackle him and wrestle back what he stole.

Sometimes, when I pinned him down, he would turn the tables and flip me over if he was in the mood. We would continue like this until one of us gave in and lost.

If he stole from me successfully, which was rare, then he would get to keep the fish for free and get gloating rights until we repeated the game next week.

I wouldn't admit it to myself at the time, but after a few years, the beating of my heart and rushing of my blood when I sensed Morrigan's presence was no longer because of my adrenaline spiking at his potential theft. No, it was... it was quite certainly something else.

Anyway, when our game finished, sometimes Morrigan would stay a while to talk to me, telling me about his students or what new spells he had mastered. He was one of those people who were easy to talk to and nice to listen to, and the conversation would flow into the late hours of the night, well beyond my closing time, with only the radio to accompany us.

I often found myself lost in his voice and his eyes, quite happy to keep listening to him forever. It sounds so cheesy and cliche, but it's true. Morrigan was... absolutely wonderful in every way.

Then, when we realised how late it had gotten, we'd say our goodbyes, and I'd tell him that if he had any complaints, to please lodge them with me. He would smile, wink, and say, "I'll let you know if anyone comes down with food poisoning," and then vanish into the night.

One day, the routine changed. Just a little bit. It should've been inconsequential, really, but it changed so much for me and for him.

"You should go." Silas said, glancing outside. "It's late. You'll get into trouble again."

Morrigan's parents had a very specific time frame by which they wanted their fish delivered, and Morrigan utterly missed the mark every single weekend.

Morrigan grinned. "No need to worry about me, Silas, I'll think of something to tell them."

Silas sent him a deadpan look. "I think 'I got slowed down by the undertow' loses its impact a little more every time you say it."

"It's a perfectly valid excuse!" Morrigan exclaimed. "It's not like they know what the undertow is like out here. The only information they ever get about this place is whatever their brave son who gets their food from the scary shopkeeper tells them."

Silas' lips curled. "Why, Mister Clearcove, you flatter me." He mocked, putting on an upper-class accent.

Morrigan failed to hide a laugh. "Seven, you sound just like my old alchemy professor. It's great, actually."

"Who? The human?" Silas asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't understand why you liked him so much. He sounds irritating."

"He's spontaneous!" Morrigan insisted. "And he's part of why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place. You'd understand if you went to Night Raven. Why didn't you go? We could've been classmates."

Silas furrowed his brows, unsure of how to answer. His reason for rejecting his letter in the first place seemed to be wrong. Morrigan was the exact same species as him and had extremely poorly restrained violent tendencies as a teen to boot.

"The amount of fights I got into in Savanaclaw was ridiculous, in hindsight." Morrigan would say. "I was free to do my own thing without my parents and society, I guess, breathing down my neck. I went off the rails a bit, but I righted myself in my third year. Mostly. I think I bit someone at some point..."

And yet, Morrigan had not been speared on a harpoon. He had not been killed before he could sprout legs. He went on land, studied at Night Raven College, and became a teacher.

Then again, he was from Atlanta. He attended nice schools before Night Raven, unlike Silas, who had no formal education at all and was lucky Lady Roda taught him how to read and do math, among some other things, before he started up his business properly.

Silas sighed. "It's too much to get into now , Morrigan." He said softly. "You should get going. ...It would've been nice to be your classmate, I suppose."

"For sure." Morrigan agreed, grinning toothily. "Y'know, I think you'd have been an Octavinelle student. Bet you would have been running that place within a week."

"How kind of you." Silas murmured, half smiling. "Now come on, shoo. You need to get going."

"Alright, fiiine." Morrigan drawled, getting up and swimming towards the door. "I'll get out of your scales. See you next week, Silas."

"See you next week." Silas echoed, sending a crooked grin his way. "And remember, if you have any complaints, please lodge them with me."

And this was it. This was where the routine was broken. Morrigan was meant to say, "I'll let you know if anyone comes down with food poisoning," and then leave. That's how it always went.

