The Quiet Place Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bequiet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
quietplacelogs2018-03-26 07:21 pm
bequiet) wrote in quietplacelogs2018-03-26 07:21 pm
MOD LOG #3
MOD LOG #3
Arriving in style
Content Warnings: Fighting, death, violence
Themes: Survival, plot
It's early in the day when it happens. The red dust that seems to be everywhere sweeps through the city streets, mixing with the steady patter of rain and making it hard to see and breathe. All red and leaving the taste of copper if inhaled, what could have been an easy day without any trouble quickly becomes anything but. While those in the community are heading for cover or finding ways to continue on through it, the new arrivals begin waking up in different cities all over the world. There won't be anyone to greet them, and leaving the room through the door is their choice - after doing so, they'll immediately step out into the city they were assigned. The streets are empty, houses abandoned, everything crumbling and in ruins. There will be signs noting their location, which they'll catch a glimpse of before a sharp push forward causes darkness to engulf them.
Waking up for the second time, in Reims but not in the Reset Room, they'll come to inside the red dust as it whips through the streets of the community. They won't be alone for long. Another person will be waking up beside them, and after a few moments of disorientation, try to attack. They might have weapons or use their hands, and they will not stop until they've taken a fatal blow. Their blood is dust, and they, along with their weapons, disintegrate after they've died. Can you stop them on your own? Will someone come to your aid?
The Sight of Lightning
Content Warnings: Poison, sex
Themes: Survival, plot
The day after the storm, the same red dust will find its way through Reims and come into contact with every person. Since the dust is everywhere, some might not notice that it's floating through the community and know that something is off. The effects don't begin until night fall, where everyone will feel the desire to seek out companionship of many different kinds. Though it is not always the case, the people that saw each other in color will "want" to be with that person more strongly than they might already, and will be more likely to confess or do something about it. Some might feel an intense need to be around another person, though not necessarily sexually - almost as if they need that person around them to be happy or content. For some, it might be a desire that can only be fulfilled by more than one person.
The effects wear off the next time the person gets wet. This can be a splash of water across the face or fully submerged. Or even drinking something.
OOC
From your mods:
Please be mindful of content - if something triggery comes up or if it goes up a rating to say, something sexy, mark your threads in the subject line. We're very flexible and allow any material; we just want our players to be respectful of each other. If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment to the appropriate post below. Have fun! The OOC Plotting Post.
no subject
He figures he's asking if he likes Jake as a friend, which, of course he does.)
Of course I like him. He's one of the best friends I've made here.
(And there it goes. Eddie doesn't stop to think about how...he..definitely had been talking about Jake in a not-entirely-platonic way. And with some realization of the fact! And yet....
This kid could be a real dumbo sometimes. But they were twelve, so this was barely shocking development.)
no subject
But he still lets out an inaudible sigh before nodding.] he's really nice, yeah. i'm glad he didn't make fun of you.
no subject
He's
Yeah
He's special. I dont think Jake would ever make fun of anyone. He's jsut not that kind of guy. he's something else entirely, you know? he's like.
he's worth it to make him laugh and get him smiling. it's like. (Eddie wiggles his free hand around his device, trying to figure a way to express his feelings without Expressing them.)
some boys are just. really.
they're really something else. i dont know how they do it.
no subject
[Will isn't thinking about anyone in particular nope, nuh-uh, shut up.]
no subject
(Though Eddie is now looking at Will, both of his brows raised. Yeah no. Sorry bud.)
who are you talking about?
keywords are relevant
nobody. i'm just talking in general.
no subject
(Eddie considers Will for a long second before casually looking away. A second later.)
for the record i like making you laugh too.
(W O W.)
no subject
you're good at that.
no subject
boys ARE frustrating.
so who frustrates you. we can play the guessing game but there's only three boys here our age so it isn't gonna take me long.
no subject
all of them.
no subject
So I'm guessing that includes me then?
(That smile becomes a grin as he looks over at Will.)
why?
no subject
you're just. confusing sometimes.
no subject
(This was...not what he had anticipated. He slows to a stop and guess what, buddy, they're still holding hands so he winds up tightening his grip so that Will had to stop too. Or at least that's the intention.)
no subject
you make me think about things. think about things and feel things.
no subject
That was impossible. It had to be impossible.
Right?)
