you're ripped at every edge;

atticus marshall. sixteen.

[atticus-marshall-blog]

He was supposed to be more careful. He was supposed to be working on reining in his anger. But the men that had shown up and forced their way through town had only brought it on deeper. He had been grazed once on the arm with a bullet and things had really only kicked off a day ago. Things weren’t looking overly optimistic for him. Though, at this rate, things weren’t looking optimistic for anyone. 

“What do you think they actually want? They just seem thirsty for blood. No better than the dead.” he whispered to the person to his right; the two of them tucked behind a makeshift barrier of a few cars. So far, no one had noticed them. His arm ached and he was starving but the anger seemed to diminish both of those things with ease.

[blueheavcns]

she certainly surprised him, that’s for sure — the poor guy seemed to jump out of his skin at the sight of her appearance in the alley’s entrance; she didn’t blame him though, it was hard to distinguish between the living and the dead when all you saw was shadowed figures ( of course, she probably would have just pulled the trigger either way, just to be safe, but whatever. ) her interaction with the living came far and few inbetween; she was a good avoider when it came down to it, as well as a good performer — survivors were her source of income and supplies, sure, but if Nevaeh Mason didn’t want to be seen, there was no finding her.

… unless it was this moment, in this case she had been caught off guard by the voice, the boy, the gun —- a rare moment, but not one she couldn’t escape if she wanted to; he didn’t seem like a threat. ‘’I was scavenging — you find the best things in the most unusual of places.’’ the words came out smooth, without fault — like she was reading straight from a script she had memorised by heart. ( when in reality, she had hardly spent a single day of the apocalypse scavenging. why would she if others could do it for her? ) ‘’What about you? you’re a little jumpy — what are you doin’ around here, anyways?’’

[atticus-marshall-blog]

atticus shifted to get the strap of his gun over his shoulder once more; letting the heavy metal rest against his back. he wasn’t overly skilled with the weapon but he could pull the trigger and so far he hadn’t died. his aim wasn’t always guaranteed but he hadn’t shot anyone he wasn’t supposed to. and he was sure he wasn’t supposed to shoot her. she seemed innocent enough. though atticus, all of eighteen years, was often more naive than he realized. she could have been anything and he wouldn’t know until it was too late. still, he trusted his instincts for now. it was all he could really do. god, why had he decided on a fucking walk? 

“I just wanted to go for a little walk.” it sounded so silly out loud. like the world hadn’t gone entirely to shit and he was just taking a nice sunday stroll. he was such an idiot sometimes and it managed to shine through in the most random of times. “I haven’t done much scavenging...so, I don’t really even know where to look.” even that sounded stupid. but he was patrol. he looked after the airport as best as he could with what little experience he had. scavenging had never been on his list of things he had to do. “are you on your own?”

[christina-marshall]

     Christina visibly swallowed, wondering how long her brother had been alone without her thinking that she was dead. The thought of him feeling guilty about it made her stomach drop. If only she’d been there sooner…

     “I–I rushed home from school and–and found everyone dead. I–I thought that maybe one of the neighbors got you and was keeping you safe. I’m so happy your safe.”

[atticus-marshall-blog]

“Andrew from a few doors down...he saw me looking upset and panicked and he took me in for awhile. We...We started moving a few months after when...when things just weren’t getting better.” he could hardly breathe as everything came back to him in full force. He had done what he could to keep it all buried. But he couldn’t any longer. “He uh...when we got here, there was a huge...a huge hoard of them. He didn’t make it. So I...I just kept moving.” 

[bladesofglories-blog]

           it is strange to think that kyuri believes the ice to be the dearest friend a girl could have— at least, a girl like her: the delicate little thing that wonders if the word lonely is made with her in mind. it is stranger because kyuri walks like summer with flowers blooming in her wake and talks like june birds chirping happy songs—a girl like her should set the ice ablaze. a girl like her—nothing but warmth—should be embraced. kyuri is left looking for embraces with arms too short ( and frail and weak ) to comfort even herself—this miracle of a boy is close, so close, that she is tempted to see if she can hold him to her heart. 

           “ thank you… ” the words are on the trail of a smile—a look of merriment shines under papery skin. it takes a collection of seconds to stop looking at him like that before the jacket falls under an admiring gaze—it isn’t much, but it means so much. “ are you sure? ” the stare lingers on the jacket as she thumbs the fabric with a sudden interest, “ the weather isn’t so good at night and i wouldn’t want you to catch a cold because of me—see, me? i’m always a little cold and i guess i got used to it, but i’m worried about you. ” seriously, stop rambling—embarrassment isn’t cute.

