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youareunbearable · 2 years

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I swear I wrote this down before, but I cant find it in any of my notes so here's a little fun idea! When the world gets recreated so its no longer Arda Marred, I think the Valar got together and Looked at the Finwe problem and shrugged and decided to make all of Miriel and her descendants Maiar to slove that tricky little problem of Remarriage.

Because the Feanorians are now Maiar, they aren't technically born, meaning they aren't really siblings and part of the same family so there is no real issue in separating them now is there?

Miriel is one of Vaire's weavers of course, and Feanor is one of Aule's most talented smiths, but that is understandable as he is the spirit of Hearth Fire itself. There are others within Aule's Halls, but their knowledge of each other is passing, for Celebrimbor tends to stay with the jewelry makers and Curufin likes creating hunting gear for Orome's hunt

Orome is almost never seen without his most prized hunter, Celegorm, who prefers a form that looks more wolf than Elf.

Vana, Orome's wife, herself has a pair of giggling and twittering songbirds that follow her around as she follows her husband's Hunt. They dance and sing and twirl in sync that many often just call the pair of them by a singular name, Ambarussa.

Irmo within his forest full of Song and Music has a very talented Maia that is so in tune with thr Song that they can play with it however they choose. Maglor only uses this ability to give the Elves good dreams, of course.

Este is forever thankful of her assistant Caranthir, who keeps all her medical necessities and books in order, so she is always prepared to help those in need, even if he himself doesn't have the best beside manner.

Lady Nienna’s Maia, Maedhros is a bit more of a recluse. He is charming when spoken too, but there is something distant, some type of lingering melancholy that clings to him, like a weak dawn in the deepest days of winter. He tends to hide himself away in the forests surrounding Formenos, helping those who are lost find their way back home.

Then there are Finwe and his beautiful wife Indis, their children, and many grandchildren. They are a stunning example of a happy family, and all the citizens of Tirion love having them as their royal family. Nothing is ever wrong, even when Fingolfin’s daughter Aredhel got lost during a hunt, she was lucky enough to be escorted back to her worried brothers' camp.

Fingon, who had never felt the degree of terror that flooded his veins at the thought of his sister lost in the woods, terror that was much stronger than what was called for because what could befell her in their peaceful land of Valinor?

She was being ferried on the back of a behemoth of a horse, pristine and laughing at the antics of the silver wolf-like Maia walking at her side. The horse was being led by a silent Maia, who smiled softly at the pair but made no move to include himself.

Fingon looked up at the tall Maia, and felt something in his fea shatter. He always had felt like something was missing, that he would havr an urge to go looking for someone he could never find, catch himself looking up to share an idea with someone who must have been taller than him only to look up at empty air. His bed felt so cold, but no matter how high he tended the hearth flames he knew it was because it was empty. He would look to the distant mountains and see a dawn peaking over their tops and weep as something in his fea ached.

Everything felt so overwhelming when he looked at this Maia, this being that looked cold, who wore furs and had snow dusting his shoulders even though it was a warm sunny summer day. Fingon was so lost in the sensations swirling within him that he was too slow to act before the Maia helped Aredhel off his horse, swung up himself and was out of the clearing. That wolfish Maia giving his sister a laughing twirl before bounding off into the thicket, chasing after the distant horn call.

Fingon’s knees felt weak, he found himself sinking to the forest floor. This world may be Arda Remade, but he still felt Marred.

