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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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🕯Anon said: hi sweetheart 🕊 can you write about armin having a quiet night with the reader? something like wearing comfy pajamas, fairy lights, cute little candles, incense, soft songs and maybe some reading? and they just cuddling? 🥺 i think about that whenever i go to sleep and do all of the above, but i'm just by myself lmao anyways, thank you so much 🌸 (btw i'm the anon who asked you about the armin x painter!reader 🥺 hello 🥺 i just love how you write can we be friends please) 🕯

Quiet night with Armin

{ Armin x Reader | tw:none | sleep help, comfort, fluff | modern }

{ "Twilight, Valley of the Genesee" 1865 by Samuel Colman 1832 - 1920 }

Shimmering golden hues weaved across pastel blue walls in the form of strings, crossing the bookshelf before making a turn at the plants corner, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow.

Your head rested against the satin pillow, just right above Armin's shoulder, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The ends of his hair ghosting over your cheek whenever he leaned to tell a particular clever line of the book he's been reading to you.

You can't exactly remember the name of it, but you can clearly recall his excited smile this morning when showing it to you.

"It's one of my favourites" he said, "the last time i got to reread it was in high-school, has it really been that long?" And that's all you can remember from the conversation before it got sidetracked by him asking if you had lunch yet.

There's definitely something to be said about rereading a book over and over again, a sense of familiarity, an attachment to the characters, plot and world setting. It's almost magic how quickly your comfort book, show or movie can turn a horrible day into a nice one, making it the silver lining.

Looking at the way Armin would pause for a second after some lines, or chuckle at random scenes, like it's an inside joke between him and his mind, you can tell he's definitely recalling some good memories.

Just like how he's adding to his list of comfort memories by sharing this experience with you, he wants you to be a part of this silly book he once picked up as a child and continued to revisit every few years.

You glance at the remaining pages, just as he flips another one to start anew. You've already finished a third of the book, only a quarter remaining.

It's not that you're getting impatient, but it's more that the soft blanket draped over you, the warmth of Armin's body pressed next to yours and the sound of his voice, are all luring you into a hazy cloudy state where your eyelids feel too heavy and turning your head to check the clock seems too exhausting.

How long has it been? since you curled up against him right after you went to put your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink.

You don't have the heart to tell him that your brain stopped registering the words he's saying and instead listens to the tone of his soft-spoken voice and reacts accordingly. Stealing another glance at the remaining pages, you notice a few missing, okay good, just a few more. You can hold on right?

Right?

Forcing your eyes open, you suppress a yawn threatening to rise before curling even closer to his shoulder, face against his neck, hand over his chest.

Instead of focusing on his calming heartbeat, you try to focus your attention on different things, like the smell of snowdrops flowers filling the room from the scented incense sitting on the nightstand.

Snowdrops, the milky bell-like flowers who befriended the cold harsh snow herself.

An ancient German tale that Armin told you, on one early spring morning. When the universe was just in bloom, as the earth shaped its form and the plants dressed themselves, when the god in the heavens above just created snow, she was told to go seek her colours from the flowers below.

She came with her request, but the flowers turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge her for she is the reason for the harsh weather, deeming their life spans short, overzealous and jealous, protecting their colours from the merciless lady snow.

She was left all alone, friendliness, colourless with no love or sympathy from a soul.

Except for one, came knocking on her door, head bowed down and humbly offered to share. Snowdrops were the flowers that warmed the snow's heart, and so white was the colour in which snow was known.

Snow made a vow, to always protect her one and only friend, even from her own self. Under her watchful gaze, snowdrops were gifted with warmth that let them be the first flowers to bloom when winter bid her goodbyes as spring was arriving soon.

You've never seen snowdrops the same since, their delicate and shy nature standing out between all the proud flowers, you even suggested planting some to Armin.

"...but sweetheart" you remember him saying with a frown, " snowdrops are poisonous."

…

Yeah, and so getting their scented incense was the second best option available.

You hear the sound of another page being turned, fewer left to go, just hold on a bit longer.

Wondering the room with your eyes, your gaze fell on the straw sunhat hanging from the on the back of a chair. It's Armin's favourite, he'd always wear it when the sun was particularly bright that day.

you remember him saying it was a gift from his grandpa when he was a child.

His grandpa...didn't you visit his farm a few months ago?

...yeah you did, you can recall clearly, how you were:

Squinting your eyes to avoid the bright sun, you wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead before leaning your head back against the wooden wall. The occasional passing cool breeze distracting you from the dryness in your throat, even after moving to sit in the shade your skin still felt too hot.

The grassy fields in front stretched wide before ending in white pained fences, where the crops patches for vegetables started.

The sudden gentle waves of cool air against your skin made you glance to the side, where Armin was fanning you with his hat, while holding a tray with two ice filled lemonades in his other hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" He said, sitting next to you before handing you the cold drink, "you've already done a lot, I'll do take care of the rest."

You've been helping Armin with the farm work since sunrise, feeding the animals together and watering the crops, saying you're exhausted from the scorching hot sun was an underestimation.

And yet, somehow Armin seems unaffected. Not a sign of being bothered as he sat there next to you with his rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, the slight flushing to his face was the only thing he got from the sun.

"Yeah, I need to lay down a bit." You remember saying, after emptying your drink in one go.

"If that's the case then-" setting the tray aside, Armin patted his lap while looking at you, "Come here."

Too tired to protest, you layed your head on his thigh, feeling your back stretching and the cool air from his fanning was already making you feel better.

"You know, there's a story my grandpa used to tell me about the sun."

An Australian folklore, about a time when the earth was merged in absolute Darkness, when even the stars refused to light up the sky.

Eternal darkness was the fate of humanity, as people were spent their lives carrying torches to light up their way.

Gnowee was an alone mother in a forsaken world, left to fend for her little son. Each day while he slept safely, she'd venture into the the fields in search for plants or seeds. Knowing very well that's it's a matter of life and death if she couldn't come back with something edible.

Each day she'd come with whatever she could find, feeding it to her son even if it meant sleeping on an empty stomach.

But with food scarce and the abyss looming at every corner, things were harder each day.

One day after rocking her child to sleep, she quietly left with her torch to dig for yams she saw on her way last time. Retracting her footsteps, it was a long journey but she knew it'd be worth it.

And so she walked and walked till she reached the place, began digging the ground but dirt and mud was all that she could find. But she couldn't just go back to her son empty handed, and so she wandered far.

She wandered so far in fact that she reached the end, not the end of her journey but the end of the earth itself.

Somehow, in someway she managed to pass from under it, her will for her son to live another day far greater that anything, and so she emerged from the other side.

The void.

Where nothingness lived.

Looking at the vast empty space, she didn't know where she was, the line between the ground and walls was so blurred that she thought she's floating.

Panic and dread filled her mind as she raised her torch higher and higher, attempting to clear a path for her to see. For she had to go back to her son, all alone sleeping by himself.

Climbing the sky was her only solution, as she wondered the world, unknowingly lighting up a path with her as she went.

"And so the Sun Goddess wonders the sky above, in search for her son." Armin told you that day, before offering you his own lemonade to drink because he was still worried about you.

...

You can't recall how that day ended, you think you might have fell asleep on his lap right after.

The fairylights on the wall reminded you of the clear stars sky you've seen while on the farm, his grandfather was a really sweet guy too.

With your mind still coulded in drowsiness, your hearing was also delayed apparently, since you just noticed the book in Armin's hold was closed with him staring at you with a smile instead.

Moving so he could set the book on the nightstand, Armin turned towards you before pulling you closer to him, making sure the covers don't slip off of you. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with love in his eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, did I take too long?" He said, glancing at the clock behind you answered his question.

You shook your head, murmuring a slurred "it's alright."

Posture visibly relaxing, he gave your cheek a small kiss before resting too on the pillow next to you, a yawn escaping him.

With half closed eyes, you saw him cuddling close to your chest, features softening as he bid you goodnight. Your hand moved to stroke his hair just like he always liked, lacing your fingers through the soft strands you closed your eyes too.

Warmth took over you, the feeling of his soft breath near your neck, the comfortable weight of his arms around you, the slow ticking of the clock, it all rocked you to sleep as you happily gave in.

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ddixons-angel · 4 years

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Fated: Season 1

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff), implied smut/sex

Word Count:

A/N: Okay so I’m kinda nervous about this chapter! This is the last chapter of Season 1, and I think I’m just going to keep posting without a break so Season 2 will be starting to roll out next week Monday! I also have another fic idea I’m working on so I might be posting two things at once? Or would that get messy? Let me know what you think!

Chapter 8:

The giant metal doors to the CDC started to open for the group to enter. Rick looks around to his family and the others with a grin before turning around and leading everyone inside. The group follows Rick hesitantly and wary of their surroundings, the kids looking around in curiosity and awe as if they’re on a field trip.

“Who are you people?” a man in a white lab coat asks them, looking at them warily.

“Survivors.” Rick answers simply.

“What do you want?” the man questions again, looking at everyone filing into the large room.

“A chance.” Rick replies, eyeing the man.

“That’s asking an awful lot these days.” he spots Carl and Sophia then his features soften, “you’ll each need to do a blood test, that’s your price of admission.”

Rick nods, “we can do that.”

The man allows the group to enter, introducing himself as Dr. Jenner, the only person in the entire C.D.C. facility. He explains that everyone else either left for home or committed suicide, ‘opted out’ as he put it. He answers the questions the group has for him and looks over to Carl when he voices that he’s starving.

“You know what little man, you’re all free to help yourselves to the food storage just down the hallway.” Dr. Jenner smiles at him as the boy gleems happily.

The others take Dr. Jenner’s offer gratefully, feasting and drinking to their hearts’ content. Everyone but Gloria is happily eating and conversing amongst themselves, although she does pay attention to the conversations and Daryl trying to get Glenn drunk.

“You better not throw up on me.” Gloria says as she pushes him away from her, Glenn always gets clingy when he drinks.

“My baby sister!” Glenn grins as he wraps his arms around Gloria, slurring his words and giggles to himself.

She rolls her eyes and playfully glares at Daryl, “see what you caused?”

Daryl laughs and takes another swig of the large whiskey bottle in his hand. The others laugh, amused at Glenn’s drunken state and Gloria’s failed attempts to get him off of her. As quickly as it started, the mood is killed when Shane continuously questions Dr. Jenner about whether there even is a cure.

“Ugh, you are such a buzzkill.” Glenn groans, now fully leaning on Gloria for support.

“Alright, time for bed, let’s go.” Gloria says as she gets up with Glenn’s arm around her shoulders, supporting him as he isn’t able to even stand up properly.

The rest of the group retreats to wash up and get ready for the night as well. Gloria escorts Glenn to the washrooms where Glenn ends up vomiting in one of the toilets. She pats his back, letting him relieve himself of the alcohol in his system. Once he signals to her that he’s better, Gloria wipes his face with a wet towel, making sure there is no residue on him. She carries him back to the room he had claimed earlier and tucks him into bed where he quickly falls asleep.

“You are so gonna regret this tomorrow.” Gloria chuckles as she takes one last look at her brother, then she leaves to wash up herself.

After Gloria is freshly cleaned up, she retreats to her own claimed room and sits down on the bed, letting out a deep sigh. Being alone, she lets her mind wander back to the past few days, particularly what happened back on the rooftop with Merle. The guilt had been consuming her the more she thought about it. She shouldn’t have ever given him the hacksaw, what was she thinking? It would have never cut through those chains, and knowing how crazy a guy Merle is, she should have seen something like that coming. Now he was missing because of her, Daryl was missing his brother because of her. The sound of the door opening snaps Gloria out of her thoughts as she looks over to the door and sees Daryl peering in, a bottle of alcohol in hand; she wasn’t even sure whether it was the same one from dinner.

“Haven’t you drunk enough for one night?” Gloria teases him, a half smile on her face.

Daryl walks into the room, “there might not be many nights left for us anyway, so why the hell not?” he says as he takes a swig from the bottle.

Gloria nods at that, then looks down to the ground, her thoughts still trying to eat at her. There’s a moment of silence between the two before Daryl clears his throat, purposely loud, snapping her again from her thoughts.

“Wha’s up wit’ ya?” Daryl asks, now leaning against the wall, facing her, “ya din’t eat much, pickin’ at yer food like some kind o’ teenager.”

She scoffs at his words, “nothing, we got shelter now, wouldn’t exactly call this place home, but it’s four walls and a roof. We’re safe for the night, there shouldn’t be anything wrong.”

“Bu’ there is.” Daryl finishes for her.

Gloria looks up at him as he stares back at her, she lets out a deep and heavy sigh, “it’s Merle.” she admits.

Daryl furrows his eyebrows in confusion, not expecting that answer, “wha’ ‘bout him?”

“I feel bad... for what happened to him.” Gloria says, her voice small.

“Ya crazy, girl... ya know you’re the only one who shouldn’ feel bad for wha’ happened? You’re the one who stayed behind wit’ him.” Daryl tried to reason with her, he doesn’t understand why she would feel bad about the situation.

“I should have done more,” Gloria sighs, trying to keep her composure but failing as tears start to fall, “I should have known he would have done something stupid like cutting off his own hand. I gave him the damn saw! That’s on me!”

Daryl watches helplessly as Gloria sobs, wallowing in her own guilt. He’s never been good at comforting people, never knowing what to say or do.

“Merle... he’s...” Daryl tries to think of something, “he’s insane, ya can never predict what he’s gonna do, ya can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I told him to cut the chains...” she says in a whisper, sniffling.

Daryl shuffles on his feet uncomfortably before making up his mind and sits beside Gloria on the bed, he hesitates to put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to lean on him, “stop blamin’ yerself.”

Gloria shakes her head, “I can’t..”

Daryl pulls away from Gloria at her words and turns her to face him, he looks into her eyes, “I don’ blame ya.” he says, sincerity pure in his voice, “I’m Merle’s blood, his family, and I don’ blame ya. So tell me, what right do ya have to blame yerself?”

She tries to compose herself again, taking deep breaths and nods at Daryl’s words, she sniffles a bit more as she wipes her tears away, “sorry you had to see my like this.” she looks away in embarrassment.

Daryl grunts and looks away from her, wanting her to feel comfortable as she wipes away the last remaining tears from her face. He looks down at the bottle he had placed on the floor then picks it up again, taking another swig from it then offering it to Gloria.

“This should help wit’ all that guilt and shitty feelin’s.” Daryl half smiles at her.

Gloria looks at Daryl then glances at the bottle, and after a moment of contemplation, she grabs the bottle from him and takes a few big gulps. Daryl chuckles as he watches her, she hisses at the burning sensation down her throat.

“Hope yer tolerance is better than yer brother.” Daryl teases, taking the bottle from her and having another swig himself.

“I’m the drinker in my family, ya don’ need to worry ‘bout that.” Gloria giggles as she mocks his accent.

Daryl rolls his eyes at her making fun of his speech. The two of them take turns drinking from the bottle, eventually getting tipsy together. Gloria starts to lean on Daryl, giggling more as the alcohol takes over her.

“Ya wanna know something?” Gloria grins at him, her face close to Daryl’s.

He eyes her carefully, “wha’?”

“You. Are an extremely attractive man, Daryl Dixon.” Gloria says, her eyes never leaving his.

Daryl purses his lips together, then lightly pushes Gloria off him, getting up from the bed but wobbles slightly from the head rush, “ya should sleep, you’re drunk.”

Gloria grabs hold of his hand and tries to pull him back towards her, “Daryl...” she calls, “I want you.”

He scoffs at her, feeling his face flush as her words but tells himself it’s just the alcohol getting to him, to both of them, “Nah, ya don’.”

“Don’t tell me what I want Daryl! I may not know what I want tomorrow, but tonight... I want you!” she looks up at him, “I’ve wanted you for a while now.” she hiccups and shoots him a flirty smile.

“Ya ain’ gonna regret it?” Daryl looks at her, biting his bottom lip.

“What’s there to regret? It’s the end of the world, like you said, there might not be many nights left. What could one night hurt for us?” Gloria uses his own words against him.

He stares at her, his eyes wandering from her eyes to her lips, down to her body. Gloria patiently waits for him to make his next move, her eyes beckoning him to come closer. Daryl looks away then lets out a breath.

“Fuck it.” he breathes, then moves towards Gloria on the bed.

He leans down and catches her lips with his, kissing her roughly, earning a soft moan from her as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her as she lies down. Daryl’s hands move down to her waist, caressing her skin underneath her tight black tank top. His tongue licks her bottom lip, asking for entrance which Gloria gladly grants. Their kiss deepens, Gloria is pleasantly surprised at how soft and gentle his kisses could be.

Reluctantly, Daryl pulls away, both of them breathless and panting for air, “ya sure ya wan’ this?”

Gloria smiles up at him, leaning up to peck his lips before answer breathlessly, “yes.”

He smiles down back at her then claims her lips with his again, this time at a more gentle pace. Daryl bites and nips at her lips, then moving down to her neck, leaving marks on her porcelain perfect skin.

The night goes on with endless kisses, skin on skin, full of passion and lust for one another. When the two would wake up in the morning in each other’s arms, they’d blame the alcohol for their choices, but they were both okay with that. Gloria rolls around on the bed and smiles lazily at Daryl who’s already smiling softly at her, playing with her hair, his arm on her waist.

“Morning.” she whispers.

“Mornin’.” Daryl says back, then he sits up, ruffling his hair with his hand.

Gloria stretches as she’s still lying down, she looks over at Daryl who was getting off the bed, putting on his pants but his bare back was facing her, giving her a full view of the scars that littered his skin. Something in her heart broke when she saw those scars, but she knew better than to ask about something so personal even if they did just have sex the night before. Daryl picks up his shirt along with Gloria’s clothes and throws them at her.

“Thanks.” she says from underneath her clothes.

Daryl chuckles at her and puts on his shirt as Gloria starts to get dressed as well.

“Hey, Daryl?” she looks up at him once she’s fully dressed, “I was hoping... you could keep last night just between you and me.”