[atticus-marshall-blog]

          atticus was quick to shake his head; moving around the girl to help her into his coat. the air was chilly, yes, but he would suck it up for her. he wanted her to be warm and okay and taken care of and he didn’t care what it meant for himself. if he woke up tomorrow sneezing and chilled, he’d simply remember the smile on her features and be entirely fine to go about his day. this felt so strange. atticus didn’t give up his coat for anyone. atticus didn’t pray for a cold simply so she’d be okay. it was confusing. all of this. but he wouldn’t change it for anything. he wanted to be different for her. he wanted to be good. 

          “ i’m sure. i’ll be okay. don’t worry about me, okay? ” that felt strange too...anyone worrying about him as of late. but it felt strangely nice too. to know that she worried for him in the same way that he worried for her. “ here. please let me put it on you? i want you to be warm. ”

[blueheavcns]

rooftops were an easy pathway between shops and buildings; clear and clean —- zombies couldn’t climb, ( or atleast … not the ones SHE had saw. ) and they were usually free of other survivors too; rooftops were the best bet to have a quiet and death-free day; but people were her source of supplies. If she played her cards right she would never had to go hunting for herself; a snatch-and-grab scenario was how she SURVIVED —– selfish, she knew, did she care? not in the slightest. 

today in particular; a group of people huddled in a building was her target — snatched up a bag of their supplies before they even knew she was there, ( if they HAD caught her, mind you, she would have pulled the ‘Oh! think of the children! mouths to feed!’ card and hoped it’d save her ass, which it usually did – depending on the sympathetic values of said person. ) she had made her way back to the rooftop, down the fire escape, and dropped into an alley, ‘planning’ to head back to her humble abode. She hadn’t ACTUALLY come across many people in a face-to-face situation in the few short weeks she had managed to venture into Cheyenne; or more specifically, a gun-to-face situation until today. A few steps into the exit of the alley, her newly found bag slung across her shoulder, and she was met with a boy and a gun. great.

‘’Oh! … don’t shoot?’’ there was a raise of hands; a signal that she wasn’t a threat; but just like that, she had already entered survival mode — a soft tone, a helpless one; one meant to portray naive innocence. ‘’Please don’t. I’m just on my way home; not hurtin’ nobody.’’

[atticus-marshall-blog]

atticus jumped. he hadn’t expected a person. no, he hadn’t ventured out enough on his own to really come across any living, breathing people. they had always been fucking dead. he lowered his gun quickly and let out a shaky breath. he shouldn’t have wandered away on his own. he was so stupid. but he couldn’t help himself after being stuck at the airport for so long. this was entirely out of character for himself and he was quite sure he’d regret it for weeks and weeks to come. mostly because he was sure he had lost about ten fucking years of his life on the walk alone and then her popping out of the alleyway. 

she seemed sweet too though atticus had figured out early on in everything that not everything was what it seemed. even if he so desperately wanted it to be. why couldn’t everyone just be who they appeared to be? he couldn’t even tell with her. she was good at playing the part if she wasn’t being entirely truthful. “oh. sorry. i thought...i thought you were one of them. i won’t hurt you.” he wanted to get mad at her for just popping out of the darkness and scaring her, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. he was just tired mostly. “what were you doing in there? seems like a weird place to be.”

[hs--inspire-blog]

cantcontrolthegay:

the rumors are true: im soft and i just want to be loved

[bladesofglories-blog]

( @atticus-marshall. )

          QUEEN OF THE NIGHT—kyuri wishes that she was a cereus that blooms in the dead of the night; a flower of the moon. kyuri is the rose of the winter—a soft and lush camellia with delicate tiers in shades of the lightest pinks and whites. among the shimmers of snowflakes and ice is where she is meant to SHINE. the warmest summer and the scent of peaches cultivate a delicate flower—that is what kyuri needs to thrive: warmth, familiarity. not much is familiar—the american pavement is hard and unforgiving underneath wounded feet, so PAINFUL it feels like walking on a ground of hot coals. not much is familiar… not much at all but somethings—someones are becoming familiar. 

         someone like atticus.

         there is something familiar about the strong shoulders that waned with the setting sun—something that makes her feel safe. warm, even. a comforting warmth blossoms with its roots in her lungs at the sight of him—something long forgotten when kyuri became the beauty of the ice. maybe, JUST MAYBE… there were better friends than the biting cold and sparkle of the ice. “ atticus! ” the call is sweet and lilting with a few steps down the staircase, “ do you think you could walk me home? it’s dark out and there were raiders in the city earlier, so … well, you know? better safe than sorry. ”

         STOP RAMBLING, IDIOT.