#amber rambles #Silmarillion #maedhros #Feanorians #fingon #there was more to this that i thought i wrote down #basically the story is in Arda Remade fingon finds that he is the only one in his family that feels Off #he doesnt knkw why. no one has memories of arda marred but fingon knows he lost something precious to him in the remaking #finwe is worried for his eldest grandson. he doenst know why seeing someone he loves turn so melancholic makes him afraid #it just does. so he urges fingon to visit Lorien to soothe his Fea and heal #here he meets Caranthir and Maglor and he feels a connection to both and spends a lot of his time he #there bothering the both of them and he shares his feelings with maglor who just humms and agrees with him #that the Music within his fea is missing something.maybe someone? maybe hes supposed to go out and find them #maglor tells him to let the Music guide him and Caranthir gives him supplies and then fingon is off #he travels around Valinor by himself. where he meets the other non-Feanorians and feels pieces slot together #his most eye opening experience was meeting with the Maia Feanor and his Elf lover Nerdanel up in Formenos #she agrees with him that what hes feeling is valid as she also lost something in the Remaking #she cannot have children and this aches as she has dreams of a full house and 7 perfect sons that are no longer hers #she shows him her sculptures and as he looks he realizes he has met most of them on his journey! not elves like she has created #but Maiar who under their unnatural differneces look almost identical to these sculptures #he pauses at the last one. the unfamiliar one. Nerdanel sighs and says she feels like this one was her first born #the one she lost even before the Remaking. Fingon feels the same. this face makes him ache.#he wanders the forest that night haunted by these people. these elves he feels like he should know but doesnt. hes so in his thoughts #he doesnt realize hes lost. he calls out into the woods and hears nothing call back but his echos. a chill crawls up his spine #his breath begins to fog and there is a sound behind him and he twirls and there is rhat sculpture. his missing piece #Dont Worry. the figure of Winter and Memory says to him. I Found You #You Found Me. Fingon replies

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ehlnofay · 5 months

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It’s not until she hears Sissel’s knees hit the floor that Efri is jolted back into her body.

She blinks, whipping her head around. Sissel is kneeling, bracing a palm on the ancient stone pavement, at the barrier – no, the barrier’s gone, it’s just Sissel on the floor. She lifts her head and meets Efri’s eyes; her hair is wispy and wild, the little plaits meant to keep it neat come loose and tumbling, her eyes wide. The barrier's gone, but still, her pale face is lit up blue.

“Are you okay?” she asks. She doesn’t speak loudly, but it echoes in the great stone chamber.

Nine, Efri doesn’t know.

She blinks again, looks down at her hands, clinging to the metal stick so fiercely that her joints ache. (Her own stick, her nice wooden one, is still on the floor somewhere, where it slipped out of her grasp when she hit the wall.) The lumpy heavy end of it, the clobbering end, is still resting on –

Not on. It’s in the thing’s head, fitted neatly in the opening of its dented helmet, the horns spiralling over the floor. There’s a tooth, perfectly preserved, by Efri’s foot.

One by one, she unwraps her gloved fingers from the handle of the metal stick, letting it drop to the floor with a clang so loud it makes her wince. Kazari is nosing at her side. (When did they let go of it? When did they get so close? She must have missed that. She feels out of the loop. Her heart is juddering like fish on a line, battering like some frightened trapped thing at her ribcage, and her breath is coming fast and heavy.) Absentmindedly bringing up a hand to press over her sore shoulder, she says, “’M fine. Not too – barely touched me.”

Kazari turns and spits on the floor. Efri blinks. She does it again, tongue lolling out of her mouth, face very disgruntled – and oh, Efri gets it. She does not glance down at the thing at her feet; she doesn’t need to, she knows what its arm looks like, chewed almost to pieces even through its banded armour. (If she hadn’t been so busy being scared of it, that sight might have made her a bit scared of Kazari. But not now, when they’re trying to hack and spit the taste of dead man arm out of their mouth.)

Efri unclips her canteen from her belt and holds it out. “Here,” she says. Her voice is rough. Her heart is racing too much to let constructing sentences be easy. “Not much, but –”

Kazari stands still while Efri tips half of the remaining water onto her tongue, and then Efri watches her swilling it around in her mouth, trying to bathe all of her teeth in it, before she spits it again on the floor at the dead thing’s feet.

The water is still clear. That’s something, at least; the dead man was too old to still have blood in him. Or maybe he was embalmed, drained of it hundreds of years ago, thousands.

“Are you okay?” Efri asks Kazari when they’re done, because they were the one doing most of the fighting, who was closest. They tip their head, shift their weight – wince when they put weight on one foot. Their lips peel back from their teeth. Their clothes on that side are singed.