Care to be a little more specific maybe?
no subject
i think about how
i sometimes want things and i want to do things and say things i'm not supposed to
how i want to act a certain way and feel certain things but it'd make me
it'd make me something i'm scared of being. something i get called a lot, something i don't want to be true but i think it is.
i think it's true because i can't stop it. and i've tried really really hard.
cw: homophobic slur
Oh man.
Eddie might be a little slow on the uptake at times with certain things, but this was something he could relate to a little too well. Something that was so personal he instinctively wanted to flee from Will. But he doesn't. His feet remain rooted into the ground and he found that his throat had begun to close up. There was a massive, massive difference between talking about this with Clara or Max, with friends from home, and...And this.
This which was...maybe..another boy his own age...And Will. The boy he had snuggled up with the first time they met and felt stupid around more times than he could even remember. What if he was wrong though? He could be wrong. He could be and then he would be brutally mortified. But Eddie wasn't so sure he was wrong. He couldn't exactly explain it, but he and Will had been similar since day one.
His hand squeezes abruptly around Will's, and he types out a quick:)
Come on. Follow me.
(They didn't need to have this discussion out in the open. He walks along the sand path with purposeful strides. He wasn't entirely okay with having it in public either. It's enough to make him wonder if he should drop their hands altogether- but he doesn't. He doesn't go very far. Instead, he turns down an enclosed alley where it at least felt a lot more private. As soon as they were relatively deep into the alley, Eddie was gently letting go of Will's hand so that he could tap away on the device with both hands.)
I think maybe you and I are the same. I think I know what you're talking about because I've been going through the same stuff where it never really feels like I'm in my own skin because I'm always trying hard to focus on everything else EXCEPT for that thing about me.
Ive tried real hard too.
But it's impossible to ignore with people like you around and I never know what to do with myself except mostly feel ashamed and stupid and all sorts of other things i cant. that i shouldnt be feeling.
I want things that I'm
I can't have either.
(Eddie's mouth felt dry, and he thinks, should he just be outright about it? He glances out of the alley, as if expecting to see Henry Bowers sneering in at him, the word 'faggot' spitting out of his ugly mug. But Henry Bowers wasn't there. No one was.
Eddie takes a quiet, deep breath in, and his fingers shake a little as he types out ...out...Something vague but extremely telling:)
boys
and then i died :) :)))))
But instead he follows along, into the alley, forehead scrunched and furrowed with anxious confusion, freed hand swinging at his side when Eddie lets it go. He reads the words as they pop up, the splintered sentences that he thinks might mean...he thinks they might...
And they do.
It's not like talking to Kara about it either -- she's sweet and wonderful, but she's also a grown-up (sort of) and a girl and from a time when there are more words for that and people talk about it and are it and it all seems so far off and impossible.
Eddie's different. He's from before even Will is, when the only words for that are sneering, ugly things that get thrown around by Troy at school and his friends and Will's dad. When being that is even more dangerous. Plus Eddie's a kid his age, someone who Will respects on some level, respects the ferocious, defiant way he speaks, respects the unflinching way he faces down the world.
So when Eddie types those last four letters, Will's shoulders go slack, his breath leaves him in a rush and he can't even type a response. He can't say yes or me too or for as long as I can remember. All he can do is nod, helpless and shaky and so, so relieved.]
and then i died immediately after
There was...There was someone else just like him.
Similarly, he had spoken to Clara, also an incredibly kind and wonderful woman. But she too, like Kara, was from a world beyond theirs, a world that was casual and accepting. A world that Eddie could honestly not wrap his mind around. It was an entirely different culture. They could offer their sympathies, but with Will, there was nothing but empathy rooted between them.
He had never in all his life imagined he'd find a boy his age exactly like him. And he knew the eighties weren't all that great either. Richie had been good enough about it when he first told his friend, but Eddie was almost positive it was because they were friends that it hadn't bothered Richie as much as it might have had it been someone else. After all, Richie had stopped talking to him after the night of the red juice, so maybe it did bother him a little.
Then there was just Will. A boy he had felt flustered around and had wanted to pull in and experience on a whole other level. He hadn't lied when he said he wanted to make Will laugh. Will who was soft and good in a way that Eddie just had never really experienced. For all of Eddie's own gentleness, he was covered in barbs and sharp edges.
Eddie finally makes a move. His device gets slipped away and he closes the remaining distance between them. His arms lock around Will in an impossibly tight hug and he buried his face into Will's next. His own shuddery breath leaves him, and his hands grab at fistfuls of Will's shirt.