But he didn't. Instead, he paused at the doorway and didn't answer for a while. Then, he turned his head to smirk at Silas.

"Now why would I complain about good food made by a pretty guy with a sharp mind and a clever tongue?" He asked, then disappeared into the night before Silas could respond.

Silas sighed and ran hand down his face, feeling the thumping in his heart as he thought back to that night. That night that had changed the course of their relationship.

Oh... he felt so tired... he should probably go lie down before continuing. Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

...........................................

Guide: Start, Prev, Next

A/N: I hope ya'll enjoyed the second and final part of part 3 and the Morrigan lore! I had so much fun writing this teehee

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @the-banana-0verlord @officialdaydreamer00 @cyanide-latte @kitwasnothere @theleechyskrunkly @boopshoops @ramshacklerumble @elenauaurs @cynthinesia

#silas clearcove #morrigan clearcove #twisted wonderland #twst oc #writing

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love-toxin · 2 years

Note

The Quarry had such potential to be amazing, they had some great characters but the plot wasn't great. The ending felt so pathetic. We go into the woods all dramatic like and end up just shooting silas in his bed. And that's it. No group emotional group meet up, no finding out what happens when they all find out who loved and who died, the police interviews in Until Dawn were great. The podcast at the end of the Quarry was so boring!

On the plus side really really want to get railed in a jealous Nick and Jacob sandwich. Even better if they've just been infected and can't control themselves. Both of them tugging and manhandling you around as they rip at your clothes, ignoring your tears but both moaning when you whimper, as they both desperately try to get their cock in you first

(major ending spoilers!! also me being down horrendous LOL)

RIGHT??? like the absolute worst thing you could do for a game like this is to not focus the conclusion on the characters we actually care about. i haven't seen anyone that actually liked the podcast, and why would you categorize the evidence you find as being evidence to give to the police, and then never even give it to them? it's just given to two randos that we never meet or see once! and i agree, the whole silas ending was so weak. and is it just me or was the whole werewolf blood thing totally useless? like maybe I've only seen endings where they haven't gotten a hold of it but it seems like it doesn't even do anything so it makes no difference whether you give it to ryan or laura. plus the fact that the only real difference is that you kill off three of the characters if you spare silas and eliza is STILL pissed off at you no matter what you do, like it would've been so much more psychologically horrifying if she actually praised you for sparing him and made it feel like killing off the characters you've grown to like and have kept alive was the right thing to do. still wouldn't have been a great ending but it would have been better than what we got. alas.

HOWEVER. more importantly. pre-werewolf jacob/nick sandwich......god i wanna eiffel tower them so bad 🥵🥵 especially bc nick is proven to be abominably horny in his pre-transformation stage, while jacob shows how insecure he really is, and both extremes are a recipe for hot, hot, jealousy sex. nick is so possessive and greedy and wants as much of you as he can grab, while jacob is clingy and needy and desperate to be as close to you as he possibly can because he needs to feel you against him. even better if they both had crushes on you beforehand, because now they're truly rivals, and not just for their beloved pb butterpops. both of them just fondling you out in the open and so territorial over you that you can feel the heat from borh sides, your cries totally drowned out by jacob kissing you, loudly, and nick mumbling absolutely foul comments in your ear about your body and how he's gonna fuck you like he's been fantasizing about doing since the first day of camp. and you don't even have a moment to say anything about being out in the open, they don't care about stripping you naked in the middle of the forest, nobody is gonna come near when they smell (and hear) two werewolves descending on some poor little human. all they care about is warming their cocks inside you, whether they can both fit or one of them has to take up residence in your mouth. it's even scarier but also kind of hot when their eyes start turning dark and their nails dig into you when they cum, and when they finally break off of you you know that you just have to run. stumble through the woods like a newborn calf with cum-soaked legs and a bitter taste in your mouth, just hoping that you can make it back to the lodge and your friends and hurry inside--you don't yet know what's happening, but the pained screams followed immediately by howling from behind you certainly can't be a sign of anything good.

