#apocalypse the risen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-4pphics · 15 days ago

Text

drenched in white. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: after all your time alone, you’re finally not, but you’re definitely not prepared for your new life. [jackson AU]

WORD COUNT: 7.1K

WARNINGS: readers mute and taller than ellie, death, murder, blood, mentions of alcohol/starvation/hypothermia, a bit of gore, near death experience, trauma and sadness, brief girls kissing, some fluff because kids :)

A/N: tbh idk where this came from but i missed ellie so yeah prob wont write anymore of this but yeah

—

Apocalypses are fucking stupid.

Humans are born into nothing, forced to run all their lives from blood-lustful beasts that can rewire their entire brain chemistry into one that sadistically matches theirs, and if that doesn’t happen, you die anyway with nothing but the clothes on your back and a horse with no rider. That’s fucking stupid.

You weren’t alive when the world was thriving… presumably so — whatever the old world considered thriving. Those history books you stole in adolescence would argue otherwise, but there were some happy moments. On occasion. Maybe? Whatever. But you weren’t there, and you can only imagine how you would’ve turned out if you were. Would you be married? Have children? Own property? Businesses? Whatever other luxury the old world prioritized although it all seemed exhausting?

Would you be an addict, a trainwreck, someone who had it all then nothing in the blink of an eye? That seems to be reoccurring in some of those biographies you found about people called celebrities. They have everything then die too young or way too old and eventually fade into a nobody, just like everyone else. History is so heartbreaking. Such cruel fate.

You’ve been by yourself for a long time. Some would still consider you young, but you feel like a zombie that’s risen from the grave most of the time. You steal and live selfishly and waste your life reading because you can. You’re lucky enough to no longer have anyone you care about. Your recklessness doesn’t hinder anyone but yourself, so you read read read. Sometimes, you hunt for books more than you do for food. You’re not a fighter — it surprises you every day how you haven’t died yet — but a decent amount of people would consider you book smart. This one group you crossed paths with some years ago called you a genius because you’re self-taught in practically everything: reading and writing, starting fires, planting food, sewing, mapping plains. Whenever you’re harmed, you can heal yourself kinda. When you were 14, you stepped on a rusty nail and, instead of living the short remainder of your life as an amputee, you heroed through a disgusting infection that left you ill for 2 weeks, then sewed your own wound up. You couldn’t walk for days.

That same group also called you mute.

You don’t think you are, but rightfully so. There’s no one for you to talk to, so you don’t talk, simple as that. Everyone you knew died when you were a kid, maybe 7 or 8 — spending the majority of your life alone and in hiding doesn’t make for much conversation. Plus, the fucks that rule the Earth are nosy as hell. Being as quiet as possible is needed.

Reading passes time. It’s the last phase of winter, but it’ll be Spring in no time, thanks to the bag you drag through snow: stuffed with one jacket, a rusted chef’s knife, and 46 different novels and counting.

Your body’s gonna shut down on you. It’s so fucking cold and you’re barely layered but you haven’t finished The Cable Companies, One Hundred and One Best Songs. The pages filled with piano notes are almost enough to make you hear the songs… Or maybe the lack of nutrients is making you hallucinate. Guess you’ll find out when you finish. Just 22 more pages.

No food, no water, no warmth, no antique piano. You’re fucked any direction you turn.

There was a small cave somewhere around here. You used to sleep in it during the summer; the dark was always cooler. Maybe it’s buried underneath heaps of snow. You hope not. Fuck.

The closer you get to the cavern, the grosser the air becomes. Death carries a certain mugginess. Why’d they have to die next to your one retreat?

You drag and drag on like your legs weigh a ton all the way to the cave and… Great.

Death and no entrance. Red coats the snow and it reminds you of the twisted tale of Snow White. The decaying carcass of a deer should alarm you, but you only sigh in defeat. Where the fuck are you supposed to read without disturbance?

You only make it two more steps before you collapse face-first into ice. Your lungs wheeze in pain and you’re trying to get yourself up but you can’t. When you blink, you see colors.

Is this death? Or karma? A squirrel runs past you just to rub it in. Furry little bitch.

It’s only when your brain whispers for you to give up that you fully submerge into the snow. Small cries of pain are the only proof of your survival.

Fuck everything. Fuck people, fuck people that turned into monsters, fuck all the stupid trivial shit that the other world loved so deeply. Call it jealousy. Everything’s for nothing nowadays.

Your final thought before the world goes dark.

—

Why is there annoying beeping in heaven?

Maybe you’re naive in believing you made it there. Maybe this is hell. You thought it’d be more fucked up than this. The beeping is irritating though. Besides that, it’s peaceful.

Is this an in between world? Half dead, half not. You remember being into paranormal shit in horror stories years ago. Ghostly entities and whatnot. Maybe you’re… that. There’s whispers in the background. Bleary and distant but you kinda hear them. Maybe someone’s conjuring you up. Why you of all people?

“— ne… de…”

Need? Your ears are failing. Why is everything suddenly hurting? Pain in your eyes and behind them and all the way down. It’s hurting everywhere.

“—Jus… there… Not sure.”

It’s hurts so bad everywhere make it stop make it stop —

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

White overtakes your vision. Too bright and too cold and you can’t stop heaving but you want to because it fucking hurts everywhere

“Hey! Hey! Calm—”

The voices are clearer and so is the beeping and so is the pain. Gentle hands land on your shoulders and you thrash when faces, needles and medical equipment clear in your vision. There’s something sharp in your arm. Where the fuck when the fuck how —

“You needa calm down—“

You try to tell this blonde freak to go fuck herself but your voice is shot, coughing and spit flying everywhere.

“The fuck is her probl—“

“Be quiet—“

A crackling scream ripples through you, tears streaming down your face because suddenly more hands are holding you down. Malicious intent or not it makes you fucking sick. The beeping only gets faster.

“MY — my name’s Maria! Listen to me! My name’s Maria! Some of mine went out on patrol a few days ago and found you almost buried. We’re tryna help you!”

You continue to sob but they’re a little less guttural. Her voice is nice. Very motherly.

“You were halfway dead out there,” She huffs like it’s funny and you wanna throw a chair, “What’s your name? Gotta name?”

All the hands are off you except Maria’s. Maybe because you’re not trying to kick her face in anymore. You’re trying to tell her you don’t fucking remember but nothing comes out. Just more coughing.

“Take your time. Deep breaths, shhh, you’re alright.”

You finally meet her eyes and they’re pretty. Pale blue like spring water. The beeping starts to slow bit by bit. It took you all this time to realize that’s your heart. You glimpse at the monitor and… those squiggly lines mean fuck all to you. Why couldn’t you just die?

Your eyes travel, albeit less frantically, but on high guard. Skeptical as ever. You couldn’t even defend yourself against these incredibly polite barbarians if you wanted to. Your bag’s gone. Everything that’s yours is gone. The beeps increase all over again. Maria must sense your anxiety.

“Hey, hey, we have everything. We just had to make sure you were… alright to come in. No bites or nothing, ‘k?”

… Fair. Whatever. Gimme my shit.

“We were snoopin’,” Your vision follows the new voice. A man this time, average sized and bearded, “Ya like t’read?”

You squint and nod.

“‘S a good habit.”

… Awkward. It’s quiet now.

“How ya feelin’? Any pain?” Maria pries gently. You shrug. Not as bad as it was 2 minutes ago. You eye everyone in here, study as much of them as you can. Face, hands, guns latched around their thighs and shoved in their belts. They’re all threats while simultaneously being unthreatening. For now, at least.

“Y’all can get on. I got it from here.” She waves the remaining people off and they leave with tense smiles. The door clicks behind them. The beeping is the slowest it’s been since you woke up.

“Bout that name…”

You only stare at her.

“Don't remember?”

You scratch at your neck, and she sighs, “Not much of a talker, huh?”

You mime writing in a notepad, and Maria quirks with interest. She searches the room before digging through a drawer on the farthest dresser. She returns with a small book and marker.

The aches in your fingers don’t halt your scribbling. You turn the book towards her.

ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME?

The corner of her mouth lifts, “No point in fixin’ ya up if that was the case. No offense, but you’re not threatening.”

You snort.

“You been by yourself for a while?”

You ponder before scribbling.

I WATCHED MY FAMILY DIE. PRETTY FUCKED UP CHILDHOOD. I’M ALWAYS ALONE.

She stares sympathetically and shakes her head in apologies. All you can do is shrug. You’d be more surprised if a kid grew up in this world without experiencing mass destruction. Trauma practically raised you.

“There’s not many people that can do what you do, y’know? You gotta gift.” She jerks her chin at the booklet. “Somebody taught’cha?”

You point to yourself.

“Don’t let that head get big now.” She smirks and you smile sorta.

“We got kids…” Maria blindly points towards the door.

“A lot of ‘em, and we’ve been tryna get them to read more but… I don’t know, some of these old bastards think it’s pointless and that discourages them.”

Oh.

“I don’t know what you got goin’ on out there, but… If you choose to go back out there, I won’t fault you, but if you don’t…”

Uh oh.

“How do you feel ‘bout teaching toddlers their ABCs?”