[atticus-marshall-blog]

her soft, sweet voice fills his ears and his head is snapping up quickly to find her eyes. he’s not sure what it is with the girl but just the sight of her...the sound of her puts every part of him at ease. if he had felt anger at all before her appearance, it’s entirely forgotten within seconds. he often avoids most people simply because the sight of them piss him off beyond belief. but not kyuri. and he doesn’t even know why. everyone teases him continuously about the girl. about how close they’ve become. about how she’s his girlfriend. and he laughs and let’s the words fly over his head. 

he heads closer to the girl after a moment and resists the urge to reach out and squeeze her hand. “ better safe than sorry. ” he repeats her words with a smile and nods towards the door. they’re not even halfway there before he’s shrugging out of his coat to hand it over to the girl. he wants to care for her more than he’s cared for anything before and it’s such an overwhelming urge that he can’t even fight against it. though he knows he wouldn’t ever want to.  “ here. so you’re warm. ” he has to fight against the urge to punch himself in the face at this point. of course it’s so she’s warm, you loser. 

[spideycentral]

x

[spideycentral]

[atticus-marshall-blog]

for atticus, venturing away from any place he grew comfortable in was terrifying. he hadn’t spent much time outside of any comfortable area on his own as of late. his family had perished early on and then a family friend had taken him beneath his wings. when he himself had died upon reaching cheyenne, atticus had found the airport. being alone was strange. but he found he needed sometime away. he had his gun. he could handle it for a few minutes. he hoped. 

though as he slowly wandered closer to town, the rustling of the trees and things around him from the wind made it hard to focus. every few seconds he was glancing around madly to make sure nothing was following him. to make sure he wasn’t about to die. he had just wanted to go for a simple walk. though nothing was simple anymore. 

the closer he got to town, the more he regretted his decision. it was just the wind, he knew. but it was terrifying. he paused after a few more steps and raised his gun, turning slowly towards a nearby alleyway that seemed to hold a bit too much rustling for his liking. 

if he died, he was going to be so angry.

[bladesofglories-blog]

for bryn // @atticus-marshall, my friends and i did a word sprint together and i wasn’t sure… what to write about?? so… i wrOTE THIS.

Keep reading

[atticus-marshall-blog]

( @ritvikchopra )

if atticus had his way, if the universe was on his side, he would stay put in his tiny little sleeping quarters and refuse to seek any sort of help. but the skin around the scrape on his side had begun to grow somewhat inflamed and if he left it any longer, he knew he’d probably succumb to infection or something and then turn in the middle of the night. and as much as he refused to let any of the group close, he wouldn’t do that to them. he couldn’t be the reason more people died. even if he wasn’t aware of being that reason. 

he tugged himself free of the blankets he had curled up within and forced himself up. it had been a rookie mistake when the small injury had happened ( though he wasn’t much of a professional either ). he had been climbing a fucking fence when his foot had slipped and his side had caught on the one sharp edge in sight. it had hurt like a bitch and for a good five minutes, atticus hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground. he was at least thankful that the mark didn’t look like a bite. he had that much going for him in the end. 

there were multiple people he could have gone to though his feet seemed to drag him towards where ritvik would be over anyone else. he hadn’t let the man close, no, but he had grown to at least like the man over the time he had been here. he would be needed for patrol soon; when nadja grew tired but until then, he needed this dealt with. he crouched down once he reached ritvik and gently shook him. everyone needed as much sleep as they could get these days and atticus felt guilty for trying to wake him up but he knew it would be so much worse if he didn’t. he hoped the man wouldn’t be too angry with him. 

“ritvik?”

