u/betimdrawinsmut0_o

Hi, i'm writing a story about a 19 year old girl named Miranda and a 13 year old boy named Eddie.

Miranda is Eddie's older sister. She spent a single year in the safe zone's military program before a breach caused its collapse.

She has just forced Eddie to leave their allies behind in Montpelier as it floods with infected people dispersing from their fallen safe zone. She insists there is danger (which there is. 1, the hoard, but also their childhood friend/Eddie's surrogate big brother Owen is stalking Miranda for reasons we get into later)

But she can't/won't tell him

Eddie is a young boy with level 1 autism who is incredibly reliant on his parentified sister. Not to say he is inept at all. Eddie carries a burden throughout the early story feeling guilty because he knew a few days before the fall of the Safe zone that their mother had been infected while working and either due to fear or ego didn’t report it. Eddie neglected to inform Miranda who was basically a newhire cop at the time and is struggling with the potential consequences of his inaction.

Also, he's a kid

But that is where my problem lies

I'm writing both Miranda and Eddie as representations of neurodivergency inspired by mine and my friend's sibling dynamics as people with ADHD/Autism

This of course needing to fit somewhat cleanly into the situation

Anyway I've just been trying to write through some scenes and get an idea of these characters but I feel like Eddie just comes off as much younger than he is rather than being overwhelmed and Miranda might just come off as a bit of a b***h

Please be kind because this is literally the first draft of my first chapter-and-a-half but feedback on how these characters are coming across and how I can improve that perception would be deeply appreciated

I'm entirely self taught so I like to hear from people I don't know about what I might be missing sometimes

“Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

~ Ozymandias- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Chapter 1: The hand and the heart

“Ed!”

The call slipped through Miranda's teeth and into the morning wind before she could stop herself.

The grass on the outskirts of town had grown over the years, so tall it swallowed her legs and nearly consumed her brother. Its dried blades rustled loudly around them, swaying and bending with the rest of the words and obscuring them.

Eddie paused.

The wild brown curls on top of his head twirled in the air. They obscured him, shading the soft remnants of a child’s face.

He turned to the sound of his name, slow, mechanical.

His doe eyes looked… wrong, narrowed into cold, dark slits. They analyzed her, scanning her face and down, and landing on the black duffel bag hanging from her fingers.

The humming of the air in her ears filled the stretch of silence.

An ache rippled through her arm, reminding her of her body's existence.

Glass jars clattered as she laid the bag at her feet.

“Don’t walk so far ahead of me,” Miranda groaned, rubbing small circles into her stiff shoulder.

Her brother deflated with a huff.

She could just feel him rolling his eyes.

Small, hot sparks ignited in the pit of her chest.

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

Eddie glared at her, then past her to the trees, then past them, to0. He could see the city peaking over her shoulder. From where he stood, he saw a little bit of everything.

How far had they fled?

How many steps?

One…

Two…

Twenty….

Two-Hundred…?

A small bead formed on Eddie’s scowling face, nearly imperceptible. It caught the growing sunlight, highlighting itself as it welled over his eye.

Miranda winced.

The boy’s gaze fell across the overgrown field and returned to the path ahead.

A thick layer of heat coated Miranda, impenetrable to the early morning cold. It covered her, a swarm of fire ants that just. kept. biting.

Her hand closed around the bag, yanking it hard out of the grass and throwing it over her shoulder.

She caught up to him quickly, followed closely by the sounds of glass and tin cans.

Eddie froze, finding his thin arm encircled tightly in his sister's fingers.

The pale flesh under his dirty sleeve turned pink, then red, then white as she squeezed.

Day was coming quicker, washing away the past night, crashing over the dying field and the small city they were leaving behind.

Montpelier stood still in the autumn air, green with new growth and all the colors of rot and filth.

Eddie felt sick.

His nostrils flared, thin clouds puffing into the air.

“We need to stay together,” Miranda leaned down and hissed the words into his ear.

Eddie stared at the ground, silently grinding his own teeth to dust.

He felt cold tracks running down his face, drops falling off his chin and riding the wind somewhere else.