#the quarry #jacob custos #nick furcillo #jacob custos x reader #nick furcillo x reader #anons

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insertlovelyperson · 5 months

Note

I know we all talk a lot about missed opportunities in The Quarry. If you could make three specific changes (new paths, relationship tweaks, game mechanics, whatever, added or adjusted dialogue, whatever) to make it a better game and narrative, what would they be?

There’s soooo much other than what I said in my last post, (I know you said top three 😩 but I hold all these equal):

1- Nick’s infection status being determinant. Dude really drew the short stick in terms of screen time (maybe not the shortest but pretty close) because he’s taken out of the story so soon. I would really have liked to have the infection in chapter 3 alternate between Abi and Nick depending on your choices. Like maybe when they’re talking in the woods and they hear the werewolf, you are given the option as Abi to either ‘run’ or ‘don’t move’ (with maybe a bit of dialogue before to muddy the choices “Is it a bear? Does that mean we should play dead?”), and if you ‘run,’ Abi gets infected instead of Nick. I would also just like… more of the counselors to turn in general?? The only ones that don’t are Abi, Ryan, and Kaitlyn… but I really wished we’d gotten that.

2- Have all the counselors act ‘negatively’ while they’re turning. We obviously get this with Nick (+Emma and Jacob to an extent), but I wish the game fully capitalized on the opportunity to make the other counselors a little more ‘wolfy’ when they’re turning. Particularly Dylan, Laura, and Kaitlyn. First of all: it would’ve been cool if Laura’s infection status was determinate so the game could provide some contrast to how she acts when she’s turning verses when she isn’t. Maybe when she’s not infected, she doesn’t get the opportunity to choke out Jedidiah, and she has noticeably less hostile dialogue options (compared to the ones she could potentially get while not infected). With Dylan—if infected at the radio hut—he gets ‘bitter’ and ‘aggressive’ dialogue options on his way to the scrapyard with Kaitlyn. As is already in the game: the two of them are talking about Ryan. He’s literally conversing with the other leg of the game’s love triangle (who the player may have chosen to kiss instead of him), and he’s lamenting about the fact Ryan ran off with another girl around an hour ago. I don’t know—it just feels like a missed opportunity to not have the dialogue between the two change depending on infection status (while still keeping everything in his ‘exploding’ scene in the crane the same). With Kaitlyn… it’s a little harder because she can literally only get infected in the last rung of the game. Maybe make her dialogue a little more snappish toward Dylan, and give her more reckless choices when fighting Caleb (more opportunities to initiate combat without the silver shell).

3- The final confrontation with Silas should’ve been in the lodge. They should’ve had a way to get Laura, Ryan, and possibly Travis (they should’ve also provided an opportunity to kill him in Hackett House without killing Ryan or Laura) back to the lodge. And depending on the infection status of the surviving counselors, the fight with Silas is either helped or hindered. Were Dylan and Kaitlyn infected? Cool, now you’ve got Silas plus two other werewolves to deal with—and you might not want to kill these ones. Did they lock Caleb in the fridge instead of killing him? Awesome, now a werewolf Nick (and possibly Jacob) are also trying to kill you! I think they could also provide an opportunity to make the time of infection matter. For example: I think Dylan canonically takes the longest to turn after he’s bit (it’s like… 4 hours?). If you have him infected in the crane rather than the radio hut, maybe that makes the fight a little easier because you can use him as a ‘human shield’ (that sounds awful lol). Or maybe the game provides an opportunity for Kaitlyn and Dylan to get infected by Caleb before locking him in the freezer, and now you’ve got two human shields. And of course, the rest of the uninfected counselors get an opportunity to reconvene at the lodge before the fight starts, perhaps paying homage to the final scene in Until Dawn? Perhaps??

