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comfortless · 3 months

Text

Only Other

chapter two of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of violence & gore, more groping, allusions to abduction, dubious consent to a nonsexual genital inspection, animal death, minor character death, masturbation.

wc: 10.6k.

<- previous.

Everything feels unsound, a thicket of heavy vine curling it’s way up from the dirt to settle over you, in your belly, hair, anywhere. Sharp thorns and sap so thick you could drown.

Gaius is here, again, poised with his arms folded over his chest. You swallow thickly after you ask him to repeat what he’s just said. Something about eyes and ears between every crevice, beneath every board. He had a litany of reasons to believe you were not the sweet little maiden he had promised a halfway decent life to.

Careful as you thought you were, sneaking past the gate to roll in moonlight with the giant men of myth and smell the beasts and their pelts past the wall… The following morning had been the downfall of bliss. People take note when wolves begin to sniff around their cattle, and it’s no surprise that König was noted doing just that when he brought you back here on his horse with some sort of bloated pride when he named you his ‘Göttin’.

“Disrobe,” Gaius commands for the second time. The voice that comes from cracked lips and weathered jowls never falters: always so self-assured, stern, and where it may have sparked an interest in you from anyone else, here… it only feels vile. He’s the embodiment of the city itself: worn, cracking, splintered filth, left alone to wind and twist out of control.

You imagine he must have taken up the demeanor during his days as a centurion, but your head clouds when you try to recall the many times he’s monologued those times to you. Like his proposal, the dowry and arrangements, all of it feels blurry in your mind. You lose yourself to it when the strap is slipped down your shoulder, your body goading you do as asked for the sake of fewer future headaches.

There are no lemures looming over your shoulders these days, they only guide his hand, his voice. They haunt you in the shape of Gaius, an old hawk that screeches the commands you’ve no place to refuse.

The stola drops to your ankles with a dreadfully slow sweep, a century passed in a bolt of lightning. It pools down at your feet in a river of white. Graciously, Gaius doesn’t prompt you to remove the breast band where the truth of your bout lies embedded in little bruises, the mark of teeth scraped right by your areola in a rolling fit of passion.

Your betrothed boxes you in against the bench until the backs of your knees meet the wood, guides you down with weighty palms until you’re seated: feet pressed onto the seat, knees brought back toward your chest. In earnest, your stomach froths with a displeasure and embarrassment, but this is not the first time that the man had taken to inspect your pussy as if it’s your only worth in the world.

Whichever malady he possesses to make him like this… you could only hope that König did not have it. This weak, old soldier would be nothing short of a toothless dog should your bull take to charge him.

What was a dull glimmer of longing for his safety immediately sours to a wish for his goring when those cold fingers tug your loincloth aside and you’re laid bare for him right there on the bench.

The old creep inspects your cunt as though he were a medicinal woman. His fingers part your parched labia, not so much as a dewdrop of arousal there— completely unlike how your body had only seemed to melt and sing its pleas for König. He doesn’t whisper his pleasures in Latin about how pretty it is down there, doesn’t capture your mouth in a kiss that scorches you right through, only probes and prods at your slit to see if there’s any give.

Of course there isn’t.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you let the entire barbarian camp take their turns with you; you wouldn’t be any more blooming for Gaius. Men like him didn’t have the slightest idea of how to make a lady soft and dewing, they only thought that they did.

You knew with a certainty that this wasn’t normal by any stretch. After the first instance, asking the women nestled against their open windows, humming to sleeping infants curled on their chests only prompted sympathetic stares. “Have you no midwife?,” one had replied, face paled as she looked to you: the pitiable woman who had been inspected like a strange fish just for bartering with a man at his market stall for bread. Gaius had not found a thing then, and you had only begun to doubt his intelligence.

… Did he even know what a hymen was?

You will keep your secrets, and he will always play the fool. That’s just how peace would operate once you did share a roof with him.

“Well?,” you prompt, shifting a little in your seat when his cold fingers move to grip the plush of your parted thighs, examining closer with a low, raspy gasp.

A feint that earns no response.

Seemingly satisfied by a lack of a shimmering semen trail or whatever dullards like Gaius sought, he scowls and backs away, hands falling to his sides. There’s no bulge stirring beneath his toga, either. There’s an absence of anything that would make your relationship seem anything more than some strange transaction.

If anything at all, you have become a kept dove, clipped wings and cooing in a gilded cage. No more a wife than a pet or a pretty, glittering jewel. Something meant to waste away its days possessed.

You didn’t even know why he had chosen you, a lady with no gold, silk, or land to her name. Everything you owned he had given to you. Father, mother… whether or not you even had siblings, you were uncertain. Trying to remember only stirs up another aching in your head and you’ve had more than enough to worry about lately without the added sting,

“You’ve done no wrong.” It’s decided in a cold tone of voice. There’s a belief there, but only because the truth of the matter would make him look entirely the part of the fool that he seemed to play without notice.

“As I said.” You won’t run pleading to Juno for her forgiveness this time, or ever again. For the goddess of marriages and women to bless you with… this. Surely she never favored you very much at all.

You wouldn’t waste your bronze coins on fortune tellers anymore, either.

“Mind your words, girl.” He pats your cheek, feigning an affection that has never been present in this villa, in this city at all. You feel little more than like one of the slave girls— not whipped into submission, their plight was always far worse, but if you looked into their eyes for a moment too long, you knew you would find a part of yourself held there.

You nod your head and carry on puppeting yourself as you always have. Conversation comes stiffly as he wanders about your little home, noting what would need fixing before the night of your wedding, checking your food stores and even helping himself to a bone cup filled with wine. Even with it offered to your lips, speaking with him does not come any easier.

Finally, you utter the words that have nagged at the back of your throat since the day of his proposal, “Why do you want for us to be wed?”

The man pauses as he sets the cup aside, finger drumming at the rim momentarily as he regards you with an upturned brow.

“Your father’s dying wish was for us to be married.”

“Yes, but… who was he?”

“A great warrior.” That’s the only explanation you ever get, even when the confusion paves way to a simmering concern. How could you not remember your own kin? It seemed so unfathomable. Seeing so many large families walk these same streets as you… and yet you only had Gaius, hardly better company than a corpse.

“That’s all that you ever tell me.”

“… You will make a great wife.” He concludes the conversation, gives you a firm kiss on the cheek and leaves you to stew in the nothingness that haunts this place as though it were an ancient tomb.

Your days remain the same, nothing ever changing in your eternal cage that only grows ever-colder, more and more like a crypt.

Stitching, weaving, flowing. The animals needed tending, the marketplace was always bustling, and you’ve stopped listening to the poets. Their words only make you feel colder now.

You have met the things that lurk beyond these walls, and they do not speak of bubbling creeks and your gods; they soak their weapons in you, whisper like the trees and bellow like the mountains, ride their horses into battle without a scrap of armor on their hides. They don’t even fear the lemures or Jupiter’s lightning strikes. Maybe not even the changing seasons; harvests must be plentiful when your home isn’t surrounded by chalked clay and ivory.

You don’t turn to Juno any more, but you do turn to Mars. You pray not for the empire, but for his bastard.

Her altar had been tucked away to a corner of your room, replaced now by a stagnant cup of wine you dutifully purge and refill each night, a stray dagger you had acquired from a thieving child on the street, and a strip of red fabric torn away from an old tunic belonging to your betrothed.

When night comes and the weight of it all curls over your shoulders, you find yourself tugged down to the floor on your knees, whispering great fortune for that arrogant beast who had promised to take you to bed when next you meet. It always starts the same, your voice pleads to Mars, only to dither off to murmurings of a different name.

Though he remains distant, barking and bleeding out prey far from you, some semblance of him remains tucked between your ribs. A small echo, one that only seems to grow into a roar when your eyes close and you dream of wolves and their sharp-fanged promises, wisps of wind through low-hanging branches and not paved streets, dirt giving way beneath your feet.

He holds you in those dreams, whispers to you about your false gods when you stand over a stream, points out the only two in existence amidst the reflection with a curled finger.

In those dreams, you think you hear the voice of Mars, a fluttering leaf on the breeze detached from what he’s come to be: it tells you of thyme and rosemary, a foreign glade, of death and longing, and never does it breathe fire.

Then, you wake, ripped from the Elysian and back to wander Orcus with a heavier weight upon your soul.

— — —

Mars answers your prayers in the late autumn.

You do not wake to the sounds of horses or crackling fires outside, only something quieted and peaceful. The street beyond your window is silent as you stretch out to see what’s stirred you; not an animal or a man lies in wait, only the cool gloom of the moon tucked beneath clouds above.

Time only seems to pass more viciously these months. There’s a wedding to be had when the seasons changed; your yellow-red veil had been stitched with trembling fingers nicked several times over by needle, the lectus had been prepared and set on the first floor of the villa. The red cloth covering the modest couch seemed a threat in itself. You don’t hazard it a glance when you wander out of the door to take to the street tonight.

Dim moonlight does little to guide you, only making each shadow seem to stretch and warp in mocking, uninvited guests to set your shivering heart spinning.

There is just no time anymore, not here.

There, sits an owl atop a roof. Its dark wings stretched out as if to begin another flight, to coo its retribution to the sleeping city. You don’t dare to attempt to capture it, there would be no ritual tonight and no care if some harbinger brought doom to this place. It regards you with shimmering yellow eyes, and you think, for just a moment that you see the same feral look in them that you saw in your warrior. The bird wasn’t always the omen that others may claim, sometimes it’s only a sign.

The son of Mars has returned, his horse is waiting to take you upon its broad back and carry you to the mountains and the sea.

The chill on the breeze only guides each step you take as you clamber through that chipping hole in the wall and flee to the field once again. Strangely enough, the air even feels different out here, colder still but devoid of the shadows that climb and crush. The soldiers usually stationed outside the wall are not present now. You only reason that it was rare that they ever were, anyway, always too bathed in wine and kisses from flighty little women slaves to focus on the scape just beyond.

And there, further out from the opposite bank the stream, you see the glow of a fire.

It was strange to see the Goths had returned before your city’s own soldiers. Perhaps you had slept through their march, tucked away at some vast banquet filled with pillaged riches, the finest of wines and the most fresh of smoked meats before you had even begun to stir. Peculiar thing, being so accustomed to the rituals of men that for the most part you had learned not to even bat an eye. It mattered not, anyhow. What you sought was not another Roman to steal away your aspirations to take you as his woman.

Your pace is light and tentative, feeling the earth sink and mold around your bare soles. The thorns risen up from grass dare not poke you with their spines, the owls lurking in the trees do not chase or call, and the horses in the pastures seem at ease.

Even in a world bathed in black and silver, you feel golden, warmed from temple to ankle by that someone other lurking just beyond reach. The other gods could be condemned— it was Mars at your side all along.

The barbarian camp is in a similar state to when you had first seen it, just as you are with the ends of your gown drenched in water from the stream.

There are fewer to their numbers now. You count only three: two busied away with roasting meat over the fire, one running his blade over a flat stone at the mouth of his tent. You recognize them, somewhat, as you step closer, each just as imposing as the first with thick hair and wild eyes, but there’s no sign of König, not here in the open.

You’re stricken by fear immediately, clouding your head with doubt and worry: not for your own safety, but at the thought that your warrior was left to rot in the forests beyond, struck down by some other barbarian king.

You’re stood at the edge of the camp when your breath grows thin, pulse racing as your veins try in earnest not to burst with panic.

One of the men rises from the fire, gruffs something at you in his mother tongue, a deep rumbling like the rocks of old mountain and the timber of trees: like König. He stands before you, a wild mane of dyed hair atop his head, so deeply crimson and maroon you would even think it had been colored with blood from sheep or man, perhaps both.

He claps you on the back with a strong hand, the shove nearly enough to send your shivering form tumbling to the dirt, before you’re righted with a strong grip on your wrist. Then, he laughs.

“Come. König,” the man barks in his heavily accented voice, tugging at your wrist as if you were a mere calf to herd.

Your panic dulls somewhat, enough to wriggle out of his grip and shoot him a glare you had only previously reserved for your betrothed. Intent on playing the part of some strong yet benevolent noble woman it seemed, as you straighten yourself out and ignore the way that the mud and blades of grass stick right to the dirtied hem of your loose robe.

“He is here?” You ask after a moment, feeling a bit misplaced as this other, less familiar giant stares down at you. His eyes are not blue, but gold when the light of the fire pit illuminated him.

This one does not understand as much as you had hoped, because he only murmurs more incomprehensible words and pushes your forward with a palm placed right between your shoulder blades.

You don’t trip, but you had half a mind to hiss at him then, until you realize he is only leading you towards that same ugly tent from before.

The pelts have been changed out, somewhat. There is less gray now and more brown, hides from deer and boar alike, taken from their months of travel. The maroon fabric remains, layered beneath in such a way that seems to make it only seem more alive and bleeding this time.

“Keep warm.” The man speaks up again, and there is no mistaking the amusement in his voice. Insulting, what he dared to insinuate with those two words, yet… there’s a cloud of fuzzy, warm excitement billowing up between your breasts all the same.

The flap of the tent is held up by your own trembling hand, elation tinged with an anxiety, a clustering song played without harmony in your very bones. Though, it settles so easily when the light of the moon mingles with the candles within the cradle of wool and leather.

König is sat, recognizable from his very being, laden with scars and coarse light fur, vast as he had always been. However, his face has changed. Gone is the bleeding shroud you had seen upon him before: the cloth has been tossed away on the mattress, revealing a face that both chills and heats you to the very base of your being.

His face is not unlike others you have seen, maybe upon gladiators a time or two once the helmets were discarded and the dancing with beasts and men alike had subsided. There are scars there, too, a broken face revealing a menagerie of pain from the bump upon his nose to the chip in his tooth as he smiles. His eyelids are still smeared in darkened mud used to make him seem that much more sinister in battle, streaking down his cheeks not unlike the carmine that tended to use to paint your own.

Those eyes though… they stand out above all else, heart wrenching and sullen, and still, they rise to crease at the outer corners when his stare meets your own.