He felt his body jolt to the side as his sister yanked his arm.

He planted an unsteady foot in the dirt, eyes darting up to meet her.

“Stop sitting there pouting at me. We need to fo-”

Eddie ripped his arm from her grasp and cradled it to his chest. The ache bloomed instantly, spreading and dissipating into his skin. It was stubborn on the back of his mind as he stared.

Miranda froze, calculating, taking him in entirely for the first time in the last hour.

So many feelings coursed off his small body, but one in particular dominated:

Disgust.

Miranda breathed deeply, so deeply she thought her lungs may explode.

“Look,” she began again, tone haphazardly measured. “I get why you’re upset-”

“Do you?” Eddie noticed a slight pause and instinctively shot back.

He was getting too good at that.

Miranda clamped her fingers tightly around the thick, woven strap on her shoulder.

“I do…” she forced the words out slowly, “I get it. But throwing a fit and blowing me off is gonna’ get one of us hurt or worse. Do you want that?”

There was a beat of silence.

Miranda studied her brother's expression.

There was nothing to read. He was a stormcloud, dark, thick, completely illegible.

She peered through the fog, but found only Eddie's cold glare.

“I just need you to work with me,” she sighed, “and I promise we'll talk it out later.”

There was a subtle shift in his jaw. He trapped his tongue between sharp incisors, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

The pain shot a signal to his brain, affixing his gaze to the blue-grey of his big sister’s.

Her eyes, the look she’d pasted on, was hauntingly familiar.

It didn’t belong to her. It spread numbness through his core, branching out like a ravenous mold and absorbing him.

He took a step forward, his feet traveling in a wide curve and passing by his sister.

Miranda sighed, hoisting the bag up and trailing behind him.

*****

They were silent on their trek, a common way of life as of late.

It was nothing Eddie minded, he didn't want to talk to her anyway.

The sparse, thin trees became thicker and taller as they descended further into the woods. It suffocated Eddie, pressing him closer to Miranda as they walked the fading tire trails.

The morning wind, while thankfully quiet, had brought on a bone-deep chill.

Even under layers of shirts, two long-sleeves fitted snugly under his blue polo, Eddie felt it. He tucked his exposed hands inside his sleeves and hugged himself tightly.

“You cold?”

Miranda’s voice, while startlingly clear, hardly registered to Eddie.

When he did look up, he found her frowning.

Of course.

Though, he admitted her face lacked the intensity she’d worn that morning.

It got tiring to maintain, he imagined.

She paused before he answered, and he paused to watch her.

The dead silence of the surrounding wood was broken by the clanging of the bag falling to the ground.

Eddie swallowed back his discomfort as she shed her thick, black, soldier’s jacket.

It dangled from one of her hands, the other already busy retrieving the bag.

Eddie’s shivering body moved on its own, reaching out and pulling it out of her grasp.

“Thanks…”

*****

Mid-day brought them much needed warmth.

Eddie leaned against the wide trunk of a massive pine. He stared up through the branches, watching the lingering drops of water roll off lazily.

He rolled his eyes and peeked to his left.

Miranda parked herself beside him, the bag she carried clattering loudly as she laid it between them.

Eddie flinched.

“Do you need anything to eat?” Her hands disappeared into the fabric and emerged with two bottles of water.

Eddie crossed his arms.

Another drop of water rolled from the tree,splattering over his forehead. He jumped again, eyes flicking to his sister’s figure.

“Ed!” Miranda’s voice came out in a growl.

She shrunk away from the sound, sullen face shifting as she gnawed the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t want any,” Eddie muttered, finding reprieve again in the dew-soaked pine needles.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted,” She snipped, shoving a granola bar into his lap. “Eat it.”

Eddie glared, carefully scooping the thing into his hands.

The label was faded, leaving behind only dull-green foil. It shone, reflecting the sunlight streaming through the trees.

“I hate these,” Eddie turned it over, inspecting the light remnants of the stamped label. The "nutrition facts” were all but gone, the expiration date conveniently scratched off.

Miranda didn’t answer.

