Title: No remedy to falling
Pairing: Jlaire
Typically when one loses their wings, whether by injury or accident there are alternatives, fixes, something left to salvage besides two horrible, gnarled scars on their back.
Jim can see her struggling, silently writhing within herself at the fact she’s forever grounded, never to fly again. With him, or anyone else. What Morgana took from her is permanent. All he can hope, is that when she leans against him and he carefully uses one of his wings to cover her, does it comfort her in some small way like it used to.
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Amazingly amusing and absurd alliteration in the Resident Evil 2 Survival Guide.
Don't know if you guys noticed from my previous posts but the Survival Guide is full of random and weird alliteration. Here are just a few examples...
What does this even MEAN, Survival Guide?! What do peanuts have to do with anything???!
It cooks as it kills! What a time saver! :D
Leon's good at galloping gracefully. Yes, this was from his section... in fact, a lot of the weird alliteration is from his section.
Interesting...
If only they had also used Sherry's name too...
Is... is his body his most precious possession?
I mean... I guess so...
Unless they're talking about a different head... uhhhhhhh...
*gasp*
Reading all this was a mental challenge.
Now, if you'll excuse me... I need to (wo)manly maneuver away from this post and let my brain recover.
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#25 dialogue prompt with dealer’s choice for the couple?
Dialogue, #25: “Well, it is a seance.” / “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.”
Without a doubt, this year’s Halloween festival is biggest and best yet. There's more food, more games, more rides than ever before, and it feels like every single inch of the town’s square is packed with something spooky, or sweet, or covered in papier-mâché bats.
The dozens of gnomes and trolls strolling around out in the open really add a little extra oomph to the vibe, too.
Barbara is living for it.
“We should check out Claire’s thing next,” her son suggests, bounding back over to her with with a wide grin on his face and a ridiculously huge bag of kettle corn tucked under his arm. He looks so young in this moment, so carefree and full of wonder. Like a regular seventeen-year-old should, and it warms Barbara’s heart to know he can still find joy in the world after everything he’s been through. “We can stop by Stuart’s food truck on the way.”
Beside her, Walter snorts. “How can you still be hungry after eating all those fried oreos?”
“I’m a growing boy, Strickler.” Jim flashes a cheeky smirk and tears into his bag of kettle corn. “Better get used to it.”
Walter rolls his eyes, yet somehow manages to not slap the popcorn out of the growing boy’s hands even though he really, really wants to. Instead, he grumbles something about grocery bills and the rising cost of pizza rolls and lets a thoroughly entertained Barbara drag him across the festival grounds to, first, buy Jim a few tacos before moving on to the little clearing by Town Hall where Claire has her tent set up.”
“Madame Clarita?” Barbara asks, squinting at the poster board displayed above the entrance flap. “Uh, Jim? What kind of booth is Claire running?”
“Tarot cards? And palm reading,” he shrugs, “I think?”
Barbara shoots Walter a look and receives a tired, resigned sigh in response from the changeling as he gestures for her to follow Jim into the tent where, apparently, a few familiar faces have been waiting for them.
“See?” Claire says, smiling smugly at the table’s other three occupants. “I told you they’d be here.”
“Oi,” comes NotEnrique’s obnoxious little voice. He waves a dirty sock in the air. “It don’t count if lover boy texted ya first, sis.”
“He’s not wrong, Claire,” Toby agrees with a click of his tongue as Aaarrrgghh nods vigorously from where he’s sat on the ground.
The witch ignores them and gestures to the empty folding chairs across from her. “Have a seat. We’re just about ready to begin.”
“Begin?” Barbara asks as Walter pulls a chair out for her before helping her scoot in. “What are we beginning?”
“Oh, well,” Claire grins, “it’s a séance.”
Walter fails to hold in a derisive snort as he leans sideways to whisper in Barbara’s ear, “It’s a good thing the person I want to see is already here.”
“What?” She whispers back, eyes sparkling as she watches him sit down next to her. “You think it’s all just bunch of hocus pocus?”
“Yes.”
Jim elbows him in the side at the same time Madame Clarita bellows, “Quiet! It is time to confer with the spirits! Now, please, hold hands.”
For the next five minutes or so, Claire puts on quite a show while Toby snickers and Aaarrrgghh smiles encouragingly and NotEnrique adds what he claims to be is ambience by moaning and groaning like a ‘ghost’ every ten seconds. Barbara enjoys every bit of it. Even with Jim and Walter trying their best to break each other’s fingers the whole time.
And then everything goes wrong…
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Fuck me. I just spent three hours writing a detailed outline to a story that came to me as idle day dream this morning. Usually, when I have ideas for original fiction, they’re never complete. But this arrived so fully formed that I couldn’t let it slip away. Which is great. It also sucks. Because I needed to be finishing a paper outline instead of writing whatever the fuck that was.
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I wish there was more instances of Zizel being blatantly more antagonistic, but I think her detached way of viewing the characters in the story very interesting
She bets on Claire's happiness not because she's someone who she cares about on an emotional level, but because she's fascinated with her misfortune. She wants to see an outcome where she wins because it would be against the script written for her. Zizel is fascinated with humans, acts out being a human herself, and tries to mold the story based off her own misguided understandings. Unlike Wilardo, she holds no sentimental feelings towards people. She follows her own whims based on how much they entertain her.
So while she does show a level of understanding towards human struggles, there is no respect for it. She's like the reader in a way. Because her feelings only amount to wanting to see a nicely wrapped up ending after a great struggle. She's detached, she doesn't need to grow or apply herself in the narrative, she can sit back and watch them all struggle on their own. She's just a witness to the story unfolding.
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Fic Summary:
“Do you know,” says Leon, swirling the dregs of his drink around his glass, “what last week was?”
Claire only looks at him, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass, over and over again in a never-ending loop. Leon’s life feels like that sometimes. Tragedy after tragedy, outbreak after outbreak. You save the day, pick up the pieces, and people still decide to do terrible things to one another.
Leon says, “It was the eight-year anniversary of Raccoon City getting blown off the fucking map.”
(or: leon walks away from claire after everything with jason and penamstan is said and done, but claire's not done with him yet.)
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