He wasn't alone. Not anymore.)
i cry and my tears are tiny gay boys
But then Eddie hugs him and it's so good. It's nothing but good. It's like settling into a place he didn't know he was looking for, like a puzzle piece, like the last color added to a painting that makes the rest of it complete. It's so good that Will can't imagine feeling this relieved, this seen and known can be anything wrong.
So he clings on back as tight as he can, chest aching like it's been torn open, raw and tender and free for the first time in his entire life.]
oops
It's that color spell that gets his brain steaming. Because...Well.
Eddie gently pulls away from the hug, and moves his hands to rest on Will's shoulders. He stares at Will with a peculiar look on his face. He glances over to the opening of the alley and stares for some time. No one is walking by. Nothing. He turns his head back around to stare at Will, contemplating, and then finally decides it's worth it. If only even for an act of belonging. That and maybe...Maybe...
He leans in and presses his lips against Will's cheek and just against the corner of Will's own mouth. It's not one of those chaste, quick kisses given to relatives or mothers. It's a warm press, that lingers for long enough to be something more, and then he breaks the kiss and leans back. His whole face was now bright red, and he's quick to shove his hands into his pockets, his stomach squirming like a live wire.
He had given kiss cheeks before. He gave them all the time to Bill because that was his brother. But with boys like Richie and Will, the kisses were always different. The last time he had kissed Richie had dangerously toed some sort of line that shouldn't have ever been toed. He might of done that a little with Will now, but there was something empowering about the idea of kissing another boy especially with this shared knowledge between them. Eddie felt a little bit like he could take on anything right then.)
no subject
He'll try not to think about how, when he closes his eyes, wishes he was the one being kissed, that he sees himself in Eleven, in Max's places. Mostly the former. It'll haunt him almost worse than the Mind Flayer does, every time he sees them pairing off, two by two.
It's a future Will doesn't know he has, but one he could easily guess at. It's the only one that's ever existed for him.
Except right now Eddie's kissing him. Right now Eddie's mouth is pressed to the corner of his own and Will wants to scream and Will wants to cry and Will wants to laugh, even if it kills him. It's one of those half-moments that should have music playing during them, something bright and swelling and triumphant. Violins and drums and brass and strings, building and building and exploding.
Instead it's silent, and Eddie is red-faced with his hands in his pockets and it's so much. Will can't say anything, can't do anything but reach out, grab for Eddie's hands, wanting to hold onto him for as long as possible.]
no subject
It's almost as bad as his horrid grave, forgotten and abandoned by so-called friends. Bled out and vacantly staring at the walls of the home of their childhood tormentor.
That future left no room for boys who would smile at Eddie in a way that Ben would smile at Beverly. In that future, there was no love that had ever been burned for him nor love he had ever set alight himself.
This is the very first time in his entire life that Eddie has pressed open that part of himself and let some light inside. The first time that he chose to make this a Good Thing and not just something disgusting and awful. Kissing Will wasn't sinful. Nothing that felt so light and warm could ever be wrong, and it hit him in the gut.
It wasn't a thought that would stay forever. No. But it was the makings of an idea that would eventually, in his distant future, settle itself over his shoulders and make itself at home there if he had the chance to grow into this boy who would let himself love who he wanted. If he let himself be loved in return by the people he desperately wanted to love him.
Will grabs his hands and there's this violent sort of pull inside of Eddie. A rightness fills him up and he didn't feel a lick of awkwardness or wrong-doing. His face broke out into one of the most honest smiles he has ever given, and he neatly slides their fingers together.
Home is where you go to die. Home is where you couldn't tell the difference between your mother's arms around your neck from the chain around your ankle.
Was it so?
Because right then, Eddie thought maybe he had always been wrong. Home was the inviting space between Will's fingers and the warmth flourishing over his face. Home was where he felt safest tucked up against Jake's chest after a particularly bad nightmare, or where Clara's fingers slid through his hair to neaten it out. Home didn't need to be his grave. It could be...Everything. His entire chest felt shaky with emotion, and he could feel his eyes start to water and then all at once, shamefully, he could feel the tears spill over. But he was still smiling, beaming even, and he drops his head forward against Will's shoulder, just letting himself exist for once without some looming shape of guilt hanging over him.)