Efri points it out. “Your robe,” she says, which makes it sound much fancier than it is. She’s too tired to think of a better word. She rubs a hand over her face, pushing the hair back over her forehead, says, “I’ll reinforce it for you when we get out.”

Kazari noses at Efri’s shoulder – the shredded fabric of her dress, the fraying edges stained with blood. Efri says, “I know. I’ll have to sew that up too.” Over her shoulder, she calls, “Kazari’s leg’s hurt, I think.”

“There’s blood on you,” Sissel replies. She peels her hand off the floor and leans back on her heels.

Efri touches her shoulder again. “’S fine,” she says. “Just a scrape. The blood’s drying already.”

It’s really sore, actually – the flesh abraded and tender, an ache sinking deep into the muscle – but it’s normal sore, the kind of sore you really should be after being thrown into a wall. It doesn’t feel sprained or dislocated or anything like that. Just like it will be bruised a whole rainbow of colours come tomorrow.

Kazari noses at it again. She leans too far forward and falters on her maybe-hurt leg – rights herself, wincing, and rolls her shoulder. It gleams, just for a moment, and she nearly stumbles again. Efri puts out a hand to steady her. (It doesn’t really accomplish anything – Efri’s strong, but she’s not that strong – but it’s the principle of it.) “What was that spell?”

“Pain relief,” Sissel says from behind her. “I think. Doesn’t actually fix anything, but.”

“You’ll be okay ‘til we find someone?” Efri asks, and Kazari nods. She presses a hand against their shoulder and nods back.

They both turn to look at Sissel, then, who’s just kneeling on the floor, sitting on her heels.

“You all right?” Efri asks her.

“All right,” Sissel confirms. She doesn’t look at them. “Didn’t even come near me.”

She’s staring.

Efri crosses the floor to stand with her. (She needs to lean on Kazari – her legs are too wobbly, and she doesn’t want to touch the dead thing’s stick, doesn’t want to look for her own. Kazari limps a little on their sore front leg.) There’s a moment of total, humming silence – all of them still and staring, necks craned back, looking up at the thing.

Whatever it is.

It’s a ball. Big and blue and shimmering, it floats above a wide crystalline dish set into the floor, spinning on an axis. Just spinning and spinning and spinning, endless motion. Its smooth surface is cut through with dark wavering lines, etched with lettering, and it doesn’t quite glow but it doesn’t not glow, either, the light moving across it silkily, like clouds in a blue sky. It looks like something that should be humming – a low pitch in their ears, an eerie shiver dancing over their skin – but it’s silent. Inert, maybe, but for the spinning.

“What is it?” Efri asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks. She looks down at Sissel’s face, staring as though mesmerised, illuminated by the room’s dim lighting – the fires that should not still be burning down here, the luminous not-glow of the ball.

Sissel says, “I don’t know. Something important.”

Hovering above the dish, it spins, and spins, and spins.

“Is it what the ghost was talking about?” Efri asks. She tilts her head and squints at it. It doesn’t – well, it looks strange and unearthly and powerful, but it isn’t doing anything. And it hadn’t been clear what the ghost was talking about, exactly, according to Sissel, just that it was something important – but what else could it be?

Sissel, still watching it, shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think so.”

Efri watches it with her, brushing a bit more hair out of her face. It’s sticking to her sweaty forehead. She feels a drip of not-dry blood running down her arm under her sleeve.

Kazari is staring at it too – just as confounded as the rest of them. Efri sees the light in their irises shifting as the ball spins.

They’re not learning anything from staring, the ball staying strange and mysterious as ever, so Efri raps her knuckles against her sternum to steady her breathing (it’s slowed a bit – not normal, but closer to it) and climbs up onto the stone rimming of the dish. Kazari, behind her, lows in consternation; Sissel catches her breath, a noise like a creaking door. “Careful,” she says.

“Promise,” Efri replies, and places her feet very, very carefully on the glassy blue flooring. Nothing happens. She doesn’t step on the dark curved lines as she treads toward the ball in the centre, slow and wary as if she were approaching a skittish animal. Nothing happens.

She reaches out, and, with just the tips of her fingers, she grazes the ball’s surface.

Nothing happens.