Her request causes Daryl to frown, “why?” he says in a rather harsh tone, sounding angry.

“I...” Gloria stutters, taken aback by his sudden harsh tone, “nobody needs to know.”

“You’re just embarrassed that ya spent the night with me, ain’t ya? An’ now that ya sobered up, ya regret it, that it?!” Daryl snaps angrily as he paces around the room.

Gloria frowns, “No, Daryl, it’s nothing like that.”

“Bullshit! Tha’s exactly what it is!” he exclaims, getting more worked up as he talks, “ya, the high and mighty doctor of our group, not wantin’ to get caught up wit’ some good for nothin’ redneck!”

Gloria gets up from the bed and puts her hands on Daryl’s shoulder to try and hold him in place to look at her, “Daryl, stop! Will you just shut up and listen to me?”

Still breathing heavily from anger, Daryl glares at her, but waits for her to speak.

“All you had was Merle, right? No sisters?” Gloria asks when she sees that he’s actually willing to listen.

“Wha’s that got to do with anythin'? ” Daryl retorts back.

“It has everything to do with it. You grew up with your brother and you guys might have shared stories about who you slept with because you have that brotherly bond, but it’s not like that when you have a sibling who’s another gender. It gets awkward.” Gloria explains, “I don’t want to know about Glenn’s sex life and I know he doesn’t want to know about mine, so to spare each other the awkwardness, that’s why I asked you to keep it only between us.”

Daryl's breathing calmed down as he registers her words, “sorry...” he says after a moment.

Gloria lets out a small sigh of relief that Daryl finally believes her, she smiles at him, “it’s okay, and by the way,” she leans close to him and whispers into his ear, “you were amazing last night.”

Blushing hard at what she just told him, Daryl scoffs, trying to play off his embarrassment and wraps his arm around Gloria’s shoulders, “ya still drunk, let’s get some food in ya.”

Gloria laughs as Daryl ushers her out of the room and towards the dining table. Glenn was already sitting there but his head was laying on the table, groaning from the pounding headache of his hangover.

“See what you did to him?” Gloria says, playfully eyeing Daryl and he laughs, going off to the kitchen to get some food, she sits beside Glenn and wraps her arm around his shoulders, “you okay, bro?”

Glenn groans in response which causes Gloria to chuckle in amusement. She gets up and heads to the kitchen to get him some breakfast. T-Dog had cooked eggs for everyone so Gloria helped herself to a plate, bringing it to Glenn and also put a bottle of water in front of him.

“Here, eat. It’ll help you feel better.” Gloria nudges him gently, making him sit up.

He looks at her groggily and groans as he starts to eat the eggs, “Ugh, I’m never drinking ever again.”

Gloria pats his back gently in hopes to somehow comfort his throbbing head. When the others have all woken up and had their breakfast, they follow Dr. Jenner into the lab where he shows them the demonstration of their last test subject, TS-19, who he reveals to the group was his late wife. She was the reason he was staying in the building and is the last person left, he had made a promise to her to keep going as far as he could. Unfortunately, he breaks the news to the group that there is no cure for the outbreak. He also tells the group that they don’t have much time left as the place will face total decontamination once the power runs out.

“Total decontamination? What does that even mean?” Carol asks, her voice filled with worry.

“The place is gonna blow... disintegrating everything... nothing left... total and complete decontamination.” Gloria sighs, remembering that this was talked about in one of her classes in university.

Gloria’s explanation causes the others to start panicking, even more so when Dr. Jenner refuses to open the doors, saying he isn’t able to, locking everyone inside. Shane and Rick start to yell at Dr. Jenner to open the doors and let them out as Daryl starts to try and break open the doors with an axe. Thinking as practical as she can, Gloria decides to go back into the food and water storage of the building, grabbing as many bottles and dry food items as she can and stuffs them into her bag, she returns to the room where Daryl is still trying to break open the door, now joined by Shane.

“Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher.” Dr. Jenner says in their futile attempt to break open the doors.

“Yeah,” Daryl says as he goes over to the doctor, axe still in hand, “well yer head ain’t!”

He attempts to swing the axe towards Dr. Jenner only to have Rick, Shane and T-Dog stop him, T-Dog grabbing the axe from him. Gloria goes over to Daryl and puts her hand on his arm to try and calm him. He looks at her and huffs, shrugging her hand off his arm and runs back to the door to continue to try and break it open.

“Dr. Jenner, please, open the door. It’s not fair for you to keep us locked up in here without giving us a choice!” Gloria shouts at him, pleading for the group.

“What’s the point? Wouldn’t you rather die here, painlessly, not feel a thing rather than getting ripped to shreds out there?” Dr. Jenner tries to reason.

“That may be your choice, but that’s not ours! You don’t have the right to make that choice for us, for all of us! You may prefer to go that way, but I don’t!” Gloria shouts, getting more frustrated as Dr. Jenner doesn’t budge.

She lets out a frustrated yell and goes to Shane, grabbing the axe from him and joins Daryl in trying to destroy the door. Both of them continue to try and hack at the door until gunfire is heard as Shane erupts, firing shots into the computers and more of the equipment in the lab. Finally complying, Dr. Jenner presses a button to open the doors; whether it was the group’s pleas or Shane’s gunfire that made him do it, they’ll never know but at least now they have a chance to escape.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Daryl yells as the doors open.

Gloria and Daryl quickly usher the group out of the building, fearing that they won’t make it out in time. The group is stopped by the bulletproof windows surrounding the outside of the building. Glenn, Daryl, Gloria, and T-Dog start throwing anything they can get their hands on to break the windows.

“Look out!” Rick shouts as he approaches the window and lets go of a hand grenade, “everybody down!”

The group looks for anything to take cover as the grenade explodes, shattering the glass and giving them their path to freedom. They all run quickly, jumping out of the building and dashing to their respective cars. Daryl pushes Gloria towards his truck, ushering her to get in and closes the door behind her as he gets in from the other side. They both duck down, waiting for the unmistakable explosion of the C.D.C. Gloria peeks her head out of the window to see the wreckage of the blast, fire, smoke and debris painting the scene. Daryl sits up and starts the truck, seeing the others doing the same. He drives off, following the others to a safer place, a place away from the destroyed C.D.C to regroup and figure out what to do from there.

---

Next Chapter

Yep! So that happened! I feel like I have to have an explanation for this because this might be really out of character for Daryl for some people. I see Daryl as an emotional drinker, meaning that he acts differently depending on his mood and the people he is with. We saw that with him drinking at the C.D.C., he was happy and excited, but when he was drinking with Beth, he was miserable because of the events that happened prior. So here, I used the alcohol to bring out his caring side as well since he really does care about Gloria and (I reveal this in later chapters) he has a really heavy attraction for her as well. Hope that helps everyone accept what happened in this chapter haha~ and with that, I am done rambling!

I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

#Daryl Dixon X OC #Daryl Dixon X Original Character #TWD Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #Glenn Sister!OC #Glenn Sister!Original Character #Fated: Season 1 #Fated: S1: Chapter 8

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hopehunted · 4 years

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“ 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐒𝐀𝐘, 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. ” is that SHELLEY HENNIG? oh no, that’s 𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐃, born on the 27th of JULY, 2011. i heard SHE (CIS FEMALE) is a 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 in the 𝐖𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀. apparently, they can be PERSEVERING and BOLD but also known to be MERCILESS and GUARDED. spends most of their free time battling a bone-deep desire to flee, probably smells like METAL. is that a bite mark i see?

character inspirations: laurie strode (halloween 2018), murder coat!rick grimes (the walking dead), din djarin (the mandalorian), bigby wolf (the wolf among us), kelly bailey (misfits), frank castle (punisher), spot (the good dinosaur), trilla suduri (star wars), stitch (lilo & stitch).

you can find jordan’s stats right here, where i’ve also put all her links. there’s a good bit of info there, so i’ll just be fluffing her out a bit more here!

— 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ; 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑. CONTENT WARNING: the second-to-last bullet point of this section mentions pregnancy, postpartum depression, and infant death. it’ll be marked with ***.

jordan was born and raised in rural country, far beyond fedra’s reach. their community was overlooked by the government and denied entry to quarantined zones. they were left to fend for themselves — nothing but them, the land, and a dread so thick it filled the air like smog.

her parents died quickly - no match for the changing tides - and their farm was overtaken by insurgents. suddenly, she became communal property. no, schrodinger's orphan: simultaneously everyone's and no one's ward. soon enough, a young couple would come to adopt her. it was good while it lasted, but jordan's luck is pure shit. family is quickly associated with the ephemeral: each caretaker having taught her something different before they pass or abandon her somewhere — all of them having made a promise they can’t or don’t intend to keep. some of them offer her their compassion's warmth, while others cut like a knife. she's a sponge: soaking up their essences until there was no more room for her, or who she may have been otherwise.

above all, jordan learned how to make herself useful. she grew older and tougher in more ways than one. in a world intent on eating her alive, jordan fought to prove her worth, earn her place in groups, and for what bit of food and supplies they could scrap together. it was a life of grit, blood, and sweat: each moment clouded by the intrinsic need to survive, pushing out the fantasy of ever letting her defenses down. there is no order in the bush. jordan doesn’t know anything else — her life revolving around a fight, always. what moments of light she has are flickers in the dark ; moments she struggles still to claim are real. it’s easier to accept a grim fate than it is to hope for a brighter one. see, around these parts, hope kills quicker than a clicker.

time passed and jordan was a woman grown, just settling in to her twenties. for once, things we’re actually going well. their camp was protected, safe. it felt odd, she thought, this moment of peace. hope crawled into her brain through her ears and settled there, colonizing her consciousness. a tender friendship and string of bad decisions blossomed into something more; something that felt.. permanent. one thing led to another and suddenly they were expecting. jordan had never had a family before, not in a true sense, but she was excited to try. the idea of creating something greater than her was an exhilarating one, as though a string of good deeds could somehow right what was otherwise wrong in the world. she was excited to assume the role of a teacher, a leader, a caretaker. never before had she wanted anything more than that.

*** the storm passed and jordan realized she’d only been in the eye of it, momentarily untouched. the unimaginable unfolded before their eyes and jordan ventured elsewhere to a place formerly unbeknownst to her. it was a place for which there were no words, no understanding to be formed of a wound of that magnitude. jordan couldn’t bear to be present. memory had no mercy. her body, aching and sore and still producing sustenance, had no mercy. people would attempt to console her and it only made her want to bite. her partner was kinder than she deserved and it only made her want to scream her throat raw. she felt as though she’d shattered into a million pieces, the shards of her embedded in her very flesh, digging deeper with every step she took. at that point, there was only one truths to be told: jordan couldn’t stay.

it ends with this: jordan walks into the bush and doesn’t come back. she leaves nothing behind — not even a note or a whispered goodbye. she's just gone.

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄’𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘, 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

she’s twenty-six when the grizzlies find her: a trail of mutilated bodies leading them to a woman worn. misery has made a fiend of her: she’s harsher now, her hurt branded into the scarred skin of her body.

unsurprisingly, jordan fits right in with them. theirs is the only world she knows — she doesn’t notice the barbarism. if life is one long act of violence; what makes this any different? she takes to the work easily, proving her worth and earning the mark of the bear with ease. fremont lake is home, but jordan doesn’t trust it. she finds solace elsewhere, back in the woods. she’s happiest when scavenging or on a hunt, all too eager to keep herself occupied somehow.

despite her efforts to be otherwise, jordan is a known figure in the wyoming militia. she’s a gun aimed wherever yen wants her: she’s brutal, decisive. jordan doesn’t flinch and she doesn’t hesitate. when there’s a move to be made, she’s typically one of the ones at the front of it. frankly, she’s no stranger to extreme violence. she bites and she scratches and she’ll use whatever is in her reach to win a fight. she’s not trained by any official means, but she has heart and will go for your knees every single time. it’s dirty, desperate, and merciless. you won’t leave a fight with her without a mark.

jordan doesn’t know how to deal with people being genuinely kind to her. she thinks there has to be a catch somewhere, that everything is a transaction of some sort. she’ll get nervous, flustered even. like, ‘what are you doing? is this a joke? stop looking at me like that.’ and if she does something kind, she’d rather die than be recognized for it. being tender? being acknowledged as a human being capable of contributing something of worth? gross. ew. too revealing for her, thanks.

she has a lot of survival skills knowledge. knows how to make do with minimal supplies and resources, and i mean that in the bear grylls doing nasty shit just to make it through the night type of way. she’s also an excellent huntsman. she can sniff out tracks easily and leaves no nook or cranny untouched when scavenging. she’ll climb and crawl through questionable buildings if there’s a chance for loot inside. you might want to watch your belongings around her, too.

her living quarters are bare, and you can’t tell much about her just by looking through it. having moved from camp to camp for a majority of her life, coupled with an innate sense of instability has pretty much dissolved any real sense of ownership she feels over things. she does like little trinkets, though. typically small animal figurines. she thinks they’re charming.

she can be a great friend, if you manage to get close enough. she's brazen, a surprisingly good listener, and always more than willing to lighten the mood. she may not laugh at your jokes, but she'll have your back, even if it costs her own. as it turns out, jordan can be very generous sometimes: she’ll shower you in attention and walk in your shadow, chasing the light you emit. deep down, jordan has a strong desire to please, and shows her love through acts of service. she wants to be needed, and needs to be useful to those she loves.

had coffee once and she hated it. too needy of a drunk to feel comfortable drinking. avoids the fighting pits. freezes up when someone touches her. can and will steal your flannel shirts.

— 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.

first of all, when i say i’m genuinely down to do any and all plots i mean that. i don’t say no to anything lol and want to do all the things, whether it’s mega death angst or something that’s so sweet it’ll make my teeth hurt. gimme everything, pls n thanks!

i’ve purposely left some gaps in her history in order to leave room for anything we cook up. people she was once in a group with / traveled with way back when could be cool. little acts of fate are my favorite - imagine the reunions! whether they hated each other, were familiar, or were thick as thieves is all good with me.

if anyone wants to pick up the ex she wanted to start a family with, then i’d be willing to discuss that! they could be from any faction [except for the purged, logistically]. doesn’t have to be the actual person that got her pregnant either. jordan checked out after everything that happened and ultimately left without any warning, goodbye, or anything. surely that’s gotta rouse some intense feelings, especially if they just so happen to come across her again.. as fate and its shit sense of humor would have it.

jordan can have some friends.. as a treat. hehe. seriously, give her someone to shoot the shit with and to annoy the hell out of!

friends with benefits / one night stands could be interesting, especially since jordan doesn’t really let very many people that close to her. keep in mind though, she’s the type to fuck someone and then never speak of it again which is very well-adjusted of her.

jordan gets bit pretty early on in game, and by that i mean literally in january of 2044, lol. so, having someone help her with her wound could be interesting. i was thinking it could be some quid pro quo type of deal where she asks them for supplies in exchange for whatever they want, but i’m down to discuss any differing ideas / alter it to fit our characters. jordan wouldn’t want them to know what the supplies was for, but the opportunity for them to find out anyhow could still arise because who doesn’t love some good ole drama?

someone that does not vibe with her / she doesn’t vibe with could be cool, too! not everything is peachy keen, you know?

exes / almost exes are one of my weaknesses. getting so close to someone that you end up on the other side of them is so bittersweet. i need it. jordan is a difficult individual, so maybe this was a will-they-won’t-they type of situation that never went anywhere, or it was silent pining, or whatever else we think of is all good with me. can have been unrequited or not, too. could be a relationship neither of them can leave well enough alone, or one that makes it difficult for them to ever go back to being friends - maybe there’s too much bitterness to see past. i just wanna paint some angsty little trees, man.

#jacksonhqintro #pregnancy tw #depression tw #infant death tw #intro #jordan intro.#u may be asking yrself damn dev do u ever shut up?? and the answer is no! i don't!

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writeyourownlifestory · 4 years

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Sometimes . . . Dead Is Better

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: IT Rating: E Warnings: Character Death, Zombie(?), Literally Pet Sematary. Gay bashing. Homophobia. Murder. Animal death. Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, lots of death.

Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @airbenderking, @ambitiousskychild, @tozierking,

You know what they say about Derry, no one who dies here ever really dies.

IT + Pet Semetary = fun times for no one involved

It all started when their dog passed away.

They had decided to spend their summer vacation in Maine, a terrible decision on their parents as the city had far more to offer than their sleepy little town. Eddie had just started a new job and was only given a week to take off during the months of June to August. They chose July because that’s when it would be the least offensively hot in Maine.

Richie had landed a pretty sweet job interviewing celebrities for Podcasts. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do with his life, but he’d take it over being unemployed. Rather than sit around in their apartment for a week like Richie had hoped they would, they packed up their travel-sized belongings and headed back to the town they grew up in.

Despite his mother begging him to stay in his old childhood bedroom, Eddie put his foot down and settled to rent a room in the local townhouse. Sonia Kaspbrak wasn’t happy about it, but so long as Eddie was back, she’d deal.

Richie was content with this choice. For one, his own family no longer lived in Derry, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere to offer. Second, Eddie’s bedroom, which was basically a shrine to the poor guy, was too small for them to both fits. Not that Sonia would even allow Richie to stay there. She had never lived Richie, neither as Eddie’s friend or boyfriend, so Richie was sure if they were going to stay at the Kaspbrak house, he’d be sleeping on that uncomfortable couch.

Luckily, Eddie cared about his well being enough to not force him to do that and they got themselves a room with a mattress big enough for them both.

It started off pretty good. Eddie’s mother was beginning him to come over and spend time with her, wanting him to use up all seven days with just her. He compromised and gave as much time as he could while also meeting up with some old friends. Mike Hanlon still lived in Derry, running the library as the local historian.

Most of the group had moved on out of Derry, choosing to have lives of their own. The only ones they saw often enough were Bill Denbrough and Stanley Uris, who went back and forth from Long Island to California depending on whether or not Bill’s latest novel was to be turned into a script. The last time Richie and Eddie saw Ben Hanscom and Beverly (formerly Marsh) Hanscom was when they announced the birth of their first child.

