Fleeing, running. His breath comes out more ragged by the second.Â
Use the trident.Â
Throw the ender pearl.Â
Don't breathe, not yet.
The thrill of the chase seeps into his bones. Anxiety on his heels. Head north - NO south! West maybe. It doesn't matter, the ender pearl lands. Water fills his vision. The sudden pressure change almost forces the air out of his lungs. Stop! - Don't. Breathe. In.Â
The Sediment at the bottom of the ocean is deep and sticky in the way only wet silt and loam can be. Take out the trident, throw the ender pearl. A distant rocket announces the Poe's presence. Moving closer, faster and faster and faster and - the enderpearl hits. Still ocean. Good he needs all the cover he can get.Â
Think, Joe, think.
He crouches down, wet sediment clinging to the felt of his body. It's a good time to be blue. A nearby cove finally provides some cover from his pursuers overhead. Crouch, stay hidden, stay safe. He hears the Poe shouting from overhead. The words get swallowed by the waves. They sound - frustrated? Maybe? It's more important to stay down, he so desperately needs a moment of respite. Then finally over the fading sounds of rockets; the Poe pick a direction and simply fly off, simply miss him, squatting in his small alcove and joe? Joe nearly drowns himself in the relief of their mistake.Â
Breaking the surface, he finally takes a breath. Okay, one step at a time. Take a look around, what do you see? Ocean, but wait - a sliver of land to the northwest. He reaches to check his coordinates, after all where there are hermits, there are portals. Heavy limbs, soaked with water, rejoice at the thought of the nether. Warm and dry and faster. The weight of hundreds of eyes follow his hand as he reaches for his own location - Stop! No coordinates, it's not safe, who knows who will see. It's a reflex of calmer time. How could he forget?
Breathe, Joe, breathe.Â
There is truly no time to relax. After all things need to get done, need to be moved along. There is so much he has yet to even begin doing. He regrets not being more prepared. He should have been more prepared. What was he thinking not preparing more! He should have known! He should have - No, stop, no use in catastrophizing. He couldn't have known. He couldnât have known that they would bleed him out, death after death after death. Less and less resources and even less allies. How long has Jev been gone? He remembers the exact day they got Ren and Cleo. Gods, he misses Cleo. He can almost hear their voice, taunting the Poe, across the nether roof. Coming closer every second, one block then another and another. Steadily and surely. He gives the thought a smile. Either way Joe likes to think that heâs the resilient type; sown of thick fabric; strings of fate guiding his every movement. So he stops and breathes and continues on. After all he has things to do! 4 - 7 - 8
Persevere, Joe, Persevere.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Also on AO3:
Persevere, Joe, Preserve (522 words) by Malereieiei
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Aziraphale, Crowley, Herschel of Ostropol, Chanukah, and a story...
Sooo there's no way I can think of (and I have been thinking on this a lot) that this post isn't going to be a little bit awkward, but it's going to exist anyway.
A year ago, in 2022, I saw this post from 2021 by @anonymousdandelion on Aziraphale and Crowley meeting Herschel of Ostropol (protagonist of Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins, a Jewish children's book, as well as a Jewish folkloric figure).
Then, a) being Jewish and Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins being a fondly remembered book from my childhood, b) someone who enjoys Good Omens, c) also a fic writer and, d) the idea being adoptable, I started to write a story.
(and okay, it's taken me roughly a year to give it a solid shape (long story short that's less to do with the story itself and more to do with me figuring some things out about what and who I want to write for, but I digress), but the fic itself very much exists now.)
I planned to have the full Chapter 1 done in time for Chanukah this year. Due to life in general being pretty chaotic, that hasn't happened. Instead, under the read more is a preview (the first scene of chapter 1), because I still wanted to post some part of it for the holiday.
Some Fic Notes:
-This story is, arguably, two stories intertwined. One that takes place in the 'present day' (though before the Apocalypse, etc.), and one that takes place during the Herschel story.
-It will largely follow the perspective of and by driven by OCs. Though, Aziraphale and Crowley will have a strong presence and influence, it didn't feel like it was their story to tell.
-It is written with two base structural rules in mind;
Aziraphale and Crowley had a hand in the stories of Herschel of Ostropol being remembered. The original kernel this fic was built around and expanded from was answering the question of how that happens.