Honorable mentions:

Have Max able to survive his swim to shore

Kaitlyn going with Laura to Hackett house

All of the counselors are able to turn by the end of the game

Laura and Max reunion (without killing Ryan)

Actual payoff to the Kaitlyn/Ryan/Dylan love triangle

More Abi and Emma (just… in general. They kinda become a side characters in the second half of the game—wish they had more to do while Kaitlyn and Dylan are in the scrapyard—would be cool to see a route that has the both of them taking on Caleb assuming the game then provides the ability to kill off both Kaitlyn and Dylan in the scrapyard)

Have a way to have Kaitlyn choose between taking Dylan or Emma to the scrapyard with her

Let Kaitlyn choose whether or not she takes Abi to the scrapyard if Dylan is killed by a werewolf Emma

More angst from Ryan after killing Chris. It’s kinda built up to be this big emotional thing and then he’s completely fine after.

Let Jacob tag along through the Hackett house with Ryan and Laura

Chase scene out of the scrapyard playing as Kaitlyn if Dylan turns inside the crane

An actual ending. Fuck that podcast. Should've gone the Until Dawn route but instead of the police interviews, it's a trial. And at the end, you find out if they were found guilty or not (or if everyone's dead, then you get the podcast. As punishment.)

#the quarry #i wish they'd just taken a few more months to release this game ngl #i don't blame the writers #i think if given more time they absolutely would've polished this game more #but i will always lament what could've been

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aceometric · 1 year

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I think my favourite angst ending for Ryan is definitely the one where Dylan is still a werewolf at the end of the night because they didn't know about Silas.

Just think about it: the Hacketts are all dead. No more werewolves, no more hunters. Everyone should be safe. Assuming they survived the night.

Ryan gets back to the lodge with Laura and Max, all the other councilors have managed to gather there from their various happenings.

Except Dylan.

Last Kaitlyn saw him he was transforming in the scrapyard, maybe he's just further away than anyone. They wait out the night, hoping he'll show up but also planning how they'll search for him if he doesn't.

Dawn comes, they're gearing up to search, and a mostly naked Dylan comes stumbling out of the trees. Instant relief, he's alright. He made his way back.

Except... Dylan woke up on the roof of the radio hut. He wasn't making his way back for hours, he only just transformed back.

And it sinks in that whoever bit Dylan, it wasn't one of the Hacketts. He's still a werewolf.

And its awful for everyone. They though it was over, that this night was done and they could just get through the aftermath and more on with their lives.

But its even worse for Ryan. Because he's just thinking of that moment in the radio hut when Dylan begged him to amputate the bite, and he refused.

And now Dylan is going to be a werewolf for as long as it takes them to hunt down Silas, all because Ryan didn't trust Dylan's judgment.

(Dylan points out it wasn't a rational demand and Ryan had no reason to think it was necessary. But it doesn't help Ryan's guilt)

#the quarry #ryan erzahler #dylan lenivy #rylan

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drylan · 2 years

Photo

A Full Moon’s Night | Sequel: Wintery Woof

Ship: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Ezraheler

Tags: Post-Canon, Werewolf!Dylan, Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, Getting Together, Kissing, Past Character Deaths, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort, Survivor’s Guilt

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Dylan and Ryan are the only survivors left from that dreaded night at Hackett’s Quarry. Unfortunately, Travis Hackett failed to inform Ryan of the existence of Silas before he was murdered by werewolf Laura. With Silas still alive and missing, Dylan remains infected, but Ryan refuses to leave him suffering in solitude. With an upcoming full moon, the now-abandoned Hackett’s Quarry becomes their haven.

“Home again home again, jiggity jig.” Dylan muttered to himself as the slightly dilapidated lodge came into view. The police tape from a month ago hung loosely on seemingly random spots of the lodge. A case gone cold. Lives gone but not forgotten. Regrets had. Pain to follow.