Eddie turned to see her sipping from her bottle. She skimmed the woods around them silently, careful not to turn her head too far in his direction.

Eddie sighed.

They were hours away from Montpelier. He assumed she would have calmed down by now.

Though he had to admit, he found himself worrying about Alexis and Beatrice too.

That was the operative word, though, wasn’t it?

Worrying.

If Miranda was going to worry, she should have started hours ago.

Eddie slipped the food from his lap, eyeing his sister's still form as she scanned the horizon.

She didn’t seem to notice; or at the very least she didn't care.

He tucked it quietly back into the bag, careful of the dark canvass as he retracted his hand.

The water bottle in his lap creaked as he rested his hand on the plastic, drawing Miranda's focus.

Eddie averted his eyes, throwing his head back and sipping his water silently.

*****

“Where are we going?” The woods had become a repetitive mess to Eddie in the past hours.

With each step the world grew colder, muddier, darker…

He squinted into the deep, purple nothingness between the trees.

What was once lifeless now teamed with small animals. They darted away from the siblings, leaving trails through the underbrush, rattling raindrops from the trees..

Crickets chirped, little fire bugs flickered on.

Miranda was silent.

Eddie stopped

He couldn't move.

Couldn’t breathe.

He couldn't do this…

“Miranda, what are we doing out here?” His demand felt desperate and small.

His big sister sighed deeply.

She glimpsed the darkening horizon one last time.

The wind was picking up again.

It was probably going to storm soon.

“I'm trying to make sure you’re taken care of”, Her voice was hollow.

She swallowed back her alarm, peeking at her brother.

Eddie glared up at her through freshly welling tears.

“We've been walking all day,” his meek voice began to sound frantic.

Miranda’s heart began to race, the scene before her becoming dreadfully familiar. She dropped the bag and crouched in front of her brother. “I know, I'm sorry, I-”

“No you're not!” his voice echoed off the tight-knit trees.

“Eddie calm down-” Miranda's words were lost before they left her mouth.

“Stop telling me what to do!” He shrieked.

His hands collided with her chest, sending them both stumbling back.

“I want to go back to the library!” Eddie was on the ground, his words bubbling out through body-wracking sobs.

Miranda felt herself split down the middle.

The panic in his voice hit her in waves. Her chest ached as the sound carved into her.

She wanted to help.

She wanted him to be safe.

But, she needed him to be quiet.

Dirt and rocks scraped her palms as she clambered toward him.

Her hand found purchase against the smooth skin of his ankle, but the victory was short lived.

Eddie’s shoe knocked against her jaw, sending her tumbling to one side.

Miranda screamed, the sound of her frustration ricocheting off the dense trees.

Eddie scrambled backward, throwing himself off the ground and onto unsteady feet.

Shit, he was going to run…

There was a gritty click, metal on dirt on metal.

Miranda went still, save her eyes which instantly found the source of the sound.

Brilliant ginger hair caught her eye. It topped a small body swallowed by a blue jacket standing hardly ten feet away.

The stranger cocked their head to the side.

Their bright green eyes were striking, glaring down at Miranda like a lazy lion watching a trapped mouse skitter back and forth.

They peered down the length of their arm and through the sight of a revolver. It was hardly the size of Miranda's hand, but fit snugly in the long, wiry fingers wrapped around the handle.

They aimed it casually at her chest, their free hand hanging in their pocket.

Eddie's shaky sobs were the only sounds for a moment.

The stranger's eyes flicked to him, an involuntary millisecond.

Miranda's hand flinched toward her gun, and their attention snapped to her again.

“Don't get up,” they rasped, “We won’t be here long, I just need a thing or two.”

Chapter 2: idk some shit abt making friends

Miranda's eyes darted from the stranger, to the bag, and back.

Their mouth stayed in a firm frown.

Miranda glared down the barrel of the little revolver.

She could tell even in the dying light the thing was filthy. By the sound of it, part of her doubted it would shoot at all.

The corners of her mouth twitched in a small smile.

“Someone’s confident,” the low voice snickered. “I love the audacity, soldier girl”.

