Chapter 4.12- How Do You Like Them Road Apples

17 May

Hi!! I’m really excited for Rylo’s story right now, and my excitement feels really out of place considering what’s actually going on in the story. But anyway.

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Sunlight filtering through his eyelids rouses him back to consciousness. Rylo stretches his back and readjusts his position, hoping to doze back to sleep. Then, images from last night come flooding back, jarring him awake. The fire, the zombies, Ravenna, the kid. Oh god, the kid.

It takes a while to build up the courage to open his eyes. Rylo hopes against hope that he’ll open them and be perfectly alone, and the whole thing will have been a dream.

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His eyes open to the sight of the little girl sitting in the corner, clutching her knees. Staring at him. A real flesh and blood little girl, with her round green eyes boring into him.

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Rylo knows the little girl is probably traumatized, and cold, and hungry, and now he’s stuck with her and all her problems. Rylo groans and mutters a “fuck”, and then lifts himself off the wood floor.

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He stands up and stretches, willing the child to stay silent. He’s relieved when she does, and he heads out of the shack to start a fire.

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Outside, dew clings to every surface, but Rylo is able to unearth some dry wood rotting away in a fallen tree. The past owners of this charming abode have left behind a stone fire pit, giving Rylo a convenient spot to build his fire.

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Rylo glances back into the shack, again hoping the kid would somehow disappear. Unfortunately, she has hardly moved, but Rylo is relieved to see that she is now staring at a dust mote dancing in the sunlight, and is no longer scrutinizing his every move.

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He has just barely sat down when he feels a presence moving towards the fire. Hers are the only steps he has ever heard that are quieter than his own. The only sound she makes his her breathing, quickened by her violent shivering in the cool morning air.

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The girl warms herself against the fire, and immediately recommences her uncomfortable stare. Rylo shudders and looks away.

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As she absorbs some of the fire heat, her trembling slows, and she sits down in the dirt. At no point does she take her eyes off Rylo.

He tries to silently bear the weight of that familiar green stare, but as the seconds move agonizingly by he begins to feel open,  exposed, dissected. He’d like to, but he can’t kid himself. He knows how long it’s been since that night with Ravenna, and he knows the sight of his own mother’s eyes.

He shudders, and finally cracks.

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Rylo: Kid, you’ve gotta stop looking at me like that.

The girl remains an impenetrable wall, her eyes completely fixed on Rylo.

Rylo: Goddamnit, why do you gotta look at me like I’ve just grown a tail?

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Girl: You burned my house down.

Rylo: I might have had something to do with that.

Girl: My mom was in there.

Rylo: Yup.

Already Rylo regrets saying anything. He could have spent the morning in uncomfortable but quiet peace, and now he seems to have opened the floodgates.

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Girl: You let her die.

Rylo: She let herself die.

Girl: You could have saved her. You let her burn.

Rylo: She let herself burn along with all her fucked up junkie plants.

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The girl tenses and raises her voice to a yell.

Girl: My mom wasn’t a junkie!

Rylo: Trust me, I know all about junkie moms. Your mom was a junkie.

Girl: My mom was not! She was a good witch.

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Rylo snorts in disbelief.

Rylo: Is that what she told you?

Girl: She could make magic potions and do anything she wanted with the right plants. She could make the zombies get sleepy and forget to be mean.

Rylo: If it sounds too good to be true, it is.

Girl: What’s that supposed to mean?

Rylo: It’s supposed to mean that your mom didn’t seem to care that her precious junkie plants that turned the zombies into sleepy slobbering idiots were doing the same thing to you.

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Girl: It’s not junkie plants, it’s called aspira leaves. They kept us safe.

Rylo: You didn’t look so safe with your eyes rolled back in your head.

Girl: What do you care, it’s none of your business anyways.

Rylo: Kind of is, I’m your dad. How do you like them road apples.

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Girl: Liar.

Rylo: I’m serious, go ask your mom- oh wait, you can’t cause of your wonderful ass-press leaves.

Girl: Aspira leaves.

Rylo: Whatever.

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Girl: You’re not my dad.

Rylo: Am so. Helped make you and everything.

Girl: Even if you are I don’t like you.

Rylo: Great, well, you wouldn’t be the first.

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To Rylo’s surprise, the girl seems to run out of things to say, but not before huffing at him and gazing moodily into the fire. She sits like that for some time, blinking back tears, until something rolling towards her catches her attention.

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Rylo: Eat that.

Girl: It’s gross.

Rylo: A lot of things are gross. Dying of starvation is gross. Eat.

Girl: No.

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Rylo stands up and rolls his eyes. He looks down at his own onion and takes a bite.

Rylo: Whatever. If you’re not going to eat, go back to what you were doing. I was enjoying the quiet.

The girl kicks at the onion, sending it rolling back at him. Rylo sighs in exasperation, but refrains from complaining since she has gone back to staring quietly into the fire.

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Two more days and nights pass, with no new development. The girl seems content to ignore him, and Rylo carries on in grumbling silence.

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He spends his days killing the occasional zombie, digging up wild onions, and  shooting at whatever walks or flies by.

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The girl spends most of her time inside the shack, pressed tightly into the corner. Rylo only approaches to leave food next to her, which always remains uneaten. He tries raw onion, cooked onion, cooked meat, meat and onion cooked together, and even raw meat in a moment of desperation.