It was tough growing up and growing apart from the people you always left closest to. Eddie and Richie were lucky as they always had each other. Through all the ups and downs, the trials and tribulations, Eddie had Richie and Richie had Eddie. It wasn’t easy because hello, being gay in Maine was never easy, but they made it work back in high school and they’d make it work here.

The first day had been them getting comfortable and meeting up with Mike for dinner. It was nice seeing a friendly face to talk about all the things that changed. The Aladdin was still standing, still looking as beaten up as ever. The standpipe was still the obnoxious eyesore that made the town look ever so picturesque. Keene’s drug store was still around and Richie made sure to tease Eddie about picking up his inhaler replacement.

They hung out and enjoyed themselves in the townhouse. Eddie was still iffy about certain things and made sure to change the sheets on the bed with the ones they had brought from home. It was for the best and Richie wasn’t going to argue with him, especially since Eddie was more than kind enough to allow Richie to messy them up in their own way when they got home from dinner.

It was the following day that everything turned to shit. Eddie had promised to spend the entire day with his mother, leaving Richie to fend for himself in the penthouse. Along with their luggage, they also brought along with dog Penny. She was a preciously little Pomeranian who was sweeter than candy and the apple of their eye. They had been thinking of getting a pet for a while and after finally buying a place of their own, they went down to the shelter to pick one out.

Pure breed dogs like Penny weren’t usually brought to places like that, rather sold by a breeder, but they were in luck. Her mother had been put up for adoption while pregnant and the puppies were scattered across the shelter. They took the smallest one because it reminded Richie so much of Eddie and welcomed her into their home.

They weren’t too sure where the name came from. Richie joked that they called her Penny because she was dirt cheap compared to so many other dogs that literally cost you an arm and a leg just to have. Eddie liked to think they got it from “Penny Lane” the Beatle song, but neither was right or wrong.

Now, the thing about the townhouse was that the whole thing hadn’t been updated since they were kids. No nice TVs or anything from the modern era. There were fans offered, but no AC unit in place. Richie was suffering from the heat and opened the far window in hopes of casting a bit of fresh air into the place.

He sat on the couch with his computer, trying to come up with some new material for the standup special he had been working on. He was funny and knew he could be funny outside of the podcast world. All he needed was the material to show it off.

Well, Penny was a precocious little pup and always liked to inspect things. She hopped up onto the window sill and began yapping at the birds on the outside. She had done the same thing yesterday, except the difference was there were several inches of glass keeping her at bay. Now there was no barrier between them, so nothing stopped the poor thing from leaping out the window, charging at the birds.

Unlike the birds however, she didn’t have wings to keep her from falling the several stories down onto the pavement below. It was only the sound of her whimpering that caught Richie’s ear. It didn’t take much for the man to realize what happened and by the time he got down to the street belong, Penny was suffering more than any animal should.

Richie was distraught. Despite never having been known to be an animal person, Penny was as close to as a child that Eddie and he were going to have for a while. She was literally their baby. They had taken her at the moment she was able to get off drinking from her mother. They bought her toys and little outfits. Eddie talked about buying a carriage so he could push her around while jogging because her little legs were just too short for the three-mile trip he’d take around the city.

She even had her own corner in their bedroom and a dog house in the living room of their place, but at the end of the day, she always ended up sleeping on their bed.

Eddie even put a little staircase at the foot of the bed so she could hop on up without issue.

And now she was dead on the ground, having fallen from their fucking room because Richie couldn’t just put up with the heat.

He felt awful. Disgusting and terrible. Eddie would hate him for this, that much was obvious. He’d call him every bad name in the book because he just had to open up the window. Even if it was a mistake, an innocent one, that didn’t stop Richie from feeling like garbage.

He called Mike because he had no other idea of what to do. He didn’t know if there were any local vets or anything like that. There was no way they’d be burying her here. The last thing Richie wanted was to leave their precious little Penny behind.

Richie thought about cremating her and bringing her back up to New York. They could scatter her ashes along the water or keep her in an urn in their apartment. Eddie would probably want to leave a little memorial at her favorite park. They didn’t have a backyard or anything like that, so they took her to the dog park two to three times a week.

When Mike came, they sat together, with Penny tucked away inside one of the meatpacking boxes.

He wanted to wait for Eddie. He had to wait for Eddie because if they guy came home and Richie told him that he was gone and Eddie didn’t even get to say goodbye, then that would just make it so much worse.

They sat together in the alleyway behind the townhouse, smoking as Richie thought about his fate and how angry Eddie would be.

“She used to curl up on Eddie’s lap whenever he was trying to work.” He mentioned to Mike with a loving smile. “All she ever wanted to do was cuddle us and we let her because we were mushes. Now she’s gone.”

Richie rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, ignoring the fear of tears coming on. He felt sick to his stomach and looked over to the box just a few feet away from him.

“My dog died when I was a kid,” Mike admitted quietly. “It was before we met. Henry Bowers gave him meat that was laced with insect poison. Guess he thought the old mutt was an eyesore.”

Richie shivered at the thought of Bowers and all the old memories came flooding back to him. He had been a thorn in Richie’s side even before he realized he was gay though the latter didn’t help matters much. He was a racist, homophobic shit who probably went nowhere in life. Or worse, actually made something of himself.

Either way, the less they spoke about Bowers the better.

“My grandfather told me about a place high up on the hills near the old Native American tribute. Apparently, the place still has some magic hidden up there or something. Anyway, he carried the old boy there and the next day, he was back.”

“Back? Like . . . back from the dead?”

“I can’t explain it, but he was back. Different, but back.”

“Different how?”

“Mean,” Mike confessed, putting out the butt of his cigarette on the nearby wall. “He was pretty vicious. Broke into the barn and killed a couple of sheep. My grandfather ended up putting him down because he was becoming such a problem.”

“Penny couldn’t kill a thing. Barely weights five pounds.” Richie mentioned, looking from Mike to the box. He didn’t believe in magic or anything of the sorts, but he was a desperate man. “Where was this place?”

Turned out to be twenty minutes away by car, out towards where Mike lived and even further than that. The sky was turning dark by the time they got there and passing through the woods didn’t make it any easier.

“I want you to know the only reason I brought you here is that you’re my friend,” Mike told him calmly as they made their way down the path. There was a small area with handmade gravestones and a sign reading “Pet Sematary” hanging above. The incorrect spelling would drive Eddie crazy and Richie found himself smiling just thinking of it.

“So what, I just . . . pick a place?”

“Not here,” Mike said and carried down past the bushels of woods and up the hill town until they came upon a bleak circle with Native American carvings all along the ground.

“Have you been here before?” Richie asked carefully.

“Once. My grandfather and I were looting the area for anything we thought we could sell.” Mike admitted.

“You stole from Native Americans? Don’t they have enough to deal with?” Richie inquired.

With a slight glare, he continued. “He showed me this place and told me a few things about it. He didn’t want me to be curious and find it on my own. Mike paused, turning to hand Richie the shovel as he took the box that contained Penny. “You bury your own.” He told him. “That’s the rule.”

With one last sigh, Richie got to digging. He didn’t think any of this would work, but he was desperate to find out. If it all turned out to be some sick joke on Mike’s end, then at least they could call the trip short. Richie would dig up Penny and they’d go to the next town over to cremate her. They’d handle her ashes properly and Richie would take whatever punishment Eddie had planned for him.

When he was finished, he found himself more tired than expected. Like the place took away whatever energy he had to offer it. He got back to the townhouse and fell into the bed, falling asleep before even realizing it.

When he woke the following morning, it was to the sound of Eddie yelling at him. He jolted up, not knowing what day it was or why he was being hassled. He pushed himself up and out of bed, realizing only now he still had his muddy shoes on.

He stepped out of the bedroom and found Eddie on the floor, kneeling down beside a very dirty Penny. Her normally golden fur was matted with dirt and she was yipping around and around, much like the bubble ball of energy she was before.

“Seriously? What the hell did you do, take her running through the woods?” Eddie demanded, looking up to Richie. “And you! What, did you sleep in dirty clothes?”

“You didn’t come home last night,” Richie mumbled, rubbing his hand against his face.

“Mom had me watch one of those Turner Classic Movie Marathons. I fell asleep on the couch. I texted you but I never got a reply.” Eddie stood them, carrying Penny in his arms. “Come on, pretty girl. You need a bath. And Papa is gonna be the one to do it.”

Penny was shoved in his arms before he could even properly respond. Shuffling off to the bathroom, he listened to Eddie go on and on about his day with his mother while he got the tub set up for Penny.

He watched the dog curiously, trying to piece together what the hell happened. For a split second, Richie thought that the entire events of last night had been a horrible dream. Maybe he had just taken Penny out somewhere and they both got dirty. This town always gave him headaches, a little memory loss was no surprise to him.

“Rich, why is the window open?” Eddie asked as he popped his head into the bathroom. “In the living room. It’s wide open, you didn’t leave it open all night, did you? What if a bird got in? I swear I leave you alone for a fucking day.”

Richie stared with wide eyes at the dog that was digging into the bathroom rug. If last night wasn’t a dream, then that would mean Penny came back from the dead. How the fuck did she get back to the apartment? How did she get into the apartment? Nothing made sense to Richie, but he tried to ignore it all as he lifted her up and put her into the tub.

Normally, Penny was a lover of bath time. At their own apartment, they had plenty of room in their double-sized tub so it wouldn’t be a surprise for her to whine and whimper until Eddie lifted her up and they all bathed together on nights when they just needed some relaxation.

She would sit and allow Eddie to wash her and blow bubbled with her nose. Richie had countless pictures of her on his phone where she had colorful shower caps on to keep her ears or rubber duckies to keep her entertained.

Now, the former majestic and comforting dog was growling and yipping at Richie, going so far as to bite his arm when he tried to wash her. Richie couldn’t remember a single time that Penny had a bit at him, had snapped at all, but he chose not to question it.

She was back and they’d live with the attitude adjustment for now. He made a mental note to message Mike and give him a heads up about the place, but for now, he had a zombie dog to wash.

After the bath, Richie let Penny go and she moved around the apartment, going into the corner sit alone. Richie also took a shower, washing away all the dirt under his hair and somehow in his hair. He changed into clean clothes and found the dirty sheets had already been stripped and changed by Eddie, who was back in the kitchen, typing away on his computer as he drank his coffee.

“I thought we agreed on no work?” He asked casually, going to plop down onto the couch.

“Not work. Social stuff. Updating statues and all that.” Eddie moved forward, going to sit beside him on the couch. He held up his laptop, showing a picture from facebook. It was from Beverly and Ben with their baby on the beach. An adorable scene with Beverly completely slathered in sunscreen because of her pale complexion and Ben wearing the ugliest fucking hat he has ever seen. “Aren’t they adorable?”

Richie had to smile. He wasn’t wrong. They were very, very cute because how could they not be? They had been together since the end of high school. Lots of back and forth before Beverly finally grew a brain and realized the one she wanted and needed was Ben. They were a gorgeous family and Richie was envious of her happiness.

“That could be us someday,” Eddie ventured with a smile.

“Babe, you wear like . . . three times more sunblock than Beverly and if you think I’m wearing a hat that horrendous, you’re mistaken.”

“Not that, dumbass. The baby!” Right. The child.

Eddie had talked about it before. The whole adoption thing. Richie wasn’t opposed to it. Eddie had originally suggested fostering but Richie shut that down hardcore because he knew better. He knew Eddie would never be able to let the kid go so at least if they adopted right off the bat, they wouldn’t have to deal with anybody coming and trying to take the kid away from them.

“Eds, we’ve tried to remember? We just can’t seem to get you pregnant,” Richie teased, the tip of his nose nuzzling Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie sighed, closing the computer and placing it onto the coffee table beside Richie’s. They had talked about a lot of things. Adoption. Marriage. Growing old together. His own parents lived happily together raising two kids before retiring to Flordia. They weren’t perfect, but they didn’t have to be. Richie just hoped to be half the kind of partner his father had been, even if he wanted to be a better father.

“Your mom's not gonna cry and beg you to spend the night again, will she?” Richie asked curiously.

“Probably, but I won’t go. I told her I’d see her later this week but I want to use this time wisely and actually enjoy my vacation. Not just run around and do errands for her.”

“What a good son you are, Eddie Bear,” Richie said, kissing his cheeks wetly. Eddie groaned and pushed him away, causing Richie to laugh out. “Seriously, though. Do you have any plans? Did you sign us up for anything? No one to have dinner with?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, then what do you say to a good old fashioned date, huh? I was thinking: movies, dinner, and a walk along rickety Kissing Bridge?”

It was what they did when they were teenagers. Hang back at the top of the theater, grabbed pizza at the local parlor, and spit loogies off the bridge to the river below. Of course, as they got older and became an item, things became more romantic. They held hands during the movies and separated from the others for dinner. The only spit they shared at the bridge were kisses shared in secret. It wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough for them.

“I think you got yourself a date, Tozier.” Eddie decided, turning his head to kiss Richie.

It almost deepened then and while Richie would have been more than happy to let Eddie have his way with him right on the couch, they both turned away to see Penny pissing on the TV stand.

“Penny! What the hell?” Normally when the pup had to go she would let out a whimper and circle at the door. She was well trained; they had her certificate at doggy school and everything, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Eddie pushed up off the couch to clean up and Richie watched as the dog walked on, obviously not giving a single fuck.

They changed and left the apartment. Richie worried about what Penny would do when they were gone, what trouble she would get into. She wasn’t a messy dog; she had been a wonderful puppy and didn’t even chew on a single shoe, but now that she was . . . different, he worried about what would come of it.

Richie couldn’t think about that right now. He wanted to focus on something better and that was going out on a date with his boyfriend. They chose whatever the theater was playing when they arrived. Didn’t bother to check online, mostly cause Eddie wasn’t even sure the Aladdin even had a website. They chose The Monkey’s Paw, some old black and white film that was playing; bought their large popcorn and sodas and went up to the top ledge as they did as kids.

Richie kicked his feet up, waiting for Eddie to do the same so they could intertwine their ankles. They shared the popcorn and a few kisses as the film played on. It wasn’t a horrible movie; definitely worth the time to see it through Richie found he much preferred to watch Eddie than to watch whatever was happening on screen.

When it was over, they tossed out their containers and left the theatre. Eddie was talking a mile a minute about the movie they just watched, all the while Richie just smiled and nodded along. They went to the nearby diner for dinner and Richie watched as Eddie searched and searched before finally deciding to go with a plain burger. He asked what kind of grease they used, but gave up trying afterward because it was fucking Derry Maine, they couldn’t expect anything to be healthy around here, even with the growing vegan trend.

They shared fries and onion rings, talking about all the fun they used to have when they were kids, trying to split the bill with their allowances; counting nickels and dimes just to make it. Now they were both making money and paying for the bill was with a quick swipe of the credit card.

It was a calm night, sitting and chatting with each other as Richie continued to flood the table jukebox, playing all the songs they grew up with. He ended on “Together Forever” by Rick Astley because it was loud and dramatic, the exact opposite of Eddie. Richie sang it to him lovingly, not caring if anybody watched. The look he got from Eddie was more than enough. A glance that says: you’re a total idiot but you’re my total idiot.

What more could he ever want?

When they finished, Richie persuaded Eddie to take a walk with him. It was late, but not too late. The moon was high in the sky, just after sundown. The heat settled and the breeze was beginning to pick up around them.

They walked down the lane together, right up to Kissing Bridge. Eddie read the names aloud, trying to think if he knew any of the people. They stopped when they came upon the all too familiar carving. Richie had done it back when they were just kids. Barely fourteen at the time and completely in love with his best friend. The carving was faded by now, but the sentiment meant the same.

R + E

Richie plus Eddie.

“Forever and ever, babe,” Richie mentioned, going to lean against the bridge. He watched Eddie, catching the moonlight in his eyes and in his hair. He was gorgeous and always would be. “You know . . . I had been thinking about this for a while.”

“You: thinking? Oh, that can’t be good.” Eddie laughed softly.

“It’s kind of obvious that you’re it for me, Eduardo. And unless you can find another ugly mother fucking with a gangly body, I think I might be it for you too.”

“Depends on if the circus is coming to town,” Eddie mentioned, a loving smile coming across his face.

“Eds. I’m sure there are thousands of ways I could do this and maybe waiting until we get back to New York is the better choice, but call me a sentimental fuck, but I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather ask you this.”

He had both the ring a month ago, knowing eventually they’d have the time together and he’d be able to ask. Richie couldn’t think of a better place than their hometown. Not because of the idealistic ways around it, but rather because what would be a better fuck you to this horrible town than being extremely gay smack dab in the middle of it?

Richie got down onto one knee, holding out the ring box he had fished from his jacket pocket. It was white gold with an overlay of diamonds. Simple and elegant, just like Eddie himself.

“Eddie Spaghetti,”

Eddie laughed, his cheeks turning scarlet in the moonlight. “Christ Rich,”

“Would you do the honor of marrying me?”

“Do you really think I’d say no, asshole? Yes! One hundred times yes,”

Richie’s smile was as bright as the fucking moon. He slipped the ring on, which was the perfect size because he knew exactly what size finger Eddie had. He knew more about Eddie than he knew about himself sometimes.

When all was said and done he stood, towering over the other male, though he bent forward to kiss him, not caring at his glasses were pushed up against his nose. They’d deal with it later.

Lost in their kiss, neither noticed the car stopping in the middle of the bridge or the driver getting out of it. When they broke away, Richie turned to see an all too familiar blue thunderbird idling on the bridge and coming over to them was the same mullet-wearing asshole that made his life a living hell all those years ago.

“Well, ain't this a pretty sight.” Henry Bowers muttered, looking over to his companions.

“Hello to you too, Bowers,” Eddie said, looking the group up and down slowly.

“Tozier and Kaspbrak. Haven’t seen your ugly faces around here in a while.” Henry mentioned. “Thought I got rid of your losers.”

“No, that was college. We went there while you stayed and jerked off into a bucket.” Richie replied back easily.

“Always knew you two were fucking each other. What? Marsh’s puss wasn’t good enough so you two turned into a couple of faggots?”