… Shit.

You scowl.

“I know it’s not the best… position to be in but, I don’t know, I just want something they can look forward to everyday. A new story, some new conversations… anything to get their little brains crankin’.”

“They’re so sweet and I feel like they’d gain so much from someone who cares just as much as they do.”

You don’t write anything. Her pupils shroud with dejection.

“Think about it?” She’s quick to turn away, but not without one last look over her shoulder, “Rest up.”

And the door closes. Your eyes shut in no time, and a comforting darkness overtakes you once more.

—

Leave with nothing but your annotated novels or stay where you’re well fed and warm but surrounded by snotty nosed orphans. Something to think about.

You’ve been in Jackson — you learned the town is called — for less than 48 hours, most of which you were recovering from a severe case of hypothermia. You don’t remember the last time you had a meal that hot. Maria had to reassure you that no one would take your plate.

You still haven’t given Maria a clear answer for her teaching proposal, but she doesn’t bug you about it. She is very eager to show you the daycare though. She’s subtle. You respect it.

Your books are still couped up in the infirmary because, frankly, you hate dragging them everywhere. Maria offered for you to keep them in the library, but you refused. They’re not up for grabs; You nearly died for every single one of those pages and you’ll be damned if someone touches them under your nose. They’re yours. It’s all you got right now.

You might even leave with a horse if Maria still likes you after telling her no to teaching. Tomorrow morning will wrap up your little dead-then-alive journey. Couldn’t hurt to ask.

It’s your first time back outside since your near-death experience. The sun is barely peeking from behind the clouds and your face is so cold it’s almost retraumatizing, but it’s pretty out. Maria was nice enough to give you new boots that weren’t hanging on by their laces.

Jackson bustles like a real, non-apocalyptic town. Lights shine and pick-ups honk and people are fucking smiling? Maybe this is heaven.

Those walls… They’re still high and barricaded. Scouts babysit those gates like clockwork. To think you were on the other side of their scrutiny just a day ago. The twinkling sound of joy confuses the fuck outta you. Laughter. Not only that, but from children. Not starving, nearly dead children, but well-fed, genuinely happy kids. Why does your stomach twist with jealousy? They deserve peace, of course, but so did you. So does every child.

Your eyes search for them — curiosity overtakes your limbs and you step with determination, guided by your ears. The twinkles grow in volume — there must be at least 10 kids playing in the snow.

“HEY! GET OFF, YOU FU—“

“Language!”

“HOW’S THIS FOR LANGU—“

“BOYS! ENOUGH! I’M SICK OF YOUR SHI—!”

“LANGUAGE, MS. DINA!”

“I CAN SAY THAT! YOU CAN’T!”

What a sight this is. Happy kids. Your heart swells. Slightly; you’re glad Maria isn’t here to catch your fondness.

“Alright, vermins, get up, I’ll miss the party.”

“5 more minutes, pleeease!”

“I’m not freezing for you. C’mon!”

The kids seem to love Ms. Dina. They dangle off every single one of her limbs, begging her to throw at least 10 more snowballs. Maybe your ice-cold heart isn’t as frosty as you thought. The sight is disgustingly endearing.

“Ms. Dina… Who’s that?”

And the laughter stops. A bunch of eyes attached to tiny bodies all gawk at you, some with intrigue, others with fear as they cower behind their teacher… babysitter? Whoever she is.

“Not sure, dove. You all have 10 minutes!”

“20!”

“10 or freeze to death! Go!”

Excited screams filter through the wind when said vermins squabble in snow like puppies, pushing and shoving and chucking icy bullets at each other. You never had to worry about being the oddball out, but you sure do look like one now.

“Hey. Maria told us about a scrounger.”

Creases bunch in your forehead, and Dina raises her hands defensively, “Joking, relax. So, are you staying, or…?” You shrug unknowing, and Dina chuckles.

“I think you should. If I had the option to stay here 24/7, I’d take it in a heartbeat. We could use an extra hand with the kids. Maria said you read?”

You nod. “Cool. We have a decent amount of readers — more than most, but, uh… yeah. Our kids need help.”

Your lip twitches alongside your pondering. So many questions rest on your tongue but none can leave. Dina’s eyes are consoling. It shouldn’t spark irritation in your stomach but it does.

“Do you sign?”

You stare in confusion, and she elaborates, “Like… Sign language?” Her hands make a bunch of gestures you don’t understand and your head shakes.

“Darn. No worries. If you’re ever interested in learning, just holler. We got some people that are hard of hearing so we all kinda use it occasionally. But, umm… yeah. I’m Dina.” She extends a polite hand but you don’t accept it. Your head jerks in greeting, and she smiles.

She drops it back to her side, “What should we call you?”

You don’t know. You don’t care. You’re not staying long. Your shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly.

“Should I have them pick?”

Before you can oppose, she’s hollering for—

“DYLAN! COME HERE!”

A rascal with a beanie and bright red boots sprints towards the two of you. His cheeks are so plush and scarred. Dina fixes the color of his sweater, “Dylan, what’s a good name for a teacher?”

“Ms. Dina, obviously—“

“Another name.”

Chipmunk Boy ponders for a moment before snickering, “Mr. Octopus.”

“Fucking hell—“

“Language, Ms. Dina! SWEAR JAR—“

“We don’t even do that here!”

“Okay, okay… just call them Dove or something! Don’t think we don’t notice you calling us that when you forget our names!”

Dina’s eyes widen, “That’s not true! What the… freak!”

Red-Boot-Ranger smirks when Dina catches herself before getting pelted at the back of the head with a snowball.

“Little BITCH—“

Dina shouts, “HEY!—“

“MS. DINA, FRANKIE CURSED!”

“NO, I DIDN’T—“

Arguments break out between all 13 children, loud and boisterous and your head pounds. Too much for one day.

“STOP— sorry, I gotta handle this, but it was nice meeting you! BOYS—“

Dina throws you one last wave before rushing off to scold Dylan and his… bully? You think that’s what they were called in some books you read. A kid messing with another kid or something like that.

You take this last bit of alone time before you depart to explore.

Despite your eagerness to disappear, Jackson is nice. You don’t know what Christmas entails, but it’s often described as festive: a day for togetherness and family and whatever the hell else ‘can’t be bought’ yet everyone buys. Jackson is visually festive. Celebratory scenery. What exactly they’re celebrating goes over your head. There’s nothing to be joyous over. Death traps Jackson at every corner.

Loud music pulls you from your thoughtful stroll. One look through a very large window is enough to scare you shitless. A seemingly cozy space is filled to the brim with strangers who dance and drink and laugh their heads off; Their familiarity with one another makes you physically ill. The scene is like a bullet to the chest. Reminds you of what was once home.

Your nausea doesn’t overtake your curiosity, though.

The moment you step into the bar, warmth suffocates you, heat sizzling through your legs as your face defrosts. The entire bar screams out lyrics to a song you never heard while cups get refilled with burning liquid and it’s overwhelming. There’s so much movement. Too much.

Blonde hair swings out the corner of your eye and you’re instantly relieved. You hustle to where Maria chats with partygoers from across the bar. She’s shocked to see you.

“Hey! You’re up’n moving!”

You wave awkwardly. Gawk back at the people that gawk at you before Maria hands you a glass.

“You drink?” You deny with a raised hand, and she smiles.

“Probably not the best time to ask,” She hollers over the jukebox, “I’m hoping this is your initiation?” Her eyes are hopeful, and your throat dries a bit. Why are you hesitating to answer?

Maria’s nice enough… probably the nicest stranger you’ve ever met in your entire life, and it seems more comfortable in Jackson than anywhere you’ve been. It doesn’t seem so bad… but you don’t like children. You barely liked yourself at age 10; short and clumsy and vulnerable. Children are too exposed and trusting, even in this life. They get people killed because they’re not careful. It shocks you that a fortress like Jackson carries so many.

A pen and paper get slid on wood and placed in front of you. You eye Maria, and she nods encouragingly. You waste no time.

I DON’T THINK I’LL BE A GOOD TEACHER. DINA HAS MORE PATIENCE IN HER PINKY THAN I DO IN MY ENTIRE BODY. I’M SORRY.

You meekly hold the note up for Maria, and you know she’s disappointed. You patiently wait for her to tell you to get your shit so she can kick you out herself.

It never comes.

“I hope that girl didn’t scare you,” In reference to Dina, and you deny, “I had a feeling you’d say no. It’s alright. Kids are… a lot.”

You set the paper down in relief that she’s not angry. About that horse…

“Doesn’t hurt to ask… You still wanna leave?”

That stuns you. Oftentimes, large groups aren’t so welcoming to… scroungers, or whatever Dina made you out to be. The less mouths to feed, the better. If a newbie holds no purpose, they’re left out to die on their own. It’s happened to you countless times. Why does she care about a stranger so much?

Maria chuckles at your stunned expression, “It’s, um… it’s hard out there. We’ve all seen it, and we’re lucky to have found somewhere… stable. It doesn’t come often.”

“The choice is still yours, stayin’ or goin’, but if you’re scared I’ll kick you out… don’t be. We got nothin’ but space.”