There can be absolutely no interference in Herschel's story happening in the synagogue (i.e. the narrative of the children's book cannot be altered). Though, that doesn't necessarily mean Herschel is prevented from appearing in the story ;)
Story Preview Beneath The Cut
Generally speaking, the old bookshop is almost always closed.
If one, however, is in ownership of a decent set of lock picks, they may find it otherwise.
For what itâs worth, Tziporah (Tzi to her close friends, Nora to most everyone else at school, and young lady to almost all adultsâincluding her parents, Bubbie, aunties and uncles, and the odd, inconvenient passerbyâall whoâve caught her getting into trouble), most of the time, does her best to not use her lock picks. Itâs justâŚitâsâŚ
Itâs like this, alright?
Tzi was born into a family with a long, long, long tradition of bookbinding. The kind that historians sometimes visit to ask stuffy questions about. The kind that causes librarians to visit requesting restorations of aging tomes. The kind that means their home has a dedicated workshop full of fairly ancient machinery that no one outside of the family knows how to use. Of course, there are other bookbinders in the world who would certainly recognize and understand the functionality of the more modern pieces of equipment Tziâs family has. They just wonât recognize all of what they use. Not the Family bits.
The point being, when you grow up in such a setting, you tend to learn certain things. The store names and locations of almost every bookshop dealing in antique or rare books fairly close by, for instance. Also, a lot of the owners become familiar faces (or have been since before Tzi could remember). As the future of the Family Tradition, itâs only natural that she should accompany whomever is doing the deliveries or house calls regularly.
Thus, when you have this knowledge and you can be an Extremely Trustworthy Child (sure, Tzi may cause trouble regularly, but some things (like books, itâs books) are far too precious not to be Extremely Careful about), youâre, more often than naught, allowed to explore such bookshops, and read to your heartâs content.
And if youâre Tzi and youâre allowed to come along on a visit to The Bookshop That Youâre Family Rarely Does Business With Because Their Books Are Almost Always In Unexplainable, Impeccable Condition, youâre going to want to read something (and you inevitably will).
The problem of course becomes, if you happen to be Tzi, and your mother, or father or whomever finishes up the Official Business rather quickly, you donât have enough time to finish whatever it is youâre reading. And it being The Bookshop That Youâre Family Rarely Does Business With Because Their Books Are Almost Always In Unexplainable, Impeccable Condition, you know you probably wonât have the opportunity to come back. At least not on an official bookbinding-related visit. Not for a Long While.
First, youâll try coming back during regular business hours, as you have for many a bookshop previously.
Except, this bookshop doesnât seem to have regular business hours.
So, given the story you were reading has been buzzing around your head for days, you come up with an alternate method.
Tzi isnât going to take anything of course! Sheâs going to be extremely careful. She just wants to finish the story.
No one will ever know she was even there!
Except the giant snake waiting for her on the other side of the door.
If Tzi didnât regularly inhabit spaces full of delicate books in need of repair or the equally delicate tools used to repair them, she would have jumped. As it stands, she finagles the lock open, slips in through the door quietly, turns around to the face the bookshop proper, and and a yelp almost escapes her lips.
The snake, black as ink and with scales bigger than Tziâs thumb, regards her coolly with brilliant golden eyes. She stares back, hyperventilating at first, but as the seconds pass and nothing happens, her breathing evens out.
âYou arenât going to eat me, are you?â Tzi asks the snake.
The snakeâs tongue flicks out and back. It doesnât say anything, or stop gazing at her for that matter.
Tzi studies the snake with more scrutiny. âI donât suppose you could. I mean, of course I know snakes can unhinge their jaws and all, but even if you did, you look like you arenât big enough to fit more than my arm in your mouth, and then what would you do? Youâd be stuck hanging off my shoulder.â
Thereâs a long beat where it seems theyâre both considering this possibility (in truth, only Tzi is, in a âwalking into school with a giant snake hanging off my arm would be really coolâ kind of way. The giant snake, for what itâs worth, is feeling mildly insulted by the implication that heâd try to eat her).
