There’s Just Something About The Way Session 7 Ended. Everyone Was Focused On Two Of The Survivors.

There’s just something about the way session 7 ended. Everyone was focused on two of the survivors. The Zombie and the Stars. Everyone forgot about the Sun. No-one noticed the little platform on the sky, having mysteriously been changed.

Except someone did. The Glare. He saw the platform, how it had been changed, realised that the remaining survivor would be up there. However he did nothing with this information, why?

Simple, he wanted to apologise in a way. Apologise for forgetting about him, apologise for getting turned into one of the army. That’s why he let the Sun slip through the cracks, why he let the Zombie and the Sun hide in the base, even protecting them against the hoard.

The Zombie, the Stars and the Sun all survived. To the detriment for the rest of the server. They all failed, because of one man’s loyalty. The Harbinger had been upset for sure, but really what could she do?

The session was over. Sure she could wait for her revenge till the next week, but that’s too long. The Glare had ruined it for everyone else. She had been willing to kill the Stars for the task, why hadn’t he?

The Glare is a loyal man. He would never betray those he called allies unless they did so first. And neither did. The Zombie and the Sun stood by his side until his unfortunate demise to someone who in a past life had been his son.

The Zombie went out the same way, in a hole with that same son. But what about the Sun? He died fighting. Sure his curse had activated, both the Glare and the Zombie dying before him, but he knew that they would be proud. Knew that the first people who had seen his loyalty since the sand had been washed out of his wings, would be proud of him.

Proud of him for staying by their side till the end. Proud for fighting a 3v1 so the Zombie would have some chance of escape. Prions of him for taking a total of 91 hearts from the most stacked team before he died.

Because in the end their only players. Players in this unforgiving game. Cleo, Etho, and Grian were all just victims of these games, coming together to give eachother some form of comfort.

ZombieCleo Zine interest check!

Hiya!

I find it tragic that there is no ZombieCleo zine so here we are!

If you find that you, too, are also interested in a zine dedicated to Cleo of the Zombie variety, it would be wonderful if you could please fill this anonymous form out!

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ZombieCleo Zine Interest Check

WOOOO WHO CHEERED

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! And if anyone you know might be interested in this, please let them know about it! <3

Please let me know if there are technical issues and I'll fix them o77 and please bear with me I haven't done this before lol!

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maru-iru

2 months ago

Honestly fascinating how much The Lifers dehumanize themselves.

They so often see themselves as monsters, curses, weapons, rabid animals, assets, currency, anything but people.

Lives are currency, bodies are only as important as they are useful, every word they speak, every breath they breathe, they think of themselves in bargaining power and viability and use.

They cut off parts of themselves, it's okay, it won't be permanent. They push down their feelings and desires, because honoring them won't get you anywhere. They die. They wake up again.

Something puppets them, strings that can't be cut. There is no agency in this place, they are always on stage.

Something opens its mouth to devour them. They are livestock off to slaughter, their very emotions cuts of meat.

Something won't let them leave, traps them behind invisible glass. Bug taxidermy, butterfly wings pinned to a wall.

There's something inherently dehumanizing in the mere concept of the games. There is no end, there is no way out, there is no choice. You will kill, and you will bleed, and you will die, and They will feast on your performance, and you will wake up to kill again.

How can you keep seeing yourself fully as a person through that? How can you not start to look in the mirror and see a sharpened blade made for killing, or a puppet dancing on stage, or butterfly wings pinned to the wall, or livestock to slaughter?

This world is one that poisons the mind, destroys the body, and steals the soul.

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maru-iru

1 month ago

Yoohoo vgen challenge entry woop woop

Yoyoyoyeyeye

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