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Before going in he always holds an ear to the crumbling siding, hoping to hear a sound other than the girl’s heavy sobbing.

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After the third day in a row of picking up barely picked at breakfast off the floor, Rylo’s frustration hits a peak.

Rylo: Kid, there’s enough to cry about in this world as it is. Give it a break.

Girl: Shut up and go away!!

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Rylo: Gee, sounds tempting. But if I did that, you would most likely die.

Girl: You think you know everything but-

Rylo: Listen, little girl. If I’d spent this much time shedding tears over every nasty thing that happened to me I’d have died of dehydration long before I was your age.

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Through hysterical sobs she shrieks a reply.

Girl: I wish you had!!

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Rylo: Cool, okay. Because that’s totally rational.

Running out of patience, Rylo rolls his eyes and stalks off.

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The girl spends the rest of her day leaning against the wall, drifting in and out of sleep. She’s incredibly exhausted from not eating, but has no appetite. Crying so much has taken a lot out of her too, and sleep seems to be her only rest from the shuddering sobs.

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Eventually night falls, and the darkness nudges her into a longer, deeper sleep.

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Rylo avoids the shack until he’s certain she’s sleeping first. He has no more interest in speaking to this frustrating child, and settles to sleep in the farthest end of the room.

Soooooooo yay for impromptu parenthood!! And don’t worry about calling the Maury show, Rylo is definitely the father here. I will confirm that now, much to his dismay. See you all next time.

Liebster Award

17 May

Wow! That shiny thing that I put there myself denotes that my blog has been nominated for a Liebster Award by Atlassims and Niura, whose fantastic blogs you should check out.

Here are the rules:

  1. Post the award on your blog.
  2. Thank the blogger who presented the award and link back to their blog.
  3. Nominate 5-11 bloggers whom you feel deserve this award and have fewer than or equal to 3,000 followers.
  4. Answer 11 questions posted by the nominator, and ask your nominees 11 questions.

I’ll be honest, I don’t follow a lot of blogs due to not having the time or brain power to read them all and keep the different characters in my head, and the ones I do read have probably already been nominated. But too bad, we’re doing it anyway.

The Amazing Hollander– Niura already nominated The Hartfields, so I’m going with Louise’s other blog. While I’m caught up on the Hartfields, I’m super behind with this one but I know I will like it because Louise is writing it and that’s all you need to know. Also, I totally agree with Niura, her poses are great and I use them all the time.

All’s Well That Sims Well– This is just hilarious. I effing relish these posts and I wish I could write such funny shit all the time.

Absolutely Cuckoo– I can’t handle how much I love the names in this legacy. I would literally let the author of this legacy name my pets, if I had any.

I know it says to nominate 5-11, but that’s all I’ve got for now! I really need to sit down and get into some new legacies and stories, but like, school and life happen.

So since I got nominated twice and I have two different sets of questions, I’m just going to pick the ones I find the most interesting. Here we go.

1. If you could be any character from a book or a movie, who would you be?

Right now, I would be Gavroche from Les Miserables. I’m currently reading the book and despite the fact that I’m a modern day 20-something girl, deep down in my heart I really just want to be a shit-disturbing street urchin who lives in an elephant statue. What what.

 2. What part of the world seizes your imagination? Deserts? Islands? The tropics? Europe, Asia, or the US?

Definitely forest and woodlands. I’m Canadian but I kind of set my stories somewhere in the US so I don’t have to work around the harsh winter for my poor post-apocalyptic sims. I also find abandoned and run down urban areas just fascinating.

3. What era or century do you like to write about?

It’s not so much about time periods for me as it is about the feel of the time and place. I write about the post-apocalypse, but I would also enjoy writing about modern life in the third world, or medieval time periods or something. I prefer to write about people with more tangible problems than the modern first world provides. I think that a world where people are trying to survive wars, disasters, and diseases provides more of an interesting backdrop for character development than the cushy world we live in.

4. Do you think about your story you are writing, coming up with new plots, while at work, school?

Inspiration always strikes me at the worst possible times. I’ll be driving and suddenly imagine a whole conversation my sims need to have, and I’ll actually have to pull over and write it down. Otherwise it’s while I’m trying to fall asleep. Three generations worth of storyline came to me at midnight while I was trying to sleep a few months ago, and I had to keep turning on the light to write all my ideas. But then when I actually sit down and try to write something during the day its like

5. Do you modify your sims’ appearance so they are a bit more ordinary, or do you aim for beauty?

It’s really important to me that all my sims look like real people, so I go for natural-looking hair and eye colours and faces that are in realistic proportions. No big doll eyes around here. Buuuut I do want my heirs to be kinda nice to look at so I do try to make that happen a bit.

6. Sims 2, Sims 3 or Sims 4? Which do you prefer? 

It’s all about Sims 3 baby. I’ve got all my mods and CC and my game is so perfectly tailored to me. If my laptop ever died, I would literally just quit sims forever, cause I would never be able to get this back.

7. What novels/movies/tv shows do you love?

Game of Thrones, Orange Is The New Black, Last Week Tonight, and Drunk History are some of my favourites. For the past few years I’ve been really into reading classics and so I’ve been all about the Tolstoy, Dickens, Steinbeck, and my bae forever, Thomas Hardy.

But my favourite book in the world is this glorious shit:

Marvel at its beauty.

8. If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Pomegranate. All day, erry day. It’s a meal, right?

9. Mac or Windows?

I have an old piece of shit Windows that gets so hot it burns me and has broken pieces that cut me. But I love it, because it runs my sims games, albeit slowly.