A man with more polish would have concealed the state of himself from a maiden; turned his face away and covered his nudity in the furs lining his mattress. You’re thankful that König is not like those men. His stare is as open as his body’s own articulation: he only lies back into the bed and beckons you near with a curl of his fingers to his calloused palm.

“I made offerings for you.” To you, but thankfully that phrasing doesn’t make its way out. You take your place on his mattress, carefully placing a palm over his chest just to feel— to touch, to be nearer to your god in some way. The time apart hasn’t been entirely cruel, but ‘kind’ would never suit it well either.

Your touch is answered by a heavy grip around your forearm, a gentle yet demanding tug that leaves you sprawled across him like some tiny animal gripping onto a tree: your head presses against his bare stomach, one hand tucked to your chest while the other is quickly pulled up to meet his mouth. König kisses you, right on your palm in some peculiar sort of reverence.

“Your blessing was enough.” You feel his mouth stretch, the brush of teeth against your flesh as he grins, something you’ve missed.

It’s a ruse; there are winding strips of fabric haphazardly tied over his chest, thick with the stench of iron. The blood is dried, but you could only imagine the state of the wound beneath it. Months upon months of travel with a chest wound… your heart crumbles, struck with worry then.

The seax sits intact, however, propped up against one of the wooden poles keeping the shelter in place. Even sheathed, you could assume with how dutifully the barbarian cared for his blade that it had been cleaned, sharpened and greased to keep rust at bay. Though the benevolence he had coaxed from you had not saved him, a part of you was almost pleased to see the weapon unscathed.

“You’re hurt,” you hear yourself say, far away, out amidst the turning leaves that surely watched him take a spear or a dagger, maybe even an arrow, toward his beating heart.

“Hm…? Men get hurt in battles, meine Göttin,” he says, so nonchalant, as though the fear of dying out amongst the trees and hungry animals did not exist for him at all. “You worry?”

You pull your hand away from him when he playfully nips at your fingertips; even wounded König seems more inclined to bite and make you squeal than settle into this expanse of fur to rest and heal.

Of course you’re worried, men fall to mere scrapes in time: grime coaxes its way in, wounds fester with an almost laughable ease, infection paves way for fever and…

“Take care of me…?” König’s voice comes soft, the softest you’ve heard. Gone now is that boyish, mocking lilt, replaced by something akin to trepidation. Fear for him does not come from the shouting of men with blades held high, but in small whispers begging for affection.

“Sure…”

The ruddy bandages are pried away from his chest by gentle hands, uncurled and left on the dirt floor to the side of the bed. The wound in his chest is not as severe as you had expected, a few centimeters deep, jagged as it curves upward… whoever had done this had not had the opportunity to properly pierce him before the offending weapon had been pried from their hands. Crushed. Followed by what you could only imagine was the attacker’s fretful shrieks when König advanced upon him.

Your fingers brush over the wound, gentle, as you inspect the blaze of red around its edges. There’s no clear indication of infection, but when a clay jar of honey is plucked from König’s belongings and brought to your hands, you dutifully dab the wound in its sweetness.

You tell him how it will heal, using the phrases you’ve only heard from the physicians about the city, failing to mention that you had not tended to someone like this before. He breathes his appreciation in a soft rumble when you wrap his chest in strips of cloth, tightening it comfortably just to tie at his side.

“Did you kill the man who did this?,” you ask once you’ve stripped yourself bare, shed your clothing to lie in a heap with the ruined bandages he had previously worn. Your body rests at his side, arm curled over his middle. A woman’s warmth was necessary to heal a warrior… perhaps it could remedy a forgotten god, too.

“All of them,” he hums into your hair, a whisper of a voice harboring words that should chill you to your very bones. König only appears pacified as he speaks, never minding his own madness, nor the blood caked beneath his fingernails.

You ask him what these men were like, who could have been capable of wounding a man as mighty as himself, and in turn he laughs. Surely, the gash must ache, but his voice never falters when he gathers you in two treelike limbs to pull your body ever-closer to his own.

He tells you that they were familiar, that your men in their dye red tunics held their spears and struck down some of his men but could not hope to best him.

He tells you of the cowardly ambush, how the warriors of your city turned upon his own with shouts and anger after a slave woman had been released. The way the woman spoke… as if she knew more about you than you ever had, how he could not bare to watch her suffer when she even resembled you in some ways: older, but still so very much like you. He had felt killing her captor to return her to the forest was the only way he could keep your favor.

While you listen in a stasis, stuck ridged against him as your mind drifts, pulls memory from the darker corners within your skull, he strokes at your shoulder, presses his nose right up to yours.

The man who had struck him was smaller… weaker, he had not survived König’s first blow, but… There’s a frothing madness in his eyes like the sky threatening storms when he tells you that he could not bear the thought of a man that would think to harm anyone like his goddess finding a way to return. His attacker was ripped limb from limb, body burned with the rest of those that followed his order.

You remain entirely silent, taking in this whispered tale as though it were breathed from the mouths of the gods themselves.

You never needed to pray to Mars, to Juno, to Vulcan…any of them. The embodiment of fear lies as a welcomed presence next to you, stroking along your back as though you were a mere kitten while he breathes this gory story against your lips. The smile returns when he finishes, pets at your jaw as if awaiting a reward for his perceived good deed… and you allow his madness to slip right past your teeth.

The touches brush over you like the featherlight breezes of the past spring, fingertips grazing from your waist to neck, nails leaving lightened stripes over the flesh he carefully claws at, gathering your skin, the meat from your bone, to roll between each pad of his digits. There’s further worship, a desperation to ensure that you are still here as he pants into your mouth, grips at your hip to pull you closer to where he aches the most.

There’s no pelt sprawled over his groin to hide himself from you, no thin linen to protect where he wishes to reach most. All you have is your words, and a thumb delicately rubbing over his bandage. When the kiss breaks, only then do you think to speak.

“When you’re better.”

The man makes his protests, gives his cock a few strokes as he hisses into your ear about promises, the horse, how long he’s dreamt and waited. You don’t need to be convinced, but now… your mind is riddled with what’s occurred in your months apart. Though the tension remains thick and wafting in the air between you, the physical could wait until you’re both sorted.

While you remained stuck and forlorn, struck by longing and misery, he had only found some semblance of meaning for all of what has eluded you, slayed every man who he could envision bringing you- anyone like you- harm, came back with another wound to fold over into a puffed scar.

You’ve only been waiting for your own sentencing.

Your warrior softens when your eyes begin to swim, fragile and overwhelmed as you’re tucked away beneath him. He only holds you, protective with an unwavering grip as the moon sweeps through the tent with its melancholic comfort that finally pulls the tears right from your eyes.

“Meine Göttin…,” he whispers against your temple, before you press your face into a broad shoulder, hiding tears and frail hiccuped sobs. “I prayed only to you.”

The words come barely audible, though they were never truly necessary.

You feel them in every touch, every hurried whisper as he coos his apologies in that keening voice, every kiss pressed over your warmed face when relaxation snares your limbs, and you do bloom further against him. The comfort and adoration is near staggering, taking you in and pulling you under, further below than even the rivers of your dreams and the ocean just out of reach could ever hope to.

As though this were the most natural thing…

The altars of your villa before were mere practice for the worship of lying next to your own deity; bastard son or Hercules, a wolf or a wild boar, none of it mattered.

He sighs, cups your face to kiss you just once more, something far more chaste than what you’ve come to know from him; the small peck to your lips holds more weight than the clatter of teeth and tongue from before. When you begin to drift off to a dream of a glade filled with nymphs where the trees breathe sap that tastes of honeysuckle, all bathed in the glow of starlight, you only feel the need to silently pray for one last thing: that he will never let you go.

— — —

It’s only on the seventh morning that you come to a realization over a breakfast of figs and water from the stream just below the hill— one that you haven’t been home. You feel at home enough here. The stuffy villa seems only a distant memory when you’re seated across from him, the giant who showers you in so much love it feels warmer than the great flames of Vulcan’s own fury.

No one has come to seek you out, either. Gaius had to have had an idea, should he have even bothered to search for you in that now desolate home. The few soldiers you have witnessed on their patrolling across the field never seem to turn an eye to the barbarian camp. You fill your pots with water, taking aid from König’s men, and never once have they turned to you.

Judgment always seemed so swift with all apart from destiny. You reason that this is surely what it must be, a destiny painted high above in the stars on nights where the mist does not curl up to conceal them from your gaze. You watch them sometimes, when König relaxes his grip in sleep: you turn to the outside of the tent to stare up at the expanse of stars and hear the stories of this nameless king from the mouths of the very men who have braved each storm with him.

They tell you in shattered language of stories you know with a certainty must not be entirely true. They range from talk of the hundred wives König supposedly had that he released all when he met you, of the temples built in his name all lined with gold and the names of jewels you had never once heard spoken, of how he had even slain your great god Jupiter… You have always listened with great amusement, wondering just how highly he must speak of you to have his men lie for him so brazenly.

Laughter follows you back to König’s tent each night, waiting to hear the cries of their king expending his love upon you that never come. You tend to his wound, observing its healing as the days come and go, and with each rebirth of the sun, his touch only seems to grow more imploring, his words sweeter than even the fruit held up in your palm.

In the haze of the morning sun spilling in from the parted flap of the tent, his eyes seem alight with an unnatural flame when he pulls you in to seat you upon one of his muscular thighs, far too rowdy for an injured man. You think not to refuse him when he laps at the juice from the fruit that has trickled down your chin.

“I love you.” He professes his devotion in that same pleading voice, an arm curled around your middle to keep you securely in place. Another thing that you never needed the words spoken to know.

You bring a fig up to his mouth, feed him with a kiss to his cheek and a whispered confession of your own. From the moment you saw him tending to his seax on the bank, your heart had become a howling, skittering animal in the cage of your ribs. You murmur words stolen from the poets against his jaw, about love and flowers, the mating dances of beasts and gods alike. With each word spun, he clutches you tighter, echoes them in his mother tongue.

The confession ends in a kiss that leaves you cloudy, aloft, a union of tongue and soft panting that leaves each nerve thrumming rapidly. The bowl of fruit slips from your lap, left to scatter over the ground forgotten.

König lowers you to lie back on the bed, teeth nipping and raking down along the column of your throat, over your pulse… back to your breasts that he caresses in two large palms.

“Not yet,” you remind him. His touch grows more insistent, thumbs pressed to your nipples to roll over them until your back arcs and your thighs tremble. “You’ll open your wound…”

“I am fine,” he huffs when he releases you from such delicious torture. “Let me…”

You can not bring yourself to tell him the true reasons as to why you can not. Not yet. You’re a mere stroll away from the city’s beckoning gates, from the place where you’re set to be wed only a fortnight from now. The mouth of Orcus that will drag you back in and keep you caged away from him… it would be too bittersweet to make your passions clear when your doom still imposes upon you with just a glance outside. If it ever comes… and you silently begged to any greater thing that it never would.

“When you’re healed… when you take me away from here,” you promise.

König listens in his own way. You see a flash of mischief when he separates from you with one final generous squeeze to your breast. This isn’t just the casual acceptance that comes with children being scolded, but an urgency to contend your words, a desire to prove himself buried in those shimmering eyes.

“Meine Göttin thinks that I am weak, hm?”

“That is not what I said.”

“I will show you.”

All at once, König rises from the mattress, casually shedding the bandage over his chest to discard it. You want to protest to whatever it is that he’s doing, but you knew very little of the minds of these men, their proclivities and desires, only that above all his intentions only seemed to be to prove himself worthy of worshiping at your feet, between your parted thighs…

As if to taunt you, the stiffened cock between his own legs bounces, drools when he stands. Your head spins as you force yourself to sit up and look into his eyes instead.

“What are you doing?,” you ask when he gathers his seax from the place he’s left it propped up, followed swiftly bu the pelt he usually donned around his middle with its leather straps and worn, gray fur.

“We will go on a hunt, hm? I will show you how…” He trails off with a grunt as he fastens the straps, finally conceals the pale, proud pillar when the fur comes to cover his groin. The seax follows as it’s tied to his narrow hip, the pommel glinting in low light as he approaches the opening of the tent and gestures for you to follow.

He should not be going on a hunt, and you… still did not even possess a weapon to aid in such an endeavor. Still, the thought of seeing him actually in the midst of a heated battle stills your breath for a moment, spurs you forward to follow along behind him.

The men around the camp speak with him for a time, prattling on in their mother tongue, gesturing out towards the trees with grins brimming with excitement. They all seem enticed by the prospect of felling some noble creature to drag back to their camp, make a true sacrifice for the goddess made mortal that lurks here. König dismisses them with a wave of his hand, clearly intent on being the only one to gift you such an offering.

He barks an order to the man that led you to his tent, and within moments this other man brings a Roman spear to your warrior, recognizable by its intricate engravings and barbed tip. König weighs it in his hands for a moment, glances back at you with a grin that simply screams his satisfaction of holding a trophy pried from the grip of one of your own detestable soldiers.

You follow after him through the dense forest bordering the clearing. The trees have long since shed their summer green, replaced instead by reds and golds, the dead falling to bathe the forest floor in bronze and brown. König walks slowly as to not cause too much sound to pass beneath the weight of his bulky body, encouraging you to do the same in a hushed demand with each crunching leaf beneath your soles.

Finally, he comes to a halt overlooking a small ridge that overlooks a small clearing. The brush and thickets rise high here, no doubt the birthing place of brambles and thorns, ground passive and untouched by all except the animals hiding within trees and bedded down in burrows. One still walks, awake and alert, a brilliant red stag with antlers more vast than even the horns of the bulls sent off to play war with the gladiators.

The creature is stationary, chewing cud with each movement of its dainty little jaw. It’s tail twitches, ears flicking on occasion when a bird swoops too close or the sound of a snapping twig out in the distance echoes through the forest. It’s a beautiful, delicate thing, but still strong and sturdy. The stag looks perfectly at peace here, not noting the wolf that watches over the ridge.

By the time that the deer does catch sight of König, it’s already too late. The arm holding the long spear is already pulled back and raised high. When the creature moves to resume its prance, the weapon is sent spiraling through the air, twisting and spinning in the absence of a breeze like a living thing until its point is found bedded in the stag's protruding belly.