“There is so much wrong in everything you just said.” Eddie groaned, rubbing at his temple. The ring caught the moonlight and Henry’s attention.

“Well, I guess congratulations are in order,” Henry mentioned, approaching slowly. He placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder, that sadistic smile that always sent a shiver down Richie’s spine shined darkly. “Welcome home,” He said cheerfully before driving his fist into Richie’s stomach.

It wasn’t their first beating. They had taken blows by Bowers and his gang before and back in New York they were used to someone shouting something at them despite it being new age. They went back and forth, each putting up a fight because they weren’t going to let Bowers win this round.

It came to a close when he tried to take Eddie’s ring. The shorter male bought back, going so far as to land a punch right in Henry’s eye. That pissed him off enough to brandish the knife he always kept in the back pocket. He held onto Eddie’s hand tightly, threatening to cut off his finger and wear the ring around his neck as a souvenir.

At this point, it wasn’t worth it and Richie was shouting for Eddie to just give it up. The other assholes were holding him down, refusing to let him up to help Eddie.

Bowers licked the knife slowly, bringing the tip of it to Eddie’s face to teach him. In a swift move, Eddie jerked forward, kneeing Henry in the dick. The pain was enough to send a surge of angry through him and Bower buried the knife in Eddie’s face, cutting deeply into his cheek.

Eddie cried out, both in shock and pain, while Bowers decided to let the knife stay there as he punched the rest of Eddie’s face until his knuckles were bloody.

Richie thought it would end there. He thought they would be left beaten and bloody, but alive in the middle the street.

They couldn’t get that lucky.

Using the last bit of strength he had, Eddie muttered one final thought. “You should cut that fucking mullet. It’s been like twenty years, man.”

With that, Bowers offered one more blow before standing to his feet. He shouted for the others to come over and help him. They left Richie on the other side of the road to watch as they dragged Eddie over, to the wall of the bridge. And in one smooth move, they lifted him up and tossed him over into the river below.

Richie was left screaming, spitting out blood onto the road as Bowers and his gang drove away. Using whatever strength he had left, Richie pushed himself up, scooping his glasses from the ground, and hurried around to where the opening of the bridge led to the river. He tripped twice and fell first into the edge of the water, pushing himself up onto wobbly legs as he went deeper into the water and over to where Eddie was floating.

“Eddie. Eddie! Wake up, babe. Baby, wake up.” Richie muttered, rolling Eddie over so his face was out of the water.

His eyes were open and his neck was slack. Richie could think of countless times he had gazed into those eyes as a child, as a teen, as a man. No matter the situation, Eddie always seemed to have a wonderful glimmer there.

That glimmer was gone now and replacing it was nothing more than a vacant stare that went nowhere.

His face was mutilated and despite lying in the water for over three minutes, there was no washing the blood away. It stained his skin in the worst way, leaving him wet and icky.

He was completely unresponsive and while it was plain to see that he wasn’t dealing with shock or just fell contentious, Richie continued to hold onto him and mutter his name, rocking him slowly until someone above spotted and alerted the authorities.

Richie was treated for his wounds at the hospital while Eddie was taken away by the coroner. It still hadn’t hit Richie yet that this happened. That Eddie was dead. When he spoke to the hospital officials, they said a full autopsy hasn’t been done but their best guess was a broken neck and drowning.

They cleaned him up and stitched up any wounds he had, leaving him looking more like Frankenstein than anything. He called Mike, not knowing what else to do in this situation. And Mike called Stanley and Bill because this wasn’t something Richie should have to deal with alone.

When Richie tried to report the crime, however, he found himself being rebuffed.

“Henry Bowers couldn’t have done this,” The officer on call explained to him. “He’s on the force. He might be a hothead like his old man, but he wouldn’t break the law. He is the law.”

“Do you think I am fucking lying about this?” Richie practically screamed.

“You already said his dad was a hothead. What makes you think Bowers wouldn’t do this?” Mike challenged the officer.

“Because he is an officer. Now, unless you want to give me a real report, I suggest you deal with your own trouble.”

The officer walked away and the only reason why he didn’t straight up maul the officer was because of Mike holding him back.

“I haven’t even seen him!” Richie shouted to Mike, beginning to pace the hospital, having not seen Eddie since they arrived at the hospital. “I don’t even fucking know where he is.”

He was breaking down. He knew he was breaking down and there was no way to stop it. Richie wanted to fall to the ground and cry, not caring who saw him. He had just proposed. They were going to get married. They were going to look into adoption, they would have a family. Everything was going so fucking well for them and now it felt like the world was falling apart around them.

Mike ended up sweet talking one of the nurses into letting Richie see Eddie. He was given a five-minute window, which seemed cruel for a man who watched his lover died.

He laid on the slab completely still, eyes still wide open as he looked out over nothing. They washed away the blood, though the bruises still remained. There was no point in stitching him up, leaving the wound open on his cheese.

There was no denying it anymore. He wasn’t just frozen in the moment or in a vegetative state. Eddie Kaspbrak was dead and there was no going back.

Richie could only apologize so many times but he’d go on and on for as long as it took. He was so fucking sorry. Sorry that he let Penny fall from the window. Sorry that he fought with his mother to the point where she didn’t want him at her house. Sorry that he bothered to propose in public in such a fucked uptown.

Richie was just so fucking sorry.

All their plans were gone. All their hopes were gone. Eddie was gone.

But he didn’t have to be.

In the darkest part of Richie’s mind, he knew there had to be a way it would work. It worked on a dog, so why not a man? Anything was possible, right? And if it didn’t work, then at least then he would know and he could have closure. If it didn’t work then he’d confess to everything and they’d bury Eddie for real. They’d give him a proper burial and his mom would have Richie even more but that was fine.

It was worth a shot.

Stealing a body from a hospital wasn’t easy and he didn’t really know what to do once he slipped through the back door. He carried Eddie, wrapped up in the sheet from the hospital, all the way to the area that Mike had first taken him too. Richie had never been very strong, but he found the strength to take Eddie all the way up there.

He walked down the path and up the hill. He went passed the dead animals and into the circle. He found a place right in the middle and started digging. He dug, and dug, and dug until there was nothing left but a gaping hole.

He pulled Eddie into it, holding him for just a moment longer.

“Come back to me,” He muttered, laying him down in the dirt. “You fucking come back to me, you understand?”

Pulling himself out of the hole, Richie pushed all the dirt back on until Eddie was completely covered. Lightening light up the sky and rain began to fall down, though he carried on until the hole was complete. He walked back down the trail in a trance, stopping only when he found Mike at the bottom.

“I couldn’t find you,” Mike said, his voice low and shaking. He looked over Richie, seeing the dirt on his clothes and on his hands. “I couldn’t find you and I knew. Richie . . . whatever you did-”

“It’s done,” Richie told him simply, pushing passed him to continue ongoing down the lane.

“Whatever you think you did, it won’t work. Whatever returns to you, it won’t be Eddie!” Mike warned. He reached back, grabbing Richie’s arm to stop him from walking. “My grandfather had a friend, Rich. His son died overseas and he was so desperate to have him back-”

“It’s done, Mike!” Richie shouted to him, pushing him off. “The law won’t do anything, what other choice did I have?!”

Nobody would listen to Richie, nobody cared about what he had to say. He was just another gay man. Useless and pathetic. Wanting all the attention. There was no way they would believe him if he tried to bring this to outside police or even to court. An off duty police officer vs a homosexual.

There would have been proof. They found the knife that was plunged into Eddie’s cheek; it had the initials of Bower's father along the body of it. And it wasn’t like Richie could kick the shit out of himself and Eddie and still have the strength to push him over the bridge.

All the proof was there, but they still wouldn’t listen. Richie, in his desperation and depression, saw no real solution to this problem.

“Using a fucking Native American burial ground should have never been a choice!” Mike insisted.

“You showed it to be in the first place.”

“For your dog! Not your boyfriend!”

Richie’s eyes glazed over, his head shaking as his glasses became fogged up from the rain. “Eddie will come back. Just like Penny did.”

“It won’t end well, Richie,” Mike warned, but the other man wasn’t listening.

He just kept walking down the lane, all the way back to the townhouse.

#Pet Semetary #REDDIE #Reddie Au #Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #Mike Hanlon #Henry Bowers

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atopearth · 4 years

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Fate/stay night Réalta Nua Part 2 - Fate Route (2/2)

Day 10 - 15 I don’t think I ever realised how deep the repercussions of Shinji activating the boundary field and sucking up the life force of the people in the school exactly was. Although we got to see (in the anime) people like Mitsuzuri not acting “normal”, when Shirou couldn’t sleep because he kept thinking about the people who had their skin melted, and how the lack of oxygen could severely affect their brain functions or other physical disabilities, it made me so mad that Shinji got away. Someone like him who could do such cruel things yet cry like a baby when he’s about to die makes me so mad and annoyed. Honestly, this is probably where I think Shirou is much more “mature” than Saber, he acknowledges that this tragic event occurred, he was powerless to stop it from happening, but he doesn’t dwell on kicking himself for allowing it to happen and wanting to go back to change it if he could (since he knows that such a thing shouldn’t be done on a whim even if he could do it). Instead, Shirou very logically understands that what he can and must do from now on is to prevent such a thing from happening ever again, and I think that’s really admirable, especially considering how much his guilt must weigh on him for being weak. But I guess that only makes him push himself even when he’s injured… It’s nice to see an explanation of the different Noble Phantasms that are either built to be anti-personnel ones where it’s really strong against people but “useless” against objects or armies and the other way around. Which i guess kinda balances out the different skills of each Servant since there’s no Noble Phantasm that is really effective against everything. I’m glad that Saber forced him to rest when he started looking around for Shinji, now Saber is being the less reckless one haha.

I guess the reason Shirou becomes who he is in “that future” is mainly because of the attitude he keeps up right now. Even Saber has noticed that he puts others before himself to the point that he doesn’t care about himself and doesn’t think about “saving” himself, and that’s probably what caused his life to go downhill when he realised how he sacrificed himself and everything for an ideal that gave him nothing in the end, whether it be satisfaction, happiness or any change in the world itself. He lives to become a protector of justice and yet neglects the importance of “Shirou’s” thoughts and feelings as a person instead of just the Shirou who was the only survivor in the last war, so he should do something with this life he was luckily blessed with by Kiritsugu. Wow, Rider on a Pegasus looked really beautiful, but at the same time eerie, considering she definitely lured Saber to the rooftop because she has a plan to defeat her. I definitely enjoy how Rider is living up to her name as Rider lol, to think she could summon a Pegasus from the times of the Gods and it’s actually powerful enough that its divine protection is even above Saber’s. I guess it was expected that Saber would have to use her Noble Phantasm Excalibur to defeat Rider (who took advantage of fighting in the air against Saber who is accustomed to fights on the ground). It’s just saddening that using it once depleted her mana so much that she might not be able to survive the next fight… It was nice to see Arturia/Saber’s past, I feel like she’s similar to Shirou in the sense that she never lived for herself either, when she was born, although she was tossed to an old knight due to her gender, she always trained properly as a knight knowing what her role in life was. She was born to be king and it was further proven when she was able to pull Caliburn(?) out of the ground. She knew her life could never be normal and accepted that, she knew she had to kill everyone to protect everyone around her, she took those responsibilities to heart so much, she always stood in the front lines to protect the people she felt she was destined to protect because she was the king, and nothing else.

It’s actually pretty cute how Saber has become more conscious of herself as a girl because of Shirou now, it’s nice to see her feel and be something other than a knight. But yeah, I always feel so sad about Archer being left behind to fend off Berserker so they can escape Illya’s castle, soo not worth it for Shirou and Saber🥺 But yeah, he did it to protect Rin so it can’t be helped, especially since there really was no other choice. The whole transplant with the Magic Circuit with the dragon inside of Saber etc was interesting… But what’s more interesting is how embarrassed Saber is towards Shirou now lol. It’s just such a contrast from how she acted before that it’s so amusing lol. It’s pretty amazing to hear that Archer dealt 6 fatal blows to Berserker before disappearing, if there’s only 6 “blows” left, that means Archer himself took Berserker to half health! Kinda crazy especially since Berserker gets enhanced strength and stuff for being berserk (has no rationality etc, even though he regained it for a second from the battle with Archer because of how interesting and worthy of a battle it was) and even Saber can’t match his strength. I love Archer😭

Although it’s super cool that Shirou could reproduce an imitation of Caliburn (the sword Saber pulled out from the ground), it’s still crazy to think that the attack they both used together could actually destroy Berserker’s body seven-fold with a single blow. Ooh I never realised that Masters could actually have more than one Servant, it’s just unfeasible due to having to split up magical power. Although I’ll never like Illya (look at all those deaths in the bad ends!), she is cute and honest, and I do love how she won’t have any other Servant except Berserker. Lmao when she said she’ll take Saber if Shirou loses since she doesn’t intend on allowing anyone except him to win the war, so she’ll win it in his stead if that happens lol. It was so cute when Saber used a napkin to wipe Illya’s cheek when it got dirty as she was eating. But I think when Saber said she did it because she didn’t want Illya’s beautiful hair to get dirty made me think that maybe Saber is so partial to it because of Irisviel (Illya’s mother).

I’m really glad the novel actually expands on Saber’s past, her thoughts and feelings much more, I always thought she was a shallow character in the anime, so it’s great to see this. “Nobody wanted her to be human, but they revolted against her because she didn’t have a human’s feelings”. I find this quote so saddening… Saber worked hard to be nothing but a “king” for the knights and the people around her because they all found it difficult to acknowledge her as one when she was just a kid that pulled out a sword, and yet when she succeeded in winning battles and leading them, they found dissatisfaction in the fact that even though she was capable, she didn’t have the heart to truly move or guide people because all she was, was some kind of being that was so great yet so difficult to understand. What she sacrificed to lead people in the end became what the people revolted against her for. It’s so… ridiculously ironic that it honestly breaks my heart to think about how difficult it must have been for Saber. She gave up herself and lived for these people that ended up going against her despite her doing her best in the only way she knew to lead them. She was always alone, but no one thought anything of it, because she was the king, and yet despite whatever misgivings she had as a king, the knights never questioned her until they decided to just leave her. Just as she never showed them and the people her emotions and thoughts, her people also never wanted that from her until they suddenly decided otherwise. I think by seeing all this, I can much more appreciate how the innocent, cute and sweet Saber acts in front of Shirou. It’s like, because of him, she was able to regain and show a part of herself that she had to always restrain inside because of how unnecessary it was to the world, and yet Shirou from the very beginning always insisted on treating her as a human, as a girl and as just any other person. How ironic it is that she was never treated as a human when she was alive, yet she is treated as one when she becomes a Servant. I think what must have broken her the most was her last battle against the knights that usurped her throne and split the country in two, making her fight in the soil she fought so hard to protect all these years. And I guess that’s why Saber can so assuredly say that Shirou’s way of living is wrong and will cause him grief in the future. Because they’re so similar in that they both completely disregard themselves as “anything” compared to the “importance” of others. On a lighter note, I love how simple and sweet their everyday life is, it’s so cute how much fun Saber and Illya have just sharing boxed lunches together in the dojo, they’re so adorable. Although I do have to really question how useful Saber and Shirou’s training has been if they’re both so reserved towards each other now lol.

The heroic spirit thing is certainly interesting… To think that heroes make a contract with the world in order to become a hero, receive powers beyond humans and then pay for this after death by becoming heroic spirits that could be summoned for the war… But Saber is different because she became a hero with her own powers and not by contract with the world, it was only when she was about to die that she made that contract to be a heroic spirit in order to obtain the Holy Grail (that she sought when she was Arturia). Hmm so right now, Saber isn’t exactly a Servant since her time has only “stopped”, but then when she gets the grail, she will die and become a heroic spirit as per the contract…and that’s why she can’t go into spirit form… it’s actually because she’s not dead😮 And unlike the other Servants who are essentially copies of themselves (so they disappear when defeated), Saber goes back to her own time (the moment before her death) instead. I wondered to what point Saber wants to change things, but to think she believes that maybe the sword chose wrong, so she wants to redo the selection in hope that a more “suitable” king would be found and her country wouldn’t be in ruins because of her. Honestly, although Shirou is mad that she has no regards for herself even to this point, and that he wants the Saber here to be happy (instead of just the Saber that will not be king if she really gets the Holy Grail), I’m mad at Saber for completely disregarding the ten years she fought for her country. Even if it ended in betrayal and shambles, even if that wasn’t the ending she desired, how can she disregard the lives she saved alongside the lives that were lost? What makes her think that this is entirely her responsibility? Just as she chose to pull out the sword, the others decided to follow her (even if it was in reluctance for a bit), the fall of a country isn’t someone’s sole responsibility. But I guess what annoys Shirou the most is that even though Saber tells him that he’s on the “wrong path”, Saber doesn’t even realise she’s doing the same thing as him. She only thinks of herself as the king that failed and must do something to rectify that when she doesn’t even really think of her own life outside of being king.

Hahahaha, I love Tiger Dojo 9 when Taiga and Illya diss Saber for being weak, getting controlled by Caster and killing Shirou lmaoo. LOL at Saber getting her revenge on them riding a tiger hahahaha, omg these Tiger Dojos are so fun to read. Kinda sad that Caster has to interrupt during the heated conversation, sooo rude lol. Lmao at Saber wanting to use Excalibur against the horde of golems in Shirou’s house, lady, do you want to destroy everything and the people in the vicinity?! Caster feels like such a cheat though, not only can she cast magic without a Magical Circuit and with short incantations since she’s from the age of Gods or whatever, her Noble Phantasm is rigged even if it’s not “super powerful” like Saber’s. I’m surprised that Gilgamesh appeared to “save the day”. But anyway, I guess I’ve never been a fan of Caster and Gilgamesh because imo they kinda ruin the power balance in the story and makes things less interesting. Let’s see if the novel changes my mind for this haha. Maybe now I’ll get to see why Gilgamesh is so obsessed with Saber?