Miranda swallowed.

This twig wasn't the first survivor Miranda had come across in the wastelands.

There were countless people locked outside the gates in the early days. They were short on good will for the inhabitants of the late Safe Zone.

For the Safe Neighbors.

For Miranda…

Her gun dug uselessly into her hip.

It was driving her insane.

She skimmed the scene.

The thick woods parted where the three of them stood, just wide enough to contain them, like a natural fighting ring.

There was nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to go.

Eddie stood a few feet from her, wide eyes locked on the gun. His knees trembled violently beneath him. He looked fragile, like something akin to a baby deer.

Miranda turned her attention back to find the stranger had inched closer.

“Stay away from us!” The words spilled from her mouth with force.

“Shut up!” Their attacker’s detached voice was suddenly urgent, their revolver surging forward.

Miranda could see, even in the darkness, the twiggy thing puffing up their chest. Their head tilted back, shoulders squared; they looked like they were warding off a black bear.

“What do you want?” Miranda pushed the question through her teeth.

The stranger sighed.

She could hardly see their face. Whatever they were thinking, it was a mystery to her.

“Toss your gun on the ground,” they ordered.

Miranda was shaking her head before they finished their sentence .

They had to be joking.

The stranger stared at Miranda for a long, hard minute.

They took another, deeper breath, then centered their revolver on Eddie’s forehead.

Miranda's body went cold.

“Hey! He isn't a threat to you! He isn't-” her voice came out wrong, pathetic.

“PUT… the gun… on the ground” the stranger's voice peaked as they made the order again. “Slowly.”

Miranda's body moved on its one, one hand hanging in the air while the other pulled the gun free and tossed it between her and their captor.

“Good” their voice was full of relief.

They re-centered their gun on Miranda's torso, much to her relief, as they nudged her weapon with the toe of their boot.

“Now,” Their steps were silent, oddly graceful even as they crossed the space between them and crouched beside the black duffel bag. “You got this in the wall?”

Their eyes stayed trained on Miranda, careful fingers tracing the strap.

“We did,” she snipped, “and there's plenty more where it came from, free for the taking.”

“Oh?” The stranger's hand paused.

Miranda felt hope flutter in her chest.

“Free for the taking…” they wrapped their fingers around the strap, glass jars clanging together as they lifted it from the ground.

“So why are you two all the way out here with…” they bounced the bag, listening to the food inside rattle “half-a-bag of scraps?”

Miranda huffed.

“That's our business,” she growled, “and they're our scraps. We fought for that food”

The stranger chuckled again.

“You could say I did too,” they said, “I jumped you, you lost it, fair and square”.

Heat rose to her face. She couldn’t help her eyes jumping back to Eddie.

He was staring at her, eyes like saucers. His shaking hands wrapped themselves in the hem of his shirt, kneading and stretching the fabric obsessively.

“What happened to the safe zone?” The stranger's voice pulled Miranda back into the moment.

“What?” Was all that fell from her mouth.

“We saw the fire last month,” they went on, throwing the bag over their shoulder and standing before her again. “It drew most of the sick out of the woods. Last we heard, they were stalking Montpelier”

Not anymore…

The words fell short of Miranda's tongue.

They were right, Montpelier had been infested with the sick the past month.

However, over time the fires died. The numbers of survivors to pick off dwindled and the wildlife all fled.

The masses were wandering away, moving in droves through Vermont in their endless search for beating hearts.

“There was a breach,” Miranda said after a moment of silence. “No one really made it out”.

“But you did” they were circling again, eyeing both siblings as they stood over Miranda's discarded gun.

“We did…” Her eyes were locked on the stranger's thick boot hovering over the edge of her pistol.

Their laugh was like sandpaper against her ears.

“You understand why I have trouble believing that” they said, gesturing to the siblings with the barrel of their revolver.

Miranda's gaze followed the gun intently, watching it waver in the air.

That was what she needed.

Just as her body jolted out from under her, Miranda glimpsed Eddie’s take off.

Her heart stopped, head racing as she struggled to deduce what he thought he was doing.