Your mind races yet not one cohesive response comes through. Maria laughs at your slack jaw. “Here. Sleep on it tonight, and let me know in the mornin’. It’s a party! Let loose a little. Go mingle.“

You scribble on the last bit of remaining space.

I’M NOT A PEOPLE PERSON.

Maria huffs, “Neither’s my niece. She’s like a niece to me, that one, over there.” She points at the end of the bar to a woman, girl — looks around your age, babysitting a drink: tatted, hair pulled back, and sulking. She talks with a guy with a mullet that’s too movie-star ready. “You two’d get along, I think. Her name’s Ellie. Jesse’s the one next to her, he’s a sweetheart. Very helpful. If Dina was here, they’d be the Three Musketeers. She still with the kids?”

You nod, but your eyes are locked onto Ellie’s tattoo. You’ve never seen one in person. In romance books, people with tattoos are always trouble: good in bed with murderous tendencies. Maybe it’s wrong to assume, but Ellie doesn’t seem like that. No one that pouty would kill a fly. You wonder if her friend has tattoos. He’d fit the stereotype more.

“Wanna meet ‘em?”

Fire bursts underneath your cheeks. You vehemently shake your head at Maria, and mischief glints in her eyes.

“HEY, ELLIE, JES—“

You gawk at Maria, tugging at her wrist for her to stop, but she laughs, “Hey, you two!”

Your face falls into your palm. “Need somethin’, Maria?” A deep voice blares. Jesse, apparently. Fucking great.

“No, hun. Just introducing a new friend,” Maria whispers loud enough for you to hear before tending to other patrons, “Convince her to stay?”

Your eyes roll and your heart pulses.

“… Hey.”

You wave weakly. Annoyed, and Jesse laughs. “Yeah, she’s a lot sometimes. I’m Jesse.” You send him a thumbs up.

“… Gotta name yourself?”

You shrug with agitation. If someone else asks you that, you’ll scream.

“… Hm. Okay, then. I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” You decline as politely as your attitude allows.

“You, El?”

“M’good.”

“Alright,” He hums too uppity, “Enjoy the quiet.” He goofs before following Maria to the other end of the bar. Silence ensues between you and Ellie, and it’s fucking awkward. It wouldn’t be if you were by yourself. You pick at the piece of paper in front of you.

Ellie adjusts her stance, attention on the dance that dominates the floor, her tatted arm propping her up against the bar. You can see the fine lines out the corner of your eye: leaves of a fern resting underneath a moth. A Polyphemus. Compulsive. A symbol of death, you once read somewhere. Regardless, it’s beautifully done.

“Want a picture?”

You stiffen and your gaze drops to the paper. Your eyelids squeeze shut in embarrassment.

Ellie releases a hefty breath before sighing, “You read?” She asks, and you shrug.

“You don’t talk?” You do nothing.

She already sounds annoyed by you. You hope she notices you’re in the same boat. “It’s better if you don’t.” She mumbles to herself. You throw a glare in her direction, but she pays you no mind. She’s focused elsewhere, eyes much more delicate. You discreetly follow her line of vision.

… Dina. Hilarious. Is she a god here? Good with children and the annoying and aloof? Everyone here claps and hoots at her being dipped by her partner like they’ve never seen dancing before. When did she even get here? Where are the kids? Maybe they’re all snowballed out and went to bed—

… What. What the fuck? You don’t care, what the hell.

You turn back to Ellie when Dina waves at her, wide-eyed and princess-y, before waltzing towards Jesse to throw her arms around his neck, which he eagerly returns around her waist. Ellie’s expression goes from lovestruck to tense in an instant, jaw clenched and eyes burning through the floor. You try to hide a snicker.

Ellie’s jealous. Adorable.

“The fuck are you smiling for?” She grumbles at you, but her cheeks burn under the yellow light. Your laughter finally bubbles over.

“Nothing’s funny. Shut the fuck—“

“Well, what’d I tell you! Two wallflowers hittin’ it off! Look at that smile!”

Maria graciously interrupts Ellie’s angered mantra. Your hand hides your grin before a light hand brushes your back. You flinch away on instinct. No one notices except Ellie.

Dina greets you first and you almost holler with joy, “Hey, Dove! Sorry I didn’t come over earlier! Had to get this circus goin’ since no one else did,” She casually takes Ellie’s glass and downs its contents with no problem, “Thank you.”

“Such a dick.” Ellie says slowly, and Dina smiles. “You love me.”

You pinch your smile away.

“Dove?” Maria inquiries.

Dina shrugs, “Better than Doe. Makes her sound like a corpse. Dove’s cute.”

“Cute for a bitch,” Ellie slips under her breath, and Dina slaps her arm in scolding. Tames her until she quiets like an actual bitch. This shit is hilarious.

“I like that. Dove.” Maria approves. “It’s… fitting. Joel found her buried in white, so.”

“Okay, Mrs. Poet—“

Maria’s married? Huh.

She hushes Dina playfully. The dark-haired girl interlaces Ellie’s fingers with hers before yanking her off the bar and onto the dance floor. The music slows as if cued just for them. Dina pulls Ellie into her, and Ellie’s hands rest on her waist.

Dina leads, surprisingly.

Ellie’s expression doesn’t scream delight. She’s nerve wracked and her eyes flit over every body that surrounds her with anxiety. Even yours.

Dina’s a good distraction. She's quite seductive when she brushes loose hair behind Ellie’s ear, caresses her cheek, touches her with tenderness that you’ve only seen described on paper. Only in your imagination was it real.

Kisses her.

Oh.

You turn away. Your skin’s hot. Maria’s distracted. Thank God. You’ve had enough mingling for tonight. You leave the bar without a trace, the pen and paper left on the stand the only evidence of your appearance.

“Hey! HEY! Ms. Dina’s friend!”

“They’re not friends, she just got here—“

“Shut up! Ms. Dina always said respect your olders—“

“Elders, dumbfuck. And she doesn’t look old—“

Ah, the potty-mouthed bully. Although, he doesn’t seem so threatening in the darkness. Children are the bane of your existence. You’re nowhere near the infirmary. Why are they out in the cold by themselves?

“Hey, Ms. Dina’s friend, how was the party! Ms. M said we aren’t allowed to go in because people are… drunk, whatever that means!”

The same voice from earlier. Red-boot-Ranger. Dylan.

“It means they’re alcoholics—“ A girl this time. Shorter than Dylan but just as expressive.

“I thought alcohol made people happy?“

“Could be, but my aunt drank herself to death so I guess it’s different for everyone!”

Goddamn.

“What’s your name, miss! … Ma’am?” Dylan corrects shyly.

“Ma'am means grandma—“

“Ruth, shut the hell up, Jesus!”

“NO, YOU SHUT UP—“

Dylan waits expectantly while the other two kids attempt to rip each other’s heads off. You flap your hands like wings.

“… Fly? Your name’s fly?”

You shake your head and point upward.

“OH! Sky!—“

You wave your hands in denial and flap your arms while squawking.

“… Bird? Bald Eagle? Um…”

You yank at your hair in exasperation before pointing down at untouched, white snow beneath your feet.

“Snow? Snow bird? Uhh… Swan… Lake?”

Decent guess. This fucking sucks.

“I don’t know what your name is, miss, I’m sorry.” Fucking Christ, the poor thing looks so upset. You’re suddenly the worst human being on the planet. “Are you mad at me?” Dylan asks, voice laced with insecurity, and something cracks in your chest. What the fuck. Your hands wave in denial apprehensively, and he exhales a held breath before smiling.

“I like you! Why don’t you talk?”

You sigh before scribbling on your palm like you did with Maria, and all three kids excitedly demand writing utensils from each other.

“I DON’T HAVE A MARKER!” Frankie hisses when Ruth slaps him on the shoulder.

“DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASS? FREAKO!”

“Freako! ARE YOU FIVE—“

“What are you kiddos still doin’ up?”

“MR. JOEL!”

Ruth and Dylan practically jump onto this old man and he groans mockingly. Joel. Hm.

“You’re all supposed to be sleep. Did Dina not tuck you in?”

“She did, but we snuck out. We’re bored! Please throw snowballs at us!” Frankie whines.

Joel calmingly caters to the children and their hyperactivity; his voice is very soothing. Gentle enough for the kids to accept that he’s not chucking snowballs at them this late at night.

Joel addresses you. “Maria decided to keep you ‘round?”

It was him. His eyes are calm and welcoming, but there’s a hollowness behind them. It’s hardly noticeable, but he’s bothered by something. He masks it well enough for the kids. He must be a dad. Maybe one of them is his. You just shrug, and he chuckles; crackles like fire. Breaks a bit. His eyes grow sadder the longer he stares at you. Is this man about to cry?

“I’ll, uh… I’ll walk ‘em back,” He nods at Dylan who’s already half asleep on his shoulder, and you nod. He gives you one last look before turning. You clutch onto his hand before he can go any further. He seems shocked by the gesture, but you squeeze it with all your might. You hope every clench reads as a thank you thank you thank you.