“Yeah, guess so...” Ryan parked the small rust bucket of a Jeep where the van once sat, primed for the camp counselors to go on their way just a month ago. The police had long since towed it away. “We have about 7 hours before the sun sets, so...”

“Right.” Dylan sighed, turning off the easy listening playlist that had accompanied their journey thus far to help Ryan bring their bags into the lodge. No bother in trying with the cabins. The lodge was sturdier and more central anyways.

They didn’t bring much, mostly supplies to keep Ryan protected, non-perishable food, tracking gear, and sleeping bags. Well, there was really only a need to have one for Ryan, but Dylan appreciated the fact they packed a second one. Like it was just a little forest camp getaway for them, like Dylan was still human.

That thought was completely discarded as Dylan pulled a couple of small vials out of one of the bags from where they had set up in the lodge. Effortlessly, he uncapped the tops and sliced across his hand with a small, non-silver, hunting knife. The blood flew easily and he barely registered the pain. It would be cool, being so impervious, if he didn’t feel like a fucking monster and like he didn’t deserve his life.

“Three glasses of freshly squeezed werewolf juice, as promised.” He gave a lopsided grin as he passed the full vials to Ryan, who made a face.

“Gross, but, yeah, thanks. Your hand. Uh, it’s okay?” Ryan pointed towards his bloody palm.

“Yeah, yeah, already mostly healed.” Dylan tried his best not to remind himself or Ryan about the state of what he was, but with the full moon so close, all pretense was pretty much out of the window. “You said...7 hours before the moon, right?”

“Uh, 6 and a half now...”

“Right, right...” Dylan paused, nibbling into his bottom lip for a moment. “...that’s more than enough time for you to get to the Harbinger Motel, right?”

“Dylan, no-”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t matter. Look, man, we already talked about this!” The frustration was clear in his voice as the volume rose, Dylan’s increasingly sensitive ears twinged. It must have shown, as Ryan’s next words were quieter, gentler. “I’m not gonna leave you alone to deal with this. I’m not gonna do that.”

“Okay...” Dylan breathed out, decidedly not okay, but knew that nothing could convince Ryan to change his mind when he was this insistent. But still, the thought of hurting Ryan, after they both lost everyone. And it being Dylan’s own fault. It was terrifying to think of .”...just...I just don’t want to lose you, too. Like, I don’t wanna go all wolf on your face, okay? That’s-”

“You won’t.” Ryan insisted as he looped the tracker collar around Dylan’s neck. It synced up to a satellite, handheld GPS, the only type of tracking equipment that would work out here. It was normally used for hunters in the country who hunted with tracker dogs. They just hoped it worked for werewolves, too.

It felt a little too good against Dylan’s neck. Wow, he really hoped this wasn’t awakening anything in him. “How do you know that?”

“Did you kill anyone last month when you turned?”

“What? N-No...” Dylan faltered. He hadn’t, to his own surprise. He last conscious memory had been Kaitlyn running away from him. It was for naught, in some ways, though, because she and Caleb had managed to kill each other later that night.

“And where did I find you in the morning after?”

“Um, laying next to a pond...”

“Exactly.” Ryan said, as if that explained everything and apparently Dylan’s confused expression was enough to prompt him to continue his explanation. “Listen, you didn’t kill Kaitlyn at the scrapyard, even though she was right there when you turned. You were well within running distance of people, you could smell and find victims if you wanted to. But something, even in that wolf-y brain of yours, drew you to a body of water. Towards pain. To keep other people safe.”

“So, you’re saying I’m bad at being a werewolf?” Dylan teased, hands on his hips.

Ryan snorted. “Yeah, you’re an awful werewolf. More like a sniffling poodle dog.”

“Ugh,” Dylan flopped down onto his sleeping bag and rummaged into another bag to begin nibbling on some chips. “...you know I’m a cat person.”

