#a softer world fancomic

[asofterstorm]

[50] i wouldn't recognize you either

#a softer storm #a softer world #a softer world fancomic #hi. i yet live.

[diaryofadissembler]

298: It's the only way my family knows. Image description: a three panel comic with polaroid frames. The panel shows blue sky and a red brick chimney in the middle of the picture. the text on the panel reads: “We open our hearts to the inevitable. Eyes wide and ribcages broken.” Text underneath reads: “J. krupitza / inspired by asofterworld.com” end Image description

#grief #loss #cancer #love #helplessness #diary of a dissembler #diaryofadisseml #diaryofadissembler #polaroid #photocomic #photography #story #microfiction #a softer world fancomic #asofterworld #imagedescription

[missn11]

#devilman #Gekiman #devilman gekiman #akira fudo #ryo asuka #Satan Devilman #ryokira #ryo x akira #manga #Missn11 edits #a softer world fancomic

[asofteryokohama]

{emptier, I mean.} 

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd edit #bsd dark era #bsd dazai #a softer world #a softer world fancomic #so much dark era content ..... i've been rewatching

[kingfisherprince]

made my own strip in the style of a softer world.

#a softer world #a softer world fancomic #love vs anxiety #anxiety wins #random fisher thoughts

[caspasta]

glass houses

a hellcheer/eddissy fanfiction

words: 1584

summary: a small moment between eddie and chrissy after he wakes her from vecna, based off of the chrissy lives fancomic by the talented @artrmeblog! read on ao3.

—

The field crickets and humming radiators are the only sounds that accompany Chrissy as she tries to calm her racing heart on the steps of Eddie Munson’s porch.

Every inch of her is covered in sweat and she greedily welcomes the cool, night March air against her frazzled form. The headache is already dimming to a slow pounding.

(It takes everything in her to focus on anything and everything instead of the tightness in her chest, the vision of that creature reaching into her, the breathlessness of running through her own house, flies and worms and spiders and sewn lips and peeled skin and rotting flesh and the terror, terror, terror of it all.

She feels stuck. In place. In her own mind. On the edge of something – a cliff, her sanity, a hell full of horrors that want to pull her from her own world.

It feels close.

And she’s tired. She’s tired of being scared all the time.)

She tries to count the patches and pins, unfamiliar and intriguing, on the vest Eddie gave her. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Anything to distract her, from the fear she felt – still feels. There’s a patch of something called Motörhead, a pewter pin that reads W.A.S.P., a shiny, pinback button with red lettering, Mercyful Fate –

The screen door creaks open wider behind her where Eddie had propped it open. She flinches, a movement so ingrained in her, so automatic, these past couple days, she only notices she does it because Eddie does, his eyes tightening at movement.

“Here.” In one hand, he holds out a mug depicting the ‘83 local fishing tournament; in the other, he clutches the radio he had knocked over.

Ice cold and running down the side of the ceramic, the water calms her nerves, though they start back up a bit when Eddie reaches over to untangle a strand of hair from her earring. He immediately snatches his hand back, using it to scratch the back of neck.

She must look like a total mess. Her mascara is already drying along her cheeks from where she sobbed just minutes before.

“Did you change your mind about the couch?” His tone is a mix of hesitant rejection and curiosity, but she can hear the concern underneath it all.

“No. I want to.” The few light poles strewn across the trailer park provide some light, but the darkness was too uncertain and scary after what just happened. “I just didn’t want to go too far. I wanted to wait for you.”

She suddenly feels silly and small for it, given that the aforementioned couch is literally a few feet from the porch, but Eddie graces her with a smile and says, “C’mon, it’s softer than it looks.”

He's talking about a piece of furniture, but she’s thinking of him and how she agrees. Those words echo around her scattered mind.

She follows him to the lumpy couch that sits beneath a wide awning. It looks old and weathered. He flops onto the cushions, and with more care for her sore legs, she follows suit, finding that, yes, it is softer than it looks.