10. Do any of your close friends know about your sim-story blog? Do they think you are a weirdo for writing stories about a video game?

No!! Noone in my life even knows I play sims. I try not to let people know what a huge nerd I secretly am.

11. What do you hope to express in your Sims stories?

I ‘m a firm believer that people are products of their environments and are all just doing their best with the hand they’ve been dealt. That’s why I think it’s interesting to explore the gray areas of humanity and morality, which is what I’ve been doing a lot in the past two generations of my legacy. It’s weird, but I think about Kohlberg’s stages of morality development a lot when I’m writing my legacy.

A lot of the stuff my characters do (ie. theft, murder, generally being dicks to each other) seems flat out wrong if you look at it from, say, the conventional black and white perspective of right and wrong. Moving into post-conventional perspectives that take the broader situation into account, their actions become a bit more understandable and relatable. So I guess in my sims stories it’s important to me that I express a different perspective about what’s right and wrong and when we might just need to throw right and wrong out the window. I guess.

The questions I want to ask my nominees are the same questions I just answered, because I feel like those are some damn good questions.

Chapter 4.11- Noxious Smog

10 May

Hey all. Just a heads up, this is one of those posts that I’ve been psyched to post for a very very long time. Like, months. Also I got drunk as I was writing this, so that helped. Let’s get started, shall we.

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Looking up at the lighted hillside, Rylo recalls a name, “Ravenna”.

He vividly remembers the terrifying hallucinations of the last time he was here. The feeling of losing control.

The effects of that pungent smoke are not something Rylo wants to repeat, but some part of him is curious to go in. Just for a quick look, to see if it’s all still the same.

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Anyways, Rylo has an idea. He remembers a scrap of fur he carries in his pocket. It’s just an old thing he uses for a pillow, or to wipe his hands, or for whatever other unexpected need comes up. He wraps it tightly around his face, and holds the fur to his nose to block out the smoke.

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The fur doesn’t do the greatest job of keeping the smoke out, but Rylo can tell it’s enough. His mind seems to fog up a bit, but nothing like before, and this time he’s fully in control. It’s a good thing, because as he approaches the hole in the ruined foundation the smoke seems to thicken.

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Rylo steps soundlessly and peers around the corner. He had half been expecting to see another performance going on, but what he sees instead surprised him.

Despite only having spent a few hours with her, Rylo feels that this is out of character for Ravenna. From what he remembers, she always seemed like she was a step ahead of him. Seeing her slumped over the table like this, Rylo feels compelled to move closer.

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Walking towards her, Rylo keeps expecting Ravenna to wake up. He even intentionally drops his feet more heavily than he usually would, wondering if the sound of footsteps would be enough to rouse her.

Rylo walks right up to her without stirring her. Tentatively he reaches out and touches the golden hair, just as soft and long as he remembers. Underneath his fingers her body feels slack and unresponsive. Rylo tries shaking her shoulder, lightly at first, but then roughly as she continues to lay slumped over the table.

Looking down at the unconscious figure and breathing shallowly through his furs, Rylo realizes the cause.

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The barrels prove too hot to touch, so Rylo has to kick them over, spilling burning cinders and leaves from the strange toxic plant growing in pots all over Ravenna’s house. He holds his furs close against his mouth as he carefully stomps out the ashes smoldering in the dirt.

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Satisfied with the barrels on the ground level, Rylo makes his way up the stairs to the barrel burning by Ravenna’s bed. Already he can feel the fresh air rushing in from the holes in the walls and ceilings, replacing the thick noxious smog. He breathes deep, feeling his mind clear with each inhale.

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This last barrel Rylo lets down slowly with a deft maneuvering of his feet. He’s careful not to spill cinders on the flammable old carpet, but still concerns himself with the embers that land on the dry hardwood.

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As he stamps out the last of the ashes, Rylo jumps in surprise at the little figure lounging dreamily in the corner.

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He walks over to the little girl, who does nothing to let him know she’s at all aware of his presence. He tries waving his hand back and forth in front of her face, and shakes her shoulder just as he did with Ravenna.

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The child sighs, and stares straight through him with that same glassy expression he knows he wore the last time he was here.

Rylo considers the girl. Maybe he could set her by a doorway to give her some air. Then he could walk off into the forest and never look back, like nothing had ever happened.

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Delicately he lifts the child into his arms. She’s incredibly light, but her warmth and aliveness makes Rylo so uncomfortable he nearly throws her back down. Again she makes a few sleepy sighing sounds, and leans into his body. Repelled, Rylo looks down at her with aversion and holds her outwards, extending his arms as far away from himself as he can without dropping her.

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With a few inches of empty air safely padding the space between himself and the girl, Rylo finally looks up again to survey the scene. Crackling heat has taken over a corner of the room, and is creeping hungrily towards Ravenna’s peacefully slumbering form.

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The flames are a foot away from catching Ravenna’s loose hair, and Rylo bounds down the stairs. He quickly deposits the sleeping child on the ground and sprints back to Ravenna.

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Rylo drapes Ravenna’s arm over his neck and lifts. She’s not terribly heavy, but she’s complete dead weight. Her legs drag uselessly behind as Rylo hauls her away from the ravenous flames.