He swallows before nodding down at you, returning your gentle squeezes. The last breath he takes before leading the kids home is unsteady. Who broke that poor man’s heart?

You watch his back all the way down the trail until the door to the bar slams shut. It’s Ellie all bundled up and seemingly about to strangle somebody. You can see Dina and Jesse scrambling to follow her through the window, but Ellie’s determined to get the fuck outta range.

You don’t know why, but you whistle loud enough to get her attention. Her cheeks are blazing and her eyes are pained and angry.

“The fuck do you want?” Her breath frosts with each spit she throws. You’re not really sure, so you throw her a thumbs up. Two just in case she read it as good work instead of are you good?

She scoffs a laugh that sounds like a sob, “Fuck off.” And she’s off again. The opposite direction from Joel.

Alright. Fuck her too.

—

The past 5 days have been a blur.

The morning after the party, your brain wracked to put every single interaction together but came up short. So much happened that you can barely grasp it. You died, came back, met at least 100 people, experienced acute peer pressure, and got cussed out by some short, tattooed psychopath with an equivalent amount of people skills as you.

You’ve met teachers, medical professionals, rambunctious kids with a hunger similar to rhinos, a potential dad with an insane amount of patience, but all you can think about is Ellie and her fucking tattoo.

You think that same moth appeared in your dream last night, flapping around and pissing you off.

Maria’s been in a good mood, at least. Maybe because you’re staying in Jackson until further notice. You’re glad she didn't make a big deal about it: the inquiry was short and over breakfast the morning after the party. You slid her note that read CAN I STAY?, she said yes, and now you have a two story home all to yourself, floor stacked to the ceiling with your books and some she lent you.

The first thing you did after she left was scream bloody murder for no reason other than relief. After years of instability, you finally have something consistent. You don’t know how to react to that besides weeping.

There’s only one downside. Ellie’s your neighbor. Life will always humble you.

She’s the first person you see every morning and the last every night and you hate it. The only time you experience true peace is when she’s out on patrol. To think you assumed Ellie wasn’t violent. She returned one morning on her horse covered knee-high in blood as she wiped her switchblade on her dirtied jeans. Even Jesse seemed intimidated.

Meanwhile, you’ve been everywhere: tending the garden, handing beers out to men twice your age, fixing lights. Joel even asked for assistance on a car repair even though you’ve never seen one in your life. You both finished, though. Drives good as new.

You think Dylan’s grown attached. He’s very clingy and you hate it but he also has the chubbiest cheeks you’ve ever seen so you have no choice but to forgive him for his sins. Whenever he jumps on your back while you’re squatted in front of the garden, you just deal with it. He rambles enough for the both of you.

Now you’re serving dinner with a homophobe. Yippee.

Seth sucks gorilla balls. When Maria first introduced you both, he thought you were deaf and asked if you had to be put with him. When you glared at him, he went red in the face. You understand why Ellie hates him. Apparently he called her and Dina dykes at the party and she and Joel almost strangled him. The canteen’s already filled with people, but the patrol group hasn’t returned. They usually make it back before sunset, but it’s dark now. Seth’s set on closing the kitchen down, but you decline everytime. They’re probably starving wherever they are.

It’s not until an hour, then 2 passes when you wrap all 12 of their individual plates.

You’re scared shitless, but it’s time for Dylan’s bedtime story.

—

You always have to remind Dylan to keep his volume down during story time so he doesn’t wake the other kids.

“Why would anyone give up anything magical for a cow? Okay, sure, you’re betting that they actually are magic, but why on Earth? I’d never give away my magic! Am I wrong, Ms. Dove?”

You smile and deny.

“SEE! Exactly! Anyway,” He refocuses on the page. “You numbskull! I can’t eat! You ruined my appetite!”

Dylan’s a great reader, but he loses his place very often. You showed him the follow-your-finger trick and it’s helped, but the poor thing always has to comment on everything. At least he’s entertained.

You don’t realize you dozed off on the floor until you’re frantically awoken by a teary-eyed Dylan. The big and small babies cry while they barricade the door with blankets and dressers. Your heart sinks.

“Ms. Dove…” Dylan whispers.

Screams echo from outside and the windows have orange hues. Something’s burning.

“Someone bad is outside.”

The patrol group is back.

—

You don't meet Clickers often.

They come and go and kill as they please and you don’t bother them, simply take your plans in the opposite direction as stealthy as possible. Even with your avoidance, they somehow always find their way back to you. Back to everyone.

You hear everything from the daycare; hollering, gunshots, Clickers wailing, but you can’t fucking see. Protocol for a daycare lockdown is fairly simple: turn off the lights and take all the brats up to the nursery. It’s the most child-safe section of the building while simultaneously having a locked drawer filled with glocks. Great.

Now you’re locked up with whimpering toddlers with a weapon you barely know how to use. If Joel hadn’t done that runthrough with you yesterday, you’d be fucked and so would the kids. You rock Dylan who sits on your lap while hushing the toddlers. You’re doing whatever you can to keep them quiet, but they’re babies who cry a lot. You hum to them, braid their hair, roll scratched-up dice but nothings fucking working. You never thought you’d regret staying in Jackson this early on.

The younger ones start wailing when pounding on wood echoes from downstairs. Dylan holds you closer.

Protocol is simple.

Don’t open the door. Maria told you that. Keep it locked and don’t open it.

The thuds get louder and so do the children and panic bombards you. It’s starting to feel too familiar. Those bangs are so fucking loud. Toddlers to 13 year olds are looking to you for guidance while you’re crumbling. How do you make them stop crying why won’t they stop fucking crying—

Someone’s trying to beat the door down. Dylan’s practically choking you with his little arms as he sobs quietly into your neck. You don’t realize you’re crying until a small hand wipes your face and tiny bodies snuggle closer to you.

Are you going to die surrounded by children all over again? One time wasn’t enough, God? The best moment of your life turns to the worst in a matter of seconds. You’ll have to run away like you did the first time. You should’ve never slid the note asking for more time with the kids under Maria’s door, fuck fuck fuck—

3 deafening pops bang from outside, and then there’s silence. It sounds like wood is breaking and there’s footsteps rushing upstairs and the babies are screaming so loud. When the nursery door lock gets shot off, Dylan screams right in your ear.

“EVERYBODY OUT, LET’S GO!”

“Mr. Tommy!” Relief washes over your kids before they start hustling.

“OUT, OUT, LET’S GO!”

All the kids scramble to grab their coats and socks and boots before rushing out of the nursery. Your hands won’t stop shaking. You barely get onto your feet before Tommy shoves you against the wall with fire for pupils.

“You never fuckin’ wait to die when there’s kids around, you understand me!”

You’re nodding but you can’t hear because you’re still sobbing. “Whatever bullshit you learned outside is over with now. It don’t matter what happens, always give them a chance to live even if it means you’re done!”

Tommy doesn’t waste another second on you. He leaves with a tense back and a rifle and you allow yourself to break. You heave and sob because that’s all you could do when you were a child and your brothers and sister were all killed in front of you.

—

You vacate the daycare hours later. The doors need fixing.

Your head and eyes hurt terribly but nothing compares to the emptiness in your chest. Maria told you that the kids would be separated into different houses until the daycare is safe for them again. Even she stares at you with disapproval despite her indifferent tone.

You feel like a ghost on the walk back home. Your hands are clenched in fists and your breathings slow. Why didn’t you stay downstairs and check the windows to make sure there were no intruders? Why weren’t you holding the gun in preparation for battle? Why’d you allow the kids to believe you couldn’t protect them?

Because you couldn’t. In that moment, you were a child all over again, just as lost and confused and scared as they were. It was all too familiar.

Jackson’s asleep, minus the painful groaning coming from behind Ellie’s home.

You’re immediately in defense. So many patrol members had to go to the infirmary after their arrival. Maria never mentioned anything about Ellie.

Your concern carries your feet until you round the corner, and her gun’s already drawn and pointed at you. That barely shakes you; it’s what surrounds her thats confusing.

She’s leant back against the foundation of her home surrounded by towels, a large bottle of clear liquid, and her profusely bleeding, non-tattooed arm that wraps around her stomach.

When you take a cautious step toward her, her gun clicks. Her eyes are vicious and untrustworthy, and you know she’d kill you in a second. She watches every move you make down to the ragged rise and fall of your chest. You’re unsure how long you stand there before she winces in pain. It’s slight but you catch it. You slowly point to the open wound on her forearm.

“What.” She rasps. You mime wrapping a bandage on yourself. Her snicker is pained.

“Get the fuck outta here. You done enough for tonight.”

You swallow thickly, unmoving.

“Fuck off before I blow your brains out.”

You take 2 more steps.

“GET THE FU—“

When your knees hit the snow in front of her, she’s stunned silent. You’re already reaching for the bandage and bottle of disinfectant. You can’t see her injury that well, but she might need stitches if it’s still that bloody. When you reach for her injured arm, she pushes you into the snow. You groan in frustration before getting up and trying again.

Ellie swallows a pained noise and maneuvers her injury away the closer you get. You’re trying to help her! Why’s she being so difficult! You crack open the disinfectant and your nose instantly burns. You gasp before moving the bottle away from your face.