âWell,â Tzi finally says. âI did plan for this.â
Technically speaking, she only sort of planned for this. Tzi had been skeptical of the rumored sightings of a (pet?) snake in this particular bookshop when she first heard them. More so after she visited for the first time and no such snake could be located. Regardless, when One Is Determined To Finish The Book She Was Reading, One Has To Prepare For As Many Possibilities As Possible. So, Tzi had hardboiled a few eggs (because an article she read once said snakes like to eat eggs) and put them in a tupperware and put that tupperware in her bag before she left home an hour ago.
Tzi takes the egg tupperware out of her bag now and shows it to the snake. âWould you like one? Theyâre tastier than me, I promise.â
The snake turns its head slightly down to look at the eggs in their unassuming plastic container, and then turns back to gaze at Tzi again.
Itâs at this moment that Tzi remembers the article sheâd read had been about foxes, not snakes, and that she may have just insulted this particular snake (since snakes lay eggs, right? Tzi is fairly certain of that fact, but all snake facts she knows seem to have taken her seeking them as an impromptu game of Hide and Seek in her mind and they are hiding Very Well).
Tzi gulps (and briefly considers pretending one of the eggs is a stone and crushing it as a show of strength to intimidate the snake, but he can clearly see theyâre eggs so that probably wonât work).
In the end, Tziâs desire to just find the book she wants to read already, reinforced by the snake not doing much beyond staring at the eggs, wins out.
(For what itâs worth, when the snake in question has confronted intruders into the bookstore in the past, the intruders have usually taken more aggressive approaches to him. Eggs in a plastic container gifted by a girl who clearly isnât going to run screaming at the sight of him is certainly New, and heâs not going to be given enough time to fully figure out how to respond).
Tzi places the egg tupperware down on the floor in front of the snake and snaps off the lid. âSoooâŚâ She draws the word out. âIâm going to go read.â She tentatively sidesteps away from the snake. When he doesnât react, she goes to hurry off, stops herself, turns back, takes a deep breath, and âYouârewelcometojoinmeifyoulike!â tumbles from her mouth.
Without waiting for a response, Tzi darts through the chaotically organized bookshelves of the shop until she finds the one holding the book sheâs after. Gingerly she plucks it off its shelf and, after memorizing its place so she can return it to exactly there, sets off for a comfortable place to sit and read.
All the while, the snake slithers after her.
After a couple minutes of fruitlessly trying to find a seat, the snake bumps its snout into Tziâs shoulder and, when she looks at it, points her in the direction of a comfy-looking armchair that, hidden in the shadows as it is, previously escaped her notice.
Once settled, Tzi gently opens the book, finds the place she left off, and begins to read.
Itâs well into the evening, after the traveler who called himself Herschel had gone up to the old synagogue, that two more visitors arrived in our small townâŚ
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The story goes like this,
Herschel of Ostropol traveled to a town beset by goblins and, with his wits and wiles, broke the hold the goblins had over the town.
It is a story well-loved and fondly remembered. That is certainly not in question.
What is is how it came to be told and who did the telling?
To answer, we look to the town itself, to its people (to perhaps two more strangers who arrived around the same time as Herschel) and their stories, both told and untold.
And to many, many years later, when a girl who comes from a family with a long, long tradition of bookbinding sneaks into a bookshop to finish a story.
Finally presenting the first chapter of the story I shared a preview of in this post. In short, Aziraphale and Crowley meet Herschel of Ostropol. Told, mostly, from the perspective of those who were also there.
( @anonymousdandelion tagging you again for the full fic)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Today in places you don't expect to return to, and the fics there that are slightly less dead than expected.
Since it's been a hot minute and a blog shift, here's the fic summary:
Once accepted into Beacon Academy, Ruby never thought anything could get in the way of her training to become a Huntress. Then mysterious forces attacked, Beacon fell, and she wakes up to find the Atlas Military has kidnapped her (and declared her dead to the world) under the guise of keeping her and her silver eyes safe.
Now Ruby, alongside Penny, who is similarly assumed-dead-but-not-really by the world, fights to define what it means to have legendary magical powers and protect Atlas and Mantle from the forces, both inside and out, that could destroy them, and all of Remnant.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
During infancy, a human will learn the basic skills of operating in an unfamiliar world. Eventually, everything from walking to talking to comprehension of what their senses are telling them will come naturally.