It’s cool to the touch, and smooth, like polished metal or not-frozen ice or delicate glasswork. It continues to spin gently under her fingers, warming her glove with friction, no smudges left on its clouded face.

It really feels like there should at least be a tingle running up her arm, a strange and unfamiliar current, a spark. But it’s just Efri, standing with an arm outstretched, pressing her hand to a ball.

“It’s not doing anything,” she reports, and Sissel clambers up onto the dish with her, fitting her palm to its gently hovering underside. Kazari balks, begins pacing agitatedly. Efri frowns. “Why isn’t it doing anything? Shouldn’t it be doing something?”

“It’s important,” Sissel says definitively. There’s ancient dust on her fingers, but none of it seems to transfer. “It’s something really special, I think.”

Efri shifts restlessly. She shifts her grip and tries to grab onto the dark ridged curves ringing its surface, but they slip easily away from her grasp as though her touch was no barrier at all. “But what does it do?”

Sissel shrugs.

Behind them, Kazari lows.

Efri drops her hand and grabs Sissel’s wrist. “C’mon,” she says, and when Sissel frowns at her, “We’re not going to learn anything about it this way. We have to look for clues!”

Kazari makes a more impatient noise. (Efri thinks she found a clue.)

Sissel gives the ball one last searching look and lets Efri tug her away, off the weird blue dish and down to where Kazari stands on the stone floor, at the head of the table where the dead man sat. Efri sniffs loudly and tries not to think about it too much. The table is smooth polished stone, worn a little away with time; Efri trails a gloved finger over the edge and directs her attention to where Kazari points with their chin.

There’s something carved into the surface, the edges blunted and shapes softened by however many years it must have been since it was put there. Efri squints, trying to make it out. She has to stand right up on her tiptoes to get the right angle to see much of it in full.

“That’s not letters,” she says eventually, frowning. She’s pretty sure she knows her alphabet well enough by now to know that. “Is it magic?”

Sissel shakes her head. “I don’t know what it is. It’s not like magical writing I’ve ever seen.”

Efri looks at Kazari, who also shakes her head. “Maybe it’s a different sort of lettering,” she theorises. It must have been written a long time ago, if it’s from back when the city had people. Onmund’s been reading all about it for ages, and he’s told her a bit – Saarthal was the city of Atmorans, populated by proto-Nordic people. All complicated history stuff. But they weren’t quite the same as Nords today, he said, so it stands to reason they had different writing, too. They’re supposed to be uncovering and cataloguing artifacts (at the thought, Efri glances back at the hovering ball and swallows an inane bubble of laughter) so she suggests, “Maybe you can copy it and we can show it to someone. I’m sure there’ll be someone at the College what knows what it is.”

Sissel, also standing on her toes, nods dutifully. “What will you do?”

The chamber they’re in is cavernous, and about empty but for the ball in the dish, the altar and chair, the body on the ground. “I’ll check him,” she says, and points. “See if he has anything on him that’s special.”

Sissel follows her finger and grimaces.

She digs out her note-paper and her stick of char, and Efri assumes it’s clues time, but when she turns she feels a hand grip her elbow. She looks back over her tattered shoulder at Sissel’s face, her furrowed brow.

“Promise you’re really okay?” she says, voice anxious and solemn.

“Promise,” Efri says, twisting her arm to touch her friend’s hand. Sissel presses her lips together and lets go of her arm.

Kazari trails after Efri to look at the dead man.

First thing is the metal stick. It’s magic someway, Efri knows – he waved it and threw her into a wall, flung spells with it – but she’s not sure how. Doesn’t know enough about enchantments. Didn’t need to, to use it; when Kazari clamped down on his arm she just ripped it from his grasp and –

She doesn’t quite exactly remember, actually, except for the bitter tang of adrenaline in her mouth and nose, the horrible grunting and scuffling sounds, the heft of the stick in her hands. Impact, over and over and over, against something that had a little more give each time.