The proximity of the blaze is close to burning his exposed skin, and Rylo turns away his face and scrunches his eyes to shut out the heat. Finally gaining some distance from the fire, he shoots a glance back at the girl lying on the ground.

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Rylo looks on in horror as four zombies stumble through the breach in the foundations. This is what he hadn’t thought about, but it makes perfect sense. With the smoke dissipating, the zombies are quickly returning to their usual selves.  They move more clumsily, but are still just as focused and menacing as they move towards the child.

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Panic surging through his veins, Rylo drops Ravenna to the ground. He pulls out his pocket knife and hurtles towards the zombies closing in on the little girl.

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Rylo body slams the first zombie, and follows it up with a quick slice to the head. Pieces of flesh and coagulated blood fly off in different directions, sticking to every surface they hit.

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With no time to agonize over the closeness between them, Rylo hoists up the child around her waist and takes off running up the stairs.

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He briefly registers a second fire that has started upstairs, and then whirls around to look back at the disaster behind him, hoping that saving Ravenna could still be possible.

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Rylo gasps at the sight of the deadly inferno consuming the ground floor. Flames lick their way across the room, racing the zombies for the first chance to devour Ravenna’s motionless body.

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Rylo feels vomit rising in his throat as the race between the zombies and the flames is declared a tie. In complete horror, he spins around and takes off running into the night.

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The only sound he recognizes as he runs from the burning building is a long, high scream coming from somewhere near his left ear.

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Rylo runs directionlessly, unthinkingly. He runs past rivers, through trees, over rocks. Eventually he slows to a walk, and realizes that the little body he’s carrying so tightly against his chest is shaking violently. He continues walking, and after a while the shaking stops, replaced by relaxed muscles and long deep breaths.

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He hadn’t been looking for a place, but somehow he ends up walking straight into it. It’s not secure in any way, but it’s enough for tonight.

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As soon as he enters the dilapidated building Rylo starts to stagger with exhaustion, and quickly lowers the child to the floor. Her eyelids seem to stir, and Rylo retreats in fear of her waking up.

Then, her breathing slows and Rylo knows it will be alright for tonight.

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Rylo crawls to the other side of the creaking cabin and, exhausted, falls into a deep sleep.

Sooooo holy fuck. Yes, this chapter just happened. I love it the best of all chapters. The end, goodbye.

Chapter 4.10- Birth Fluids

3 May

Yooooo.

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Welcome back errybody. Last we left off, Rylo was reveling in the glory of solitude.

Anyone else getting highly anxious this guy’s never gonna pass the torch onto another generation?

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Yet again a nomadic hermit bachelor wild man, Rylo bores us all with his uninteresting eat sleep kill crap eat sleep routine. Sooo time jump anyone?

I think yes. We’re going to jump ahead eight boring years. I’ll fill you in on all the lovely things that go on for the Yu extended family during this time. Starting with this.

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It’s a picture of Dorah wallowing in her own birth fluids. Nice, right?

This is Ben Yu, the newest nooboo. Pretty sure he’s Good and a Natural Cook, basically another awesome Yu kid.

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He grows up to look like dis.

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And eventually dis.

He looks so much like Oscar. Funny story, Oscar was actually named Benjamin for the first few days of his life before I changed my mind. The coincidence is 3spooky5me.

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Carys (who is the oldest) looks like this.

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Dorah later gave birth to Mariella, who I know very little about.

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Apparently her and Sam do it like rabbits, cause like a day later she popped Jeyna out in the bathroom.

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As for Joey and Marina’s family, Reuben grew up to look like an average human child.

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Surprise surprise, Siri somehow grew up to be ginger.

Marina: R u my kid?

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Siri: I dunno but plz put your boobies back in your shirt.

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As Siri grew up, she continued to be ginger.

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Joey and Marina also had this child, Graham, who really likes stroller rides I guess.

If you don’t care at all about the extras, you have my sympathy. That’s like, ten seconds of your life you’ll never get back. Moving on.

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Four, five, six winters pass uneventfully. Rylo loses count.

Probably the coolest thing that’s happened has been Rylo’s KO on this deer that thinks it’s a mountain goat. You do you, deer.

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Eventually Rylo falls in with another group. It’s no different than the last one, and Rylo’s fine with that.

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Some of the people in the group have some sort of drug they do sometimes, but Rylo’s past the point of caring. He doesn’t want it, and they don’t offer anyways. Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone watch your back while you’re sleeping.

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Boundaries are non-existent in this group, and they take each other in the open like animals. Rylo’s past the point of caring about that too.

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For a while he takes part in it, with a woman named Michelle. There’s no talking, just the occasional sweating and grunting in the long grass.

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For a while that works alright, until she starts trying to nestle in with him at night. When that happens Rylo pushes away and arches his back against her.

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In desperation she starts trying to get his attention during waking hours. After a few times of pulling away and ignoring her it all stops. A few days later and she’s grunting and moaning under a deerskin with someone else.

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It’s all the same to Rylo, and soon enough he’s found some other woman who doesn’t feel the need to get him to talk.

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The group keeps constantly on the move, with the only rule being keep up. It suits Rylo fine.

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At the height of summer they sometimes go few days without seeing water. Today, they stop for a few sips at a murky, putrid puddle.

It’s gross, but anyone who’s survived this long probably has an immune system that can handle it.

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The group’s just getting ready to move on when they hear a shriek. Pale arms reach out from under the ruins, and Michelle drops heavily to the ground.