The creature bleats in pain, writhes and kicks as it comes crashing down to a bed of brittle leaves that clamor beneath its weight. You close your eyes when you see the ground painted with blood from its seeping wound, and König begins to descend upon it. There are other sounds that follow, thudding blows in quick succession that leaves very little to your imagination; you’re only grateful he brought such a pretty thing a swift death.

You walk ahead of him on the way back to camp as he carries the animal’s corpse, politely telling him that if you look, you will not eat.

He gives his spoils to the other men once you’ve reached the camp again. They cheer, readying their blades to carve the creature up for a meal of venison and whatever amount of wine remains in their stores. The rations had been cut off since the others had failed to return, it wouldn’t be long until there was no wine left without one of them fetching work for coin within the city and purchasing it himself; still, König ensures that your cup is filled to the rim with it’s tart sweetness, grape with notes of something earthy, a mixture of thyme embedded into it to bless it with scent like a pomander.

You seat yourself in his lap, looking every part of a pretty earthen goddess as he presses his face to your bare shoulder, traces shapes into your hip while you sip from your cup. His men do not stare, either, regardless of your state of nudeness. There’s respect here, embedded into their flesh, their beliefs, and you only feel the part of a noblewoman when you take note of it. You are not just any man’s woman, but their leader’s most revered treasure.

The others pick apart your harvest of flesh, hang the skins to dry for further use, the antlers and bone left in a heap to be cleaned, then sharpened and carved. Your stare is appreciative as you watch them work away, never having seen this side of things from your modest villa. A fire is stoked when the usable meat is peeled away from what remains of the bones, ribs and femur, others that you could not hope to name.

“See?” König chimes as he takes hold of your hip, squishing you closer, tighter amidst the space of his palm. “Not weak..,” he hums into the hair at the back of your neck.

His touching grows more persistent, eager as the tips of his fingers graze your inner thigh; though appeased, you were not keen on the idea of straddling him before the eyes of his men as though you were only a breeding pair of foxes, screeching your passions into the forest for birds and bears to hear. When a throb resounds from his stroking, you wind yourself away to sit at his side instead, jaw resting on his knee and cup raised up to hide your breasts from his field of view.

“I did not say you were. Just hurt.”

He gives an impatient grunt in response, but allows you to linger in this new position, taking to stroke at your face and shoulders instead.

When the meat is cooked to their standards, still bloody and near raw to your own, the men chatter away between mouthfuls and thick swallows of their wine. You try to keep up, forcing yourself to commit some of their more common turns of phrase to mind— obvious yeses and nos, the way that they call one another, the names that would sound strange on your tongue but suit the others all the same. When your expression falls to confusion, König whispers translations into your ear; they’re discussing the Romans… what they will do if their rations are cut entirely, something about a deal struck before your interest summers and you resort to eating the venison you hood in silence.

It is not that you feel out of place, only lost. These men live in a separate world entirely: there is no talk of ironed out politics, organized festivities, of weddings an plotting for farmland. There is laughter here, even song when one of the trio seated across from you and König begins to bark out a loud chorus from a tune that your warrior so sweetly explains to you is about a woman who ventured out to elope with a cave-dwelling bear. Peculiar wild men that they were, you don’t even bother to question how that could ever possibly work.

When the afternoon sinks into the coziness of evening, you walk hand in hand with König back to his tent, and just as with any other night, there are cheerful, foreign goads and tedious little sounds elicited behind you. The wine had you peaceful for a time, but its haze has since passed. Your sheepishness is apparent at the implication, but the wolfish grin König shoots back at his men is anything but.

You know he expects to fulfill his promise entirely— make you his lover, wife, whatever he seems to see you as. That could not happen… as much as you thrum for him with each brush of his warm palm against your backside or upon your face, eternally gazing up at him with your dumb and doting stare.

To your credit: when his gaze crawls over you to take every bare expanse of flesh in, he only sees a beauty that he seemingly can not comprehend. The tells range from the tightening of his jaw, the twitch of each digit when they meet your skin, the way his nostrils glare and eyelids sag. His profession from earlier was anything except just that: it was a truth.

As he strips away his pelt and sets his blade aside, your hands rise to press against his shoulders, forbidding him to go any further than this simple reveal. And you speak true, explaining your exasperating engagement with the foul man who made certain you were spied upon, your distaste for your life within the walls itself, and lastly the marriage that would occur once the seasons did change.

Your eyes feel nothing short of pure liquid when you seat yourself upon his mattress for what you assume would be the very last time. Your voice tapers when you reveal that those very reasons were why you had come to him that night for the horse, why you came back even now.

König listens until your voice is reduced to a somber whisper, broken up by weak sniffles. The flirtation in his gaze is lost, and there’s no grin that splits apart his thin lips. You think that, if he asked you if you felt similarly to him then, that you would break down in full, but he doesn’t.

Instead he hisses something in his mother tongue, a singular word: “Scheiße.” Then, another laugh is coaxed from his throat, the dozenth that you must have heard this night alone. He seems fully unperturbed, unbothered when he descends upon you as if you were nothing more than the very deer he had slaughtered earlier.

“It is fine. Alles gut.” He covers your face in kisses, biting at your cheek when you squirm against him. “I can fight him, hm?”

Stupid… so terribly impulsive and cute. You sigh as if exasperated with him, but envelope him in your embrace anyway.

“I just want to be free of all of it,” you explain in a hushed voice.

“Then we will be free,” he confirms. We. No longer just yourself, and you almost bring yourself to ask if he has truly meant it before you're reminded of his declaration with a swift kiss that punches the air from your chest and leaves you shivering.

You hold him tighter still, fingers weaving into his hair to massage at his scalp and draw back in a tug when his head cocks to nip at your jaw. Again, always, he encompasses you, pulls you down into darkened water that warms and thumbs around you. You lose yourself more and more with each touch, thumb brushing over the pulse of your neck, teeth nipping at your clavicle, the brush of his groin as he rolls his hips to meet the plushness of your thigh.

You ache, cry when he guides your nipple into his mouth, languidly lapping over you until his salivating is evident over your tit. He only grows less patient the more vocal you become; one hand remains played to the side of your head while the other steadily slinks down past your naval, trails off to grasp at you hip and steer you closer before descending lower, where only his blade had dared venture before.

“I have dreamt of this, meine Göttin,” he purrs when he shifts his hips. His cock rests heavy over your thigh, weeping the sheerness of its own demand to paint your flesh. He guides your hand there to palm at his steadily growing arousal, curls your hand around his length and guides it up to stroke.

His chest rumbles his pleasure as he groans against your cheek; the sounds are somehow more surprising than the ones you had heard outside the brothels. Before König… never had you heard a man voice his pleasure, and though it may have been emasculating to some, it only makes you wet, there where his fingers reach to pet once he’s satisfied with the pace you’ve set as you pleasure him.

Your thumb grazed over the flushed tip, smearing the preejaculate that drools from it, his hips buck then. Your own sounds join his chorus when he ghosts a fingertip over the hood of your clit, buried his middle finger into your cunt. The entire ordeal is lazy, lazy as the slow kisses that connect your panting mouths.

With each twitch of your wrist as you milk his cock, you’re met with a finger probing deeper. At some point, one becomes two, a try for three before he draws back and realizes you’re too close to begin to take anymore.

“Tight..,” he appraises in a low voice, tongue lapping over your teeth as you writhe at his side.

You pick up pace at his praise, adoringly offering him your love with quickened sweeps of your hand, of your thumb over the weeping head, until he begins to throb in your hold. König mutters a curse against your jaw as he struggles to keep his hand steady then, bludgeoning you with his fingers, circling your clit until you begin to whine.

The heat builds within you so quickly you begin to see the night sky beneath your eyelids— an expanse of stars, of glowing blooms, and all at once the heat becomes too much. You curl into yourself, struggling to keep the demanding cock in your grip as you grind your hips down upon his hand to ride out your orgasm, bleary eyes and weakened by the intensity of it all you merely muffle your cries against his waiting mouth.

It takes no time at all for him to finish then, thick spurts of white seed paint up from your mound to your belly, coating your fingers in its stickiness. He hurts his teeth through it, intent on stifling the desperate little sounds building up in his throat, kisses you with even more fervor when you bless him with another tug to milk out every last viscous drop as it kicks and throbs in your hand.

He settles briefly, trailing kisses from your jaw to shoulder, then rises to part your legs with a strong grip around each thigh. For a moment, you almost think he’s prepared to fuck you proper, but the thought dissipates when he gathers his own seed over the head of his still hardened cock, settles it against your cunt, and grinds his seed against your salivating hole.

Your whine is clipped and almost pained when he brushes over your clit, hips rising to pull away when you feel the tickling burn of overstimulation. It doesn’t last; satisfied that he has left his spend close enough to your pussy that he may as well have laid claim to it, he crashes down over you, head pressed between your breasts.

König’s breath still comes in a pant while he huffs his affection for you: praises, those three wonderful words again and again. His tone is tender, reverent, as he tells you that he loves you… immediately following it with a stout and crude declaration of how roughly he will fuck you when the time does come.

“Do you mean what you said…?” You find your voice when he finally stops whispering the filth of his fantasies to you, when your cunt ceases its pleading for more. Right now… it would not be as special anyhow. Your fate still lies in the grasp of another, and as much as you wished for it to align in full with him, that simply was not so.

“Ja,” he answers immediately, no hesitation when he commits himself in full to you, the Roman woman who had tamed him down with her silly whims and ache for him. “I will take you to the mountains, the sea, …the stars if you ask.”

You comb your fingers through his hair, filled with mirth as he speaks of such impossibilities. There is no place in the stars for two misplaced lovers, but you don’t dare say that. The things that fill your imaginations would leave even the poets balking, scrambling for the words pretty enough to describe a love so peculiar.

— — —

You had not questioned why they remained, that was your folly.

You had never thought that you would even care should you see the city fall. Though… dread immediately strikes your heart with ice and silver when you’re bolted awake by the sound of shrill shrieks and loud crumbling. There’s a war just beyond the veil the tent provides: loud sounds of heavy feet, shouts, even the clash of metal upon metal if only for a single stuttering beat of your heart.

Vulcan has descended, rode right through on flaming steeds with flame rising from his open maw. You know it with a certainty without even approaching the opening to look. But you do. You do move away from the empty mattress, finding the space where König had slept against you, snoring softly and tugging you closer in your bliss, entirely devoid of any warmth. The air is warm, tinged with the heat of coursing flames, but the bed is cold, frigid like the fear that cinches at your heart and steals the breath from fluttering lungs.

There’s ash in the air, falling like the first snows of winter when you make your way out of the tent, coughing into your hand as it clasps over your mouth and nose. The air is so thick, noxious and darker than even the backdrop of velvety sable marking the horizon. Your eyes track the twisting, feathering pillars of flame as they rise even higher than the wall: a gold and red death.

Shadows scramble across the field— men, women, then the horses, the bulls, that come thundering past. The animals trample and shriek: broken bones, hooves driven through skulls to erupt into mush, leaving twitching, scorched corpses in their wake.

Fire billows up only to fall and rain down, back onto the murderous beasts in some abstract punishment. You watch the puppets writhe and squeal; perhaps your own cries join them, wailing and crying out as all you’ve come to know is engulfed, smothered, destroyed. What the fire does not take, the shattering structures do.

Amidst it all is glee.

There are shouts of men on horseback that come out as the victory roars of men amidst battle, yipping and howling as all is reduced to rubble around them. Your feet do not guide you toward the chaos, they do not bring you to peace either, only far— far as you can go.

The smell alone makes it worse than it ever appeared in your dreaming. Blood, oil, cinder and ash that plummets deep down into your stomach, pushing back up to purge what became of the deer. You feel how that creature must have: alone, terrified, certain that death was biting at your heels. If you had fur it would bristle, antlers would plow through the brush to carry you to safety, but… you do not. You’ve only the ability to gather yourself enough to fall. You descend down the hill in a painful roll as your legs give out beneath you.

You want to close your eyes, to sink into the stream and bid the fire away with desperation alone. When you lower to the grass to wretch, fingers digging into the earth, your gaze snaps back to the scene just beyond the stream.

You know, know dreadfully well that the people here that have managed to escape were hunted down in a veil of inky blackness. The ghouls of myth could not compare to this… This was very real, real as the scent of cooking meat and hair and wood.

And you watch and wait for the fire to burn out, for the animals to cease their rampage and fall back to a calm that never comes.

You stand to your feet, meekly trembling before the wrath and chaos, and you wait with splintering nails clawing at your thighs and unshed tears blurring your vision. There was always a price to pay for freedom, you had seen it time and time again in gladiator pits, monetary and dull, but never this…

And you know the price for yours was paid in fire and vengeance, promised before you ever even had the notion to disappear at all. There was always tension between the Goths and your people. This was bound to come about sooner or later, but the guilt of potentially being the catalyst to it all brings you back to your knees.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring out into the abyss in silenced fear, but eventually all that fills the quiet is the dull roar of the fires still burning and the dull sounds of a horse’s trot growing nearer. Just across the bubbling little stream, untouched by the death beneath the full moon, is König atop his sable steed. The creature huffs just as König cocks his shrouded head, prompting you in his silence to say anything— deliver your blessing, your thanks, your kisses.

Yet, you can not bring yourself to deliver anything but a weak, anguished wail.

The stream is crossed before you’ve even the time to raise your head, limbs gathering you up to pull you against the broad chest of your god in the cruelest tenderness. You feel limp there, atop this frustrated horse, in the arms of the man who had sacked this city. They will come for him, kill him too… You will be alone with nothing and no one, and stupidly, you find yourself longing for the comfort of calling to Juno in that bedroom you would never see again. All of this just for pleading for the very horse you now perch upon.

He lets you cry as holds the reins in one hand and carries you away from this desolation. The horse walks further than you have ever even seen. The stream before the barbarian camp is not the only, there are orchards and glades and fields of tall grass even further beyond it. You take in the beauty as the city becomes a glimmering speck far behind you.

König only remains silent, stroking your back with his free hand, so lovingly and gentle you find it almost impossible to believe him capable of such cruelty. Your mind is tired, limbs weighty and chest aching from breathing in so much smoke. You do not even realize your exhaustion until you find yourself in a fitful sleep.