Efri scrubs a hand over her mouth and grips the handle of the stick. It takes effort to wrest it out of the thing’s face, caught as it is by the edges of the helmet, and when it’s finally yanked free it’s – actually not as bad as she might have expected. There’s no blood, and the corpse was so desiccated it already didn’t even really look like a person anymore, so it registers less as someone with horrible violence done to it and more as a really gross art piece. It’s not nice. She doesn’t like the twisted, gaping mouth, teeth embedded wrong-ways in its tissue and scattered like coins over the floor. And one of the eyes, which had glowed unearthly blue, is now a dull, rotten black, squished like a plum in its socket.

It's worse the more she looks. She sniffs and turns away.

“This is magic, right?” she asks Kazari, testing the weight of it in her hands, the cool surface of the metal, and they nod. “A good artifact?” she adds, and they nod again, emphatically. Efri sets the stick aside and kneels.

It wasn’t wearing any clothes, really – or if it was, they rotted away. She touches the rusted armour gingerly, tries to avoid brushing her gloves against the shrivelled skin at all. Whoever it was had expensive taste, it seems – there’s jewellery in a shockingly well-preserved beard, pendants around the neck, armbands. Efri asks Kazari if each thing is enchanted. No to the armbands, no to the beard-ring, and then, pressed against the wizened chest where the flesh contours to the ribs, she finds some kind of necklace, sharp-edged and thrumming. Kazari nods to that, and, face scrunched up like an old fruit, Efri reaches around the ancient neck to slip it off.

She tucks it into a belt pocket with the tripwire necklace they found at the weird wall.

“Done,” Sissel says. She folds her paper and slips it into her own pouch. Her footfalls on the echo-y stone floor as she approaches the body for the first time are almost silent. “Did you find anything?”

“Necklace,” Efri replies, watching Sissel’s face pinch at the sight of him. “And – stick.” She scoops up the metal stick and holds it out. “He did spells with it.”

Sissel looks at it warily. “Is he a draugr?” she asks, glancing back down at his mashed-up face.

“I mean,” Efri says, “he’s got to be, right?” She’s certainly never seen a draugr before, but what else could it be?

(Calling it a draugr makes her shiver, the set of her shoulders quaking. She’ll stick to dead man.)

Sissel shudders. She reaches out to grip the handle of the stick, and Efri’s not sure if she’s taking it or just trying to keep herself upright. “I can’t believe that happened,” she says. Her voice sounds, suddenly, fragile. “I can’t believe we’re alive.”

“Me neither,” Efri says. She presses the tip of the stick into the ground so Sissel can lean on it, stands a little unsteadily.

Kazari, with a hushed murmur, telegraphs something. Efri recognises the head incline of understanding – she’s familiar with that word, that idea – and, after a moment, the flickering ear of doubt.

“They’ll have to believe us,” she says with conviction, because she means it. “We’ll show them. They’ll see for themselves.”

Kazari presses their nose to her head.

Efri clasps her hands together. “We’ll go tell someone now,” she declares – though it’s easier said than done; they were lost in the ruins ages before they even found the crumbling wall, the halls, this horrible wonderful chamber. But they’ll get un-lost eventually. They’ll get out eventually. Surely. They have practice enough with walking. “But first – help me find my stick.”

#little girl has a kill count now!! more at 11 #for context: I altered stuff leading up to the discovery of the eye #efri and sissel went off to play in the undiscovered halls of this ancient archeological dig site #on the grounds that efri has a great sense of navigation and they'll find their way back to the group no problem.#(efri has a great sense of navigation in the wilderness.)#(introduce her to a series of roads and buildings and she is lost in the sauce.)#their friends split up to look for them after they've been missing from a while (wandering around with great interest and no sense of place #(incredibly lost)#kazari happens upon them right as they've found a necklace at the end of a dead-end passageway that - when dutifully grabbed #for archeological research purposes - ended up triggering the wall to crumble or disappear or otherwise remove itself from the equation #and efri wasn't going to just. LEAVE that opening there.#come ONN kazari that's weird!! we can't just leave it!! what if it closes up and we never ever find it again and there's incredible secrets #that the college never finds! what if we never know what's through there!#we HAVE to know what's through there!#so on they go.#and so ensue the horrors #they pass a lot of dead bodies before the main all but those ones are all immobile #also sissel is the only one to receive the psijic projection warning. which she explains to the others as a ghost telling her secrets #which efri accepts bc this seems like the kind of place that would for sure have ghosts #and kazari goes sure that tracks this place is fucking creepy can we leave now (<- is also curious but HAS to put on a show of reluctance #because clearly no-one else is going to)#(permanent babysitter of kids with the worst self-preservation instincts imaginable)#(she is so strong. living every childcare worker's nightmare)#ANYWAY #:D #normal type stuff #posting because it matches the artwork I'm also posting! look at that thing!!!#fay writes #oc tag #efri