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The group members watch in shock as Michelle is rapidly dragged under, thrashing and clawing at the dirt.

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Rylo lunges forward, steadying his bow. He takes aim, releases, and the struggle ends.

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Laboriously Michelle crawls out from under the ruins, and lets out a deep, tormented wail that seems to never end. Strips of denim and flesh hang loosely from her mangled legs, and Michelle’s cries grow dry and gravelly.

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One by one the group members look away, and then start walking.

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As she realizes what is happening, Michelle struggles up onto her feet. Her destroyed legs drag awkwardly, unresponsively. Exposed muscle quivers, and she pitches forward into the dust.

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There she stays, and the group walks on.

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In the late afternoon, they find a small house. Some fall asleep immediately, while some stand around talking.

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And some, like Rylo, disappear into themselves. Even when he’s in a room full of people, Rylo is always in the fortress of solitude. It’s a skill, really.

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Suddenly the silence is interrupted by a scratching, and the group reflexively jumps up with weapons raised.

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Just one zombie outside a window isn’t a huge threat, and one guy volunteers to take care of it. Everyone begins to settle back down again as the guy draws his knife, but as he moves towards to window he flinches at the sound of another thump.

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Two more snarling zombies hungrily paw at the front window. Unsurprisingly, noone volunteers to get these ones.

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Another thump, and everyone turns to look at the back window where two zombies claw out for flesh. The guy who had volunteered to take care of them begins slowly backing away into the center of the room.

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Another rattling moan, and the dead come lurching through the front door.

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All hell breaks loose, and everyone tears off in different directions. In the chaos, a shrieking woman is seized. The zombie’s black teeth tear at the skin and cords of her neck, and her shrieks become silent but carry on all the same.

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One guy makes a dash up the stairs. Another tries to follow him, but a pair of clawed hands reach through the window and snatch at his arm, dragging him roughly back.

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Somehow Rylo fights his way through the chaos and up the stairs. He glances back in horror at the woman with her throat bitten out, and at the man struggling away from the zombie clawing his arm to ribbons.

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Rylo streaks up the stairs and bursts through a door into an empty room. A man named Barrett stands resolutely in front of the only window. Taking no notice of Rylo’s presence, he clambers through the window sill, hangs by his arms, and then drops.

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His heart beating wildly, Rylo rushes to the window and hangs his head out.

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He watches in slow motion as Barrett totters atop a rusty barrel, and then steadies himself. A low moan sounds from behind him, and in his surprise Barrett steps back into air.

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Arms reach up to receive Barrett’s flailing form, and then a new set of screams joins the ones coming from inside the house.

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Amid the sickening slurp and tearing sound that Rylo wishes he could forget comes a dragging, rattling, moaning on the stairs behind him. The zombies below are frenzying around what must seem to them like a gift from the heavens, and take no notice as Rylo quickly drops from the window, landing squarely on the barrel.

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Rylo hardly takes time to shudder before leaping forward and breaking into a run away from the scene.

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After only a few meters Rylo realizes he has a follower that seems to have lost interest in Barrett.

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He’s sure he can outrun it, but then changes his mind as two more zombies emerge from around the corner.

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In one fluid, practiced motion Rylo swings his crossbow around his back and sends a bolt into the trailing zombie’s softened skull. He then spins around the deal with what’s ahead.

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The two in front of him are closer than he thought, too close to use his crossbow. He steps back a few paces, swinging the crossbow onto his back.

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Rylo pulls out his pocket knife, stepping deftly forward and then quickly to the side in a sort of dance. The slower zombies lunge out for him, but he’s already leaped just a pace out of their reach. By keeping his movements unpredictable Rylo slinks around the zombies, plunging his knife skillfully into their brains.

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After that it’s just a cool sprint through the night air, away from the screams and the carnage and the death.

Rylo could run for hours if he wanted to, but eventually stops when he realizes his running has landed him somewhere familiar.

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Up on the hillside, barrels of fire light up the night, and a sweetly pungent aroma wafts through the breeze.

Chapter 4.9- Blood-Covered Hands

28 Apr

Sorry, life got busy!! Let’s return to Rylo, who is now living in a group where none of them actually give a shit about each other. They’re just together for survival, and Rylo likes survival.

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While Rylo still hunts his own small game, hunting big game is a lot easier. Usually the others will herd a panicked deer into an area where Rylo sits waiting with his crossbow. He doesn’t mind sharing kills this big, as it’s too much meat for him alone. When he kills small game on his own, or picks fruit, there are no expectations of sharing.

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There are pretty much no expectations at all in this group. People come and disappear. Sometimes they die, or break off into their own groups, and Rylo hardly ever has to even get familiar with a face, let alone know someone’s name.

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Fights are common, and the group has a mutual understanding that your fight is your business.

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Sometimes the fights can get pretty nasty, but noone ever cares to intervene no matter how bloody and ruthless the altercation. One night, Rylo almost had to get into one of those fights himself.

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They were sleeping in an old creaky garage. For a while Rylo had been suspicious of a guy named Randall who had been eyeing his crossbow with a little too much admiration. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard soft footsteps coming towards him.

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Rylo leaped out of his sleeping furs to stand over his crossbow in one fluid motion. Wordlessly he balled his fists and hunched his shoulders, ready to defend his property. Randall gave him the same look of a challenging animal, and then backed off into the darkness. Rylo had won this round, but he slept with his crossbow against his chest after that.