“Just go the fuck home, goddamnit—“

That’s not disinfectant. It’s acid.

Ellie’s gun is still on you, but she’s not as steady. There’s a tremor in her weapon and her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth. Any movement she makes seems to hurt her.

You move closer, and Ellie wheezes like an injured gazelle. It’s not until you see the small indentation when you realize her bleeding isn’t from a knife or a gun.

Those are teeth marks.

Ellie got bit. Your heart thrashes and your legs beg you to run.

You know, and she knows you know. It’s a misunderstanding, it has to be. A human or a dog or a bear bit her, not a Clicker, not one of them.

She smirks but it’s sinister.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll tear out your windpipe and feed it to one of those fuckers.” Her head jerks towards the gate, and as if on command, the lot of them squeal into the night like hyenas.

#ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams au #the last of us part 2 #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie tlou #tlou #works 𖧧࣪#lesbian

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luvvyouforever · 3 days ago

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snowed in with joel ⋆⁺₊❅.

content: fluff, sweetness, no other warnings apply, bf joel, short not very beautiful writing. author's note: this is so self indulgent it hurts. i'm stuck in the snow storm rn and my power's been out since yesterday at 6pm and it won't come on till tomorrow and now that i have internet at my family's house, i'm writing this for self comfort. enjoy!

the power to joel's home shut off with a loud click followed by two groans echoing throughout the now quiet living room.

"damn," joel exhaled, pulling himself from the warm spot next to you on the couch. "i thought we'd get lucky this time."

"i did too," you responded, moving to get up from the couch.

joel immediately turned around, hands outstretched to your rising figure. "nuh uh," he grunted. "you stay in here and get the fire going. i'll go fix the pipes up, close off the doors, and bring the mattress in here. both of us don't need to be cold."

"joel, let me help. it's pouring out there," you insisted, still not allowing his strength to push you back on the couch.

it took him one swift movement to push you back down on the plush couch, causing you to bounce upwards. with an almost imperceptible groan, he bent over and placed a warm kiss to the top of your head. "stay inside, doll. i'll be back soon."

with that, he left the cozy living room to head back towards the mud room where his snow boots had only just finished melting from his last foray out to retrieve firewood. he slipped the boots back on, put on his warm coat, and stepped out the door.

you got up from the couch sooner than later, intent on getting the fire started back up to keep the home warm. joel's house in jackson was nice, but it could get drafty quick with the two floors and multiple large windows. you pulled large matches from beside the fireplace, lit up some dry pieces of paper, and set those at the bottom. slowly, you added pieces of wood on top which the fire caught on to quickly. with a few pokes and shoves, the fire was blazing in the stone and instantly, the house felt cozier.

by that point, joel still hadn't returned from keeping the pipes from bursting outside and you felt useless sitting on the couch while he did so. with a sudden resolve, you moved into the guest bedroom to pull the mattress you used for cold nights out into the living room.

it was heavy, that much was true, but the years of surviving an apocalypse and trying to live self-sufficiently in the country had built up your strength enough that dragging the mattress out of its frame, through the hall, and into the living room only built up a little sweat around your brow.

by the time you had positioned the bed between the couches, joel returned to the mud room and shrugged off his coat and boots.

"i thought i'd told you just to light the fire, little lady," joel teased, walking into the living room.

"one less task for you to do, my handy man," you said with a smile. he came over, borderline shivering, and placed his hands in front of the fireplace.

"ellie's set out back with that old kerosene heater. it'll keep that garage warm and then some. pipes are covered so they shouldn't burst any time soon."

"good, i'm glad. you get warm in front of the fire and i'll drag our blankets and quilts down here."

you didn't give him any time to protest as you placed a kiss to his damp shoulder and jogged upstairs to the main bedroom. you started with the blankets on joel's bed, added the thick quilt kept in the closet, and grabbed the pillows too. before you had moved in, joel kept the bare minimum. now, there were more pillows on the bed than you could count and his blanket collection had increased tenfold. you're just supporting local small businesses is all.

with a grunt, you managed to pick up everything from the floor and carry it down the steps. joel had risen from his spot in front of the fireplace and took to covering the outside doors with thick sheets to block some of the wind from the near blizzard happening outside.

"think you got enough, hon?" he teased, taking a break from his nailing.

"can never be too cozy," you said with a shrug. "we'll probably only need the one blanket since you already put off enough body heat to warm a small elephant."

"and that's a bad thing?"

you thought about it for a second. "when it's 95 degrees out and you insist on keeping me wrapped around you, yes."

he chuckled deeply and placed his hammer down to head back towards where you were making up the bed. he took one side of the sheet you were currently fighting with and helped you place it over the end of the bed. "can't help that you're 'bout the size of a teddy bear. i'm asleep. i dunno the difference."

"ya know, now that i'm thinking about it, the garage with ellie sounds pretty nice right about now."

"yeah, right," he said with a laugh. for the next fifteen minutes or so, you worked in comfortable silence, setting up the living room as your main room till he and the others in town can get out to work on the power supply. you fished candles out of the cabinet, he found a battery operated radio with a cd and cassette insert, and you found a few lanterns that would offer some light around the dark house.

eventually, everything was set up and now there was nothing to do but enjoy the quiet peace of the night. joel managed to dig up some cds and cassettes with the player and he had an old country tune quietly playing over the crackling of the fire.

"c'mere, doll," he finally said, offering his arm out to cuddle up with you on the bed. you gratefully took it, eager to finally lay down. joel took the left side (he always did) and you took the right. his back was propped against the couch and you easily curled into his side. his arm wrapped around your frame and within seconds, the cold dissipated from your body.

his lips met your head in a sweet gesture and you smiled at the warm comfort of it all. joel was all you needed, really. the power being out was a frustration, true. you had wanted to bake some cookies that night and you wanted to read another cheesy romance book that joel had found for you in an old store. joel wanted to keep tinkering with the old record player tommy found and he liked to end his nights with a warm shower before crawling into his bed with you.

but this was fine. more than fine. you were warm in front of the fire, his favorite music was echoing through the room, and he had you under his arms, where he liked you to be the most.

#ugh i could've cried writing this #life is so hard #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #joel x reader

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theresattrpgforthat · 8 months ago

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hi! have you seen the TTRPGS for Palestine bundle yet? and do you have any recommendations from it

https://tiltify.com/@jesthehuman/ttrpgs-for-palestine

THEME: TTRPGS for Palestine

The TTRPGs for Palestine Bundle is going from April 12 to May 7, so there's not much time left to get it, but here's some recommendations of some really awesome games that you can find in it.

Gubat Banwa, by makapatag.

GUBAT BANWA is a Martial Arts Tactics and War Drama Tabletop RPG where you play as martial artists poised to change the world: Kadungganan: the cavalry, the wandering swordsmen, the tide turners, the knights-errant, the ones to call in darkest night in a world inspired and centering Southeast Asian folklore.

Witness, grand warriors, honorable gallants that trudge and toil under kings and haloes. Witness, KADUNGGANAN, that refulgent name. That blasted name: WITNESS NOW. The end of days is upon us: and the new world MUST BE BORN. Bear your blades, incant your magicks. Cut open your tomorrow from the womb of violence. Inscribe your name upon the very akasha of this world.

Gubat Banwa is designed for fans of 4th edition D&D, with in-depth character abilities that make you feel both unique and powerful, in a colourful and flavourful world full of vibrant cultures and clashing conflicts. The game uses an action economy with different action options carrying different weights, which also reminds me quite a bit of Lancer. If you want a game that pushes you to strategize with your friends and weigh your advancement options carefully, you want Gubat Banwa.

Gun & Slinger, by Nevyn Holmes.

GUN&SLINGER is an RPG geared for short, episodic sessions about a weapon and a wanderer. A Maestro and two players (Gun and Slinger) set out into a dead planet mutated by a god's forgotten child and hunt strange bounties, investigate the world and unlock hidden powers. During play, they seek to learn the nature of what’s hunting the Slinger, figure out why the Gun is sentient and discover how the world died.

This game is specifically for three players, using the rules of Go Fish as a resolution system. Gun & Slinger is all about using your resources to the best of their ability, and your resources might exist on your character sheet, but they also exist as cards in your hand.

What really intrigues me is the lore that’s baked into your character sheets. One of you is a wanderer in a twisted world, tempted by strange powers that guarantee to change you into a monster. One of you is a sentient magical gun, borne by that wanderer and designed to deliver death and pain.

Gun & Slinger has expansions included, allowing you to instead play as a wanderer possessed by a demon, a mech and a pilot fused as one, or someone who bears a cursed sword. I think the fact that it requires a small table and the fact that the characters’ lives are tied together makes this a high-stakes, terribly intimate game.

Apocalypse Frame, by Binary Star Games.

In a ruined and terraformed world where most of humanity is under the yoke of a brutal regime, the former workers of a once-remote factory - now known as The Collective - have risen up to create a future of freedom from oppression. You are an Ace - a highly skilled pilot referred from a Division in The Collective and assigned a humanoid combat vehicle known as a Frame. You and your Strike Team of fellow Aces must take on The Collective’s greatest threats, ensure its survival, and carve a path for its continued success.