There are no dreams, no wonderful comforts, only slow breaths and pained whimpers.

When you do wake, the sun has risen in full.

You’re lying on your back amidst withering grass, a pelt thrown over your body and a figure sat at your side. There’s no longer the stench of smoke, no drab gray clouds hanging over your head. The air is light and tinged with the tartness of buckthorn. There are white, puffy clouds hanging up in the vast blue of the sky, and as you blink, a thumb moves to stroke at your cheek. Soft, so soft and even tentative when it rises to your temple.

“You should have slept longer.” König’s voice comes, not reprimanding, but in a gentle surge of breath. He sounds as exhausted as you still feel.

You’re angry… but you know not why. It feels performative, almost, when you shove his hand away. You want to wail for what you’ve lost, but that voice never comes. Gaius? A home you never liked? The lectus that would be used as a stand to consummate a marriage you had begged to avoid for months on end? What was lost?

“You are going to die.” Your whisper comes strained, tight and tinged with your own misery.

“You worry for me again?”

You shake your head at that, fierce as you turn on your side and away from him again. The dying grass digs into your flesh beneath the fur, scraping like claws, like König’s very touch.

“We are not going to die, little one,” he continues as he moves closer to you, trying to gather you up into his arms in an act of comfort. Your tension rigidly leaves you, though you try to force yourself to remain closed off, it does not happen. You mold against him when he lies at your back, hand splayed over your stomach.

“I never said we. Just you,” you huff. Your hand meets his wrist as his thumb begins to stroke at your naval. The desire to push him away again only dissolves when he winds out of your grip to take your hand into his own, forced lower to feel the cold earth and the warmth of each digit beneath your touch. “They will hunt you down.”

“Then I will die at your side.”

You don’t respond to that, finding his desire to further prove whatever this was entirely incomprehensible now. It is not endearing, you force your mind to reason. This man was more than just tedious at times, but dangerous to… To burn an entire city on a whim then curl against you like this… You whimper, keening and sorrowful as you squeeze your eyes shut— force the macabre thoughts out.

“You are like me,” König continues, a low rumble as he lowers his head to press his cheek to the side of your neck. Even amidst the chill of winter, he’s so warm, so soothing, enough to make you melt like wax from candles… perfumed by his own sweat and the ash he left in his wake, so earthy and lofty all the same. “Kleine Göttin…”

“No… I’m not.”

“You come from the mountain,” he urges with a kiss to your shoulder. His grip around you becomes more insistent with each muttered word, the pads of his fingers pressed further to dimple your skin. “The slave woman told me so.”

You didn’t know the woman he spoke of, you didn’t know anyone still living apart from himself and his men. You want to yell, to drill it into his very skull with your words, but even more than that, you want this comfort.

You want to feed him figs, allow his tongue to sip the wine from your own, and to fall asleep against him with his breath tickling at your scalp. More, to share the life with him you once promised to a deceased man buried in ash…

Truth be told you were not even sure of your standing, Roman or barbarian… Though you had never told him that, his resolute tone leads you to believe all of it. You had always longed to bathe in rivers rather than crowded bathhouses, to crest the tops of mountains and taste fresh honey on your tongue… The titan promises you all of those things and more with his tight hold and in a purred, breathy, “I love you.”

All that you could not prevent dissipates in a plume when you twist around to bury your face against that chest, curl your fingers into his hair and breathe out your resistance in its entirety. The most pitiful of surrenders.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #f: only other

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dinodude52 · 11 months

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Okay, let's talk about the Titanic

Because I'm autistic and the Titanic was one of my special interests as a kid and that submersible has reignited my interest a little bit.

There were enough lifeboats. The controversy about the lifeboats came from the fact that the original designers wanted more lifeboats, but they downsized the number of boats to clear up the deck. There were regulations in place to ensure there were enough boats on all White Star Line ships. With the few collapsible boats they included on the ship, they had enough boats. The problem was they didn't fill them properly during the evacuation. Edit: I say there were enough lifeboats but I doublechecked and realized I miss remembered. The Titanic was equipped with the legally required number of lifeboats at 20 (16 on deck and 4 collapsible). The assumption had been that, in the even of an emergency, they would have the ability to be rescued fairly quickly and the lifeboats could be used to carry people to safety on repeated trips. Unfortunately, the closest ships were still too far away. The Carpathia was the rescue ship despite being further away than the closest ship to the Titanic, the Californian.

"Women and children first" wasn't the norm for shipwrecks. Typically, women and children made up the majority of the dead during such tragedies. To my knowledge, only two shipwrecks have done "women and children first," and they are most definitely the exceptions, not the rule.

On that note, one of the reasons the lifeboats weren't filled properly was because the crew on one side of the ship interpreted Captain Smith's command as "women and children first" while the crew on the other side of the ship interpreted the command as "women and children only."

The majority of the dead were third class passengers. Some did survive, but the majority didn't.

There were also a number of dogs that perished on the ship, though some did survive.

The ship wasn't going any faster than it was supposed to.

As for the ice field, they were skirting the bottom edge of said ice field. Where they were passing through, the icebergs were supposed to be pretty small.

The iceberg the Titanic collided with was unusually large for that time of year and for the location it was floating in. The weather conditions of the time made the ocean much colder than usual so the iceberg didn't have the chance to melt as much as it could have.

Though the lookouts didn't have binoculars, the sky was clear and the ocean was calm that night. If there was an iceberg, by all accounts they would have been able to see it, though it's suspected that the calm seas might have actually been a hinderance to spotting the iceberg rather than the help the lookouts assumed it would be.

On the topic of spotting the iceberg, recent research suggests that due to some atmospheric weirdness, the horizon line looked higher than it actually was. I don't remember the specifics, but it had something to do with the calm ocean and warm air from the south mingling with cool air from the north. It was also an exceptionally cold night that night, according to survivors, which might have aided the optical illusion. With the horizon looking higher than it was, the iceberg would have either looked smaller and further away than it was, or it could have been hidden completely.

The way the Titanic was built, it was explicitly designed to take damage head-on rather than from the sides. If the ship had stayed course instead of turning, it would have survived. It would have taken significant damage, but it would have stayed afloat.

The rivets used to connect the steel plates on the side of the Titanic were made of iron, I think, and an impure iron at that. The iron became brittle from the cold water so when the iceberg scraped against the side of the Titanic, the seams ripped apart like a zipper. The rivets failed completely.

The survivors of the wreck reported seeing the Titanic break in half, but no one believed them (probably because many of the survivors were women). It wasn't until the wreckage was found that the truth was known: the Titanic broke in half.

Though the lifeboats did their best to stay in a group, a few boats ended up floating away. The bodies were recovered some time later. Many retrieval efforts were dispatched over a handful of weeks after the tragedy. They were never able to recover all the bodies, and I think they only managed to recover about 100 out of 1500 bodies, give or take. They took the bodies back to Halifax in Canada where the Titanic was supposed to dock first. There's a memorial there and the unclaimed bodies have been buried there as well.

If there were bodies trapped inside the Titanic as it was sinking, there weren't any bodies once it hit the bottom of the ocean. And there definitely weren't any bodies when the wreckage was found in the 80's. The pressure would have destroyed them, bacteria and deep sea creatures would have eaten whatever was left. They would have decomposed.

As they were attempting to recover the bodies, a search and rescue team did find the iceberg the Titanic hit. They knew it was the true iceberg because it still had paint from the hull on it.

I went to the Titanic museum in Orlando once a long time ago and it was wonderful in a tragic way. My favorite part of the tour was a small section where the deck was recreated, including a bench you could sit at and a wall covered in black cloth and lights to look like stars. It was cool, but not cold, and was set to replicate the night of the disaster. Sitting on the bench, you could really feel what it was like to be on the Titanic the night it sank. The next room you entered was a room with a piece of the hull, and then after that another room filled with the names of everyone on the ship. If the name was lit, the person lived, but if it wasn't, the person died. You got a card with information about a real passenger at the beginning of the tour and in that final room you learned if your passenger survived or not. I still have my card somewhere, but I'm not sure where. I can't remember the name of the passenger on my card (this was 7 or 8 yrs ago by now) but he was a third class passenger, one of the few who survived, and unfortunately his wife and all his children perished. The panels with the names were set up by class, and the most heartbreaking part was seeing the panels with the third class passengers and how many names weren't lit.

And those are my Titanic facts. IDK what it is about this ship, about this wreck, that captures our imaginations in such an intense way. I used to check this book out of the school library about the Titanic and read it over and over again. I was obsessed. Still am, apparently.

Note: This was all from my memory so if my facts aren’t quite right, I apologize. It’s been *years* since I’ve gone down a proper Titanic rabbit hole.

#titanic #titanic wreck #shipwreck

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star-wrote · 2 months

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Daryl and reader’s first summer together ? Mood board or headcanon or whatever you like babes 😏🫶 I picture they’ve been together for the fall and a very long harsh winter, and the summer comes around and readers energy just starts to burst in response to the warmth and sunlight, and how that might look for them as a couple 🌻💛😁

Summer Lovin’

ao3 link

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader | Pre-Prison Era/After Farm Fell

A/N: tysm for the request love !! i adored writing this <3 also i’ve found that i struggle with staying in tenses so this switches from past to present tense :/ whoops

Warnings: typical TWD violence, poor mental health, fluff, angst

Word Count: 750

not my character | images from pinterest

Winter in the apocalypse sucks.

The group had been on the road for months now, grieving the loss of the Greene Farm; the loss of safety. Which also means the group was going through the harsh winter without a whole lot of warmth. Abandoned shacks and small campfires can only do so much.

You had been cold for too long, and you were sure that Daryl had grown annoyed with you complaining about your frozen toes when you huddled up against him at night.

Worst of all was your mental health. Obviously there’s always an air of depression, (it is the end of the world) but your thoughts were getting dangerously close to “hey let’s jump off that bridge!”

You didn’t want to burden Daryl, but after his gentle prying, you reluctantly agreed to tell him your thoughts. He did his best to reassure you, and he held you a little tighter that night.

Finally, the group had found the prison, a place that could be a forever home after the walkers get cleared. The weather had warmed up too over the last few weeks, and it was finally starting to feel like summer.

It was a pretty calm day, most of the group decided to relax for a day outside before trying to get into the prison. You recall passing a pond not too far from the prison walls. Deciding it was warm enough for a swim, you grabbed a blanket and your knife.

“Where are ya goin’ with that?” Daryl stepped in front of you, nodding at the stuff in your hands.

“Swimming. Wanna come with? I need a bodyguard.” You suggest while smiling up at him.

He grunts out what you have come to know as “yes,” and grabs his crossbow. “Ya sure it’s warm enough?”

You shrug. “Don’t care, I’ve waited long enough.”

He must’ve read your mind because he leads you out past the walls and to the pond that you saw while traveling with the group. You both quickly survey the area for walkers, feeling relieved after there seem to be none.

You strip down to your underwear and toss a smirk over your shoulder to a blushing Daryl, then giggle and wade your way into the pond.

Taking a moment to pause, you admire the sun reflecting off the water. You felt so happy in the warmth of the sun that you could cry.

Daryl watches from a distance, smiling at the peace and happiness that seems to be radiating off of you. He knew you had a tough time on the road during the winter. He was worried about you, but now he’s just glad that you’re smiling.

You swim and float around the pond for about thirty minutes, and then decide that you want to lay on the grass to dry off in the sun. You sigh as the warm grass envelops you.

“Come join me?” You smiled up at Daryl who was sat on a rock.

“Thought I was yer bodyguard.” He said while walking over to you anyway. He found out a long time ago that he couldn’t handle denying you anything.

You giggle as he groans as he lays down next to you. You start to cuddle into him but he gently shoves you away.

“Yer soakin’ like a wet dog righ’ now, dry off first.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, but comply. While putting on your t-shirt, you spot a patch of wildflowers and gasp. You run over to them.

This makes Daryl sit up immediately and grab his knife, anxiety filling his veins. He then sees that you found flowers and relaxes.

Walking over to you, he scoffs. “Scared me half to death, girl.”

While you were smelling the flowers, Daryl crouched down and picked one. He gently moved your hair out of your face and tucked the flower behind your ear. You blush and kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad yer feelin’ better. Was worried ‘bout ya.” He looked away for a moment, then back into your eyes. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

You felt your heart flutter. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hugged him tight and stayed like that for a while. You started to hum a song and swayed in his arms.

Daryl scoffs and loosens up so you can sway his body for him. “Whatcha doin’ girl?”

“Dancing with you, duh.”

He smiles and tucks his head into your hair. “Please never stop bein’ you, sunshine.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl x female reader #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #angst #fluff #request #daryl dixon request

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robfinancialtip · 4 months

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youtube

Join Charlie Chun, an expert dog trainer, as he shares crucial winter care tips for your canine companions. In this comprehensive video, Charlie introduces the innovative Halo Collar 3, a game-changer in ensuring your dog's safety during winter. Learn about the features and benefits of this cutting-edge technology through insightful Halo Collar reviews.

As the temperature drops, it's essential to prioritize winter safety for dogs. Charlie guides you on adjusting your routine, emphasizing the need for a flexible dog walking schedule. Discover how to tailor your dog's diet with Charlie's advice on maintaining a proper winter dog diet plan. With practical tips on dog hydration, Charlie addresses the common issue of dogs becoming dehydrated in cold weather.

Explore the advantages of the Halo Dog Collar, not just as a safety measure but as a tool to monitor your dog's activity levels. Charlie demonstrates how this collar becomes an invaluable resource, helping you track your dog's movements and ensure they stay within the safety of your yard during outdoor playtime.

Charlie provides a step-by-step guide on desensitizing your dog to winter accessories like dog booties for winter and a cozy dog winter jacket for those chilly winter walks. Using positive reinforcement and reward-based training, Charlie makes the process enjoyable for your furry friend.

Charlie doesn't stop there—he offers insights into engaging indoor dog activities for those days when it's too cold to venture outside. Whether you're a seasoned pet owner or new to the world of dogs, these easy winter care tips ensure your canine companions stay comfortable and cared for throughout the season.