[spideycentral]

Tom Holland in Edge of Winter

[hellstate--rp-blog]

↪ b a s i c s ;

N A M E: Atticus Marshall A G E: 16 P L A C E   O F   O R I G I N: Atlanta, Georgia G R O U P: Cheyenne Regional Airport O C C U P A T I O N: Patrol F C: Tom Holland

❝ When you lose someone untimely; all left is never ending guilt, fear, and pain. ❞

↪ p e r s o n a l i t y ;

P O S I T I V E   T R A I T S: outgoing ; caring N E G A T I V E   T R A I T S: sarcastic ; lonely

↪ b i o g r a p h y ;

L I F E   B E F O R E   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

Despite growing up in a very poor family, Atticus has always remained entirely optimistic. He’s never felt dragged down by any of it. Even when he would go to bed hungry some nights because they couldn’t afford to feed everyone. He never felt unloved. They were all close. Him and his parents and his siblings. Christina most of all. They often spent as much time as they possibly could together just hanging out. No matter what happened around them, he always knew they would have one another. A year before the outbreak, Atticus got himself a job at a local supermarket and worked any and all hours they would give to a fifteen year old. There were often times when he missed out on finishing his homework because he was trying his hardest to provide for his family. His grades slipped but it was always an easy fix to get them back up to where they’d been. His days consisted of working and bringing home money and sometimes old food that the workers let him sneak into his bag. And sometimes going to school to keep his attendance and grades up.  

L I F E   D U R I N G   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

Things had begun to change slowly at first. Fellow workers had started calling in sick. Never to be heard from again. Customers were far and in between. The town had slowly begun losing it’s inhabitants. Until one day, when he came home from work only to find his entire family dead. Atticus knew in that moment, as his eyes stared at the blood coated bodies, that he could no longer remain there. All that kept playing through his mind was how much blood there was. How could he stay surrounded by their bodies? He took off running until he couldn’t run any longer. Thankfully, at that point, he had made it to a close family friends house and from there, they left Georgia. He was a shell of his former self. The outgoing, caring boy he had once been was shattered. Each and every memory from before the outbreak was now tainted. The bodies of his family burnt into each section of his brain. He hardly even remembered the trip to Cheyenne. Suddenly they were surrounded by a town and within moments of that, they were attacked. A hoard of the things had overwhelmed them and taken out the family that had done all they could to get the lone boy to safety. He had ran. He had gotten lucky. Again. He had been a coward. The deaths of the family who had taken him in in his time of need burnt themselves into his brain as well. He had blood on his hands and he knew he would never rid himself of it.

L I F E   A F T E R   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

After finding himself alone in a new place, Atticus wandered. And wandered. And wandered. Until he came across theairport. He had no real skills to help a group out but volunteered to do patrols. If he could protect people now, maybe it would make up for everything that had happened. It had to. He refused to allow himself close to them though. He was far more closed off than he had been before the outbreak. Cautious. Lost in the memories that threatened to overtake his mind. He had been forced to grow up far too quickly on his own. It was hard to come to terms with any of it. Now, he’s simply trying to stay alive. He has no real reason to. As far as he knows, every single member of his family is gone. Slaughtered in their small, cramped home. The happiest place had now become the most tainted thing in his memory.

[bladesofglories-blog]

📱

send 📱 to find out about my muse’s phone // @atticus-marshall​.

what ringtone my muse has set for yours:

wildest dreams by taylor swift.“ say you’ll remember mestanding in a nice dress,staring at the sunset, babered lips and rosy cheekssay you’ll see me again. ”

what contact photo my muse has set for yours:

it’s quite an old picture—about fourteen inches of hair and five dyes ago, if you ask kyuri, because she fondly remembers her short black hair that summer. the memory is rather fond: the two of them flying out to detroit for ‘ skate america ’ and her returning to the hotel room to find atticus sleeping soundly despite insisting that they go out for breakfast.

what my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

most of their recent texts are shrouded in hints of sadness, jealousy, and irritation. the texts range from light and breezy to clipped and short within minutes because they aren’t quite sure how to talk to one another with the tension between them. when they do get past it, the texts are lazy and comfortable with little quirks shining through—kyuri’s aggressive use of exclamation points ( !!!!! ) and tbh? i feel that atticus kind of adopts her style of texting whenever he talks to her too much.

how quickly my muse responds to your texts:

the content of the texts and the overall mood of the conversation impacts this quite a bit. when kyuri has no responsibilities is when she does most of her texting—the chance to unwind and relax puts her in a good mood with a likelihood of timely ( if not rapid ) replies. without tension between them? the replies that atticus gets are eager and quick because kyuri does enjoy talking to him. when things get tense, the replies can be quick and clipped with irritation or they can be spaced out with minutes and hours depending on what was said and how she feels about it.