Apocalypse Frame takes mechs and fits them into the LUMEN system, which centres competency as well as fast but effective rounds of combat. The game includes a variety of different threats, allowing you to tailor your campaign to your group’s tastes, and the tailoring doesn’t stop there. You choose both a division that your character belongs to, and then one of three mechs within that division, allowing players to share similar fighting styles but differ in weapons. You can also modify your basic frame, adding general modular systems alongside systems and armaments that can come with your mech, making character creation and progression exciting for folks who love tweaking and tailoring to their heart’s content.

If you’re a fan of Armored Core or Battletech, you’ll want to check out Apocalypse Frame.

Here, There Be Monsters!, by wendi yu.

No matter what they tell you, there’s still weirdness and wonder everywhere. You just have to know where to look. At the edges and cracks of ‘normal’ life we exist, we persist, and we resist: the monsters, the magicians, the anomalies, the freaks, and the outcasts. We gather in the shadows, trying our best to live our lives in a world that, when it doesn’t exactly fear or hate us, doesn't even believe in our existence.

here, there, be monsters! is a rules-lite response to monster-hunting media from the monsters' point of view. It's both a love letter and a middle finger to stuff like Hellboy (and the BPRD), the SCP Foundation, the Men in Black, the World of Darkness games and the Urban Fantasy genre in general. It is an explicitly queer, antifascist and anti-capitalist game about the monstrous and the weird, in any flavor you want, not as something to be feared, but to be cherished and protected.

Here, There, Be Monsters is a love-letter to anyone who has been made to feel monstrous, as well as an homage to media such as Hellboy, the SCP Foundation, and Men in Black. It’s urban fantasy meets organized power structures, and as the monsters, you’re here to burn those structures down.

This game uses descriptive tags to slap onto your characters to represent what they can do. You can choose from a number of different monster character backgrounds to give you guidance towards, and there’s plenty of monsters both in the base game and in the game jam wendi ran back in 2022. If you want a game of power, anti-capitalism, and punching up, this is the game for you.

Pale Dot, by Devin Nelson.

Pale Dot is a collaborative storytelling game for 2-5 players about a crew of non-human cosmonauts leaving their planet to explore a strange solar system, finding threads to unravel the unknown along the way. It is fantastical, surreal, and perhaps very unlike humanity’s own ventures in space exploration. Though one thing is universal: leaving home is terrifying, dangerous, humbling, and a catalyst for changing one’s perspective.

Pale Dot is a GM-less game where players work together to create an alien setting and subsequently envelop it in cosmic mystery, embodying cosmonauts called Dustlings, as well as one of 5 different settings. During their journey they will be able to travel to 24 different locations within their solar system, each with several prompts for improvisational scenes. Each player will also have to manage the integrity of their cosmonaut and their shared ship while avoiding space's many perils.

The cover for Pale Dot gripped me the first time I saw it; a tiny creature in an astronaut suit, looking up in fear at something in the sky, as vegetation blooms inside their helmet. You play as the Dustlings, non-human but sentient species exploring the Cosmos, a strange, horrifying and wonderful universe that changes those who venture into it.

Mechanically, Pale Dot uses a GM-less structure similar to Dream Askew, but there feels to be a much bigger emphasis on the setting your cosmonauts explore, rather than the cosmonauts themselves. Your characters are assembled traits, drives and equipment, almost all of which can be expended to cause or solve problems. Each player is also responsible for at least one setting element, such as The Cosmic Wilderness, The Wondrous Endeavour, or The Omnipresent Danger. As you visit locations, different elements will be prompted to influence the scene, while your cosmonauts try to navigate the scene and try to finish the mission. If you want a game that is collaborative and evocative, I definitely recommend Pale Dot.

Fractal Romance, by Ostrichmonkey Games.

A never ending abstract landscape of rhythm and soft glamour. Wander the halls, rooms, and chambers. Encounter strange Denizens and get to know them better; befriend them, fall in love, just chill. Try and fill out your own blurred edges. Fractal Romance is a tabletop role playing hangout. You will pick up a character to play and explore the Fractal Palace, generating its infinite sprawl and the Denizens that inhabit it, as you play.

Fractal Romance is all about searching; for something you need, something you want, or even for who you are. It feels rather surreal, perhaps like a dream dimension that you are moving through. The game uses a deck of cards to generate rooms, as well as the denizens of this gigantic, dream-like palace. This game uses rather simplistic playbooks, each asking you to choose three descriptive words, and then uses cards to fuel your character’s actions: you have things you can always do, things that cost a card to do, and things that you must do in order to draw another card.

If what you want out of a game is a chill time with friends, moving from one vibe to another, and generating emotional stories for your characters, you might want to check out Fractal Romance.

Himbos of Myth and Mettle, by huge boar.

You are big. Big arms, big tits, big thighs, big brai- you're big where it matters. In addition to a heaving, throbbing body, glistening lightly with a thin sheen of pleasantly fragrant perspirant, you have one singular unifying trait - come hell or high water, you are going to help.

Himbos of Myth & Mettle is a high fantasy, high camp role playing game of epic proportions (of body), for 2-5 players, one of whom will act as Game Guide. The rules center around a simple roll under mechanic and prioritize narrative flair and cinematic descriptions. Himbos is inspired by many classic fantasy properties (and could be considered OSR adjacent) , but leans towards a more garish, salacious and queer (gay or odd, pick your fighter) style of play. It is designed with comedy and flamboyance in mind, but is not without it deeper and darker touches. It's definitely not grimdark, but there will probably be blood. Think classic fantasy pulp in style, but contemporary sensibilities, modern rules-lite mechanics, and a player philosophy centred in helping, kindness and being fucking hot.

I’ve heard rave reviews for Himbos, and I think the idea of leading an entire group of well-meaning but possibly over-ambitious adventurers is a great set-up for a game full of laughs. Himbos is very much designed for a light-hearted evening of fun, flirting, and fucking up (but in the best way).

Other Games from the Bundle I've Recommended:

Space Taxi, and Creation Myths, by GothHoblin.

Caltrop Core, by Titanomachy.

Souvenirs, by Rémi Töötätä.

Thunder in Our Hearts, by Marn. S.

Eldritch Courts of Some Repute, by AlanofAllTrades.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #palestine bundle

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jjscrybaby · 2 days ago

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the birthday boy

daryl dixon x fem!reader | fluff | (cringe, cringe, cringe! i can’t help who i am😖basic gift ideas bc i couldn’t think of anything, kissing.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing you were you would never get back was knowing the date. You’d spent the last couple years in the dark, you had a brief idea of how many years had gone by but dates? Absolutely no clue. It was when you and your group got to Alexandria that you learnt they knew the date, they’d kept track; it wasn’t like they were out killing walkers and fighting for survival, so they had the time to do such a mundane thing.

You’d asked Daryl when his birthday was a long time ago, just after the farm fell and before you reached the prison. The two of you were on watch whilst everyone else slept — or at least tried to — and you wanted to know his zodiac sign. It was silly, but you wanted to talk about something that wasn’t the hell your lives had become. He’d muttered out ‘January 6th’, and then gone silent once again. You kept that information stored in the little Daryl section in your mind, and you hadn’t forgotten it.

“What’re you doin’?” Daryl muttered sleepily, waking up to you sitting on him with a wide grin on your face. He opened one eye, looking from you to the window. “The sun ain’t even fully risen. Better ‘ave a good reason to wake me up.”

“I do,” you murmured, leaning down to catch his lips with yours. He didn’t argue, his arms loosely wrapping around your waist as he kissed you back.

“You alrigh’?” He checked quietly. You definitely weren’t the early riser out of the pair of you, in the morning’s that he had to go on an early supply run and tried to wake you to say goodbye he’d usually be cursed at.

“Yeah,” you reassured softly, running your hand through his growing locks. “Happy birthday, handsome.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he let out a soft huh. “Is that today?”

“Yes, it’s today you idiot,” you giggled, pecking his cheek. “Do you want your presents now or at the party?”

“What…” he muttered, eyes widening.

You snorted, swatting at his chest. “I’m kidding. There’s no party. But me and Carol are baking a cake and you can’t say no, I already had to talk them out of finding a birthday banner.”

“Mhm, appreciate it,” he smirked lazily, drawing circles into your thigh. “Can we go back to sleep now, darlin’? I appreciate the birthday wake up, but ‘m exhausted.”

“You don’t want your presents,” you pouted.

“Thought you were kiddin’?” He questioned, leaning on his elbows to sit up slightly.

“About the party, yeah. You really think that I wouldn’t get you presents? Have you met me?” You teased. He smiled softly at you, a quirk of a lip that you were sure no one else was ever on the receiving end of.

“Didn’t even kno’ it was my birthday, so I wasn’t expectin’ presents,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes fondly, switching the bedside table lamp on before getting off of him to rush over to the closet. You pulled out a paper bag, handing it over to him. “I couldn’t find any wrapping paper,” you sheepishly explained.