Discover the secrets of positive reinforcement with Charlie's dog training techniques, making every training session enjoyable for you and your pup. Learn about puppy training and how to create a positive association with winter wear, preventing dogs from shivering in the cold.

Ensure your dog's well-being with valuable insights on how to protect dogs from cold weather. Whether it's the right winter attire or adjusting their diet, Charlie's expertise covers all aspects of winter care for dogs.

Tune in for this holistic guide on how to keep your dog safe and warm in winter. Charlie Chun's expert advice ensures your furry friends thrive, no matter the weather.

#Youtube

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disarm-you · 24 days

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Can I Show You How Sorry I Am?

Pairing: Frank Castle x F! Bartender reader

Summary: You and Frank had been hooking up for several months and then he dropped off the face of the earth. Six months later, he walks back into your bar and has some explaining to do.

Word Count: 3,520

a/n: This is smut heavy but nothing crazy. It was intended to be a smutty porn with plot one shot but I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, I have some loose ideas on making this into a series. Diving into reader’s background and exploring what a relationship with The Punisher would look like. How a serious relationship for Frank would play out. If you’re interested in more, please let me know!

I’m going on vacation in a few weeks and then I will be cutting down my hours at work. I expect to get more stories out starting this summer! As always, a friendly reminder that reblogs are the best way to support writers on here. XOXO

Looking up from the bar, you see the door swing open just as your coworker yells out last call. Curiosity sparked- today had been abnormally easy. Or maybe it was a good day made better under the lense of a full night’s sleep. The weather had been beautiful all afternoon-clear skies, light wind and full sun. You were able to relax outside and soak up a few rays of sun before work, letting its heat warm up your tired bones.

Work was comfortably steady and a few regulars left you a larger than usual tip today. Life recently threw you a major curveball but you were set on enjoying the sunshine while it’s here, because the moon will always come around again.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shock of seeing Frank step into the room. It had been, what, over six months since you last saw him? Your eyes were staring at him but you couldn’t seem to focus on one spot. They moved from his deep eyes, down to his black hoodie and the combat boots you loved. You noted that he looked a bit thinner than the last time you saw him and he had one hell of a black eye and split lip. Your back stiffened as you tried to process all your emotions. You were pleased to know he was alive but anger and sadness panged across your chest as you thought about the past year.

You two had never made it official but you had been sleeping together frequently enough that his sharp absence from your life hurt. You and Frank met in the same bar that you were currently in. You were new to the city and Frank was a welcome respite from the coldness New York could offer. He would show up several times a week, somehow always on nights you worked. He would walk you home and you two would enjoy a night cap or three with the evening ending in him making you see God. All of the pleasure and none of the drama. But as time and nature would have it, you managed to catch feelings. You tried to keep them buried, telling yourself he didn’t feel the same. You were too afraid of scaring him off, so you never verbalized your feelings.

However, he skipped a Monday night, which was unusual for him. Concern creeped in when he didn’t visit you three shifts in a row. And then weeks passed and you were consumed with worry about his safety and eventually you began to fear the absolute worst.

Inhaling deeply, you manage to look up as Frank approaches you. “Hey Sweetheart” he says softly, while making eye contact with you.

A flaming arrow shot a deadly blow to your heart as soon as you met his puppy dog eyes. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils and lit a fire low in your belly. Rat fucking bastard.

Tears began to well in the corners of your eyes but you weren’t certain if they were from sadness, rage, or pent up sexual frustration with this big, dumb, beautiful man standing in front of you.

Your coworker walked by, noticing the change in your body language. “Is everything ok over here?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah, it is. Um, actually, would it be ok if I took off a bit early tonight? I need to deal with something.”

“Of course, but you owe me one! Text me if you need anything.” Winking at you before he walked back to his station.

“Hey Frank. It’s nice to see you.” Deciding to err on the side of kindness. After all, he did show back up to see you. You might as well hear him out, even if you did give him your customer service tone.

“I know it’s been a while and that’s my fault. Can we go back to my place and talk?”

My place. The words echoed in your head. Previously, the two of you only ever hooked up at your apartment and even then he rarely bothered to stay the night.

“Yeah, actually that would be nice. Let me go get my things and I will meet you outside.”

____________

“So, this is your place, eh?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you surveyed the area. Noting the bare walls, sparse furniture and dumbbells stuffed in the corner, it was obvious a single man lived here. However, what you couldn’t tell is if this is a new place or if he dropped you for a different fling and was hiding out this past half year.

“Yeah, it is. Want something to drink?”

”Mmmhmm, beer’s good if you got it.”

You two sat on his futon, taking the first sip,

“Why haven’t I seen your place before you?” You ask, nerves building up in your chest as you put off the real questions you wanted to ask him.

Sighing deeply, Frank glances away until finally making eye contact.“When we first met, I knew I wasn’t going to be in town for much longer. I didn’t think that I would be back once I left.”

Frank then sat down his beer, picking up your free hand and cradling it with his. “But I really enjoyed our nights together. And I kept coming around your bar, while I put off the work I needed to do.”

Inhaling sharply you say, ”Listen, I understand that we never had the relationship ‘talk’ but Frank, we were fucking pretty regularly and then you just disappeared. Poof, gone in the blink of an eye. I feel like you at least owed me a see ya later before running off.” You say, taking a large swig of your beer, trying to calm the nerves that swirled in your chest. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your hand is shaking as you sit it back down. Or the tears welling in your eyes again. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear your heart thumping as you anxiously waited for him to respond.

“You’re right Darlin’ and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you.” He swallowed thickly and you could catch the slightest gruff in his voice. “I thought it would be less painful if I just disappeared. But when I was gone, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed the way your hand feels in mine. I missedâ€¦ the feelings you brought up in me. When the job was over I decided to make my home here, maybe even with you.”

Sighing roughly, you move to sit back, trying to process everything that’s happening. Frank adjusts so you can lean into his torso.You close your eyes and he moves his arm around your shoulder, which softened a bit of the emotions flooding you.

“You know I waited around for weeks, hoping you would show up. And when you never did, I thought you had died. The worst part is that I didn’t have anyone to ask. You always come in alone and I didn’t even know your last name so I kept checking local obituaries-”

Frank noticed the panic in your voice and brought his free hand under your chin, tilting your face up and forcing you into eye contact.

“Castle”

”â€¦What?” You ask while your brain is trying to catch up.

“My last name is Castle.” He whispers, bringing his thumb up to trace your lower lip. He pauses, looking at you questioningly.

You had so many questions running through your mind but being back in his arms reminded you of all the nights you spent wrapped up in your bed. The smell of him being so close to you was intoxicating. Before you knew it the rush of hormones hit your brain as you involuntarily move your face towards him, locking lips ever so sweetly.

Despite their injury, his lips are somehow softer than you remember and your heart rate picks up as he moves his hands up to cup your face. Frank is taking his time with you tonight, enjoying the brushing of your lips together as if it was the first time he’s kissed you. The moment is tender and softer than your previous encounters.

All too quickly though he pulls away. Your breath hitches and you involuntarily grab at his sweater, trying to tug him close again.

“Can I show you how sorry I am?” Frank pleaded as his lips hovered over yours.

“Please.” You replied shakily as you clamber into Frank's lap, reveling in the groan it exudes from Frank.

You shiver as he runs his warm hands up your sides and along your back. You kiss him deeply, one hand splayed across his chest while the other gripped his hair tightly, hoping that it was enough to keep him here in front of you.

You slowly grind into his lap as you part your lips against Frank’s. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth while shoving your hips together.

“Do you see what you fucking do to me?” He growled as he thrusted his hips up into yours, grinding his growing bulge against you.

You whined in response as you pulled your shirt over your head. Without hesitating, Frank reached up and deftly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and gently cupped your beasts with both of his hands.

Your head dizzying with want, you lean forward to kiss Frank, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as his large hands fondled your breasts.

Breaking away, he kisses down your neck until he reaches your chest. Moving his head to the side, he slips a nipple into his mouth teasing you until you issued your fist moan of the evening.

Chuckling, Frank moves his focus to your other breast and you loudly moan as you feel the buzzing want for him run up and down your body. You so deeply missed the way you just melt into his touch. It had been a lonely six months since Frank’s disappearance, not for lack of desire though.

You were often hit on by men at your job but most of them were a huge turnoff. Drunk and aggressively flirting with you until you declined their offer and getting angry when you wouldn’t give them your number. But you stayed at this job since the extra cash on hand greatly supplemented your primary job.

You did briefly consider yourself spending the night with a gorgeous blonde woman who came into the bar. She had the most beautiful blue eyes that you could get lost in. Except you couldn’t tell if she was flirting with you or if she was just incredibly nice. You were too hesitant to make the first move. That didn’t stop you from thinking about her as you touched yourself that night. But that was last month and you haven’t seen her come back in.

And right now all you were focusing on was Frank and how you don’t think you’ve fully relaxed since he left. You are unabashedly grinding in his lap, arching your back into his kisses as his hands worshiped your body.

“Frank, pleaseâ€¦” you rasped as he popped his mouth off your nipple and brought you in closer to him.

“Please, what darlin.” He whispered as he pressed your foreheads together.

“I just need you to touch me so badly.” You softly whimpered as you pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I got you girl.”

You squeal with glee as he wraps his arms tightly around you and stands up. You revel in the safety of his arms, feeling his huge biceps press you up against his firm chest. His strength was one of your favorite physical qualities in Frank. You felt so secure tangled up in him. But despite his strength, he was gentle with his touches to you. He was far kinder to you then a few men in your past. In fact, Frank never used force on you, unless of course you asked him to.

Your mind briefly wandered back to an intense night where you were pinned to the bed with his leather belt in your mouth, hand pulling your hair taughtly, thrusting into you unforgivablyâ€¦.

Frank placing you down on the bed brought you back to reality. Shamelessly watching him as he took off his shirt. The clinking of his belt reminded you of its taste in your mouth and you hurriedly removed the rest of your clothes.

You attempt to slide to the top of the bed but Frank grabs your legs.

“Oh no.” He clicks his tongue while dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “Just where do you think you’re going Ma’am? I owe you an apology.” He cooed, while kneeling on the floor, kissing your inner knee up to your inner thighs

Your skin prickles and your breath hitches as Frank sucked some of the tender skin on your inner thigh into his mouth. Enjoying the reaction from you, he takes his free hand and traces a finger up the seam of your pussy.

You gasp sharply. “Frank, please.” You desperately begged. “You’re being so mean to me.”

Everything about you was driving Frank wild. Your scent was lingering in his nose, leaving him heady with want, how tense the muscles in your thighs are while you were so willingly spread out for him and finally the desire in your eyes is what drove him to splay you open with his index and middle fingers before he starting flicking your clit with his tongue.

Your moans had him groaning as he continued lapping you up. He moved the fingers that were spreading you open lower, teasing your entrance. He briefly enjoyed your gasps of pleasure before slipping two fingers into your wetness, which caused you to inhale sharply as you clenched around him.

Frank slightly leans back and looks up at you. “Yeah, you like that?” He curls his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside you. “Be good and take it.” He husked before sucking on the inside of your thigh.

His words sparked an anger in you- how dare this man come back and then act like this but oh my god did he know how to work you up. And that spark was like gasoline on a fire and you were already so close to coming.

Frank could tell by how tightly you were gripping his fingers. Pulling off your thigh with a wet pop, he brings his mouth back to your clit and it was over. Trails of fire ran up and down your body before dissolving into pleasure.

Frank slowed down to draw out your orgasm as much as he could, waiting until you were whimpering with overstimulation before gently removing his fingers from you.

Still breathing deeply, you open your eyes to find Frank looking at you, while sucking your juices off his fingers. His eyes were a blaze with desire for you, which made your heart start pounding again.

“Frank, I want you.”

He barely heard you over the blood buzzing in his ears. Frank stood up and got on to the bed, encouraging you to move back further. He placed the sole pillow on his bed under your head, making sure you were comfortable before kissing you hard.

You instinctively moved down to help remove his boxers. Once freed, you savored the weight of him in your hand. He was deliciously thick and you can’t help but to start firmly rubbing him. You bring a thumb to the head of his cock rubbing the pre cum down his shaft. Now it was your turn to relish in the noises he was making

Frank was so sensitive that just a small amount of touching had him gently thrusting in your hand, lowly grunting with your firm touch. His enthusiasm reminded you how empty you were. You wordlessly guide him to you, teasing his head up and down your sopping folds until pausing at your entrance. He replaced your hand with his and you moved your hips to slot his.

The pressure of him against your entrance was leaving you lightheaded. The gasps you were making had Frank teeming with desire but he was determined to take his time. Pressing ever so gently he pushed just the head of him inside you as he began to lean down towards you. You tried to buck your hips up into him but he stopped you.

Fully leaning over you, he placed one of his forearms to your side, hooking it around the crown of your head. His other hand held your jaw firmly in place. Staring deeply into your eyes he says, “I’m so fucking sorry I left. I won’t leave you again unless you tell me to.” He pleaded as he buried himself in you.

“Oh fuck yes’ Frank.” You cried out as he pressed your foreheads together.

“I fucking missed you, sweetheart.” He roughly whispered.

“I missed you too.” You choked out, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. Frank lowered the hand that was on your chin to the other side of your head as he started rocking into you, setting a pleasurable pace for the both of you. He slowly moves his hips until your breath hitches. That’s when he knows he’s got the right angle. You cry out as he rocks into a little harder, causing you to grab on to his shoulders.

Sweat was beginning to leave a light sheen on the both of you as more heat began to generate from where you two were connected. Frank was applying soft kisses on your neck and the little huffs he was breathing near your ear made you clench around him tighter.

You noticed his chest flushing and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Franks brings one hand down, and slips it between the two of you and circled your clit, while kissing you deeply. The pleasure of being surrounded by Frank- his weight on top of you, cock filling you, his scent surrounding you, his tongue flicking into your mouth- was overwhelming after all this time.

You pull away, wanting to save the moment in fear of him slipping away from you again.

“You’re really going to stay this time?” You quietly stuttered in between his thrusts.