“My uncle doesn’t have a copy of ‘Uptown,’ I’m afraid, but I did find this in his stash.” Eddie maneuvers the radio onto the floor by their feet. He hits play and the sound of glass breaking blasts from the speakers: Glass Houses.

The fumbling way he adjusts the volume, him raising and lowering his eyebrows with the movement, causing her to snort, reminds her of those lighthearted moments in the forest earlier that day – hours and hours ago that somehow seem like days and months ago – and she is once again reminded that Eddie Munson is so very different from what she expected.

The shaky panic is still sitting beneath the surface, hovering in the air like candle smoke just blown out, but the fresh air and Eddie’s presence washes over her with every second of the clock she can’t hear tick anymore.

Instead, she hears the crickets and radiators from before and tunes in to other sounds: moths bumping the lamp above them, dishes clinking and television blaring from neighboring trailers, night calls from owls and katydids, a dog on a chain, and the guitar twanging from the radio at their feet.

“Are you a Billy Joel fan?” She doesn’t think he is from what she remembers of his band and the way he dresses, but she finds it in herself to try and lighten the atmosphere.

He gives her an offended look, and she knows she’s accomplished her attempt at humor. “Blasphemous, Cunningham.”

She giggles and watches as his eyes light up at her obvious amusement. “He’s great!”

Eddie shakes his head, covering his chest in mock pain. “You’re draining me!”

“Oh, come on, there’s got to be one song of his.”

He barks a laugh, tugging at the denim vest still wrapped around her. “Not up my alley but solid try.”

“Then why the…?” She points to the radio, its silver casing glinting in the moonlight. It seems much older than her Conion at home, currently housing her dad’s favorite Carole King tape, and even still, Eddie’s looks well-loved and well-kept.

There’s an immediate sobering to his features, worry clouding his dark eyes as the sounds of the saxophone and electric guitar fill the silence. “Chrissy, you – you scared the ever-living shit out of me, you know that?”

Her panic rises like a cresting wave, but the music and the intense way Eddie’s gaze never leaves hers keeps the force of it at bay.

He runs a hand across his face, and his voice shakes when he says, “I didn’t know what the fuck was happening and it was all so fast and you were fucking flying and your eyes, they were white and I was so, so fucking terrified.” He chuckles humorlessly, and he starts to pull at a thread in the cushion. “Then fucking Billy Joel started playing because I knocked the goddamn thing over, and it wasn’t even from a tape, it was the radio, so thank fuck Wayne had Top 40’s on, but then you fell – I’m so sorry I didn’t catch you, I’m such an idiot – and you woke up, and I – I don’t know.” There’s a beat where he runs out of breath, and her heart is racing for him, for what he witnessed, for both of them. She wants to cover his mouth with her hand, with the sleeve of her cheer jacket, with her own mouth, to get him to stop talking, and she knows she shouldn’t want that, but he’s blaming himself and she likes him and he saved her. He looks back to the radio, a tiredness she feels in her very soul beginning to set in him. “He’s good for something, I guess.”

She smiles softly, sadly, at this boy before her. “You saved my life.”

His eyes shoot back to hers, a protest already forming. “No, I –”

“Eddie,” she whispers, reaching out to take his hand. The rings are cold and large; she twists one, a skull, around his finger once, twice. “You did – you saved me.”

The grip on her hand tightens and he says nothing at first, but his eyes are bright and shining, like she suspects hers are. “Agree to disagree.” He swings their hands toward the radio. “I thought that playing some of his music might be good, so.”

And, right there, something inside of her beams at his consideration. She hadn’t even made the connection at first that he had picked out the tape because “Uptown Girl” was playing when she awoke from whatever terrifying trance she had been in. She remembers his words from the living room, sincerity cutting through both of their frenzied heartbeats as he held her to him.

Whatever you said happened, I believe you. And, I promise, whatever comes next – I will help you.

“Good taste,” she jokes, instead of thank you, instead of throwing her arms around him.