Honestly though, I find Saber so silly to think that if she herself was an incapable king, what makes her think that she is capable of properly selecting an “appropriate king” in her stead? Hmmm, how interesting that the Einzbern family were the ones who initially wanted to summon the Holy Grail but ended up getting cooperation from the Tohsaka family due to the need for their land, and then they got the Makiri family to try and balance things out, but since the first “war” ended in such a bloodfest, the Holy Grail War started changing into what it is now, with Einzbern providing the vessel, Tohsaka the land and model for the Servants, and the Makiri provided the Command Spells. I’m kinda glad that Shirou knows his feelings for Saber though, I mean he’s so obstinate about “saving” her and keeping her here so she can live a life for herself instead of others, it was about time for him to realise how important she was to him haha. Although I do feel like the romantic vibes are rather weak, I do acknowledge that their relationship is something more along the lines of they would sacrifice their lives for the other without even needing to think about it.

LMAO when Tohsaka asked what Shirou was going to do tomorrow with such a serious face and he says he’s going to go on a date hahahha. Tohsaka was so cute when she burst out laughing at him. Their date was so awkward and yet so cute lol. I really liked their conversation at the bridge, it’s mainly a reiteration of what they both stubbornly want from each other; with Shirou wanting Saber to live her life for herself and Saber denying that because it’s her duty to attain the holy grail. They both care about each other but just can’t find a way for the other to understand what they want or must do. But yeah, I just really liked it because I guess it was nice to see more depth to Saber’s feelings, her pain and how much she wants to do what Shirou wants her to do but is unable to because she feels so bound to her duty. Mmmm I see! Gilgamesh is the king of heroes, a half God half human king that had a whole treasury of weapons (that are now Noble Phantasms because they’re now owned by heroes) and collected them his whole lifetime, and they were only spread through the land after his death. Even though Gilgamesh is infinitely arrogant and overbearing, it was rather respectable for him to use Ea, a sword that only the king of heroes possesses to face off against Excalibur. Although Gilgamesh won and was as detestable as ever, it was great to see Shirou relentlessly continue to fight half dead. What Saber couldn’t do, Shirou did, even if he was weak, even if he was tattered by Gilgamesh, he still stood because he no matter what desired to protect Saber, the most important person to him, and honestly although these scenes are cliche, I still really loved it because I could really feel Shirou’s desperation, and Saber’s hope for him to just give up and not hurt himself anymore. So when he was able to hurt Gilgamesh (and cause him to leave for some reason, probably because he felt so disgraced lol), and Saber held him up realising that he was her sheath (to Excalibur), that scene was really beautiful and heartwarming. Because not only does he really have Saber’s sheath (and that’s why his wounds always heal next to her), it’s already been said (in her past) that what’s more important than the sword is the sheath itself that will always protect her, and it’s kinda cute how Shirou is exactly that.

Oh dang, Saber in her sleepwear?! I’m surprised Shirou wasn’t excited! Hahaha, but I guess the atmosphere didn’t allow that. He kissed her, he showed her and told her his feelings very explicitly, but she couldn’t accept them no matter what, but she at least decided to hug him to sleep as a way to recover magical energy, and to spend one last night selfishly being Arturia rather than King Arthur. I… didn’t think I could get so disgusted with Kotomine. To think that all those children who were orphans from the fire ten years ago were taken in by the church and tortured all this time to give Gilgamesh the power to stay in this world…. Thinking about Shirou witnessing the scene of them all practically the living dead with missing limbs etc yet still “alive” really crushed me, because it’s so true, because Kiritsugu saved Shirou, he didn’t have to suffer like them, once again, he is the true sole survivor of that fire. It’s just so disheartening to think how that must feel and how much it must break him. Honestly, I feel sorry for Lancer that his Master is Kotomine. Although it would have been logical for Shirou to want the holy grail to undo the fire ten years ago, it was expected that he wouldn’t, since from the very beginning, he has never denied his past, he continues to carry it within him and apologise to the ones that died because he survived, but he has never thought that he would want to redo it. He always moved to change the present and only looked back for his resolve. So, I’m glad through him, Saber can understand how strong he is, and how wrong she has been. Just as it is cruel to deny the past, it is cruel to deny everything that happened after such an event. If she truly wants to change things, it should be done in the present. I’m glad she has come to terms with the decisions she made in her past. Even though it all ended in grief, those were her decisions and she did everything in accordance to her oath, there is nothing that she still needs to bear responsibility for. It must feel pretty crappy to be Saber though. She’s been fighting for the Holy Grail in two wars hoping that it would fulfill her wishes, only to realise that it’s just something that provides pure power of destruction to fulfill wishes since it’s the only way it can fulfill wishes. So really, unless she’s willing to sacrifice everything around her then really, this whole war was just pointless. But yeah, I really love Lancer. I love how he’s someone who follows his beliefs more than anything.

It’s nice yet saddening that Saber finally understands that Kiritsugu didn’t betray her. He knew this grail wasn’t what she wanted, not that he thought she needed it anyway, but after knowing what it really was, it definitely wasn’t what she wanted. It must feel terrible to have hated him for so long, only to realise that he was right, and that he wasn’t as bad as she thought. I see, Illya is a human made from a Magic Circuit, so that’s what the vessels are… I guess it’s kinda funny to call Gilgamesh and them OP when I guess Saber is always the OP one when Shirou gives her stuff like her proper sheath and sword. I honestly didn’t expect that the projection of her sheath could actually block Gilgamesh’s Ea and Kotomine’s black mud. I guess it’s a very flexible thing that can protect you from anything huh? Since it is apparently the greatest protection lol. And with that opening, both Shirou and Saber have the opening needed to defeat their opponent~ Shirou needs to thank Rin for giving him her Azoth dagger haha. Honestly though, I think Gilgamesh is less repetitively overbearing in the VN, I think regardless of how he was and how he acted, the grace he possessed after his defeat was definitely refreshing. Although it’s saddening that destroying the grail will lead to Saber disappearing, this is what they want and what is the best for their respective paths, because with this, they can finally accept everything they had done and finally move forward knowing that the path they have chosen is what they wanted. Saber’s confession to Shirou before disappearing was natural yet beautiful. It didn’t make me feel sad that they can’t be together, but instead I think I found a lot of relief from it, because both their existences helped the other come to terms with everything in their past and finally accept it for what it is and for what will come.

Omgg I love how Taiga took Illya in! Since Taiga is childish, they would get along so well! Hahaha. Although I guess it’s mainly Illya bullying Taiga hahaha. It was really nice to see Shirou keep up his normal everyday life yet have matured, it was really nice to see that. It was also really heartwarming to see Bedevere (Arthur’s loyal knight) fulfill Saber’s last wish of throwing the sword into the lake (to end her duty as king) and be able to see Saber/Arthur pass with a peaceful expression believing that her “dream” (of Shirou etc) will continue. Honestly, it felt like the whole route was made just for this to happen, because if it was the Saber before, she would never have been able to pass on in peace, but after everything that happened, this was the natural thing to happen, and it’s pretty worth it to see her be able to be happy about her decisions instead of regretting them for eternity.

Overall, although I did think the beginning was very slow and rather time consuming, I have to admit I did very much enjoy the Fate route. Although I don’t think the 2006 anime is exactly terrible as others say, I do think it really cut out a lot of Saber’s character that was quite thoroughly explored here. I think the thing I loved about it most was that I honestly expected it to be a very romantic route considering how Shirou acted towards Saber and how much he wanted to protect her throughout the whole route, but really, it wasn’t that romantic at all. Mainly because, I think Saber and Shirou’s relationship was there to make them both grow and accept their past, and move forward without regrets about how they could do better, and instead accept that they did what they could, that they did their best and that in respect for their past, they should hope to change the present instead of dwelling on the past. Honestly, I never really thought Saber and Shirou were similar until I played through this route, and it’s kinda cute how absolutely stubborn they both are (which is why Rin is so important to help them understand each other), and how they both refused to allow the other disregard themselves for others. I loved how the way they learnt to cherish themselves and their own lives was through looking and caring for the other so much that they couldn’t help but understand how important they were due to their need and love for each other. They both always put others before themselves because just as Saber was bound to her duty as king, Shirou was bound to his responsibility as the sole survivor of the fire ten years ago. But unlike Saber, Shirou never wanted to change the past, because he understood the importance of accepting events that have occurred, acknowledging mistakes and responsibilities and doing better in the present and the future. And I loved how although Shirou was annoyingly obstinate about stuff like Saber is a girl etc, it was his way of trying to convey to her that she already gave her whole life to being a king, she didn’t need to sacrifice her afterlife to being responsible for other people anymore. I honestly thought Saber’s meeting with Shirou was such a blessing for her, because it was through him that she was finally able to find peace in the decisions she made in her life, and yet was still able to experience a fun “dream” with Shirou and others as “Saber”. Tbh though, when I was reading through the route, a lot of things did feel tedious, but I think it all built up very nicely to the finale, because it was through all those “annoying” moments that I was able to see how worth it it was for Shirou to be so persistent about “saving” Saber, and I’m so glad he was so annoying about it hahaha. And it was nice to see that Shirou’s will to save and help people really ended up saving himself and Saber.

#fate stay night

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rpgsandbox · 5 years

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ou may not be the biggest or the strongest, but you don't have the plague. Yet. Do you have what it takes to survive?

Download the Beta from DriveThruRPG for free during this campaign.

About Survival of the Able

The Black Death has come to your village. Everywhere around you people are succumbing to the plague. Quarantines are doing little to stem the tide of decay that is coming your way. Worst of all, you and the others in your almshouse have been left to fend for yourselves.

Oh, and did we mention plague victims are rising as zombies?

In Survival of the Able you’re a person with a disability living in a European almshouse when the Black Death arrives. Little is known about where the plague originated or how to stop it, but those who die from it are rising again—and they’re hungry for flesh. Since everyone else has succumbed to the plague, it’s up to a handful of you to make your way out of town and away to safety. You may not be the biggest, the strongest, or the fittest, but you're determined to survive.

With no other choice, Agnus faces a zombie.

In this game, you will:

Play a character with a disability who lives in Medieval Western Europe.

Encounter challenges such as disease, zombies, burning buildings, terrible weather, fatigue, and stress.

Experience discrimination based on your disability, fears that you might have the plague, or both.

Overcome incredible challenges against all odds, despite your disability. You probably won’t get much credit for your achievements, but at least you won’t be dead.

Unless you do die, in which case you may turn into a zombie and try to eat your friends.

Setting and Tone

We set this game in Western Europe circa A.D. 1347 because we wanted to put you into a world where people with disabilities (PWDs) have few protections. There are no civil rights laws to ensure equal rights and fair treatment for PWDs, and most people perceived PWDs to be weak, if not helpless.

Many PWDs were sent to live in almshouses, which are church-run facilities where PWDs could be taken care of (as if they weren’t capable of taking care of themselves). The perception of PWDs was poor overall, and even people whose lives were devoted to their care didn’t often see them as fully capable human beings.

As a person with a disability in this setting, you will be challenged to overcome peoples’ fears and judgements. You will have no choice but to survive during a zombie apocalypse. The only non-disabled people you know will be unable to care for you, so you must either overcome the stigma of your disability or join everyone else in a mass grave.

Meanwhile, you do not have the luxury of adaptive aids or accommodations that we might take for granted today. Braille and Sign Language have yet to be invented, let alone wheelchairs, elevators, talking computers, etc. You cannot simply rely on technology to overcome the challenges presented by your disability, so you must use your other skills to survive.

As if all that weren’t enough, you’ll be faced with surviving the Black Plague, armed with next to no knowledge of its symptoms or effects. You don’t have history books or lessons to tell you what to expect. You’ll need to rely on your own observations, wits, and teamwork to figure out the best way to avoid plague-ridden areas and how to kill zombies so they don’t come back.

If this all seems overwhelming, then you’re on the right track. This game should challenge your perceptions, your wits, and your courage. It may not be easy, it may even be uncomfortable at times, but you’ll come out a stronger person if you’re able to survive.

Survival of the Able is based on the Fudge RPG System, but it was written 100% from the ground up to deliver a specific experience.

Players familiar with Fudge will instantly recognize Fudge Dice, the Trait Ladder, and Fudge / Fate Points. Newcomers may appreciate the simple and accessible game mechanics. Whether you're new or experienced, the game mechanics are easy to pick up and play. You can download the Beta draft for free to see what we mean.

Even if you're an experienced Fudge player, one of the first things we ask you to do is forget what you know about the system. Although it will seem familiar, we've designed a lot of new features which set the experience apart from other Fudge games you may have played. We recognize that the spirit of Fudge is to tweak the rules and make things your own, but we encourage you to try the game as it's written at least once so you can understand its intention.

So What Sets Survival of the Able Apart From Other Games?

Briefly put: there are no physical attributes in this game. Instead, we use the sliding scale of Fudge to illustrate how disability is a spectrum. At the heart of this system are the five Senses: Hear, Smell, See, Taste, and Touch. Each ranges from Non-Existent to Good (+2).

Using blindness as an example, we recognize not every blind person has a See Trait of Non-Existent. Instead, there are people with Terrible(-3) sight who can See to a degree, but not very well. Others might have Mediocre (-1) sight, which may represent typical near-sightedness or simply a lack of awareness of their surroundings.

Other character Traits include: Qualities (which represent personality and worldview), Skills (what a person can do), and Anxieties / Assurances (situations which cause or relieve Stress). Everything is designed to help you get a sense of who your character is, rather than how strong or tough they are.

In fact, your characters aren't designed to be strong or tough. In this game, you're not playing a heroic adventurer or a stout warrior. You're just an average person with a will to survive.

For more about the game mechanics:

read the glossary of terms.

listen to our podcast appearances.

download the Beta.

Why This Game?

If Survival of the Able sounds a bit unconventional, then we're doing our job. This game is designed to test your fortitude by plunging you into a setting where you will be ridiculed, demeaned, and patronized just for being yourself.

Our goal is to help teach people empathy for people with disabilities. You'll have fun fighting zombies, but hopefully you'll learn a thing or two about yourself and the people around you along the way.

To be clear, we're not out to teach people what it is like to have a disability. The only way to truly understand that is to live it. Instead, our aim is to help you learn to empathize--to feel anger toward injustice, to feel frustration over inaccessibility, and to feel the joy of overcoming adversity.

We believe that when we understand each other, we communicate more openly and clearly. We can help one another thrive, rather than tear each other down. Most of all, we can shatter our assumptions and reconsider the way we've treated each other in the past.

This game isn't just about overcoming the Black Plague in the 14th Century. It's also about overcoming the plagues of misunderstanding and indifference in the 21st Century.

Why This Campaign?

Survival of the Able is completely written. In fact, you can download a complete first draft of the manuscript from our website.

We're raising money to pay for art, editing, and layout. It's important to us that this game be well-presented, because the uncomfortable reality is that people judge books by their covers. If we want to get this book into as many hands and onto as many tables as possible, it needs to look great. After blowing down that barrier, we know the game will stand for itself and touch a lot of lives.

That's why we have selected some incredible talent to work on this project. We're working with several disabled and underrepresented illustrators, as well as a layout professional whose award-winning game, High Plains Samurai, is the most accessible RPG PDF to date.

All that talent comes with a price. We at Accessible Games are committed to paying fair wages to professionals, because another uncomfortable truth is that people who work in the RPG industry are ludicrously underpaid. We've built fair wages into the campaign's funding goal, but our first stretch goal is also a raise for our team. More on other stretch goals in a bit.

Finally, the campaign is here to start a dialog. Accessibility in tabletop games is something we've been advocating for since 2010, and we've seen huge growth in the 9+ years we've been doing this. We hope that by running a successful and high profile campaign, we can bring awareness of accessibility to the hearts and minds of people who perhaps hadn't considered it before.

What's Included?

Survival of the Able is a complete RPG. Its rules are based on the Fudge system, but everything you need to know is in this single book.

We're producing the game in a 6"x9" format with full color illustrations. Both hardcover and paperback options will be available via DriveThruRPG.

Todd Crapper is handling layout for this project, and he's committed to accessible PDF design. He has experience using layers to create various low-vision and color blind-friendly versions within a single file, and he'll be giving that treatment to Survival of the Able.

=================================================

Kickstarter campaign ends: Tue, November 19 2019 3:00 AM UTC +00:00

Website: [Accessible Games] [twitter]

#RPG #kickstarter #Survival of the Able #Accessible Games #disability

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richincolor · 4 years

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New Releases

There are six new releases this week that caught our attention. Let us know if we missed any titles. Have a great week!

If Only You Knew by Prerna Pickett Swoon Reads

A boy recently released from jail and the daughter of a prosecutor fall for each other against the odds in this YA novel.

Corey has just been released from jail, and all he wants is a new beginning. But when his former gang comes knocking, Corey agrees to vandalize the home of Kent Hopper, the prosecutor who put him away.

To erase the guilt she carries from getting away with a crime, Tessa spends most of her nights riding her motorcycle. When she catches Corey destroying her father’s car, she doesn’t see a criminal: She sees a way to finally right her own wrongs. So instead of turning Corey over to the police, she convinces her father to give Corey a second chance.

As Tessa and Corey spend more time with each other, it becomes difficult to ignore the pull between them. But they’re both keeping secrets, and when those secrets come to light, they’ll each have to face their demons in order to have a future together. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

This Train is Being Held by Ismée Amiel Williams Amulet Books

When private school student Isabelle Warren first meets Dominican-American Alex Rosario on the downtown 1 train, she remembers his green eyes and his gentlemanly behavior. He remembers her untroubled happiness, something he feels all rich kids must possess. That, and her long dancer legs. Over the course of multiple subway encounters spanning the next three years, Isabelle learns of Alex’s struggle with his father, who is hell-bent on Alex being a contender for the major leagues, despite Alex’s desire to go to college and become a poet. Alex learns about Isabelle’s unstable mother, a woman with a prejudice against Latino men. But fate—and the 1 train—throw them together when Isabelle needs Alex most. Heartfelt and evocative, this romantic drama will appeal to readers of Jenny Han and Sarah Dessen. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Turtle Under Ice by Juleah del Rosario Simon Pulse

A teen navigates questions of grief, identity, and guilt in the wake of her sister’s mysterious disappearance in this breathtaking novel-in-verse from the author of 500 Words or Less—perfect for fans of Elizabeth Acevedo.