“Yes darlin. I’m always going to be here.” He grunted. He could feel you getting tighter again and your whines were music to his ears as he kept his current rhythm. Your fingers tighten against his shoulder, leaving little half moons in it’s wake and your back involuntarily arches as you splinter once more from reality.

Your pussy is squeezing Frank so hard that he can’t hold himself back any longer. His body stiffens and he groans out as he fills you with his cum.

You can’t stop the tears from spilling out and streaming down the side of your face during your come down. All of the fear, anger and worry that had been pent up all came rushing out and it was simply too much. He didn’t try to silence you or make you stop. Frank simply held you and wiped away your tears.

“I’m sorry I’m crying so much.” You sniffled, trying to slow yourself down.

“It’s ok Angel, are you alright?”

You nodded your head yes as Frank carefully removed himself from you. You winced from the loss of contact but he softly pulled you into him as he laid down onto his side.

Your crying had slowed down and the weight of reality was setting back in. Your mind started racing with questions. Did he really mean what he said? What does this mean for the two of you? Were you ready for a commitment like this? So many thoughts racing in your head and you settle on one.

“Frank?” You quietly ask, face still buried in his chest while his hands were rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Earlier you said that you were putting off a job. What did you have to go do?”

Swallowing thickly, Frank closed his eyes. He knew that coming back meant coming clean and you might not be interested when you find out who he really is. And maybe that conversation should have come first but old habits have a way of dying hard.

“I will answer all of your questions in the morning. Would you like to stay tonight?”

“Can we take a shower?” You ask as you nod your head in agreement, attempting to ignore a new ball of anxiety beginning to form. What could this man be hiding from you? “Or do you only have one towel as well? You teasingly ask, partly as a way to distract you from your own mind.

“You’re in luck because I have two and they are both clean. I’ll go start the water. Come and join me when you’re ready” Frank kisses the top of your head before getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #the punisher #the punisher smut #soft frank castle

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call-me-copycat · 26 days

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Love Knows No Bounds

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules (Requests are open + Some info about me)

▶ Characters: Yandere Dadzawa & Daughter Reader [Platonic]

▶ Genre: Kind of fluffy + Yandere themes

▶ Summary: Aizawa's never really taken a liking to kids. But you keep finding him somehow, and he wonders why he's now constantly worrying about you. He decides you're the only exception he'll make.

▶ Word Count: 4547

▶ Warnings:

This is yandere, so there's bound to be a slightly unhealthy mindset

Aizawa's not a creep, I promise

Implications of deaths of citizens

Graphic description of those citizens fear before said deaths

Mention of slight stalking

I'm not too great at writing Yandere, so it's not too bad

You were impossible to ignore.

Aizawa's first meeting with you wasn't exactly conventional. You were paddle boating around the recently melted lake, which was still cold enough to have small chunks of ice still floating around. The surrounding park was busy with people, all enjoying the evening weather right before the sun went down.

Aizawa was just trying to take a walk, he wasn't even on the clock. But when disaster calls, he has to be the one to always answer.

Something must've caught the bottom of your boat, because before you knew it you were engulfed in icy water. Your limbs locked up, and all the breath in your lungs immediately went out.

He was the first one into the lake, pulling you out and onto the grass where it was safe. Before you could grasp your bearings, he was already gone. You only caught a glimpse of the man that had rescued you.

Aizawa, on the other hand, was slightly annoyed with you, seeing as he had to make his walk all the way home in soggy clothing with a chill digging into his bones.

But he didn't care. You were an empty face in a faceless crowd.

Until you appeared again.

The weather was still slightly chilly, but it didn't deter you as you set off for school. You walked down your normal path you'd take, only to see a large dog waiting for you at the end of the path. It was chained, but it was blocking the area - most likely waiting for its owner to come back. You didn't have time for that.

Ultimately, the best decision for you was to go around. To take a slight detour. You were never allowed to walk in strange areas, and you knew your parents would have a fit if you were found out.

Approaching the new area with caution, you sped your way through the neighborhood with ease as it wasn't too different from yours.

A glimpse was what caught you off guard.

Passing by an apartment complex, you initially didn't think much of it. You peeked into the parking lot, only to see the back head of a man getting into his car. He was placing something into the back seat, and you watched curiously as he shut the door and turned to get into the front.

Your eyes widened at the exact moment when you saw his face, remembering the blurry outline of the man that rescued you. Quickly, you calculated how much time you had left before school, eventually coming to a decision as you swiftly made your way over to him.

Your walk turned to a run as you watched him get into his car and turn his key. Your bag rapidly beat against your back as you heavily panted, ending up haphazardly behind his car just as he began to back up.

The car instantly halted with a screech, the back lights blaring as you stood frozen in place.

Aizawa heatedly opened the car door, scowling at the blatant disregard you had for your safety. Before you could react, he was already on you.

"Are you not watching where you're going? Do you not know what would've happened if I didn't react in time?" He snapped, not having much patience with random kids so early in the morning.

You stood there awkwardly as you fiddled with your school uniform, not realizing why you had wanted to reach out to him. Looking at the ground, you evaded his angry glare as you thought about what you had wanted to say to him.

Aizawa's expression softened as you avoided his eyes, realizing he was being a bit too harsh on you. He knew he needed to be stern, but he often got scolded by Mic And Midnight for being too harsh at times. Realizing his behavior, he steeled himself by taking a breath and kneeling down to your level.

"Look..." He started, placing a hand on your shoulder, "You just need to make sure you're aware of your surroundings, I don't want you getting hurt because of someone else's actions. "

Looking up at him with determination, you gripped the bottom of your shirt as you exclaimed, "You...! You're the one who helped me in the lake, right?"

His eyes widened for a second as he thought back to it, realizing that you were the kid he helped out at that moment. He never had someone remember him helping them out, often due to his hidden nature to keep his face out of public view. He would simply do his job and leave. If anything, it was to be expected to not get anything out of it.

Aizawa wasn't sure how you did it, but you somehow managed to find him and mustered up the confidence to thank him. He now saw you as who you were, a kid with a name and face instead of being one of the many blurs in the background.

Still at knee level, he rubbed the back of his neck, "I am," curious, he had to ask you, "Would you mind telling me how exactly you were able to find me here? "

You excitedly nodded your head with a smile as you recalled the issue with the dog and your regular path to school, and how even though your parents didn't like you taking new paths that you didn't have a choice, and to please not tell them or else you'd get in trouble -

Immediately, you remembered about school, and instantly realized that if you didn't hurry then you'd be late, Aizawa quickly catching on to your unease.

"I need to..." You started, beginning to walk away as you nervously pointed out towards the sidewalk from which you came.

"How long does it take you to get to school?" You only answered with a shrug, Aizawa sighing in response. He was caught in a rock and a hard place now.

On one hand, he could just leave you and drive to UA as normal, but deal with the guilt of being the cause of your tardiness. On the other hand, he could offer you a ride, but at the expense of getting in trouble and being seen as a creep. A young girl getting into a random man's car with no knowledge of who he was wasn't the brightest idea when it came to evading public attention. With his looks and mysterious reputation, he already got a few odd looks from passerbys as he spoke to you.

Who were you, and how were you already able to worm yourself into his life?

Helping a random kid get to school was definitely not on his itinerary for the day, yet here he was.

"Are you buckled?"

Nodding cheerfully, you hummed in acknowledgement, oblivious to the heavy dread that settled in Aizawa. He had given in as you looked up at him with worry in your eyes, but he brushed it off as a one time thing. He'd only give in this once.

You weren't very good at giving directions, he realized. After too many U-turns and 'wait a minute!'s, he was ready to get out a map instead.

Finally, you arrived at your school with a few minutes to spare. You happily hopped out of the car, turning around and waving at him with a large smile on your face as you walked inside. After you disappeared from his sight, Aizawa meekly gave a little wave. It felt nice, in a way, helping out someone new.

Although, on the other side he was extremely irritated at your lack of awareness as you were ready to hitch a ride with what was a random stranger. He might have slightly scolded you on stranger danger on your way to school, but you didn't mind too much.

He thought that was that, and that he wouldn't see you again. But you were always there, ready to budge your way into his day once more.

The sun was setting, with only a few strands of light clinging onto the ground as Aizawa took a small walk to the convenience store. The air was cool, and the path was near empty as people began leaving before dark. Perfect for a night dweller such as him.

It was only when he saw a familiar figure that he stopped in his tracks.

You were wheeling a bicycle alongside you, wearing casual street clothes now. Why, he wondered, were you out at this time? Yes, it wasn't that late since the sun barely went down, but it was dark. Much too dark for a kid such as you to be out by herself.

"Oh! It's you again!" You greeted him before he could even fully see you, just as happy as you were before.

"It's late. Why are you out here?" His voice was stern, but still carried an undertone of carrying.

You laughed, already having realized that this man wasn't as scary as he seemed on the outside. You had quickly grew comfortable around him, despite how annoyed he seemed every time he saw you.

"My bike broke, so I'm walking," looking around, you noticed the early time, "besides, it's not too late, I've been out later than this."

His eye twitched. You were so comfortable, smiling and ignorant of any danger or threats that were possible. How you survived this long was well beyond him.

"Still-" Heaving another breath, he swallowed any objections and changed the subject, "What's wrong with your bike? "

You looked down at it, gently nudging it to the side and back, "I think the chain popped, though I could be wrong..."

Aizawa knew nothing about bikes. He only rode a few times as a kid and sometimes as a teen when he didn't have a ride. Still, he lowered himself to inspect your bike. Upon further examination, he did discover the chain, broken.

That night he escorted you home, carrying your bike for you since you were hauling it beside you 'too slowly'.

Aizawa nudged open his front door with his foot, convenient store bags in hand. Putting them down on his kitchen table, he took a moment and silently looked at the ground, wondering just why he was constantly fretting over you.

Perhaps it was because of how ignorant you were? Maybe it was just something he picked up when training to be a hero? He had no clue. He wasn't even a kid person, his own students were already pushing his patience a little thinner each day.

Every time he saw you, he got to know a little more about you. Each meeting gave him a puzzle piece, and a picture of who you were was slowly forming with each occurrence.

He began seeing you more often, whether it was due to random chance or by choice, he didn't care.

Waking beside you as you got off school while you told him all the things you learned, running into him at the grocery store and trying to convince him to get your favorite pudding, showing up at his doorstep with a small basket of berries you picked from the town garden...

Sooner than he would've cared for, Aizawa noticed that he began to like having you by his side. Your company was like a breath of fresh air in his lungs, your happy mood constantly keeping him from getting too sour.

It was new, and it was... Pleasant.

"Aizawaaa-San!"

Your voice greeted him just like every other time he met you, and he cracked a small smile upon hearing it.

Your were a bit of a distance away, but he stopped in place to allow you to run up to him. You somehow found him once again, taking a walk along the harbor where the boats were docked. It seemed like a game at this point, one you always seemed to win.

"Guess what?!"

Ever so excited, you seemed to be practically buzzing with enthusiasm.

He cocked an eyebrow, putting his hands in his pockets as you strolled next to him, "What is it? Going somewhere, I suppose? "

Your laugh rang in his ears, a sound he couldn't get enough of. He was just happy that you were happy, after all.

"Yes! My parents and I are going to visit Tokyo!" You put your hands on your cheeks, gushing, "It's going to be so fun, the city always has the most to do!"

Ah, Tokyo. It was a nice city, but cities always seemed to bring trouble. As everyone knew, the more populated an area, the more villains littered the place. Suddenly, it seemed that the air of amusement deflated from him.

"Just... Be sure to be careful please. "

You took notice of his sudden mood change, confused as to why he wasn't happy about your trip.

"Of course I will! But..." You tilted your head a bit, "Are you okay? You don't seem very happy today"

Taking notice of your worry, Aizawa quickly put on a weak reassuring smile. Putting a hand on your head, he comforted you, "Don't worry about it, just promise to tell me all about your trip when you get back"

You looked up at him, eyes filled with confidence as you hummed in acknowledgement.

Why was he here? Has he actually lost his mind?

That's all that rolled through Aizawa's mind as he scrolled through train stations you'd be passing by. He just needed to be sure that the ride will be safe. He didn't need to go all the way to Tokyo, but just far enough so that he could reassure his frantic mind.

Yes, he understood how freaky he was being. But for some reason, you triggered some odd emotion deep in his brain that made it so he couldn't not worry about you. The world was rough and sharp, he's seen lots of villains that couldn't care less about tearing a small girl to shreds...

A shudder ran through his spine, and Aizawa quickly ejected the thought from his mind before he could go any more crazy.

The rain was uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. All Aizawa could do was circle around the nearby stations then let you truly go to explore further.

Without him.

It left an odd taste in his mouth.

The train passed by, rumbling the station and the people around it, and he watched as it rode further and further away . . . carrying you with it. Of course you'd come back, it was only a trip. But what would he do if you didn't? What if your parents decided to move to Tokyo? What if you got into an accident?

It was then that he realized how silent his life would be without you in it. You were the colors dotting his gray life.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to drive around to calm himself, his nerves making him more jumpy than he'd like.

The drive was unfortunately cut short.

He knew it. Aizawa knew something was bound to happen.

Of course a villain shows up. He had seen the call earlier that day, but at that time they were much farther away. He realized that whoever the heroes were chasing must've been fast.

He was also quite large.

A massive villain, made of rock was being propelled by what seemed like self-made wings was near-cornered by a good amount of heroes going after him. And when a villain gets trapped they tend to do one of two things: they either (1) Lose any sense of logic in their mind and make stupid last-minute decisions, or (2) Get extremely violent as they know their time is up and that they have nothing to lose.

This villain seemed to be leaning towards the first point, as his flying began to get more and more erratic, frantically trying to find a way out through the numerous towering buildings with a multitude of heroes on his tail.

It was an unfortunate timing of events.

It felt as though time froze for a split second. Aizawa had never felt as powerless as he did in that moment. He could only watch in horror as the villain slammed into the train tracks with a deafening thud, knocking away a good portion of the tracks that sat high above the ocean.

(Like a combination of these two ^⁠_⁠^)

Huge chunks of rubble slowly collapsed down and into the dark waters that rushed at the bottom of the tracks, down to the point where they couldn't be seen anymore. The metal pieces of the tracks sat sticking out of the remaining ends, bent and distorted.