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Overall it’s not a happy life with this group, but it’s life. There’s no smiling or laughing or joking, and that seems to suit everyone just fine.

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Sometimes they sleep in buildings that are still sturdy enough, and sometimes they find a protected place in the open air. Once they’ve found a sleeping spot, it’s an unspoken rule that they sleep as far away from each other as possible.

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Rylo quickly learns of another unspoken rule. Sometimes, someone in the group gets hurt or sick. Sometimes they just give up and don’t get up one morning.

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When that happens, the group moves on. It’s none of their business who can and can’t keep surviving.

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Over the next winter and spring, Randall starts to get bolder. After months of shooting dark glances Rylo’s way and slamming into his shoulder as they pass, it all peaks one early summer evening. The group is roasting a recently killed deer on the fire. Feeling a call of nature coming on, Rylo goes behind a house to answer it. When he comes back, Randall is looking agitated and blocks his way back to the fire.

Rylo: Let me go, Randall.

Rylo tries to pass, but every time he does Randall cuts him off and steps in even closer.

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Randall: You and me, right now.

The group around the fire is entirely disinterested, as scraps like this are common. Rylo knows this fight is all his, and is losing patience.

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Rylo: I don’t want to fight you, Randall! Fucking let me through!

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Randall: I don’t think so, you little punk! That crossbow’s either mine or yours, and we’re gonna decide whose it is before the sun goes down.

Rylo: Fuck that, I-

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But Randall loses interest in words, and delivers a heavy punch straight to Rylo’s jaw. All Rylo’s hesitation disappears with that punch, and he hardly finishes recoiling before he springs forward, retaliating with all the viciousness of a kid who grew up in the Madhouse.

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Rylo grabs Randall by his clothes and savagely forces him to the ground. He doesn’t waste any punches on Randall’s face, instead sending a barrage of blows to his ribs and belly.

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Randall lands hard on his back, and scrambles weakly away from the onslaught of kicks and stomps raining from above.

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From the fire, the group can hear the sounds of weak protests slowly abate, to be replaced with animalistic grunts and the crack of bone.

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Slowly Rylo returns to himself. No longer does it feel like he’s fighting Randall, but more like he’s uselessly pounding something lifeless and still. He laboriously stands up, panting and trembling.

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Noone at the fire seems particularly interested in the life that was just extinguished next to them, or the shaking victor with blood-covered hands. Rylo takes a reeling step over the body, and rejoins everyone at the fire.

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He tears a strip off the roasted deer and chews. Life carries on.

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The rest of summer flies by with few events of interest. It’s the same eat, sleep, shit, and kill zombies routine as when Rylo’s alone, but with better security when he’s sleeping and less security when he’s awake.

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One morning, Rylo decides to just not get up.

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As the group begins to stir, Rylo lays still. He knows they’ll leave him without a second thought. On the way out, somebody kicks his foot, probably just to see if he’s alive.

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Rylo doesn’t respond, and soon the group is walking out the door.

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Rylo spends the morning laying on the floor, giving the group a long time to put some distance between them.

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Finally he lifts himself off the ground. His body aches from only using a threadbare rug to sleep on, but his mind is all relief.

Rylo had spent a summer, a winter, and most of another summer with these people, but now he just feels done.

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Alone again, Rylo leaves the old building in search of the next place.

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The mid morning sun glistens pink upon the silent water. Rylo gazes at the horizon and sighs in appreciation of his complete solitude, a solitude that never has to end as long as he wills it.

Yayyy murder. I’ll probably post the next chapter fairly soon. There’s like two or three more chapters of character developmenty type stuff, and then things get cool, so I want to get to the asap. Later!

 

Chapter 4.8- The Post-Apocalyptic Walk Of Shame

12 Apr

Hey all. Quick recap: Rylo made some friends. He realized they were cannibals. That wasn’t chill, so he ran away. He ended up on a hill, and got super high from weird burning fumes. He had some wacko hallucinations, and topped off the night by doing the dirty with some chick in a caved-in mansion. Shit’s cray.

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But that’s the story we’re going with, so let’s get back to it. Rylo is doing the post-apocalyptic walk of shame, and is discovering that some of the stuff from last night was imagined, and some of it was not. I feel like that’s an experience many of us can relate to.

Rylo is surprised to find that there really are horrific faces carved into the trees on this hill, and mulls over the fact that his acquaintance from last night is most likely the artist behind it all. He decides that everything on this hill is absolutely batshit and he can’t get away fast enough.

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Finally alone in the wild, Rylo starts to feel like himself again. This is how he belongs, just him and the trees and the sky and the occasional zombie to tousle with. Ever since he can remember other people have had some sort of dark secret or ulterior motive. For a while he thought maybe Harlan’s group was the nice little family they looked like. Rylo used to think that people like that had to be out there somewhere. But even for all their happy nights laughing around the fire and sleeping cuddled up warm somewhere, they were really all in it for themselves.

Rylo can live that way too. He always had, and now he’s sure he always will.

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Rylo shifts easily back into his routine of hunting, sleeping, and maybe taking a dip in the river. It’s a mindless life, but it’s comfortable enough.

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He’s found the crossbow to be an incredible convenience, and he can’t believe Harlan would ever have relinquished it. He no longer has to wait for zombies to come anywhere near him, and can take them down from a much safer distance.

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Also, it’s super fun.