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, reaching out for your hand. You sat down next to him as he sat up, looking between you and the bag. “You know you didn’t ‘ave to get me anythin’.”

“I wanted to,” you argued. “Now, open it, please. I’m getting impatient.”

He let out a quiet laugh, opening up the bag. First he pulled out a knife; it wasn’t new, or even very sharp — although he’d be able to sort that out — but there was something on the side of it. Both yours and his initials carved into the side. You knew that wasn’t really his thing, something so cheesy, but you wanted his gift to have meaning. It was difficult to find things for anyone’s birthday in an apocalypse, but Daryl? Well, that’s pretty much impossible.

“Thankyou, darlin’.” He ran his fingers over the messy carving you’d done, a fond look in his eyes. “I love it.” He leant in and pressed a peck to your lips, making your eyes twinkle.

“Really? I know it’s not much…” you said, about to go on a classic ramble.

“Stop. I love it, seriously. I ain’t ever— I’ve never gotten a birthday present before, ‘least not one that I can remember,” he admitted, squeezing your hand.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, but you kept the smile on your face. You hadn’t expected that Daryl had many fun birthday’s growing up, not with the family he had. Maybe Merle took him to a bar on his 21st to have his first legal drink, but that was probably it. You kissed the corner of his mouth, stroking his hair.

“Well, now that we’re not fighting for our lives constantly anymore, expect presents every year. Christmas, too,” you said softly.

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from you,” he responded, caressing your cheek lovingly. He placed the knife on the bedside table, moving to switch the light off.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“Goin’ back to sleep?” He answered, looking back at you over his shoulder. “That alright with you?” He teased.

“But… you haven’t opened your other present,” you explained. There was something in your tone, nervousness, shyness, he wasn’t sure.

“Another one?” He looked at you in confusion.

“Don’t be dramatic, Dar. It’s not like I spent any money,” you giggled. You went behind you, opening the drawer and pulling out something. You held it in your hand, not letting him see. “It’s a bit stupid, but I wanted to give you this for awhile. Since you gave me mine, at least.”

You opened your palm and revealed the silver band, a shy smile on your face. Six months ago, Daryl had gone on a week long supply run and he’d returned home with a ring. It wasn’t like you could have a proper wedding, not like the one you used to dream about when you were younger, but you wanted to marry Daryl. You wanted to tell people he was your husband. So, of course, you’d cried your eyes out and said yes. Ever since you’d wanted him to have a ring, too. Your engagement ring would probably be your wedding one as well, it wasn’t like you could go shopping. If you were going to get married, both of you needed proof of the wedding.

It was silent, you stared at him waiting for some sort of reaction. Slowly, a smile made its way onto his face. “You ain’t gonna ask me?”

“What?”

“I ain’t acceptin’ a ring without a proposal,” he joked.

You giggled, moving to straddle his waist once again. “Daryl Dixon, will you marry me?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, cradling your cheek in his hand as he brought your face down to his. “‘Course I will, baby.”

His lips moved against yours, arms wrapping around your waist to tug you to lie down on top of him. You pulled away first, grabbing his hand to slip the ring onto his fingers.

“Wouldn’t want to spend my birthday’s with no one else.”

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon prompt

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vilentia · 2 years ago

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Protecting What's Mine

Daryl Dixon x reader

The sun had just risen over the horizon, and the members of the prison community were already up and about. Daryl Dixon had been up for hours, scouting the surrounding area for any sign of danger, as was his duty. But now he had returned to the prison, looking forward to breakfast with his girlfriend, you.

Daryl and you had been together since before the apocalypse, and your relationship had only grown stronger since then. You had known each other since you were young, and your connection ran deep. Daryl loved you with all his heart, and he would do anything to protect you.

As he entered the mess hall, Daryl noticed a new face among the group. It was a man, around his age, who seemed to be trying to get your attention. Daryl watched as the newcomer flirted shamelessly with you, and his jealousy began to bubble up inside him.

You, oblivious to the man's advances, didn't notice how he was trying to get your attention as you perched on the very front of the chair. Daryl took a deep breath and walked over to you, sitting down in the empty space behind you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your neck softly.

"Good morning," he whispered into your ear.

You smiled and turned around to face him. "Good morning, Daryl."

Daryl could feel the newcomer's eyes on them, but he didn't care. He held you close, marking his territory and letting the other man know that you were his.

The man seemed surprised to see you with a guy like Daryl, but finally he gave up and left you alone. Daryl felt a sense of relief wash over him as he watched the man walk away.

As you finished your meal, you noticed Daryl's tense demeanor and the way he kept glancing over his shoulder. You knew him well enough to sense when something was bothering him, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the new guy.

"Is everything okay?" you asked, placing a hand on his arm.

Daryl hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "That guy, he was flirting with you."

You felt your cheeks grow warm as you realized how oblivious you had been to the man's advances. "I didn't even notice."

Daryl's expression softened as he looked at you. "I just don't like anyone trying to take you away from me."

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm not going anywhere, Daryl. You're stuck with me."

Daryl's lips curved into a small smile, and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "Good," he said, resting his chin on your head. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You leaned in and kissed him softly. "I'm all yours, Daryl Dixon."

Daryl smiled, knowing that he would do anything to protect you, no matter what the future held.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fluff #daryl x you #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x plus size reader #jealous!daryl dixon

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rustedportal · 3 months ago

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Expansion 1 for the Apocalypse the Risen Campaign Setting, the AtR: Survivor Starter. 200%+ Funded and Unlocking Stretch Goals. Back today!

#horror #tabletoprpg #apocalypse the risen #tabletop gaming #dnd #dnd5e #rpg #dark fantasy

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the-priestess-of-dawn · 2 years ago

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Reading your fics and the funniest idea came into my brain. Grima causes a zombie apocalypse by accident and joins up with Chrom, Lissa, Frederick, and the shepherds (who are survivors) to try to seem innocent but his knowledge of how zombies work makes Frederick get suspicious. Its just some shit like "Oh no dont worry about getting bitten, theyre insects" "How do you know theyre insects" "uuuh i like botany."

Oh, how fortunate, this one still has its mask intact. That means I should be able to control it...

—Wait, not in front of the Shepherds!

Cue Grima pretending he has NO idea what's going on with this one particular Risen that keeps showing up and being helpful. Frederick, of course, is suspicious of both it and the fact that Grima's plans all assume it will continue helping them and not go wild zombie like the others

#okay but now i'm thinking of how this apocalypse could have started #and like... you know how in awakening there are the revenant/entombed kind of risen and then there are the risen who look like humans?#well i'm thinkng that maybe there was an outbreak of the revenant/entombed kind...#and grima thought he could destroy them with his own reanimated dead people #but any time their masks break he loses control of the thanatophages #and who would have guessed it but fighting zombies tends to cause things to break #so now there are risen who turn you into risen and then there are risen who simply destroy you entirely in their bloodlust #and grima is the only one who understands which kind is which #and he also can't be like 'the ones with masks are good' because they're actually only good if grima is around #if chrom runs into one on his own he'll die (VERY bad. grima has... feelings)#and this would all go so much better if grima would just be open with the others...#but for the first time he isn't alone in the world and he can't bear for his new friends to hate him like everyone else he's ever known has #so things just keep getting worse as grima scrambles for control of a situation he was actually never going to be able to handle alone #ask

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death---dealer · 6 months ago

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could i see 11 with caesar? i think him talking more abojt his human upbringing, maybe about charles, would be cute ^^ he barely talks about his family!

11. sharing secrets

And then i said angsty cute fluff why not you know Caesar was never told that Charles passed away right RIGHT

Title: Long Forgotten. Fandom: ( Dawn of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Slightly Implied! Caesar x Human! Reader. Rating: K. ( Fluffy and angsty-ish. ) Words: 2.3K+ READ IT ON AO3.

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There was nothing like the sound of rain pattering against the sleek nature of the cliffside of which the Colony was placed. The dim lights that peppered against the slaten rock were the only semblance of color beyond that of the rusted and worn crimson charters of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, poking its head out from the torrent of rain that was drenching the surrounding area. It was eerie to look at, much less think about.

All of those movies that you had seen as a child about an apocalypse and how there could be a time where Humanity had to subside for the greater good. It was strange to think of the routines that Humans had at one point, being driven now to do unimaginable things in order to survive. Wake up, make your coffee and head to work. The millions of people who had driven their car against the crackling pavement of the bridge on their daily commute seemed so far away as your fingers rubbed at your cargo pant clad kneecaps, curled into a small ball near the edge of the natural balcony that the Colony had to offer in times of weather.

There was the bustling of a fire behind you, large enough to capsize your back in warmth, but not enough to engulf your entire frame with heat as you drew your gaze downwards to the few scattering Apes that were actually doing something in the chill of the rain. Their fur made you so jealous as you brought your hands to cradle your knees into your chest.

The rain slid right off and kissed the ground below without worry. The jacket you were wearing was worn from years of use and was too big, much to your own pleasure as you enjoyed the oversized fit; made it easier to wear you sweaters underneath and layer properly. The group of Apes behind you, a clutch of a few Chimps and Bonobo got quiet as your eyes laid bare to the commandeering shadow of a familiar gait and body coming to rest beside you.