A supernatural entity, separated from the mind brimming with memories that gave him frame of reference, a body to be passenger in, and positioned as an adult, who finds himself in control of a vessel empty but for himself will find himself posed against challenges not unlike those young children face exploring the world for the first time.
Figuring things out will take time, but at least heâs got help, right?
It appears I am now writing a Malevolent fic
Admittedly it was supposed to be a longer one shot but breaking it into chapters with a few short scenes each makes it easier to handle
Peridot and Lapis introduce Bismuth to the idea of meep morps. A series of short scenes.
AO3 link here
Previous
Before Bismuth or Lapis could do anything, Peridot rushed forward into the heart of the Forge once Bismuth got the final door open. Â Neither of the two gems hurried after her until they heard a loud, rather concerning THUD.
Lapisâs gem glowed. Â Her water wings appeared. Â With a forceful wingbeat that blew both her and Bismuthâs hair, she rushed forward.
âPeridot?  Peridot, are you ok?  What happenedâŚ?â
âIâm fine.â Â Peridot struggled to get up out from under an anvil. Â âPerfectly fine.â Â She managed to tilt the anvil up on its side and almost scramble out from under it, but it came crashing back down before she could get out of the way. Â âOof.â Â She grunted. Â âIs this a weapon?â Â She asked Bismuth, who entered the forge moments after Lapis.
âNo.â Â Bismuth lifted the anvil up and moved it to the side so Peridot could escape. Â âItâs an anvil.â
Peridot stood and inspected herself. Â One had ran over the surface of her gem. Â âAre you sure? Â I can think of numerous potential scenarios where your anvil could be used as a weapon.â
âPeridot, you probably shouldnât have done that. Â We donât know what anything is in here. Â You could have gotten hurt.â Â Lapis approached Peridot and put a hand on her shoulder. Â Her fingers squeezed.
Peridot put her own hand atop Lapisâs. Â âIâm fine. Â See? Â Not even a scratch.â Â She showed her her gem. Â âYou donât have to worry.â Â She paused. Â âBut I see your point. Â I will be more careful.â
âThank you.â Â Lapis gave Peridot a small smile, which Peridot returned.
They both turned to Bismuth, who was pretending she wasnât paying them any mind. Â When she saw she had their attention, she grinned. Â âSo, whoâs ready to get down to bismuth?â
âHA! Â That was a joke! Â Lapis, she has jokes!â
âI have more than that.â Â Bismuth pulled the lever, which released lava into the workspace. Â âJust you watch.â
would it be weird if I took an idea that I initially used for fanfiction and instead used it for original content? Like I have this idea I really like of having two sapphic woman traveling cross-country because their respective lives suck and oneâs family may be homophobic and they decided they want to spend their lives free of all that shit while also being together. Also oneâs a painter and the other one a potter.
Like this has nothing to do really with the canon of Trollhunters, which is what I write fanfic for, and I only used it for 2 shippy scenes between two characters, but itâs an au since none of that actually happened in the show. Hell, the two characters barely even talk in the show.
So, in theory, I could just remove them from the equation, create two new characters and use those. Like the only thing thatâs actually TH canon that I utilize here are Barbâs interest in painting and Nomuraâs affiliation with pottery, which I think I can still use because those two characters arenât the only characters who can exist liking those things?
So, I could have:
-2 girlfriends who meet in college.
-One is in a more intense career path (Iâm gonna go with lawyer now) to please her family (who are homophobic jerkfaces), except she really just wants to be a painter.
-The other is into ceramics (and maybe has a troubled past? I need to think on that more).
-Ceramics girl convinces painter girl to run away with her and they travel cross country in a van they bought and try to sell their artwork. Various adventures ensue (brainstorming those/how this all functions).
-Iâd need names, physical descriptions, and character traits that are far removed from Barb and Nomura for the characters, but that shouldnât be all that hard to accomplish.
-since none of this actually happens in the show or is in any part of either Barb and Nomuraâs backstories, itâs already fairly removed from them. I just inserted them into a situation I created during a writing exercise, so I can just remove them, switch some things around, and get something unrelated to fanfic, I think?
-I could easily write their adventures in snippets, which would solve both my lack of original content issue and need for sapphic material.