Whipping his head where your train was coming, Aizawa felt as though his heart was about to overflow and explode to pieces right in his chest. He felt hollow, and everything began to swirl as he watched the train skid in an attempt to stop.

Unfortunately the train was too heavy to stop all at once, causing it to skid over the tracks with a shrieking screech as metal collided with metal.

Sparks flew from the wheels as the train bolted in the direction of the collapsed tracks, threatening to hurl itself over and into the roaring waters below. Surrounding citizens were ushered out of the area for their safety, but those remaining sat and watched tensely, often screaming out in worry and horror at the sight before them.

Aizawa immediately halted his car and tore out into your direction while leaving it where it sat, uncaring for anything that blocked his way from getting to you. He held his scarf that once sat in his passenger seat haphazardly in his arms, struggling to get the heavy metal properly around his neck while he ran.

Pure adrenaline coursed through his veins as he sprinted with all his might towards the skidding train, his eyes never leaving the sight. He knew that he wouldn't be able to make it up there on time, and he surely knew he couldn't stop a train, but he'd be damned if he sat there watching without attempting anything.

A slight burst of hope sparked within him as several strength-bound heroes rushed to the scene and teamed up to heave the train in the opposite direction to slow it's movement. It was a bit of a struggle, but the stalling of what would've been a complete massacre of a train full of civilians meant everything in that moment.

A hero in front was attempting to push his feet in front of the machine while it skidded against him, and several in the back were using an assortment of quirks in an attempt to pull it backwards.

Slowly, the train began to slow just as Aizawa made his way up to it, the train still ticking its way uncomfortably close to the edge. He hopped into the train from the roof just as the front of the train slowly ran over the edge, dangling itself over the dark waters while the back cabins sat on the crumbling tracks.

All the passengers were in a panic, and it was incredibly difficult for Aizawa to manage his way through the terrified screaming and faces full of tears, but he was determined to face the chaos in order to find you.

He knew he was breaking Heroes Code. Once you were a hero, you were expected to do your best to save every person you could, with no bias towards one and risk the lives of many others. But he just couldn't think of such a thing at that time.

His mind was in a frenzy as the passengers all started hollering and rushing towards the back of the train, and in that moment, Aizawa realized why.

The front cabin of the train was threatening to rip off from the back end, the cables slowly snapping as more and more people rushed through it.

Eventually, a horrible, dreadful silence filled the cabin as the passengers still inside the front all froze in place, terrified to make a single move.

Aizawa stood at the front of the cabin that sat on the tracks, peering down inside the cabin that dangled - straight at the petrified faces of the passengers as they looked to him for rescue.

He had to think. If he just walked in, the entire thing would collapse. But he didn't see you in any of the cabins when he started at the back, and he took a second to glance over the terrified faces, each nothing but a blur to him.

Faceless, nameless citizens.

It was then that he instantly locked eyes with you, huddled at the way front end of the train. You were gripping the top bar of the train with such force that your knuckles were white, and he could see the true look of horror on your face as you had the closest view of the water waiting to swallow you down below.

He could only assume the two adults next to you were your parents, but he wasn't focused on them. Your eyes were screaming for him. It was extremely unsettling for him, to see your usually innocent and joyful face filled with such fear.

He only had one thing on his mind. The only thing he's every thought of whenever it came to you.

To keep you safe. To protect your smile.

At this point a couple other heroes had boarded the train alongside him and began to rush the the front end of the train, intent on getting everyone out alive.

Unaware of Aizawa's selfishness.

Slowly, the cables snapped as the cabin began to lower without stopping, causing the passengers to go into another round of distress as they all could only await the inevitable.

"Eraserhead!"

Quickly, Aizawa gave a small glance behind his shoulder to the random hero calling his name, keeping you in his peripheral vision. He was a young man with thick ropes of metal unwinding from his body, keeping the secondary cabin that still sat on the tracks from falling with the front. The metal coils winded around and through the train as it gripped the machine, keeping the man stationary.

"Please! Just save who you can!"

Another hero from behind the young man added on, "There are other pros waiting below the train to catch as many passengers as they can! They can't assure they'll be able to save everyone, so please! Move whoever you can grab, and do it NOW!"

He sprung into action before the hero could even finish her sentence, darting straight in your direction. For a brief second, his eyes caught a glimpse of who your parents were, and he realized that if he put in some extra effort that he could've taken them with him.

A dark, heavy feeling filled his mind for a second, and he seemed to lose control of his normally logical mind.

Envy. Jealousy. Rage.

They too, were faceless, nameless citizens.

Unimportant.

He was rash, wrapping and hauling you up and through the cabin with his scarf, immediately pulling you into his arms as he carried you to the safer cabin. Once his scarf was free he hastily tugged a few nearby passengers into the cabin with him, an alibi, before the cabin snapped entirely and began collapsing down below.

The passengers erupted into a cacophony of shrieks and crying as they uselessly tried to make their way to the other cabin before theirs fell entirely. Aizawa caught a glimpse of your parents faces again, but he only watched as they fell with no remorse on his face.

He felt hollow, but at the same time he felt fulfilled with you in his grasp.

Looking over, he saw a couple heroes mid-flight, ready to do what they could for the falling passengers. Aizawa could only look on grimly as he understood they wouldn't be able to handle all the people left behind.

You were clinging to him as the front end of the train collapsed, and as you turned your head Aizawa covered your face with his jacket to keep you from witnessing something that a kid your age shouldn't ever have to see in their lifetime.

The tragedy was all over the news. Numerous heroes littered the scene as they assisted all those that they saved to the medical professionals. News reporters were constantly attempting to get a word from one of those heroes, or an image of what was left behind. A few selfish ones, hungry for a best seller, tried to get a few words in with the victims.

The train was now empty, the front cabin sitting in the waters below and the rest of the train barely lasting against the remains of the crumbling tracks.

Ambulances were wheeling out more people than they had room for, and construction heroes were already on the scene as they got ready to remove the train from the hazardous tracks.

And yet, throughout all the chaos, all Aizawa could look as was you.

You, clinging onto him for dear life. You, who almost lost that life. You, who once again was saved by him just as he did that one time in the lake.

He refused to part with you, accompanying you all the way to the closest hospital they could get you to that wasn't overcrowded. He still stayed by your side, all throughout the night as you couldn't sleep.

He was by your side as the doctors gave you one last checkup before letting you know you were ready to leave.

And he was the shoulder you cried on when you found out the news about your parents. They were just faces in the crowd, yet he was still there to assist you.

He was a hollow, empty man towards the unknown. Those without faces didn't gain any sympathy from him, they littered the background plenty.

He was there when you felt completely, awfully lost and scared. And he was the one to offer you a home. He gave you a home, safety, and unconditional love and comfort. He was simply, conveniently there, and you didn't question it.

He was there for every fear, every nightmare, and every time your felt alone.

Later on, he was the one who accompanied you to school, this time as the one to sign you up and drive you home without worry. He drove you everywhere freely, no matter where you wanted to go. No worries attached.

You reached out to him as your pillar, and for once, things flipped around as he was your beacon of light now.

Soon enough, your smile returned, and with it that laugh he so enjoyed hearing from you. You were safe, and you were happy. That was all he needed.

Now that you were his, he wouldn't risk a single thing that he thought would put you in danger.

Your laugh was purely for him to hear.

Your smile was only his to see.

Your safety was only his concern.

Constantly by your side, you both rarely parted. He wouldn't allow you to anymore, seeing what happened the last time he attempted to let you go off without him.

You couldn't have been more grateful for all he gave you. He saved you from a lonely life ahead, and he kept you safe. He was always telling you that, anyways.

But you didn't mind. Aizawa was Aizawa, and you couldn't ask for anything else. For all you knew, he was the man who always conveniently showed up to save you, the one to always lend a hand whenever you needed it.

But to you, he wasn't Aizawa anymore.

He was Dad.

And he wouldn't ever let it go any other way.

Notes:

I hope this was good for a first attempt at writing Yandere! If this wasn't to your liking, send me a message through asks and I'll write another how you'd like! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I really liked the plot I made for this one - ̗̀ ( ˶'ᵕ'˶) ̖́-

I'm working on the other requests I've gotten, I've been getting plenty! I really appreciate every one who sent one in, I look forward to fulfilling what I can ୧꒰*´꒳`*꒱૭✧

I hope you all have a lovely day!

@jessiedead Hope you like it (⁠^⁠^⁠)

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 month

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Could I request Fukuzawa's (Bungou Stray Dogs) daughter getting annoyed by sons of wealthy families everywhere she goes but is always saved by her ability (to control a flock of birds) or her father?

It was a fairly nice day out, now that the weather was starting to turn. Coming out of the cold gloom of winter and into the bright, but still brisk, light of spring.

“Shouldn’t we head back to the office?” Atsushi asked as he and his partner walked around the city streets. Working on a new case but their ‘investigation’ had ended some time ago. Not long after their second coffee stop.

“Ahhh….what’s the rush? Enjoy the fresh air Atsushi-kun.” Dazai remarked back. Filling his lungs as he spoke.

“I just feel bad leaving everyone else back at the office.” Leaving everyone to work that is. “Hey, is that Fukuzawa-san?”

“Well, what do you know. It is. Boss!” The older man turned to look at Dazai at his call. Greeting his subordinates as they came closer. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m waiting to have lunch with my daughter.”

Atsushi was surprised. Daughter? “Oh, [Y/N]-chan is in town?” Apparently, everyone knew the boss had a daughter but him.

Fukuzawa-san goes on to tell Atsushi that she was studying at university aboard, which was why he had never met her. There seemed to be a concerned look on his face when they talked about her being back in town, which was understandable with everything going on. Or maybe it was just his normal, serious expression.

The men continue to chat for a while before Fukuzawa-san perked up and looked over across the courtyard. As if sensing his daughter’s presence the moment she stepped into the park.

Atsushi had to admit, she was very beautiful. She didn’t look much like Fukuzawa-san, so he had to assume that she took after her mother. [Y/N] hadn’t seem to notice them yet as she walked across the park, presumably to this destination agreed upon by her & her father, when a man stepped in front of her path. He was talking to her rather animatedly and when she tried to step around him, he blocked her path again.

“Should we go and do something?” Atsushi asked. Concerned for her safety.

“No. She doesn’t need help.” Fukuzawa-san assured him.

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees. “She’s got enough back up as it is.”

Atsushi was confused by that comment. Then, suddenly, a crow came down out of nowhere and beamed the man. Clipping him in the back of the head like it was nothing. It was an odd coincidence, but then another bird came down and started pecking him. Then another. Then another.

Eventually the man had to take off running to try and escape the birds. Who chased after him regardless of his pace and [Y/N] kept walking. “Hello Daddy.”

“Hello princess.” Fukuzawa-san greeted back. Leaning in to kiss her forehead before he stood at his normal height again.

“What was with those birds?” Atsushi asked, and [Y/N] grinned at him.

“To Kill a Mockingbird.” She told him. “It’s my ability to control & communicate with birds. Not as interesting as being able to turn into a tiger, but it suits me.”

“You know about my ability?” Atsushi asked curiously.

To which [Y/N] chuckled. “Of course. Dad keeps me up to date on everything to do with the Agency. You and Dazai are often topics of conversation.”

“Glowing reviews I hope?”

“More like headaches.” She replied to Dazai’s comment.

“Are you ready to go?” Fukuzawa asked. Changing the topic.

“That depends. Are Dazai and Atsushi joining us?”

“They won’t be joining us.” Fukuzawa-san replied quickly, before the boys could invite themselves along. He didn’t get much time with his daughter and wanted to spend time with her alone. “I’ll see you two back at the Agency.”

“Roger that sir.” Dazai remarked. Giving a little salute. “Maybe [Y/N]-chan can come by after your lunch and say hi to the others. I’m sure Kunikida-kun would be devastated if he missed you.”

[Y/N] glared at Dazai behind her father’s shoulder. A warning look in her eyes as he gave her a cheeky smile. “Would you have time for that, or do you need to meet up with friends?”

“I think I can make time for that.” [Y/N] replied, back to her sweet smile in the face of her father, before they link arms and head to lunch.

Just as they were out of ear shot, another bird came down and started pecking violently at Dazai. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ok! Ok! It was just a joke! Knock it off [Y/N]-chan! Ow!”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#fukuzawa yukichi #bsd fukuzawa #bungou stray dogs fukuzawa #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bungou stray dogs imagine #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #scenarios #imagine

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alienssstufff · 1 year

Text

LAST LIFE APOCALYPSE AU MASTERLIST

A very intensely written Life Series au by ME!

All general updates questions and lore can be found in the #last life apocalypse au tag! This post in particular will act as a masterlist regarding the timeline, worldbuilding and lore of the au. I wish to (hopefully) keep updating this post as more characters and arcs are revealed.

IMPORTANT YOU VISIT THIS LINK FIRST BEFORE ENTERING (It’s pretty): > Last Life Apocalypse AU Intro (Talks about the mechanics)

Now without further ado - lets begin:

TIMELINE (Summarised)

The timeline of the AU is defined by two major arcs:

The past PROLOGUE 3RD LIFE that is the childhood of majority of the cast (location: their childhood town)

LAST LIFE PRESENT day that takes place in the woods (the main event - when the Apocalypse starts)

These are arcs that involve most if not all of the cast members from their respective seasons.

[BETWEEN ARCS] Between these arcs occur smaller events - big to some but not on a scale to affect everyone. This is the transition period after the cast graduate from Middle School and go their separate ways before reuniting (by fate) in the Last Life Woods. Events that happen in the between arcs take inspiration from the CC’s other respective series beyond the Life Series.

Some current inspirations: Evo SMP, Hermitcraft (various seasons), Scar’s TCD series, Bdubs’ SOTF. More about their involvement as updates progress.

[SCU SPIN-OFF] Consider this as an epilogue describing the state of the planet decades after the main cast has died. Not considered a ‘major arc’ as it is not focused on the main cast but exists solely for worldbuilding purposes (because I like it :] ).