Rowena feels like her family is a frayed string of lights that someone needs to fix with electrical tape. After her mother died a few years ago, she and her sister, Ariana, drifted into their own corners of the world, each figuring out in their own separate ways how to exist in a world in which their mother is no longer alive.

But then Ariana disappears under the cover of night in the middle of a snowstorm, leaving no trace or tracks. When Row wakes up to a world of snow and her sister’s empty bedroom, she is left to piece together the mystery behind where Ariana went and why, realizing along the way that she might be part of the reason Ariana is gone.

Haunting and evocative—and told in dual perspectives—Turtle Under Ice examines two sisters frozen by grief as they search for a way to unthaw. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

True Believers by Rabiah York Lumbard Crown Books for Young Readers

Salma Bakkioui has always loved living in her suburban cul-de-sac, with her best friend Mariam next door, and her boyfriend Amir nearby. Then things start to change. Friends start to distance themselves. Mariam’s family moves when her father’s patients no longer want a Muslim chiropractor. Even trusted teachers look the other way when hostile students threaten Salma at school.

After a terrorist bombing nearby, Islamaphobia tightens its grip around Salma and her family. Shockingly, she and Amir find themselves with few allies as they come under suspicion for the bombing. As Salma starts to investigate who is framing them, she uncovers a deadly secret conspiracy with suspicious ties to her new neighbors–but no one believes her. Salma must use her coding talent, wits, and faith to expose the truth and protect the only home she’s ever known–before it’s too late. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

b, Book, and Me by Kim Sagwa, translated by Sunhee Jeong Two Lines Press

Best friends b and Rang are all each other have. Their parents are absent, their teachers avert their eyes when they walk by. Everyone else in town acts like they live in Seoul even though it’s painfully obvious they don’t. When Rang begins to be bullied horribly by the boys in baseball hats, b fends them off. But one day Rang unintentionally tells the whole class about b’s dying sister and how her family is poor, and each of them finds herself desperately alone. The only place they can reclaim themselves, and perhaps each other, is beyond the part of town where lunatics live―the End.

In a piercing, heartbreaking, and astonishingly honest voice, Kim Sagwa’s b, Book, and Me walks the precipice between youth and adulthood, reminding us how perilous the edge can be. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

The New David Espinoza by Fred Aceves HarperTeen

This own voices story from the acclaimed author of The Closest I’ve Come unflinchingly examines steroid abuse and male body dysmorphia. Perfect for fans of Jason Reynolds and Matt De La Peña.

David Espinoza is tired of being messed with. When a video of him getting knocked down by a bully’s slap goes viral at the end of junior year, David vows to use the summer to bulk up— do what it takes to become a man—and wow everyone when school starts again the fall.

Soon David is spending all his time and money at Iron Life, a nearby gym that’s full of bodybuilders. Frustrated with his slow progress, his life eventually becomes all about his muscle gains. As it says on the Iron Life wall, What does not kill me makes me stronger.

As David falls into the dark side of the bodybuilding world, pursuing his ideal body at all costs, he’ll have to grapple with the fact that it could actually cost him everything.

#New Releases #YALit

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the-colony-roleplay · 4 years

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Ethan Kerr | Twenty Three; Survivor

House: Brink Security Class: 2 Status: Infected - Praeteria

History

tw: rape mention

Ethan never did anything he didn’t want to. Growing up in an orphanage before eventually being transferred to foster care, Ethan had always been a stubborn, picky child. If he didn’t like the food placed in front of him, he wouldn’t eat; if the other children were mean to him, he’d spend his days alone; if he didn’t want to be somewhere, he simply wouldn’t go. So when Ethan decided he couldn’t stay with his foster parents anymore, he ran.

And it wasn’t so much rebelliousness that drove him, but rather fear of forever being only okay. Trapped in a life pendulum-ing between mediocre and miserable, never to discover anything more. Having come out as transgender in his preteen years and physically transitioning in his early teens, If Ethan wasn’t happy, he certainly had the courage and will to try to change it. Unfortunately, what he didn’t have was forethought, common sense, stability. He ran because he couldn’t handle his surroundings, felt drowned in the huffs and cries of a house too full, arguments too plenty, and his environment consumed him with a desperation to escape it. Maybe if he ran long enough, hard enough, he’d find a place to breathe, where the air would be cleaner, the world a little less small.

But that was when he’d been younger, less jaded and faith less crushed. At sixteen he’d run, and instead slept on friend’s couches, took up shit, bottom of the barrel jobs to try to feed his half-starved self. But by eighteen he’d realized that you couldn’t just run away from a shit hand you’d been dealt, that there was no such thing as escaping what you once were to aimlessly stumble across happiness.

It’d started when he was crashing at a friend’s house, the first place he’d stayed longer than a few weeks in ages. He was a new friend, a boy he’d met while working as a bar hand at a dingy pub in Manchester. “Corbin”, as the boy called himself, (though Ethan later found out his real name was Sam), was someone Ethan felt drawn to because Corbin was also a foster care runaway and had been living on his own in so-called ‘luxury’ from the age of fifteen. Corbin seemed so carefree, so smug and content, always a smirk hanging crookedly off his face, a fag sitting half smoked behind his ear. And Ethan admired him, at first, because Corbin had the sense of freedom Ethan had been looking for; he was everything Ethan thought he wanted to be.

So he fell easily under Corbin’s wing, fast friends and attached at the hip. It was only a matter of weeks before he realized the true source of Corbin’s cash and way of life. ‘Got my start just on cam, y'see,’ he’d told him. 'It really ain’t so bad. Who could turn down gettin’ paid to toss off? Everyone wants to love what they do, mate—and I get 'ta.’

Corbin had since moved on to hustling via an ‘escort service’ online, and Ethan, under his friend’s encouragement, started the same way Corbin had. Harmless, online servicing. There was no true trouble in that, right? And though Ethan was hesitant at first, Corbin had been right about one thing—those feelings were quick to melt away as the money started pouring in. Being self-sufficient and showered in attention was startlingly effective in feeding Ethan’s confidence and ego.

By the time Ethan was just rounding the corner to his eighteenth birthday, he and Corbin were inseparable; partners in crime, sex and minor but illegal activity. And Ethan had been on the tube, heading back to his shared flat with Corbin from a particularly well-paying job, when D-Day had struck. And though it would be years before he saw Corbin again, he’d believed since that fateful day that Corbin had survived; swore he could just feel it. Corbin had been so alive, so full of spark, despite his dark and twisted interior, that if he were dead, Ethan would know. He’d just know.

Ethan Today

At first, Ethan had made it his mission to get back to the remains of Manchester to find Corbin, but waves of looters hanging around the borders of the cities made it impossible for Ethan to get through on his own. He’d almost takena. shiv to the gut more times than one, so after a few months, he put those efforts on the back burner.

When an opportunity arose to join a traveling clan of about ten, Ethan took it out of desperation, despite the fact that they were traveling in the wrong direction. He needed the support system, the safety and sense of community—not only to keep him from wasting away on his lack of resources, but also to keep him sane. It’d seemed a wise decision at the time, and he’d told himself that he’d still make his way back to look for Corbin again when the time was right.

Unfortunately, he’d misjudged the passersby. They were proving less trustworthy than he’d have hoped, frequently betraying each other and leaving others to fend for themselves when trouble with looters arose. Ethan, who couldn’t bring himself to be so cruel, became the helpful and compassionate one of the group, and though he hoped this would help secure his safety among them, in the end it only made him a target for vulnerability. When they found out what he’d done for a living, stories he’d let slip when he’d thought he was settling in, they taunted him with it, turned him into a tool for their loneliness and threatened his life should he disagree.

Ethan still doesn’t know if he considers it rape or not. He feels morally confused based on his previous choices and his uncertainty on whether or not he’d truly been forced. Physically, he never had been, though verbally and emotionally, it was a different story. But something Ethan is troubled with now is the question as to why he hadn’t run. He’d spent his whole life running, why then had he not turned around and escaped the toxic environment just like he always had before? Had his life with Corbin taught him to be placid, to make lemonade rather than just throw the blasted things out and get oranges?

To this day, he still isn’t sure where he stands. His Infection had developed sometime after the worst of the abuse, and he’d begun disappearing into its protective abyss more and more often. When the Colony 22 crusaders eventually found him wandering not far from his clan’s camp and offered him a one way ticket out of there, they’d asked him if he was alone, and he’d said yes. Despite knowing he was only protecting himself, he still battles confusing feelings of guilt about the whole thing. Had it been cowardly to let the people he’d lived amongst almost three years continue to barely survive while he was taken to safer refuge? Or were his actions justified—smart, to save himself and never look back?

In any case, he’d had no way of knowing that this decision would eventually lead to his reunion with his long lost friend, Corbin. Sometime before the New Wave, Corbin would be transferred to Colony 22 from one further up North, and Ethan would freeze in his tracks at the sight of him, staring as though he’d seen a ghost. Because in many ways, he had done just that.

For the most part, they picked up right where they left off with their relationship—but Ethan’s experiences post D-Day had changed him. and learning to navigate this new, more skittish side of Ethan Kerr proved to be quite the learning curve for Corbin. Time has helped, but there are still areas they tread much more carefully than they used to, despite how close they are.

RELATED BIOS: CORBIN EALY

OPEN

#elliot fletcher #elliot fletcher fc #literate roleplay #bio rp #original rp #brink #sc2 #praeteria #open #male #infected #survivor #open male #open survivor #open infected #open male infected #open male survivor #tw: rape mention

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noctem-novelle · 5 years

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Top 5 Most Anticipated YA Releases (Summer 2019)

It’s officially summer! I don’t know about you, but I hear the beach calling my name, and every beach goer needs a good book. Here are five of my most anticipated summer releases, in order of publication date:

Title: Technically, You Started It Author: Lana Wood Johnson Genre: YA Contemporary Publisher: Scholastic Press Pub Date: 25 June 2019

This one was recommended to me by a friend (hi, Paige!) and I snagged an advance copy at BookCon. I can’t wait to start reading it!

“When a guy named Martin Nathaniel Munroe II texts you, it should be obvious who you’re talking to. Except there’s two of them (it’s a long story), and Haley thinks she’s talking to the one she doesn’t hate.

A question about a class project rapidly evolves into an all-consuming conversation. Haley finds that Martin is actually willing to listen to her weird facts and unusual obsessions, and Martin feels like Haley is the first person to really see who he is. Haley and Martin might be too awkward to hang out in real life, but over text, they’re becoming addicted to each other.

There’s just one problem: Haley doesn’t know who Martin is. And Martin doesn’t know that Haley doesn’t know. But they better figure it out fast before their meet-cute becomes an epic meet-disaster …”

Title: The Best Lies Author: Sarah Lyu Genre: YA Mystery Publisher: Simon Pulse (Simon & Schuster) Pub Date: 2 July 2019

I looooooove a good thriller. The twistier, the better. While it’s been compared to Gone Girl, this story of obsession reminds me of Malinda Lo’s A Line in the Dark, which was incredible. I have high hopes for this one.

“Remy Tsai used to know how her story would turn out. But now, she doesn’t even know what tomorrow will look like.

She was happy once. Remy had her boyfriend Jack, and Elise, her best friend—her soulmate—who understood her better than anyone else in the world.

But now Jack is dead, shot through the chest—

And it was Elise who pulled the trigger.

Was it self-defense? Or something deeper, darker than anything Remy could have imagined? As the police investigate, Remy does the same, sifting through her own memories, looking for a scrap of truth that could save the friendship that means everything to her.

Told in alternating timelines, Thelma and Louise meets Gone Girl in this twisted psychological thriller about the dark side of obsessive friendship.”

Title: Wilder Girls Author: Rory Power Genre: YA Horror, LGBT Publisher: Delacorte Press (Penguin Random House) Pub Date: 9 July 2019

Wow. Wow wow wow. This debut was amazing. Power managed to not only create the perfect eerie setting, but also gave us a wild piece of eco-fiction. People “evolving” by mutating and becoming feral? Yes, please.

“It’s been eighteen months since the Raxter School for Girls was put under quarantine. Since the Tox hit and pulled Hetty’s life out from under her.

It started slow. First the teachers died one by one. Then it began to infect the students, turning their bodies strange and foreign. Now, cut off from the rest of the world and left to fend for themselves on their island home, the girls don’t dare wander outside the school’s fence, where the Tox has made the woods wild and dangerous. They wait for the cure they were promised as the Tox seeps into everything.

But when Byatt goes missing, Hetty will do anything to find her, even if it means breaking quarantine and braving the horrors that lie beyond the fence. And when she does, Hetty learns that there’s more to their story, to their life at Raxter, than she could have ever thought true.”

Title: Soul of Stars (Heart of Iron: Book 2) Author: Ashley Poston Genre: YA SciFi Publisher: Balzer + Bray (HarperCollins) Pub Date: 23 July 2019

This series is like Six of Crows in space. It’s also a scifi re-telling of Anastasia with POC and queer representation. Honestly, if you aren’t sold already, please sort out your priorities.

“Once, Ana was an orphaned space outlaw. Then she was the Empress of the Iron Kingdom. Now, thought dead by most of the galaxy after she escaped from the dark AI program called the HIVE, Ana is desperate for a way to save Di from the HIVE’s evil clutches and take back her kingdom.

Ana’s only option is to find Starbright, the one person who has hacked into the HIVE and lived to tell the tale. But when Ana’s desperation costs the crew of the Dossier a terrible price, Ana and her friends are sent spiraling through the most perilous reaches of the Iron Kingdom to stop the true arbiter of evil in her world: an ancient world-ending deity called the Great Dark.

Their journey will take the sharp-witted pilot, Jax, to the home he never wanted to return to, and the dangerous fate he left behind. And when Robb finds out who Jax really is, he must contend with his own feelings for the boy he barely knows, and whether he truly belongs with this group of outcasts.

When facing the worst odds, can Ana and her crew of misfits find a way to stop the Great Dark once and for all?”

Title: The Downstairs Girl Author: Stacey Lee Genre: YA Historical Fiction Publisher: Putnam (Penguin Random House) Pub Date: 18 August 2019

Historical fiction about a Chinese-American girl in the post-Reconstruction era south? Count me in. I love that the publishing industry is finally giving Asian authors and characters the attention they deserve.

“By day, seventeen-year-old Jo Kuan works as a lady’s maid for the cruel daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Atlanta. But by night, Jo moonlights as the pseudonymous author of a newspaper advice column for the genteel Southern lady, “Dear Miss Sweetie.” When her column becomes wildly popular, she uses the power of the pen to address some of society’s ills, but she’s not prepared for the backlash that follows when her column challenges fixed ideas about race and gender.

While her opponents clamor to uncover the secret identity of Miss Sweetie, a mysterious letter sets Jo off on a search for her own past and the parents who abandoned her as a baby. But when her efforts put her in the crosshairs of Atlanta’s most notorious criminal, Jo must decide whether she, a girl used to living in the shadows, is ready to step into the light.”

*All summaries are copied from Goodreads.

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eternityunicorn · 5 years

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Elijah’s Eternity: New Orleans Part Fifteen

Author: eternityunicorn

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violance, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: Sequel to the AU Elijah’s Eternity - Ten years have passed, a mournful Elijah has finally started to move on without his lady. In that time, he has gained a reunited family and has also found a new lady love. Yet, all is not well as danger comes for the smallest member of the Mikaelson family: Hope, and it prompts Niklaus to call upon the white goddess, drawing her back into Elijah’s life. As they reunite, can Elijah really say he’s truly moved on?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

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The loft across the river was a rustic place, but in a charming sort of way. The entire thing was made up of red brick with wood beams to support the unfinished ceiling. On the outer wall with the windows, there was an aluminum tube air duct that ran the length of it. The place was low lit as the windows didn’t provide much light against the dark interior. Of course there were lamps to compensate for that, but it did create a rather depressing mood that Elijah hadn’t noticed the last time he had been to the loft.

That might have been because he had been depressed the last time he had been there. Though he didn’t dare dwell on his embarrassing sulking over Hayley’s choosing Niklaus over him. He hadn’t been in a good place before the hybrid female had made that choice and the choice itself have only made his dark state all the worse.

Anyway, the hardwoods were at least still polished nicely and all the old furniture remained as he had left it years ago. However, the place did have a sheet to dust all over everything since it hadn’t been in use for all that time.

Perhaps bringing Eternity here wasn’t the best idea, Elijah thought as he took in the old loft.

“Elijah, this place is fine,” the immortal queen replied to his thoughts, putting her hand on his arm gently. “It simply needs a woman’s touch - a magical woman’s touch, to be exact.”

While looking at him slyly, she snapped her fingers and the dim, dusty loft was instantly transformed into a light and warm living space. The brick had been painted white and the windows had been made bigger to let more light into the loft. It made it seemed roomier, not as drab.

The furnishings had received an upgrade as well. Everything was new and modern, including the small kitchen space. The appliances had been updated to the latest stainless steel and the countertops were of the finest black granite magic could conjure. The once worn and dark cabinets had been made a bright white, adding to the lightness of the previously dark loft.

Yes, the dust old place had been made new and high class, just the way Elijah preferred his dwellings.

“You know me so well, Sweetheart,” he smirked at Eternity, impressed with the magical remodel.

She grinned in return, just before a serious and contemplative look took hold. She moved further into the main room of the loft, her hair rippling behind her as she went in that otherworldly way Elijah typically didn’t notice anymore. He only did see it because she looked absolutely divine, in the truest sense of the word against the newly lit up apartment. Her hair even reflected in the light, flashing with light now and again, another feature he usually no longer paid any mind to. It was fascinating how he could ignore such otherworldliness most times, but every so often those features made themselves known to him.