Eddie breathes a small laugh, showing that dimple at the corner of his smile, and drops her hand. “Freak,” he says softly, instead of you’re welcome.

The callback hovers between them like a lightning bug, flickering with light, asking them to look, you can look, just don’t bottle me up, yet. She lays her head back against the couch, wondering if it would be too much to ask him to show her his own music collection, if she would like it, knowing that she wouldn’t mind either way if she did or not.

A clacking sound startles her from her wandering thoughts, and she whips her head up to see Eddie banging two twigs against each other in a sporadic rhythm. He’s keeping time with the drums and percussion of the spunky tune playing from the radio. A guilty smirk pulls at his mouth.

“Listen,” he starts.

“You liar!”

He drums along with the lively tempo, never missing a beat. “I never said he wasn’t good.” Squinting, he adds, “For a poppy rock dude who plays harmonica.”

She laughs and tucks this memory into her heart, away from whatever creature still might be out there.

Chrissy watches Eddie flail and dance, feeling lighter – such a strong contrast to the paranoia and disarray and horror. She knows it has a lot to do with the school’s resident “freak” sitting beside her now. Maybe everything to do with him.

Him and Billy Joel, of course.

#eddissy #hellcheer #eddissy fanfiction #hellcheer fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #chrissy and eddie #artrmeblog #billy joel #my writing #caspasta

[asoftergarden]

[-11] there's no witty caption for this one. i think i'm losing my mind

#a softer garden #a softer world #a softer world remix #a softer world fancomic #i started this comic to be about something else but i had forgotten the feeling before i could finish it #which made me make this comic

[softerlands]

[55] I loved you so much just then

#Softer Lands #A Softer World #A Softer World Remix #A Softer World Fancomic #title is a lyric from the mountain goats san bernardino

[asoftersea]

[-328] thanks for playing

#a softer sea #a softer world #a softer world remix #a softer world fancomic #we love you

[asoftereden]

[1] i don’t know if i’d look good in skates though

#a softer eden #a softer world #a softer world fancomic #a softer world remix #comics

[asoftervalley]

[ - 10] There were once two landlocked boys

#a softer valley #a softer world #a softer world remix #a softer world fancomic #asv #apocalypse

[asofterstorm]

[53] our heavenly father struck me down the way he always wanted to be

#a softer storm #a softer world #a softer world fancomic

[diaryofadissembler]

307: Sometimes it's harder to hold onto, but I'll make it.

Image description: a three panel comic with polaroid frames. The panel shows a greyish sky with rooftops full of white snow. the text on the panel reads: “I don't know, man, it's not perfect .. but it's ours.” Text underneath reads: “J. krupitza / inspired by asofterworld.com” end Image description

#grief #love #winter #vienna #microfiction #diary of a dissembler #polaroid #photocomic #story #a softer world fancomic #image description

[missn11]

#devilman #akira fudo #ryo asuka #Satan Devilman #neo devilman #manga #Missn11 edits #a softer world fancomic #ryokira #ryo x akira

[asofteryokohama]

{ I smile more when I belong. }

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd edit #bsd higuchi #higuchi ichiyo #a softer world #a softer world fancomic #you know I had to make a higuchi comic!!!! she's so. she. #queue

[asoftershore]

[+1]  Or meteor shelters, for that matter.

[ID: A three panel comic in the style of Emily Horne and Joey Comeau’s “A Softer World”. The first panel reads “They broadcast that the world is ending” over a picture of the night sky, with the very top of a closed umbrella in view. The second reads “Like when the meteors came to kill the dinosaurs.” The photograph is of the same night sky, but the shot is lowered to showcase the entire umbrella and a building beneath it. The third reads “But the dinosaurs never had sirens.” The final image consists mostly of the house, with the umbrella bordering the left side of the image. The lights in the house are visibly on inside. The left corner reads “a fancomic by Jupiter”, while the right displays the link to the original “A Softer World”; asofterworld.com.]

#a softer shore #a softer world fancomic #a softer world #a softer world remix #a softer world comic #fancomic