The stranger gasped, hardly able to react before Eddie had slammed his small body into their knees.

Glass shattered beneath the two, leaking the pungent scent of vinegar into the air as they tumbled in the dirt.

Miranda was moving before she could take a breath, snatching her pistol off the ground and clambering to her feet.

Eddie yelped as the stranger's arm collided with his stomach, falling to the ground and clutching his midsection.

The pistol’s click froze the moment. Miranda held its cold barrel flush against the stranger's mess of orange hair.

Static screamed in her ears, her vision blurring as she glared at the back of their head.

“Manda!” Eddie's panicked voice broke through the white noise. “Manda wait, don't!”

Her finger hovered on the trigger, pulsing with electricity, aching to move.

Eddie had pulled himself off the ground.

His feet carried him around the stranger kneeling before his sister.

Miranda's flesh and the metal clutched in it were like ice as he collided with her.

There was a bang, dizzyingly loud; a terrified scream that rattled Eddie’s teeth.

Miranda swore, her body recoiling. Her gun had slipped from her fingers, clattered to the ground and fired into the trees.

Shit.

“Ed!” The shout came from her core. Her hand flew out, pushing the boy back while she retrieved the weapon.

The stranger spun around, jumping to their feet and staring wide eyed at Miranda.

She could see them much clearer from here.

They had a thin face, the strong lines of their features verging on feminine, writ with exhaustion and dusted with freckles.

The girl, Miranda determined, had lost any semblance of emotion on her face. It had been neatly packed away and replaced with an unsettling calm.

Were it not for the rise and fall of her shoulders, rapid and rhythmic, Miranda would sense no alarm at all.

“Manda, I’m sorry!” Eddie bellowed, small hands wrapping around her wrists. “Please don’t kill her!”

Miranda struggled to free herself without hurting her brother, wrenching one hand away and using it to peel him off of her.

When she looked up, the stranger had moved from her spot, silently, deftly. .

Her eyes flew to the bag.

The girl was on the ground beside it, digging carefully through the wet glass.

Eddie’s pleas faded into background noise as Miranda pointed her gun at the thief.

A wild, howling scream echoed through the woods. Its voice was unyielding, tearing its way through vocal chords so shredded they shouldn’t work at all.

The thief’s green eyes went wide.

The three of them stared for a second that seemed to stretch on and on; Miranda with her gun half in the air, deciding what to do while Eddie gazed between them, and a stranger holding handfuls of their last few meals.

The ginger took off, carrying what little she could wrapped tightly in her arms.

“Shit- Eddie, go after her!” Miranda didn’t spare the boy a glance, instead diving for the bag.

The strange, screeching voices in the distance were starting to multiply. With each call, three more would join the chorus.

Miranda tore through what was left inside, pulling things- a walkie talkie, then a tiny composition notebook- out and throwing them into the grass. The cold air stuck in her throat as she plunged her hand back inside and wrapped it around a jagged shard. Red colored everything when she retracted it, it filled her vision completely.

Eddie stuttered incoherently behind her.

“What are you still doing here?” The words roared out of her. “Move your ass, follow that bitch!”

Eddie’s face drained of all color at the sight of her: eyes wild, hair fallen out of its messy updo, bright blood gushing from her palm…

“B…bu….. I-” the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.

“NOW!” Miranda's voice broke Eddie.

He took a step back, taking in the crumpled, bleeding image of his sister with a trembling lip.

Then he was gone too, leaving Miranda alone at the eye of the echoing voices.

Her chest heaved as she stared at the gash on her palm. Pain traveled up her arm, branching through nerves, burning white hot.

Her hand trembled

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

She frantically pulled soaking clothes from the bag with her in-tact hand, letting them fall in the dirt, one loud wet thunk after another...

"Heir" art

Do I need to make adjustments to my old fic (Frisk and Chara gender identity) to stay respectful?

Can't find download options

Ashley and Andrew fanfics that explore their dynamic beyond p0rn fodder plssss 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Trying to write traumatized "kids" (19 and 13) with ADHD/Autism