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evocatiio · 10 months

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god forbid a woman prioritises her fiancé who's going through withdrawal over a man's feelings

#do you guys hear how damn silly y'all sound???#'ever since mari came into town Kris doesn't engage in cute scenes with kenny and now im side eyeing get ngl'#LISTEN TO URSELF??????#y'all just hate gay people frrrr #so unserious #as if ken wasn't being a little bitch for saying his friendship with kris was conditional to her being open to him romantically #mari is not the toxic lesbian y'all want her to be and kristi is not an asshole for anything she's done #ever #literally the second most selfless character in the show #anyway i like kenny! the writers need to stop emotionally kicking him (nothing to with kris and mari)#and i think boyd is the only one who's been unfair to him #but like i dont blame him either #the nightmare purgatory town is simply a pressure cooker #from epix #from mgm #anyway!#ramblings of an insomniac

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drbtinglecannon · 2 years

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HUNTER GOT EVEN TALLER LOOK HOW MUCH HE TOWERS OVER LUZ & GUS

For reference Hunter & Luz had about the same height difference back in HM when Hunter was wearing heeled boots, I doubt they're wearing shoes in this promo image at the Noceda house

Also he & Luz are wearing sweatpants which valid.

And ofc Gus is so cute look at him, look at him smiling after the last time we saw him he was crying ;__;

#toh #toh spoilers #the owl house season 3 #toh hunter #luz noceda #gus porter #ITS ONLY BEEN A COUPLE MONTHS RIGHT BUT HE GREW SO MUCH. HE WASNT THAT MUCH TALLER THAN HER BEFORE EVEN IN HEELED BOOTS #i hope darius comments on it & his haircut & also they hug ill die if i don't get a real sunter dadrius reunion #luz's hair is so long too!!! & she looks older. like. her eyes dont open as wide anymore :( & gus is so cute im so happy to see him smiling #legit i love hunters new haircut i think its v cute rip to everyone who still hates it & is mad he isnt wearing gloves either #also congrats no gloves hunter!#im not ready for luz's anguish this season she even looks more subdued just in this one promo ahhhhhhh gdi this KID #toh analysis #tc posts

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quirkle2 · 25 days

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oh nooo that's quite a bummer :( but i'm very glad that i helped brightening up your day :") tbh your writing brightens up my day too (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

AND WAIT I'VE BEEN ACTUALLY QUITE THINKING ABOUT WHETHER ZOMBIE MOB HAS FOUGHT OFF A ZOMBIE WHEN I ASKED IF HE HAS EVER BITTEN SOMEONE and since you brought it up, well, would be okay to ask about the details of how it went 👁️👁️ (also him fighting off a fellow zombie to protect tome got me sobbing)

- 🪻

aww im glad my silly little words brighten ur day!! ur so sweet :]

and yes, it went horribly <3! tome prolly wasn't paying attention as closely as she should've been and got herself surrounded by a crowd. to be clear, that's not Always dangerous, since zombies arent like,, after ur brains in this constantly. but these zombies did look quite hungry, and human or not, she looked like a good meal,,

she had wandered off a bit from mob n ritsu, but mob heard the commotion first. tome has a big fucking baseball bat in this au that she likes to swing around, but a baseball bat can only get u so far in terms of self defense. she thins the horde but there's simply too many of them

mob lets exactly One zombie grab her and yank her toward them before he goes ballistic