But Elijah pushed that out of his mind as her sudden seriousness took precedence in his mind. He followed her path closely until they stood on the area rug where two modern grey couches sat across from each other.

“What troubles you?” He asked, his eyes narrowing as he observed her lack of bodily cues that meant she was upset. He didn’t see any. If she wasn’t upset about something, then what was it on her mind that had her looking so concentrated?

“Nothing troubles me,” Eternity replied, turning to smile warmly at him. “There are things on my mind, however. There are things that we need to discuss and now that we don’t have the prying ears of Mikaelson siblings to contend with, perhaps this present moment would be a good time to talk.”

Elijah nodded readily, “Of course.”

He gestured to the couch in a silent invite for her to sit. She did, perching delicately on the edge with her hands folded neatly in her lap. After unbuttoning his suit jacket, he joined her, sitting right next to her. He mirrored her position, sitting on the edge at an angle to see her better.

All the while, Elijah wondered what it was that she wanted to speak to him about.

“So, what is it that you wish to discuss with me?” He asked, once they were settled. He took her hand in his, covering it with his opposite one as he waited attentively.

“I have actually had this on my mind since before you even asked me to marry you,” she began. “I knew all along that, if we were to reunite, it was likely we wouldn’t wish to part again ever. The reason why the Underground Agency exists is because of that fact. Yes, getting the Earth to a place where it’s people can fend for themselves, where they can stand toe to toe with the rest of the Universal Kingdom is something that I’ve always wanted for this world, but it hasn’t been the driving for me to finally put these plans into motion. I have been working hard getting this world ready for another reason.”

Elijah looked at her curiously, “And what is that exactly?”

“To break down the barrier between the immortals and the mortals; to make the two universes one again,” she answered. “To make the Earth the center of my kingdom, my home, so that you and I do not have to separate ever again.”

This was a big revelation, one that he hadn’t thought about when he had asked her to marry him or even before that, or at least, not very much anyway. Her palace was among the stars, out of reach of him. If they were to spend the rest of forever together, then a revolution of sorts was in order. Changes had to be made. He found himself humbled in the realization that Eternity was willing to make those changes for him, out of love.

“Alright, so what does this mean for myself, my family, and the entire supernatural community?” Elijah asked next, as he lifted her hand to his lips and laid a kiss upon her knuckles in affection.

“You are all going to need to be stronger, of greater skill, more powerful,” Eternity told him, as if it were obvious. “If you and yours are to earn the respect of the ancient immortals, then you all are going to need to be upgraded, for lack of a better term. You will need to be on their level.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes at her, “How are you going to achieve that?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, “A dab of magic and a whole lot of rigorous training. You’ll still be limited somewhat, but you all should be able at least contend with low level demons and the like. It will be enough to make the ancients see the new age supernaturals as equals.”

“How are you going to get hundreds of thousands of supernaturals to train? Furthermore, who’s going to train them? You?” He inquired.

“The agents of the Underground Agency will train the supernatural community on the whole,” she answered. “However, I will be responsible for you. Your family will also be trained by agents from the agency, minus Niklaus, Hayley, and Hope, all of whom are already being trained as we speak by an old...friend of mine.”

The way Eternity paused when saying ‘friend’ made Elijah suspicious, though not in a ‘my family is in danger’ sort of suspicious. No, however, there was a secret there in this old friend, one that she seemed reluctant to divulge any information about him or her. An old lover, perhaps? It seemed likely. She did have several in her four hundred years running from Loki. Maybe this person was one of them that managed to escape death by the Trickster’s hand.

“This friend was more than a friend, yes?” Elijah asked curiously with a small knowing smile at the way she shied away slightly.

“At one point,” she replied. “It wasn’t long before I met you, actually. Of course, things had ended amicably prior to our fateful first encounter. I had sworn to never love again, not while Loki was at large, but meeting you that night set my course and I couldn’t help but to follow it.”

Eternity smiled at him lovingly and he returned it with one of his own.

“So, when will this training begin?” Elijah inquired next, deciding to move on from the subject of old lovers.

She leaned closer to him then, putting her hand on his chest and kissing his lips sweetly, before she pulled back enough to look him in the eyes to say, “Soon, but not right now. Right now, I simply want things to be about you and me, revolution be damned.”

Immediately his mouth was on hers with his hand cupped the side of her neck as he did. His tongue pried hers open and swiftly began to dance within the warm cavern, tasting her thoroughly. She moaned lightly and shifted closer, putting her other hand on his thigh as she leaned into him further.

It would have been divine to take her all over again for what seemed like the millionth time. He wanted to. His body called for him to do so, as did hers it would seem. Alas, he could not, for he had something else he had to attend to, something he deemed more important at the moment.

Therefore, with great reluctance, Elijah pulled his mouth from hers, while licking his lower lip where he could taste her still. “There is something that I must see to in town,” he told Eternity huskily.

His eyes surely burned with his desire to push her back onto the couch or better yet, pull her into his lap, and have his wicked way with her. Hers certainly did. Those sapphire depths of hers were dark with a lustiness all her own. If he were a weaker man, less controlled over himself, he would have done what his instincts called him to do and have her as he pleased. However, since he was not those things, he managed to find the strength to resist the temptation.

“What is this great important thing exactly?” Eternity asked him seductively, as she played with the red tie he wore.

Elijah grinned at her, “Oh, it’s a surprise, my darling Eternity.”

He pulled away from her wandering hands as they moved along his chest and as they then reached up to running her fingertips along the stubble of his jaw tenderly. He rose from the couch quickly and moved toward the front door. “I shall return to you, my lady,” he called back as he went.

Eternity sputtered at how fast Elijah was gone, but he only grinned impishly as he headed down the stairs and to his waiting car. They had driven over to the lost from the compound since his lady wasn’t sure how he would handle instant magical transportation since he had never done it before. He supposed, if he was to contend with the ancient immortals as Eternity said he would, then perhaps he should make the attempt to travel that way.

For now, he got into the car and drove back around to the French Quarter, to a very specific place he knew of. He parked in front of a fine jewelry store, before heading inside the small and modest establishment. He browsed the selection of shining jewels and gems on his own for a few minutes, before a young sales woman came over with a bright smile.

“Can I help you, sir?” The lovely redhead asked him politely.

Elijah smiled in return and nodded, “Yes, I believe you can. I am looking for an engagement ring for my fiancée?”

The young lady frowned slightly, “Did she lose the original one or something?”

He grinned sheepishly and answered with a slight chuckle, “No, I may have done things a little out of order and proposed before getting a ring.”

“Ah, I see,” the sales woman replied understandingly. “Well, if you’ll please just come over here, sir, I believe we can find something for the lucky lady.”

“Oh, it is I that is the lucky one, let me assure you,” said Elijah with emphasis, as he followed the woman around to the line of glass cases on the left side of the shop. “I didn’t get your name, Miss?”

The kind young lady extended her hand out to him as she introduced herself, “I’m Victoria, Victoria Marcus, but everyone calls me Vic or Vicki.”

He took her hand in his and clasped it firmly with a charming smile, “A pleasure to meet you, Vicki. I’m Elijah Mikaelson.”

The redhead froze for a moment upon hearing his name, a look of wariness crossed her youthful features. She had heard of him before, Elijah realized, not all that surprised by that. The Originals were notorious throughout the world, but especially in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Even some humans had heard of his family. He assumed this young lady was one of those humans.

“You have heard of me,” Elijah observed knowingly.

The woman curled her hair behind her ear and looked down nervously, “Yes, I’m completely human, but I have witch friends whom have spoken about the infamous Mikaelson family. You’re not here to kill me or anything, right? I mean, I’ve heard things, not so good things.”

Immediately he reassured her, “No, I’m really only here for an engagement ring. It’s not a front and you have nothing to fear from me. I give you my word on that, Vicki.”

She looked up timidly and considered him, before relaxing somewhat when she saw he was being genuine. “Alright,” she murmured, before clearing her throat and awkwardly laughing just before she spoke more confidently, “Well, Mr. Mikealson, over here we have some fine choices of rings.”

Elijah looked into the glass case she was gesturing to and right away did he see the perfect ring for his lady. It shone brighter than the rest, like a beacon calling to him, telling him that it was the right one.

It was a vintage ring, dated some time at the beginning of the 20th century, with intricate designs in the white gold of the band. There was a sizable diamond centered upon it with two smaller sapphires flanking the clear gem. The sapphires reminded Elijah of Eternity’s eyes and that was what made it so perfect to give to her.

“That one there, please,” he pointed to the ring.

“Good choice,” the sales woman replied as she took the elastic key ring from around her wrist and unlocked the case to retrieve the item he had picked out.

Just as she was doing so, Elijah felt someone of sinister intent shift up beside him. He immediately looked over and saw Céleste standing there! “That is a lovely ring,” she said with a twisted smile, her French accent thick as always. “You’re lady will absolutely be over the moon at the very sight of it, without a doubt, no?”

“What do you want, Céleste?” He growled, on guard in the face of a threat.

The seemingly resurrected witch shrugged coyly at him as she answered, “I come with a warning for you and your lady, my sweet Elijah. Neither of you will know happiness, only misery and heartache. A terrible storm comes for you both, one that will surely wreck your sweet love.”

“Warning? That sounds more like a threat.”

“Oh, it is. I simply did not wish to call it that.”

Elijah turned to the vengeful witch completely, temporarily forgetting the ring and the sales woman. “Why are you doing this? How are you even here?” He quietly demanded.

Céleste lost all amusement then. A hateful look replaced it as she took a step closer and replied, “Why? You have to ask why? Your brother murdered me and you still remained by his side, then you sided with your wicked family once more centuries later and killed me all over again, when I only wanted to show you the errors of your ways. I’m doing this because you don’t deserve happiness. You certainly don’t deserve a happily ever after with one such as the Universal Queen. You deserve nothing, but misery and darkness!

“As to your second question, well I will not speak to that as of yet,” a cruel and mysterious smirk pulled at her lips then, the anger in her subsiding. “The game has only begun and it would not do to spoil things before their time. However, I will say this: the past is coming to seek revenge for the crimes unanswered. I am not the only one. There are others. You will see them soon enough, my darling.”

Elijah was furious, to say the least. He did not take kindly to threats unto him or his loved ones. He wanted to lash out, but his impeccable control kept the baser instinct in check. He was more intelligent than that to strike against an enemy he didn’t know enough about yet. Yes, it was Céleste, but she was different, a new incarnation so to speak. He couldn’t strike until he understood more about her mysterious reappearance.

Instead of attacking, he smiled humorlessly at his former flame and replied, “There is nothing, nothing, that you or anyone else can do to destroy what lays between Eternity and I, but you all are welcome to try. It will only end in your death again by my hand. I promise you that.”

Céleste seemed unperturbed by his counter-threat. She had the audacity to shrug it off with a scoff as she turned away, heading toward the exit. “We shall see about that, my love,” she called back. “We shall see.”

With that, she left, vanishing through the door like the ghost that she might have been. Elijah wasn’t quite sure what she was, whether she was real or some kind of spirit. Yet, it really didn’t not matter. She was a threat, an enemy, one that he had to deal with and soon before things grew out of control.

“Uh, Mr. Mikaelson?” Vicki said, catching his attention.

Elijah immediately turned to her, remembering what he had been doing before the encounter with Céleste. The young woman looked absolutely terrified by what she had just witnessed. He smiled gently and continued to conduct business with her after a quick apology about the disruption. He played what had happened off as nothing, which young Vicki seemed alright with him doing. It seemed she didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps because it would make the ghostly experience real to her if they did.

Soon Elijah had the ring in hand packaged in a small red velvet box, after he had paid a considerable amount of money to the sales woman, and was heading back across the river to his awaiting lady. The whole while, his thoughts were plagued by the visitation from Céleste, making his hands grip the steering wheel of his Bentley tighter than was necessary in his frustration and anger.

The happy moment had been completely hijacked by the sinister threat upon him and his lady. It was unforgivable and Elijah swore that whatever was going on would be dealt with swiftly in the harshest, cruelest way his dark mind could conjure.

To Be Continued....

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jounetsulovers · 6 years

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Title. the silence in between.

Rating: g.

yukie, amagi, mahoro. a friendship in four acts. part 1/4.

read on ao3.

Grandfather likes to spin tall tales about Yukie’s birth: how there was not a single star in the sky until her first cry, when the clouds parted and they lit up the night. Sometimes, the first light of morning filters through the blinds the very moment she opens her eyes. Once, her birth fell upon the first snow of the season. She is always born in the house, but every other detail seems to change every time she asks--which is never, really, but occasionally her grandfather’s mind wanders to times long since passed, and Yukie smiles where her mother sighs.

She takes after her mother more than anyone else in looks, with the old family photos to prove it. But her mother is a realist, sharp mind and intense stare with a restless energy that seems too small for the walls of the family shop. Yukie tries sitting up straight at the breakfast table like she does, to emulate her brand of grace, but it is impossible to commit to entirely. While her mother has no time for fairy tales, there is a part of her that beams at her grandfather when her mother’s back is turned, that wants to entertain the idea that she could be born under a full moon, or at the first snow of the year, imbued with a little bit of magic.

That sort of hope is contagious.

The family building is bigger than it appears, at least a hundred years old, maybe more. Downstairs is the family shop, and one day when she is old enough to sit still and read without fidgeting, she traces back decades of family members, all at one time or another under the same shop roof. The business is part antique collection, and part bookstore, but they have always made their name in the trading of techniques.

“Once upon a time, people would have said it was a type of magic, the things these players can do,” Yukie’s grandfather muses, adjusting his glasses and sneezing as he shuffles around the same path every morning, dusting every inch of the shelves and yet still somehow missing the corners. When she is tall enough, she shadows him, and methodically lifts book after book and flips through the pages gingerly. Some texts for sale are newer, hardback with sleek dust covers; some are so old she is afraid to breathe on them, lest they crumble to dust between her fingers.

He’s never actually offered an explanation as to how they can do the moves documented within, and most of the books, when not full of diagrams, are thick with words and theory that go right above her head and meld together until they hurt her eyes.

He takes her to an exhibition match at the end of summer, Sengoku Igajima versus Senbayama Junior High, and in one afternoon, Yukie is convinced that magic does exist.

She is enraptured, staring down at the players first from her seat, then from her grandfather’s lap for that extra inch of view, and then, with five minutes left in the second half, she is on her feet cheering. Who wins does not matter as players flit in and out of existence, as a stone wall rises from the ground at the very last second, towering over the defenders. They are perfectly tied one-to-one and the world seems to stop when, against all odds, Sengoku Igajima’s number ten flits through the impasse and the ball soars, barely missing the fingertips of Senbayama’s goalkeeper.

The crowd explodes around her, the swell of energy surrounding her electric.

(Somehow, in the chaos, she sees a pair of boys four rows down, one with a shock of bright hair leaning over the railing precariously, seemingly desperate to get any bit closer he can. The other is taller, arms around his friend’s waist, yelling--perhaps at him--to not tip over. She has a feeling neither of their eyes leave the field.)

Yukie’s mother does not understand soccer--or maybe she does, but does not want to. She gets a job offer in Sapporo, and does not protest much when Yukie does not want to move with her, away from her grandfather and the shop.

“There are nice middle schools up there,” she says distantly, and after a moment of hesitation embraces her with a promise to visit on holidays.

And then there are no more sighs to punctuate her grandfather’s stories.

(When school is in session after summer break, she does best to hold on to that promise, the last words of a mother that has vanished like smoke. School feels longer with every day, lonelier with every passing minute. No one wants much to do with a girl who smells of dust, who lives in the ancient, imposing building with dark curtains and candlelight. One person’s magic is another classroom’s curse, and she is not the best at conversation. It gets tiring, fending off childish rumors that her grandfather’s shop is haunted, so she keeps to herself, and they avoid her in turn.)

They get enough foot traffic to keep them busy during tournament season, and she proudly sits behind the counter, perched on a stool to properly see above the desk. They get curious adults in on their lunch break, keeping to themselves while eyeing the shelves. First year hopefuls in their fresh Raimon uniforms pass through often, and Yukie gets good at remembering where each manual is, and even better at pulling their names from the half-formed descriptions of excited fans.

Here, she is in her element, and grows more and more confident on speaking about the books they sell. Slowly, the words and theories between the pages starts making sense in a way nothing else has.

One Sunday, her grandfather is in the back. They’ve just opened for the day, and Yukie is slowly working her way through homework she had stubbornly stuffed into her backpack and forgotten about, then tucked between a book she’d been slowly eating through as a bookmark to suffer the same fate. Trying to concentrate, she almost misses the shadows cast in the mid-morning light until they obscure the light filtering out from inside the open entryway.

Yukie looks up and squints, and sees two figures standing there, barely any taller than her. There’s a boy with goggles atop his head meekly standing with his hands firmly on the shoulders of his friend, whose look of determination is offset by trembling knees. He tries to look stern but his lip quivers a little when they make eye contact.

“...Hello?” Yukie offers, setting down her pencil.

She thinks the “fearless” boy gulps in reply.

The girl hops down from the stool behind the desk and treads lightly, crawling under the collapsable part of the front counter to reach the other side. She half-expects them to run.

“...We’re ope--”

“W… We’re--”

“--Lookin’ f-for a manual!”

The boys are not in her class, but she knows she’s seen them before. When the shorter boy tries to speak with his slightly-quivering lips, the boy with the goggles spits it out. Neither of them make a move to come any further inside.

Yukie’s brow furrows for a moment, and then something--the iron-clad grip on shoulders, the singular focus and the shock of bright red hair--sparks her memory to life.

“You… you two were at the match last month! I saw you almost fall over and split your head open!”

Both boys’ mouths hang open, but it finally coaxes something other than fear from the boy in front: “Nuh-uh. Did not!”

“Didja see that last-second goal?” the boy with the goggles speaks up, face suddenly alight. “No way were they gonna make it, but--”

“I knew he would!” insists the other boy, turning to look back at his friend. They bicker amongst themselves for a moment and Yukie bolts quickly over to the left corner of the store, where the older publications line the shelves. Sengoku Igajima does not make their methods or moves public knowledge. That fact has never stopped enterprising fans from crafting their own versions from memory.