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Rylo hardly has to spend any time worrying about his own safety, and knows that if any living people were to come near, it wouldn’t be too hard to scare them off.

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In this way Rylo spends his days, lounging in the water, hiding in the trees, and hunting in the brush. Seasons pass, and Rylo doesn’t keep track of how many. When the weather starts to cool he simply kills a deer and wears its hide for a few months before casting it off again.

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Luckily, we can keep track of time, by looking at all the other Yu cutie pies growing up! Here’s Titus, and I still don’t know if he/she is a he or a she. Still fluffy and clueless looking though.

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Marina and Joey spent a few years contending with Reuben, who developed a horrifying case of floating baby syndrome. It was all they could do to keep him from getting stuck to the ceiling, and they nearly lost their minds when they found out they were pregnant again.

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Thankfully, Reuben grew out of it as he entered toddlerhood, and became a bright-eyed little guy who stayed firmly planted to the ground.

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Shortly after, Siri was born and the whole family was delighted to discover that she operated normally within the limits of gravity.

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Carys also grew up, and I was pretty psyched to see she has Oscar’s hair and eyes. Apparently, Sam and Dorah are pregnant again, so that’s cool.

Also, let’s all please just ignore the fact that the toddlers and Marina are in brand new modern-day clothes. I was too lazy to change them, okay? I have so much CC that changing a sims’ outfit takes like 15 minutes and it’s just not worth it for the side characters.

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While the extended family he doesn’t know he has does all this cool stuff somewhere off-screen, Rylo spends years of his life alone, glad to be looking out only for himself.

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Whenever he comes to a town, he does his best to circle around it. Towns offer way too many hiding places, as well as rotted out floorboards and old ceilings waiting to collapse.

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Sometimes, for variety, he explores standalone buildings. This old train station will probably provide decent shelter for the night and might even give him some zombie killing entertainment.

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Me and Rylo both think this old train looks pretty slick. I love CC <3

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Rylo climbs in through a crumbled wall and tests out the floors. They seem sturdy and so far nothing has come running at him, but he raises his crossbow just in case.

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As the end of his weapon peeks out from the doorway, he hears a hungry gurgling coming from the corner to his left.

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Rylo whips around and plants an arrow right in the zombie’s mouth. It drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and everything is quiet.

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Rylo looks around the rest of the little train station, but this zombie seems to be the only occupant. Satisfied, Rylo sets to building a fire to cook up some dinner.

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A rabbit that was too slow for Rylo’s arrows makes for a flavorless but filling meal. Rylo basks in the heat of his fire as the sun goes down and clouds gather in the sky.

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Eventually it starts to rain, and Rylo licks his fingers before heading inside.

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The roof has more than a few holes, but Rylo finds himself a bench in an area with the least amount of leaks. It’s a bit too short for him, but he settles down to sleep anyways.

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He just seems to have drifted off when a loud thump jolts him awake. Before his eyes even open Rylo pulls his knife from his pocket and scrambles back from the sound.

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As Rylo’s eyes adjust he sees a group standing in the doorway, eyeing him with equal surprise. He wonders if they’ll kill him, or eat him, or both. He’s pretty shocked when they completely ignore him.

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They silently move about the building, taking out bedding and arranging it in the driest spots they can find. They scarcely talk to each other any more than they talk to Rylo.

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Rylo watches as they set up their camp for the night. One girl drags out the body of the zombie Rylo killed earlier and drops it off somewhere in the rain. Conversation is minimal, and everyone seems focused on taking care of themselves.

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Some of them have some fruit or a bit of dried meat that they take out of their bags. They eat alone, just for the sake of eating, and make no move to share or sit together.

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After some time they all lay down to sleep somewhere. Rylo decides he doesn’t really mind them. They’re very good at keeping to themselves, and seem solely focused on survival.

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That’s good enough for Rylo, and he lays back down on his bench and falls asleep to the sounds of pouring rain.

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As the morning breaks, Rylo hears the group rustling around and getting ready to leave again.

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As they file out into the morning light, Rylo stands to watch them go.

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An older man is the last to leave, and he glances at Rylo in the corner.

Man: Come along if you want.

His disinterested way of throwing out the offer before walking out the door is what sells Rylo.

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Rylo decides to tag along, mostly out of boredom. He had been living alone for years, why not do something a little different for once? It’s always a lot safer to sleep with others around, and it seems to Rylo like this group is only together for that reason. He knows none of them really care about each other, and he won’t have to pretend to care about them.

That’s it for this time. Sorry not a lot happened, but that’s life. Sometime’s life’s kinda boring. See you all next week anyways.

Chapter 4.7- Nice Bum Where Ya From

30 Mar

Hello! If you don’t remember, last time Rylo was surrounded by spooky trees and spooky zombies and was having some wacko hallucinations due to being accidentally high as ballz.

Sooo I don’t wanna give anything away but… you know how Zombies and Yu occasionally has R rated posts? This chapter has the same likelihood of being R rated as any other chapter. So it may or may not contain adult elements.

Hint: It does.

Anyways.

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Rylo lurches through the smoky, bitter air, groaning and growling with the crowd. It’s so much easier being one of the undead. No thoughts, no feelings, no hurt, no hatred. Just two feet shuffling around on a hillside.

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For the first time, a thought invades his mind in the form of vague awareness at being at the top of the hill. Rylo’s innocent emptiness pushes him onward.

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The building ahead seems to be falling in on itself, and Rylo presses thoughtlessly on towards a hole in the crumbling foundations.