watching zombies fight is a lot closer to watching wild animals fight than anything else, and it gets quite horrid sometimes. since their bites aren't rly "dangerous" to each other beyond the typical Oh No a Chunk of Flesh is Gone (not even painful for them, since their nerves r.. less than functional), the fight is a lot more close up and gruesome than a fight against a zombie and a human would be. humans usually back away from zombies immediately and try not to touch them at all in fear of getting bitten; zombies don't need to care abt that

most of the horde realizes that this meal isn't going to be easy and they wander off, but a few more hungry, more desperate ones try to rip into mob's throat at the first sign of defiance. it's not exactly a fair fight; it's like 1 against 4, so he's sorta bound to lose

thankfully ritsu shows up and shoots two of them down (he's Terrified of shooting mob by accident, but either way he'll probably die, so) and tome gets the last one with a good swing to the head. ritsu rushes to mob and is horrified by the amount of blood dripping from his neck and his arm; tome is equally as shocked, but she's mostly thinking, "ive Never seen a zombie defend a human before"

mob's neck is thankfully mostly just scraped up and clawed, but there Is some gruesome punctures where canines sank in and tugged. it's a lot worse along his arm that's bitten and gouged beyond belief. he loses a lot of blood here, but the whole nerves-no-longer-work thing is a blessing in disguise atm; he'd be in a lot of pain otherwise. while ritsu and tome are patching him up w shaky hands he simply glares beyond their shoulders like he thinks he's still in danger, even when they tighten the bandages. it's like he barely notices what they’re doing

his strangely alert behavior makes them think abt the possibility that maybe mob Knows he could've easily been shredded apart there, and he's a little scared and worked up abt it. the only reason he managed to fight as long as he did without dying is prolly bc the other zombies weren't as well-fed as mob—they were kinda weak and shaky from days of no food, but mob has humans taking care of him and keeping him fed 24/7

they're all shaken up by it pretty good.. tome is still reeling from the fact that mob defended her so valiantly, and ritsu is quietly horrified by the idea of another zombie killing mob instead of a human. he doesn't know which is worse

#qktalks #anon #zombie au #this isn't the first time ritsu has had to kill a zombie btw ^#this is just the first time he's had to kill one since he started seeing zombies in a different light #it was either letting his brother die or killing a zombie. ritsu's upset that he had to make that decision at all #but he's not afraid to say that the decision was incredibly easy to make #it sucks that he had to kill one but . for mob ? literally anything goes #ritsu checked tome over after they took care of mob too. tome's very surprised when he's rly gentle abt it #ritsu's been known to .. lose his head a little in moments of stress #and sometimes he snaps at tome bc of it. he never means to he's just..worked up #but this time he's kinda fretting over her and it opens her eyes a little bit #ritsu has indeed grown to care abt tome a lot. they bicker Most of the time but it's usually not very serious #in all the excitement tome just hadn't rly realized that until now. ritsu is so high-strung that it's hard to get a read on his softer side #but now he's not just directing his softer side to his brother‚ but to tome as well #i have 15 more tags to explain smth i wanna make clear btw let's hope i don't start rambling abt smth else entirely #so i've been using a lot of vocabulary in these au posts that hint toward mob being ''special'' or ''abnormal'' in his behavior #he is not special or abnormal in any way #Every zombie is like that. every zombie has a personality‚ and a gentler demeanor hidden behind that desperate starvation #and remnants of their past selves in there somewhere #mob is simply one of the only zombies that have been taken in and cared for and treated like a sick person rather than a monster #as i've said before most people just.. either run away or shoot them between the eyes when crossing paths with a zombie #they don't give any of them a Chance. mob is a very very lucky zombie.#he is healthier than most other zombies and he is treated far better #and the way ritsu constantly talks to him is actually great for his health ! gets those rusty gears in his head rollin #exercises that brain‚ even if‚ to ritsu‚ he's only responding in odd gibberish #that's only one of the things ritsu gives him that other zombies never receive in their lifetimes #i'd say mob prolly ? has one of the longest ''zombie lifespans''#most zombies either die of starvation‚ dehydration‚ or sleep deprivation within a few weeks #he's lived a long zombie life !

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