Technically, this book is from the heyday of the Inazuma Eleven, an unauthorized print of wild speculation that includes one set of instructions for teaching a striker how to make their own “ball of earth.”

It’s heavy, but Yukie drags it over to the counter, where it lands with a sharp enough thud that it takes both boys’ attention from their heated debate.

“Don’t you wanna come inside?”

They look at each other, but when they shuffle towards the front back of the shop, the fear is all but gone.

Yukie drags over step stools to the counter in lieu of actual chairs for her guests, and then crawls back to the other side of the desk to reclaim her own seat.

They spend the better part of an hour pouring through the book.

(The homework remained unfinished for the day.)

#inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven go #mahoro tadashi #amagi daichi #kousaka yukie #fic tag #mystery kids #this is the first published inazuma fic I've written in six years and it ISN'T about senguuji yamato #that's the biggest plot twist of all

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royal-duality · 6 years

Text

Flightless Chapter 7

Notes: Surprise! I debated on posting this on Thursday, but I have no sense of patience, so you guys get an early update!

Warnings: Feral dogs, a bit of swearing

Word Count: 1,498

Pairing(s): None

Summary: All they had wanted was to find their new friend, instead they were stranded in the city in the middle of someone’s backyard with a light freezing them in place.

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The scene replayed in Patton’s mind over and over again. Constantly reminding him of all the details of that single moment in time as Anxiety’s arms spread wide, his body leaning backward as his feet left the ground. The world going in slow motion as he screamed and cried out for his new friend.

He had wanted to dive down, to try and catch the man who couldn’t fly, but he was held back by Roman whose face held anger. Roman had forced Patton to think, to remember what-who had caused Anxiety to fall off the cliff in the first place. Logan had begun to fly away. After all, none of them knew what the psycho man was capable of, and the three weren’t all that eager to stay and find out.

Now they were roaming around the area they had seen Anxiety fall. They had decided to check the area below the cliff’s edge where he once stood, first, in case he had taken a direct fall. After searching the area though, they had discovered that he was not around this area, meaning he either didn’t land here, or something found him before they did.

Patton was hoping that maybe a miracle had happened and Anxiety was able to fly away before crashing to the ground. However, he didn’t need Logan to remind him that it was a highly illogical outcome. At this point, Patton just wanted him to be okay.

“Guys!” Roman’s voice had cried out from his right, and for a moment, Patton was sure he had found him. However, his hopes were crushed to bits as soon as he arrived and saw Roman prepping for take off.

Footsteps sounded from behind him and he glanced back to see Logan calmly approaching them. “What is it?”

Roman motion for them to be quiet. In the distance, voices could be heard as well as what sounded like a car door. A few moments later the sound of an engine started.

“We should follow it.” Logan stared at Roman with a poker face, almost as though he was still processing what Roman had just said.

The sound of an engine began to dull as both Patton and Roman stared at Logan in anticipation. “No.” Roman let out an indignant squawk before stumbling over his words.

“Why not!?” He shrieked, annoyance clear on his face.

“Are you really that dense? If we were to follow that car, we would most definitely be seen.” Logan’s voice was tired and clipped as he spoke, never rising in volume, but the vexation was clear in his tone.

“We should go.” All eyes turned to stare at him as he spoke up. “Whoever is in that car may have Anxiety. We can’t just leave him to fend for his own. Not when we don’t know who or what has him.” He spoke, determined to save his friend.

Logan’s face scrunched up, “If they have him. Patton, there’s no way of knowing if they have Anxiety!”

“Well, what if they do!?” Patton’s eyes brimmed with tears as he retaliated. “Logan if we don’t follow them now, we may never be able to find them again!”

Logan had opened his mouth, about to make a rebuttal but stopped. His face scrunched in annoyance before a sigh of defeat left him. “Alright.”

That was all the approval they needed before Roman took off, leaping into the air, followed by Patton and then Logan. Each snapped their wings out as the soared above the ground, dirt, and rocks flying as they beat their wings up and down to catch air.

It didn’t take long for them to catch up with the vehicle, and they made sure to stay a good distance away as it ascended up the mountain, heading towards the city. It was only when Logan yelled at them to stop that they realized their mistake.

They were reaching the city boundary. People. Lots of people. Meaning they couldn’t fly, and in turn couldn’t follow the car. “We need to land now before someone spots us!” Logan called from behind them. They quickly took cover behind a grouping of trees and shrubs, hiding their wings under their extras clothes before taking off in the direction of the city.

It took much longer to travel by feet, Patton always forgot that. By the time they reached the road, the car was long gone and out of sight. The sky was darkening and the had nowhere to stay. “We should start moving. I don’t like the idea of being out in the open in a place like this.”

So they began to travel. The sky continued to darken until the only light left was from the moon and the street lamps on the sidewalks. They were few people on the streets, but that thought did not put Patton’s mind to rest as many of them cast glares their way.

The three of them had lived in a city before, in fact, most of their childhood was spent within city walls. It was only a year ago that they had needed to flee from their home, running from the people who no longer wanted them in the area. To everyone else, they were freaks. To everyone else, they had lost their rights as humans. To everyone else, they were nothing more than mistakes and objects to toy with.

That’s when they met Anxiety. Granted, it wasn’t necessarily on good terms, and they definitely weren’t by any means close, but Anxiety had helped them when they needed it. He knew more about the outside world than they did. No matter what Roman or Logan said, they needed him. And Patton just wanted to make a new friend.

Suddenly a loud growl rang out amongst the empty streets, effectively halting the group in their tracks. Patton glanced to the side, his gaze clashing with that of a feral dog roaming the streets. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel his legs tremble with fear. Last time they had an encounter with dogs, he had almost been killed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman and Logan crouch, readying themselves for a chase, only this time they were the prey. “Run.”

That was all it took before the three men darted forward, their fleeting slamming down onto the ground repeatedly, propelling them away from the dog. Patton could feel the wind hitting his face as he took deep breaths, trying not to panic and keep a focused mind while running away from certain death.

Vicious snarls echoed behind them and the sound of claws scraping against the cement and asphalt rung in his ears. The dogs were giving chase, now it was just a matter of who was faster.

“This way!” Roman shouted before taking a leap over a small fence, his feet slamming back down to the earth as he began running once again. Logan and Patton followed in his footsteps, leaping over the fence before continuing their repeated movements, trying to escape the beasts behind them.

Sadly, the fence was short enough that the dogs were able to jump over just as easily as they had. When Patton glanced behind him for no more than a second, he saw that there were more dogs. They had run from one and now they were being chased by more than 8.

A whimper left his mouth as he turned back to face the front. He watched as Roman took a turn and followed him, they were losing distance between the dogs, and they were running low on energy. Not only that but they had left the inner part of the city where most of the shops we located, now they were in the neighborhood where houses were right next to each other.

He felt bad, the pack of snarling dogs wasn’t exactly quiet and it was the dead of night. He couldn’t imagine most people would sleep through the sounds.

Roman shouted something unintelligible from beside him before he leaped forward, his wings instinctively pulsing at the fabric confining them, and pulled himself up and over a large wooden fence. Patton grinned with relief before doing the same. A sharp pain stung his hands as he grabbed hold of the fence, but he ignored it. Getting torn apart by dogs was a much worse fate than a few splinters.

Logan was the last to make it over before the dogs began barking and scratching at the wood on the other side of the fence. Roman’s face lit up as he let out a laugh. “Woo! That was a hell of a chase!”

Patton grinned and hugged the other man before freezing as lights suddenly lit the area around them. He squinted and looked up, his gaze connecting with that of another man’s.

The man looked disheveled and tired, and Patton assumed that he had been asleep only minutes before.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”

(TAGLIST! Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

@temmiecupcake

@anxietywolf

@lunacatzuniverse

@phlying-squirrel

@bunny222

@shadowkittycat97

@anxious-darkwolf

@theflotinghead

@fantazyiskey

@stabbinggoodtime

@rosie-the-bi

@yangsembercelica

@jax-is-trash

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #flightless #feral dogs #winged sides #wings au #bird children in the city #minor swearing

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pillowblaster · 6 years

Text

Greetings mortal! Are you ready to buy?

Seeing there's been interest in some lore behind the Guncaster, and I released the update lately, I might as well bother to exercise my writing skills again (if there are any) and explain some fun tidbits behind the new shopkeeper and perhaps his background, being older than GC itself, cause why not~

Art by Cage - DOCTOR, MY EYES APPEAR TO BE SWOLLEN!... WHAT?! TOO MUCH PORN? IMPOSSIBLE!

Hereby I present you Nithor Flaynithere - dragon deity of endless snarkitude!... Okay, patron of fury and courage actually, but that includes endless snarkitude. Formerly keeper of the eternal flame. Starter of a bloodline of dragons with anger management issues. As you know me, obscenely powerful cause I am sucha funny overkill guy, but he has his flaws and drawbacks to overcome. Cygnis is obviously his direct descendant somewhere down the line; don’t wanna tie my hands with an exact generation.

Cyg's Ancestor job at first was being a sort of head of security in the Dominion - think like where Olympus was an HQ for Greek gods, it was such place for the gods of Vernazij (Can just read it as Vernazi - I also have a thing for silent H’s in names, just in case), his homeworld. His top priority was tending to the aforementioned flame. He didn’t question things the way they were, as much as he started to grow bored... and suspicious. A branch of fellow, godly brethren, he could tell for sure, was plotting something. There was an ages long conflict going between them and the rest of the mostly-content deities and the inhabitants of the mortal coil ever since the whole universe was a thing.

Whaddaya starin’ at? I swear on me mum I’ll punch ya in the gabber, ya spineless tosser~

Oh yea, speaking of the universe!... The legend goes like this: An almighty deity had left their two descendants into an empty void, with a well of matter, energy and space to shape their own universe in a way they deemed fit, both as a test and as a testament to what he thaught them. But of course, being siblings with different concepts on what their world should be, it led to an obvious conflict of interests. They both ended up in the well after typical argument with just a bit more cosmic power involved. It caused a big bang of sort and they got absorbed into their own creation. Once things settled in a little after the initial blast, first deities and supreme beings got formed, forged to carry out their will. Yes, they were still waging petty conflict between themselves even after they got evaporated, go figure. They went onto forming massive armies to fight and prevail with their concepts of forming the universe. From the ashes of broken matter and the corpses of destroyed creatures - the universe kept on forming itself on its own whereas the first inhabitants didn't even notice that miracle even going. They were too busy killing each other.

As the fight had progressed, some planets did form their own life!... But didn't quite make it due to the whole conflict of cosmic proportions. They became the victims of collateral damage. Still, as the shaping force kept going and the destructive forces kept on dwindling, only inhabitants of few planets across zillions of them were able to survive, step back and come into conclusion that their conflict at this point was undesirable and pointless. They realized everything was already formed out of chaos, without much of their involvement. They were too busy fighting over missed opportunity. Now it was just a battle of who would take control over the results of said uninvolvement. The deities of one of such cases came into agreement. They decided to sit back and see how things will go on from here, as much as that was an uneasy peace. They named their home - Vernazij. (It supposed to mean something metaphorical for all the forming that world went through, but again, couldn't think of anything clever enough yet. I AM SUCHA GREAT STORYTELLER HOLY SHIT~)

You have a ‘what’, napping in your living room?

Over the course of years, things have stabilized - respective roles that were fitting given gods’ particular set of skills were given, treaties were made, tasks were completed... suddenly, Mortals! Local gods went “They look so familiar! And adorable~”. Powerless, fragile creatures that often resembled the deities, they were another byproduct of the self-sustained world creation. The gods didn't have much ideas on what to do with them, seeing they were pretty weak. so they had let them be. That was until some of them helped their mini-me’s, or did quite the opposite. Their fear or reverence resulted in worship. Worship gave them power, so gods started unhealthy competition over the mortal souls in their respective fields, forming alliances, breaking them, stabbing themselves in the back, or protecting themselves from the others - generally, you know, your favorite part that divides or brings everyone together - politics. Every god could store their worship as some kind of power, as much as one spot wasn't decidedly taken over. The irony of no one being courageous or dedicated enough to become the patron of courage. All brave acts sparked as an eternal flame instead. Nithor was denied to become its patron by old gods, saying he was “not ready”, whatever that meant. So he was just protecting the flame and the whole Dominion instead.

Sir, we are late for burning time!

As the time passed without any relatively bigger conflicts, some of the older caste of gods, still having in mind “the great plan” and the responsibility behind it, feared the day when the Great God will visit their plane. They predicted it might end up with a total disaster, seeing how they seemingly failed to carry out the will of his children. As they were scheming about taking the universe's fate into their own hands, the mortals were rather unhappy with how the old gods were ignoring them and grew to be a force to be reckoned with. They somehow breached into Dominion, which technically was impossible for mortals to do so. Nithor tried his best to fend off the angry mob off (despite his obvious disdain towards old gods, duty was a duty). But that was too much for him, even for years of staying valiant. He tried his best to keep the mortals off the premise of the eternal flame without killing anyone (no word about work-related harm, though), the flame got dispersed and tainted, and looked for a nearest, suitable vessel to claim, which happened to be him - being the best, viable candidate.

I should probably make some pics depicting the story instead, but laziness. Look at that thicc boi lazy it out~

As the things calmed down, he begrudingly resigned from his job as a keeper, considering that the flame was no more and he failed to keep the place secured. The old gods got banished from Dominion onto Vernazij’s plane. Being unaware of his state as a wielder of the slowly self-corrupting flame, he took on a life of a demigod and an adventurer as his longed form of a vacation, seeing how he was done with the godhood. He went onto numerous adventures, met a lot of folk, got married, had kids, stabilized his life... All was good and dandy, despite the more and more obvious problem of the flame rearing out, but nothing that he couldn't manage - he just blamed it on some magic diarrhea of sorts, being as oblivious to his status as ever... Well, that was until huge accident happened. Or more like, an incident. A one that had changed the world forever, which got named in the legends as the Deadmaker's March.

That whole mess was orchestrated by his old god workmates - starting from leaving a breach in the Dominion’s defenses for mortals to enter, then letting the eternal flame to be disturbed. Their exodus was also obviously predicted part. They knew what the flame was capable of and wanted to weaponize it, but it needed a vessel... which Nithor was an obvious candidate for, but they needed both him and the flame to be unstable. After getting him on the edge by destroying his family and everything he valued from behind the scenes - Nithor went onto a rampage Vernazij has never seen before and thereafter. Only by combined forces of all mortals and all the gods they were able to seal him away, as defeating nor controlling him was impossible - every single act of force against him was only making him stronger and even more furious. The old gods initial plan had failed, they wanted to rebuild the world from its ashes as it should be in their eyes. Still, they got their much-sought retribution after having a hand in the process of capturing him. Their scheming continued.

Mona Lisa as fuck.

And what about Nithor? As much as they tried to fool him, speak into his senses to become their ally in their quest for the control over the universe “for the greater good”... He saw through their intentions of destroying anything that doesn’t want to abide to their will or worldview, which made him hate them with all his guts - he valued his own and the universe’s freedom of choice above all. After spending three millenias in fury-blinded seclusion, he breaks out from his prison, dead-set on murdering them all and anything that dares to stand in his path. As a last act of the prison's purpose, it used all the energy it stored by draining his unrelenting fury to get him back into senses, and seal it away. Unphazed by that event, he sets forth on a mission to kick the old gods' butts into oblivion (or whatever constitutes for them as butts) by retrieving his old gear as a keeper, getting control over his horrid power and single-handedly dealing with all of them. However, as three millenias worth of time was more than enough for them to prepare a whole plethora of nasty surprises, such as painting him as an evil villain in the eyes of the whole world and themselves as icons of pure intentions (imagine that whole narrative in history for past millenias is painting you as a Sauron of the universe) - his mission became harder and more complicated than ever. They hid the truth under unparalleled amounts of lies, and destroyed any evidence they could find that could prove otherwise. The fact that Nithor had all the looks and wits of a supreme asshole didn’t help on his case, either.

I am a tallyman of your mistakes. I am the executioner for your sins. Now face what you have poured into me, for what I’ll pour into you.

...Hot damn, that actually sounded pretty intimidating, go me, bwa-ha ha!

Most of his allies are either gone in the sands of time, or still mad at him, if they didn’t bite the dust yet. He scored couple millions of deaths during his grudge-filled killing spree, so you can imagine how many souls are willingful out there to get near or even think about hearing him out... Quite the contrary, with a little exception that are the depths of Taumthegos - the local equivalent of Hell. He is being revered there for obvious reasons.

A cynical jerk by trade, Nithor’s temptation to do the easy thing and go ballistic is strong. But he is not without a heart, even after everything he went through and people hating his guts, he refuses to do so. He felt partially responsible for all the mess he got involved in and wanted to prove everyone wrong and show who’s the real enemy here. He kept finding clues about old gods’ mischief during his time of absence. The problem was, with all due respect for his pure intentions, his rather abrasive nature. More often than not, he screwed up his opportunities on coming out as a good guy. He was hellbent on getting shit done and ignorant about anything that wasn’t helpful towards his quest, rather than approaching the people who were interested in hearing him out and finding a common goal. He still had plenty of humor and determination (and lack of common sense) to go against the whole world which hated him so much for sins of days long past. And a whole journey to go through to learn again how to be a decent being. The truth is the ultimate value, no matter how painful or regretful it might be - he will bring it out.

So lemme tell you Victor, the story of the great!... Meeee!... Crap, that sounded better in my head. I should have just used my name or something. Should I start over?

Considering that Cygnis and his descendants are a thing and I am writing this whole ordeal in retrospect, you can safely assume that he had succeeded in getting his good name and life (to a degree) back. But what constitutes of his adventures, how he knows about Earth and its fineness of culinary such as the casserole and how he got in touch with his late grandson?

...Those are stories for another time!

Tl;dr yada yada that’s a lot of bullshit. Kerist, that was stressful to pull off. Hoping that at least it’s somewhat enjoyable, to a degree.

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