how often our muses text:

while the two of them text one another daily, the unfortunate truth? they don’t talk as much as before. the effort to recover and nurture the good feelings between them is obvious and real because neither of them are willing to part ways—there is something worth cherishing about each other for the both of them, but there are days that it is harder to cherish for a number of reasons. most of the conversations are initiated by kyuri—the concerns about education and health weather the cities apart and the dedication she has to a consuming career.

how often our muses call:

very rarely. calling is an awkward territory that they haven’t tread in a while—something about it is off-putting as of late. the only calls between them are absolutely necessary ones; it is a stark contrast from the playful and humorous calls they’ve had in the past that went on for hours. as of late? the calls are short and to the point—say what you want without beating around the bush and hang up at the first chance.

does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

kyuri is not a missed call kind of person—too much anxiety to let the phone ring. she cannot fuck off and be irreverent because when the phone rings too long? it is PANIC overdrive and constant wonderings about what is happening—what if the caller had reached out to her in a time of dire need? what if an emergency call went missed and whatever awful thing happened is her fault? calls from atticus are answered without hesitation, even if things are uncomfortable and tense.

last text sent from my muse to yours:

( 7:31am ) atticus ( fight club ):  do you still wake up crazy early?( 7:59am ) kyuri: i slept in until almost 8 today!! i’m getting better!!( 8:01am ) atticus ( fight club ): what a rebel, huh? living on the edge at 8 in the morning( 8:02am ) kyuri: shut up omg 😓 three hours later than i usually wake up!! god!!( 8:02am ) atticus ( fight club ): sure, sure. what’s got you lazing around? timezone change?( 8:03am ) kyuri:  nope!! i’m home for three days and preston isn’t letting me up for air 😌( 8:04am ) kyuri: god i’m so sorry!! i felt gross even saying that, jfc…( 8:05am ) atticus ( fight club ): lmao yeah a bit gross( 8:05am ) atticus ( fight club ): him, not you( 8:07am ) kyuri: i guess, yeah( 8:07am ) kyuri: i’m gonna go get breakfast

[christina-marshall]

     Chris shook her head, her hand coming up to her mouth, “I– I am real, Atti. How– how are you alive?”

     Christina quickly walked towards Atticus, tears streaking her cheeks. “Atticus, please… Please look at me…”

[atticus-marshall-blog]

“How are you alive?” the boy had seen the bodies. Well, perhaps not closely, but he had witnessed the amount of blood that had filled their home. Surely, this was all just a dream. She couldn’t be alive. She couldn’t be here. He had only made it because he hadn’t been home at his usual time. Had his parents died worrying about him? Would he have been able to save them if he had been there? The guilt twisted up his gut like it always did and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Though he forced his eyes up to meet Christina’s after a moment; brows creased together. 

[sanguincre-blog]

If Vasiliy had saw who passed him, he might have kept quiet. Maybe he wouldn’t have. Hell, he was quite bored, and JEALOUSY was one of the easiest things to toy with. Oh Atticus, poor Atticus, let go of a girl and still so bitter when someone else picked her up. “What a callous thing to say after the death of a student, Marshall.” Vasiliy chided, disappointment written so carefully over stoic features ( they both knew it was false ). His arms folded over his chest, Vasiliy looked down at the little boy with furrowed brows. “Oh, I’d hate to think what Kyuri would have to say about her friend acting so rude and childish so soon after the unfortunate murder of my housemate.” Truthfully, Vasiliy didn’t really care what Kyuri would have thought but it was easy pickings, a sore spot that Vasiliy knew how to exploit the second Atticus and Preston cast him icy glares around school. Really, it was their own fault; they should have been more secretive.

[atticus-marshall-blog]

Vasiliy seemed to have a way of snaking himself into his brain ( and every other fucking brain in this castle ) before the boy even realized what was happening. For a moment, he felt bad for his words despite the fact that he knew they were true. He shook his head quickly; willing his hold off of him. He couldn’t let him overtake him. He couldn’t. Though his confidence lasted for all of two moments before Vasiliy was bringing up Kyuri and ruining him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to intimidate the older man. That was the entire point of even speaking to him. He should have fucking walked away though. “Don’t.” he muttered, brows pulling together firmly. He hated him. “You have no right to bring her up.”