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The pungent smoky aroma is less strong here, and allows Rylo’s consciousness to struggle back to the forefront. The world is still foggy and distorted, but Rylo begins to feel more in control, more aware of his surroundings.

As badass as Rylo looks, I just realized… Tonto, is that you?

I’ve never even seen The Lone Ranger and don’t plan to, so I was having a hard time figuring out why that last picture of Rylo screamed Johnny Depp to me. IMDB answered that question for me.

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Feeling more in control of his legs, Rylo creeps in through the opening in the foundations. The inside of the house seems to be emitting more of the same flickering firelight as the outside.

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Interspersed among the rubble of the caved-in basement is, strangely, pots and pots of leafy plants. Rylo’s thoughts come slow and thick, and the concept of caution escapes him. He staggers curiously around the corner, and is stopped in his tracks by the strangest sight he’s seen all night.

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At the end of a long room stands a glisteningly white woman, arms extended with shimmering hair cascading down her figure.

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Rylo stands rooted to the spot, and an expression of total shock and wonder takes over his face. He wants to back away, to escape, but the dancing girl is the most graceful thing he’s ever seen and his clouded mind can’t seem to get his feet to move.

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His head pounds, and he stares on at the slow, elegant movements. The flickering firelight gleaming against her hair seems to lend the girl an ethereal glow.

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Rylo wonders how she hasn’t seen him yet. Will she scream? Will she attack? All of these questions enter his mind, but none seem to matter now that he is entirely at the mercy of the painfully lovely scene ahead.

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He’s not even startled when she calmly gazes back at him. His dazed mind hungers only to stay, to watch, to know this creature dancing by firelight.

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Silently she steps towards him. Her ice coloured eyes pierce his, and she runs a hand up his arm.

Rylo shivers at her touch, and stands perfectly still but unafraid.

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And then she presses herself to him, and the world smells of bitter smoke and tastes of spices. Rylo’s normally unyielding mind forgets to resist, and he allows himself to be taken along.

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It’s very much the same as outside in that his consciousness keeps going in and out of focus, but this time rather than cold numbness Rylo is filled with warm, syrupy desire. The entirety of existence seems to be her lips against his and the curtains of golden hair wrapped around them.

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He’s unsure if it’s been hours or minutes, but every time he comes up for breath they seem to be somewhere new, with her fingers dancing on his cheek and her hot breath on his neck.

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Somehow he finds himself up the stairs, onto what must have once been the first floor. The entire place is filled with strange things, but what he sees in front of him takes his breath away.

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Rylo’s limbs seem to turn to water and his mouth goes dry. His breath speeds up, quick and shallow. Her whole body seems to glow from the firelight and he aches to bury himself in her hair.

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But it’s her who grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him over, across the room. Rylo winds his fingers through her hair and lets her run hers up under his shirt.

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Again Rylo’s mind feels full of fog and sand and water and he’s not sure what comes next, but she’s sure, and pushes him down onto the creaking bed.

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And then he’s just as sure as she is, and everything is skin and firelight and sweet, heavy smoke.

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She falls asleep almost immediately afterwards. Rylo fights sleep for as long as he can, drinking in the sight of her breathing softly next to him. The eastern sky is just turning the blue of her eyes as Rylo’s finally close.

OHMYGOD did I really just write that. What.

Half of me is like dayum baby get it but the other half is five years old and like eww stahp. This might be the last and only super sexy sex scene I ever write. Too much sex.

Do you know what sex makes?

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Babbies. That’s how babby is formed.

This one is named Reuben Yu and he belongs to Joey and Marina. They originally named him Reginald but then I was like, fuck that. So I changed it to the first decent R name that popped into my head. Reuben is a brave natural cook. I assume that means he’s totally okay with using really big knives when cutting vegetables. I always get so nervous, but this lil baby don’t give a shit.

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It’s a pretty nice morning, and Rylo is sleeping right through it. He’s down under the triangle thing somewhere.

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There he is.

Nice bum where ya from.

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The bright sunlight flooding in through the windows gently eases Rylo awake, and he rolls over to figure out where he is. The fires burn low in the barrels, and the smoke sits much lighter in the room. Though still groggy, Rylo is able to piece together what happened last night. He remembers the boy in the warehouse, the stew, running up the lighted hillside.

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Suddenly it all comes back to him and he leaps from the bed and scrambles for his clothes. His heart rate slows a little when he realizes he’s alone, but he is still filled by the need to be far away from here.

Also, sorry guys, but Rylo’s coin slot is in every damn shot and there’s nothing I can do about it. Let’s all just accept it and revel in its glory.

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Once dressed, Rylo puts off departure for a moment to satisfy his curiosity. He creeps back into the caved-in basement and heads for the potted plants. One breath in answers his question. The leaves are thick and oily, and give off the same strong scent as the flames in the barrel. Knowing how far they took his mind last night, Rylo makes a mental note to avoid those from now on.

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He takes one last look before departing out what must once have been the front door.

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As soon as he’s away from the flames Rylo breathes the fresh cold air in deep to clear his hazy mind. In no time he’s back to his same old routine of trekking solo through the wasteland, with no goal other than forward.

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Aaaaand that’s the end, I’ll leave you with this nice last lil shot.

Yeah so that was crazy as hell, I don’t know. Sorry for posting a day late, I was on a trip and didn’t get back until late last night.

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