The wetness of his fur captivated you first, the way that the droplets were clinging to the outer edges of his fur and seemed to strand each individual hair for your delectation and caused the already large Ape to appear even larger with a minor fluff, the darkening of it to the point where it appeared nearly black in the ambient lighting and you were able to see more of his skin as the fur had risen in an umbrella-esque attempt to keep him warm and shielded. Caesar’s eyes were alight as always, they never disappointed you as you drew into them without reserve and felt drowned in the golden flecks that resided within his green irises.

“A lot of rain today.” You whispered minutely, feeling the sheer force of gravity from the Ape King next to you as he huffed in agreement, nostrils flaring. “Reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to go dance out in the rain during the storms we had during the Summer. Th---…” Nodding softly as reminiscent melancholy hit you, your gaze drifted back outwards to the scape of the forgotten city that lay in the lush and foliaged distance. “That was different, I guess… Summer rain is usually hot. This is… Cold. Makes me want to do nothing.”

Caesar was quiet next to you and it was apparent he was listening and taking in your words syllable by syllable. He was never one for small talk like this, but there was a notch in his mind that lingered since he had woken up in his nest alone, his arm yearning for someone to hold and keep protected and warm.

The Chimp found you to be quite an enigma, having felt the pull of your body without even intending to come seek you out. In a mirror stare, Caesar glanced towards the city and felt a few raindrops fall down his face from the top furline that cased around his upper forehead. Downwards they fell, one dripping into his right nostril and the other off his strong brow ridge and onto the ground below. “Used to… wonder… what rain felt like.”

The words he used were a shell-shock as you twisted curiously towards Caesar’s barrel frame. He… Your lips parted as you exhaled slowly and felt the chill fall into your mouth as a result and it felt frigid against your lungs, Caesar never talked to you about his life before the Rise.

You knew vaguely, having seen on TV all those years ago about the Apes' escape to freedom on the very bridge that was abandoned in the distance and closed the gap of the ocean bay. Only fleetingly was it mentioned. His life with the Humans. The memories that were placed inside of his head that you wished he’d open up about in order to garner more empathy and sickeningly affectionate feelings towards him.

“Never… felt it often, growing up. Always wondered what it felt… like against… fur.”

Caesar lifted a hand and you felt entranced to watch it as he drove it forward and dipped it into the current of rain water that was diluted into a strand that was falling to his right that acted as a natural drain of sorts as it collided with the rock. You knew it would engrain itself into the sediment itself instead of flying off upon impact; it was just a matter of time as nature would take its course as it seemed to do for everything, your languid stare dragging back to the Ape next to you as he subtly shifted his own gawk towards you.

Bringing his palm back in, you looked at the gleam of the water against the leathered and darkened skin there, fingers flicking in on themselves as you wondered if it were appropriate to reach out and see how heated his skin got the water that was falling so coldly from the heavens. You refrained but the idea persisted.

“One of the… Humans… who raised me… Would… Play piano when it rained.. Like this. Made us all…” Caesar was racking his mind and vocabulary for the correct words he wanted to use, something that was slowly pulling itself together the more he openly spoke with you, “feel better.”

“That sounds really nice…” Tone was hushed and only reserved for Caesar in this moment as he finally allowed himself a full frontal gaze at you and the ease of which he moved his body to do so left you breathless, catching in your throat and unable to move as the heat from his frame was also accompanied by that.

“He is… Gone. The Flu… Maybe…” Knuckled against the hard rock ground below, Caesar rested in a hunched position next to you, a straddle position that was comfortable for Apes as their muscular thighs seemed built for the stance, not as much for Humans and their lack of definition.

“You… don’t know?”

There was silence that clung to the air as Caesar looked off to the side, towards the fire that was burning with such passion and danced his dilated pupils along the flames as they roared into the air. The other Apes did not acknowledge him aside from his arrival, normal for anyone coming into a communal space. He appreciated that. Caesar appreciated to be treated just as another one of his Colony at times and it felt like you were the one steadfast who did just that for him.

Dragging his peer back towards you, the intensity that the fire brought to his already hypnotic stare made a shiver drip down your spine as if rain had seeped into your jacket and was against your bare skin. It felt like a mutual agreement of longing was shared as the Chimpanzee brought his mouth together into a flat line, your ample eyelids admiring how he appeared to soften briefly.

“Do not think about it often enough to… seek the answer.”

“You…” It was your turn to think about your word choice as to not disturb the moment that Caesar found himself vulnerable enough to share with you. “Obviously think about it enough to wonder.”

Huffing again, you watched the aggressive state of his shoulders drifting upwards and then downwards, the cursed knowledge now resting in your mind at the way that Caesar drew his shoulder caps ever so slightly to make himself appear smaller. What an… innocent gesture for such an intimidating figure. His nostrils danced around as Caesar drew steady breaths in before nodding in solemn agreement to your astute observation.

“He was… sick. Before… All of this,” Gesturing broadly towards the Colony, you were unable to look away from Caesar as he formulated words for only you. “Could have… Succumbed to that…”

“I’m sorry.” That was more hushed than it needed to be but Caesar was still able to hear it over the small crackling of the fire that harmonized with your phrase.

“Feels like many life times ago.”

“That doesn’t take away from the pain.”

Caesar shuffled beside you once more, drawing himself to properly sit on his butt beside you. The moistened nature of his fur kissed at the polyester of your jacket and you found it difficult to find any desire to pull away from the chaste contact. Once again, he was fixated on the Colony in front of him and how it appeared so monochromatic.

There was a reciprocated feeling shared between you as Caesar shifted a centimeter towards you so his full bicep was against yours. Heart jumping into the back of your chest, you brought your knees down and crossed them to allow a more open position as you felt no need to be closed off to the Chimp regarding the conversation of his own past.

“You seem to… speak from experience.”

“Maybe I am.” Smiling dimly at that, you merely nodded and pushed the Ape King further. Your story could wait; it was always going to be there for him but you needed his. All of it. Every detail he was willing to give you on this stormy late morning. “What was his name? The Human you were talking about?”

Caesar’s shoulder fur rose out of acute disappointment that you were unwilling to share anything more with him. Maybe, he looked at you from his peripheral, admiring the way that your frown was agitated into a curled sort of smile around the corners, the fondness of shared pasts clear in the way that you accepted his body next to your own… Maybe someday, you’d talk to him… But the notion that you were cracking him open like a walnut was intriguing enough as the pitter-patter of rain seemed to urge the Ape to continue onwards.

“Charles…”

Smiling at that, you sighed and finally slotted your gaze back into Caesar’s properly with the tilt of your head. “He was a good man?”

“Yes… Gave me… my name. I think of him… When I need to recall the good… In Humans… Very hard to see at times… The way the world is.”

“Yeah.” You agreed without hesitance. “Koba’s probably right. The Flu took and took and didn't give much back. Left the worst of Humanity on the planet.”

“Koba is not… Right…” You snided a small sarcastic chuff that Caesar found mildly amusing. “Still good out there… I choose… To believe that.”

“You’re wiser than most, Caesar.” You complimented him with ease and blessed his line of vision with a genuinely pleasing grin of what he interpreted as affection before you brought head back forwards to scan the forest perimeter on the misty and foggy horizon. Caesar felt a stab of confusion inside of his chest, resting like a knife against the muscles of his diaphragm. Why… look at him like that? What was the point?

“What was Charles like? Other than a good man.”

Caesar leered out at the rain as it began falling in what appeared to be sheets of white. It would not last long, this sort of moisture and it would soon subside into the normal aspects of flatter and more calmed droplets that cried from the Heavens. You could sense him turning his muscular neck to look at you quizzically, the expression fell off of him in waves. As much as Koba told you that Humans were so easy to read from facial expressions, the same could be said about Apes and you wanted to know and page each look that Caesar had to offer.

Your side profile admittedly hard to make out much to Caesar’s displeasure as you now had yourself angled away from the fire to copy his stance towards the deeper woods cased around the Colony. You seemed genuine in wanting to know… Caesar was unable to detect any lies coming from your body language or any thoughts of deceiving him with the past he held so closely to him. Why would you want to know? They were things of little consequence now that the Apes were free and the Flu you were speaking of before you left you in the care of the Colony. In the care… of Caesar.

“You want to know…?” Caesar seemed hesitant still, brow hardening in determination when you looked back towards him.

“Is that even a question?”

“It is… a long answer…”

“I don’t think the rain is going to stop anytime soon.” That was said in a joking tone of voice which Caesar granted a chortle towards. The warmth picked up finally against your appendages but not due to the fire as you squeezed your fingers inwards and then expanded them in your lap; Caesar watched that nervous action with amusement that caught him off guard, a small crooked tilt of his mouth erupting.

The heady heat was due to the Ape next to you as he began picking apart words to use in proper sentence structure to tell you about a life that he never imagined telling anyone about. It never seemed important to those who said they wanted to listen. But the way you drank every consonant and vowel up left Caesar… Wanting to share more and more with you.

#caesar #caesar x reader #pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #planet of the apes imagines #andy serkis #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes

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