“Yeah, I know, and you’ll be able to see Toffee after we’re done here.” Ryan’s voice was soft then and it made something warm bubble up in Dylan’s chest. Ryan was definitely a dog person, but he had gotten a soft spot for that little ginger cat that Dylan held so dear.

He still casually flirted with Ryan since that night, but as the moon got closer, he had become more reserved within himself. Dylan prided himself on his self control. As much as he joked, he worked well with logic and under pressure, because he could always laugh things off or think things through on a technical level and make good decisions. But if he lost that control, became a monster...well, he didn’t want to think about it.

“Hey, chin up...” Ryan snapped Dylan from his thoughts as he flopped down next to him and buried his hand into the open bag, stealing a healthy handful of chips. “...after we get through tonight, which we will,, maybe we can make us official. Maybe...I’ll let you take me on that date.”

“W-Wha...wait, really?” Official, like boyfriends? Holy shit!

“Unless you didn’t mean it-”

“No, no, I totally did. I mean, I do! I just...wow.” Dylan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did he somehow already turn and been taken out be a stray silver bullet or something?

Between bites of chips, Ryan grinned, clearly pleased to have left the normally overly talkative Dylan speechless. “Yeah, so, I expect my date, you, to get through the night fine.”

“Aye-aye captain.”

After that, things got a little bit easier, calmer, between them both. They shot the shit, flirted openly, and once the alarm on Ryan’s phone went off to let them know it was an hour and a half before the sun completely set, Dylan felt far better about this whole thing that he thought he would.

Ryan drove him out to the middle of the woods, away from the main road and lodge, but not so far that it was outside Hackett territory. While Dylan stripped down to nothing but his briefs and tracking collar, Ryan wiped his face down with Dylan’s blood.

Dylan could feel something lurch inside of him, leaning in close and sniffling at the other boy, before he caught himself and pulled back. “S-Sorry, you just...I smell good on you.”

“Yeah, you do.” In actuality, Ryan couldn’t smell himself and Dylan’s blood smelled like iron tainted with putrid wet dog. But he knew Dylan’s nerves were at an all time high and flirting with his now new boyfriend was a good distraction. “Remember the date, okay, wolf boy?”

“Date. Right. Movies. Or dinner? Hmm, maybe a picnic, or-or-” Ryan cut Dylan off with a soft, closed mouth kiss, Dylan’s own blood, mixed with Ryan’s sweat and scent, smeared across his face. “Or...whatever you want. F-For the date, I mean.”

“Whatever I want, huh? I think I like the sound of that...” Ryan nodded and then his phone chimed again. Half an hour left. Just enough time to get safely back to the lodge. “Be careful, okay?”

“Yeah...you too.” Dylan waved goodbye, feeling a bit goofy about the fact Ryan, a human, had not reassure him, a nearly indestructible creature. Not long after, as the sky darkened, he felt his body shake and tremble. He fell to his knees and his last conscious thought was the press of Ryan’s lips to his own, the other boy’s scent, before he shed his flesh and howled to the moon.

Farther away, in the safety of the boarded up lodge, Ryan crawled into his sleeping bag. Soon, howls echoed in the distance. Dylan. It was strange, how easily Ryan recognized that it was him. But he knew it was and the howl it...it didn’t fill him with fear or terror like all the howls of that night a month ago. No, it almost sounded fond, protective, kind. As much as a beast can sound kind, he figured.

As he began to settle in for the night, he let his were-boyfriend’s howl lull him to sleep.

🌙

In the morning, Dylan woke to find himself curled up into ball on one of the various piers around the camp. He was proud of his wolf self, who had picked an area far away from lodge or the main road, right near open water. He stretched and yawned, nearly jumping when he felt a gentle hand brush back his hair, but soon relaxed. “Ryan...” So, the tracker did work.

“Rise and shine, sunshine.” Ryan hummed and Dylan grinned in response, smile as bright as the shining sun. Or, maybe more appropriately, bright like a shiny, full moon.

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