WORLDBUILDING

Setting of Last Life takes place in the woods, think of American national parks or camping grounds on a road trip, or the Walking Dead (the telltale game not the show)

CLIMATE: Generic American woodlands climate but with a less generic winter weather. As the situations for the player’s get more dire, so does the environment around with forecasts for an oncoming snow blizzard from Magic Mountain as the world fades to white.

It is also during this time of year and climate where a creature known as the Wither is rumoured to roam the lands. It is a cryptid that unlike most woodland creatures, the Wither wakes from hibernation only during the Winter when it is cold enough and feasts on a very specific carnivorous diet. In reality this is known as the Patient 0 of the Bogeydisease, born and mutated within the labs of the Research Facility, leading to the downfall desolation of what is now known as the Abandoned Observatory.

MAIN LOCATIONS:

SOUTHLANDS (Camp Southlands) - Were once a popular camping hotspot before the apocalypse. The people who survived there were once camp counselors (Grian, Impulse, Mambo, Martyn, Jimmy). The grounds acted as both a family resort and a summer camp for kids where they are divided into one of the five factions supervised by each counselor: -MARTYN Counsellor of Athletics and house of the GREEN CATS -IMPULSE Counsellor of Cooking and house of the YELLOW SUN BEARS -JIMMY Counsellor of Safety and house of the BLUE DOGS (formerly blue canaries) -MUMBO Counsellor of Crafts (shop) and house of the BLACK MOTHS -GRIAN Counsellor of (shenanigans) Arts and house of the RED BIRDS

FAIRY FORT (Fairy Fort Reserve FFR) - A geographically enclosed area dedicated to protecting the land and the endangered animals that are shelter there. Ownership of the Fairy Fort was passed along the generations of Lizzie’s family tree. The people who survived there are park rangers with Lizzie as their lead. They have current beef with the Southlanders as there are many things they disagree with and compete against.

ICE FORT (Shade-E-E’s Gas) - As it’s located near the center of the map, the ethubs ‘Ice Fort’ is one of the only ounces of urban infrastructure out in the woods. Upon arrival of the Apocalypse, it is a fortified Shade-E-E’s gas station barricaded by the only employees Bdubs and Etho (the manager). It once acted as a pitstop to drivers and travelers alike and is the only place in the woods that has a working cellphone tower and final connection to the outside world dubbed as “Etho’s Tree”.

TEAM BEST HIDEOUT / ROCKTAPUS (Abandoned Observatory/Research Centre) - An abandoned observatory squatted on by Skizz that doubled as a bunker that was originally built in preparation for a nuclear fallout. Upstairs the observatory contains secret government documents regarding information about the Bogeydisease and the Wither cryptid - Indecipherable to all except for Tango who understands them. Downstairs the bunker’s monitors are linked to several surveillance cameras in the woods.

GASLIGHT GIRLBOSS GATEKEEP (Scottage Club) - A retreat saved for the rich and elite. While the Scottage Club has its HQ here, holiday properties of its patrons are scattered all across the map (the secret green lives hideouts).

MAGIC MOUNTAIN - Kept off limits just for how dangerous the place is, no one ever goes there. Rumor has it the mountain has magic capabilities that can drive a man insane. The last human sightings near Magic Mountain were two lone hikers who by arrogance wished to conquer and come back surviving the woodland’s most treacherous point. And while they were never seen again, they say if you look very closely with a spyglass, you can catch glimpses of a small, broken up hut at the top.

THE NETHER (NETHERLANDS not-the-country): The NETHER is the closest town over from the Last Life woodlands and is home to facilities such as a Fortress Dept Store and a camping & fishing shop known as The Bastion. While hypothetically the cast could escape the woodlands to live in the Nether, it is because of the high value resources that can be found in these stores that attract both surviving scavengers and zombies alike - making the town very dangerous to defend.

The ‘nether portals’ in this au are the vehicles each team has on them to travel between locations. The Nether may be the closest town there is, but even walking there on foot is extremely dangerous - especially considering the apocalypse and the harsh elements.

BOGEYDISEASE

For legal reasons, I dropped biology in highschool as soon as I could - I do not know shit about diseases and how people develop medicine. This is a fictional disease. TLDR; I am talking out of my ass.

[Origins of the Bogeydisease and the L.I.F.E antidotes pending (secret!)]

Transfer of the disease in its early stages of evolution could only be transferred if bacteria had direct contact with the host’s bloodstream. At best (?) in small amounts the host would experience a fever and shivering. At worst the host would feel extreme fatigue, most likely dying of starvation/dehydration due to it being unaware of their hunger (and fatigue - the disease manipulates the brain into thinking the host is not fatigued).

Nature of the disease (well.. virus) as it continues is designed to adapt with the changing environment. While most samples were not able to survive its effects, some victims of the Wither’s bite would survive and exhibit a second stage of the disease’s effects. If the host were to survive the initial stages of the disease, once the disease has fully adapted to the body of its host it would evolve in order to prolong its survival. This is evident by physical alterations of the host’s appearance.

Not just physical changes but behavioural as well. The host would act more akin to serving its natural instincts, more inclined to the hunt and the tendency to keep itself alive.

People who are in the second stages and beyond of contracting the Bogeydisease are considered Red Lives. It is possible to cure Red Lives out of the Bogeydisease as long as the disease has not evolved to its later stages. WHEN a person is cured using a L.I.F.E antidote they may experience side-effects [explained in the INTRO]. In some instances, ex-hosts may retain some of the traits afflicted when they were Bogey.

Later stages of disease evolution. The disease and its hosts show strong similarities to how rabies can be passed between hosts. And based on how a host reacts to the disease, hosts of the disease are classified into two types:

Host is overwhelmed by the effects of the disease and dies early. If the body and surrounding scene are left untreated, the disease will continue to live on in the decomposing body and grow a special fungus that feeds off the remains. The fungus and its disease reproduces by its spores which allow the disease to not only infect the environment around but also proves the possibility in contracting an airborne variant of the disease.

Host grows accustomed to the effects of the disease exhibiting the aforementioned loss of higher brain functions above (incapable of reason and rational thought). Movements grow erratic, constantly moving as a means of maintaining fixed body temperature. For colder climates the diet of hosts relies on feasting on warm bodies. Failure to do so will induce drowsiness in the host, placing them in a slumber in order to regain energy and try again. Hosts also show signs of excessive salivation and occasional bleeding. Direct exposure to any of the host’s bodily fluids is another method in contracting the disease.

[ REMINDER THIS IS AN ONGOING AU , MORE TO BE UPDATED ]

#stufffsart #myart #last life apocalypse au #last life smp #last life #life series #life smp #trafficblr #mcyt #mcyt fanart #long post #everything written on a google doc in advance :]c

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imyourrjoy · 10 months

Text

The power held over me

Summary: A new duo arrives in jackson after being found in the snow, praying

Warnings : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!!!!, abusive parents, toxic religion, toxic people all around, misogyny, hitting, threats, self dought,fear , stop here if it's too much the series will just get darker

Word count : 2.6k

Paring : dark!Joel Miller x pastors daughter!afab!reader

Part 1 / ?????

Masterlist

A/n : she's dark, very dark. This is your last waring, btw. And thanks so much to my pokie wookie bear @xoxo-honeyy for helping me revisit and figure most of it out she's amazing not only for that but also putting up with my dyslexic ass, ily pokie 💋 and give her love as well.

The cold was the worst, especially in a dress. Your dad gave you his jacket but you were still freezing despite the extra protection. The two of you had somehow ended up near a lake, Your father said he could hear a dam nearby, you didn’t know what a dam was, but apparently, it meant that people were near since it's on that means people near and we should be careful and should pray before we continue to pray that God keeps us safe for another day.

You kneeled down on the dense snow. Your legs against the snow made you feel even colder, but your father said to thank Jesus under all circumstances and not to complain in his name.

Your father started the prayer in a loud, confident voice, “Dear heavenly father, we kneel here to ask you for guidance and appreciation to ask for help as you guide us on your path and lead us to safety and not shen ways of harm, amen.”

Bringing your hands to a prayer position you continued praying hoping the cold would go away.

“Hands up”

Your eyes flew open and you saw your father being held at gunpoint, people on horses, and dogs barking. You almost screamed in fear. Were they raiders?, slavers?, or worse were they sinners?

“She said hands up.” Another voice barked at you.

You looked at your dad and put your hands up. The people looked warm physically and emotionally, you felt jealous of them, you tried to will the jealousy away but nothing was working. You repeated the prayer in your head, I am sorry, God, I am not jealous. I am grateful for your gifts. The people then started talking to one another.

“Send out the dog and make sure they're not bit”

“We can assure you we aren't. We are children of God just like you all”

The dogs barked and sniffed us. Then, a different member of the group walked up to us getting off of their horse, and they walked right up to you.

“Stand up, you poor thing, no pants in this weather.”

The brown-haired woman tied her jacket around your legs.

“Thank you,” You replied.

“Don’t touch her,” Your father stood up, but the lady just ignored him.

“Lower the guns. We should take them into town the get some real clothes,” The brown-haired woman seemed to be in charge which seemed odd, you thought men were the ones who were supposed to lead?

Town? You’d only heard stories about places like that. Your father told you that when your mother was alive before the devil took her for being a sinner, that's when you all lived in a little house near the water, a large lake more specifically.

“She is in more than enough clothes”

The lady shot your father a scathing look, “Tommy ride with him and take his backpack. I’ll take the girl.”

The man, Tommy, took your father towards his horse, and the lady took you to hers. When you started the long journey, you were in awe of the surroundings, but nothing could compare to the smell. The smell of fresh food, fire, and the snow falling you were utterly captured by it. When you see large wooden gates and lots of people with guns, you think to yourself i'll pray for them.

"Welcome to Jackson,"

She said as the gates opened, she'd never seen anything like that. it was a town where the stories were true? We rode in, and she helped me off the horse. You were a little worried you hadn't seen my Dad since he got on Tommy’s horse.

"He's fine. Tommy's just gonna show him around while I get you some clothes. What's your name?"

she gave her a smile of relief.

You gave them your name and they smiled warmly

She started walking and you followed her into a shop like building full of clothes she looked at some jeans and before she could hold them up you interrupted her,

"I can't wear pants."

She almost laughed.

"And why is that?"

"It's a sin,"

She scoffed.

"God would rather you live than freeze."

She handed me a pair of jeans``.” you were shocked someone would ever say his name like that.

"But my D-"

"Go change,"

She cut me off and looked for a top, a simple sweater. You were so scared you were gonna go to Hell if she put on these pants. You'll have to pray for hours for God to forgive you.

"You can change there, and trust me, you won't die over pants."

"it's a sin,"

"Honey, trust me, you're not gonna die,"

You took a deep breath and walked into the changing room. You wanted to cry. You were gonna die for this, burn in Hell for eternity, and be with those monsters. You took off the layers and layers of jackets and a dress. The tears started flowing as you put on the jeans. You felt like you had committed the worst crime in the world, and you started begging for forgiveness as you changed.

You started mumbling quickly under your breath, "Dear heavenly father, I am a sinner, and many have sinned by your grace. She prays for my and others' forgiveness. Have mercy on me, your faithful servant of God, according to your faith and love. "

You put on the top, “.” wiped your tears, and walked out of the changing room. When you came out, she the lady had a pink jacket.

"Here she'll keep you warm, and the color suits you."

She was right. The color did suit you.

"Thanks."

"Put it on, let's make sure it fits, and after I'll show you around town."

You put on the jacket and zipped it up. As We walked out, you kept your head low. You shouldn't look at other people if you are in the midst of sin. At least, that's what dad says. She showed me the canteen, a woodworking shop, and even a school. Then you saw my dad and the man, you ran up to them.

"Dad!"

You threw yourself at him and he caught me pulling me into a big hug

"Oh my love, it's ok. You’re safe, God has found us home at last,"

You smiled and saw Tommy go up to maria

"Dad, we need to find a place to pray."

You were so ashamed of the pants, and it seemed like my dad started getting angry.

"We will. They have a church we shall go there and pray for forgiveness and pray you won't become a monster like the rest of the sinners in the world, my love,"

Maria and Tommy walked back up to you and you're dad.

"Well, before we bring you guys to your lodging, we need to talk about the rules, and you all look parched. Let's go to the canteen and get some food?" Tommy said.

my dad nodded in agreement as we all started making our way to the canteen. The closer we got, the more the scent of freshly cooked food invaded your senses, it was so much different from the old canned beans we usually had. We walked into the canteen. It was made of beautiful wood, lights hanging from the ceiling, people giving out plates of food, and others eating it was beautiful.

"Here, I'll take the young lady to get some food. y’all can find a place to sit,"

Tommy walked me to the line of the canteen

"We have rabbit or sheep today, which would you like?"

"Sheep, rabbits are too cute to eat."

Tommy laughed and got two plates and started putting sheep on both.

"So I hear your names y/n is that correct?"

"Yes."

He started putting vegetables onto the plates.

"And your dad is a preacher or just a very devoted man of God?"

she thought that was a dumb question, he's a pastor he told me he was dressed like a pastor. it made you laugh.

"A pastor, of course,"

We moved over to get drinks for you and your father, but before Tommy could grab the pitcher of water you weren't sure what it was sense it wasn't water colored more like mud you're not sure.a girl younger than me grabbed you were more shocked she had pants you hadn't thought of it but a lot of girls here wear pants she should pray for them

"Excuse me,"

She filled up her glass as Tommy protested, “Ellie”

she smiled as she left

"Sorry about her, she's my brother's kid, she's very outgoing, let's say."

"She's fine, but I am worried about the number of women in pants I'll have in my prayers. Does this place allow sinning?or something?" Your voice was filled with concern.

He continued to fill up the cups and looked confused”." That's one way of looking at it for now. Let's just get you both fed,"

We all sat down at the table. You've never eaten so fast, and that water,which was apparently sweet tea, you think too yourself it's probably your new favorite thing. Dad kept telling me to slow down, but you couldn't. You were so hungry and happy to eat something real.

"So, Maria told me you have a multi-faith church?" Your dad asked as he finished eating and scraped the leftovers onto your plate.

Maria replied in a calming tone, "Yes and you’re a preacher, so I’m assuming you would like to have a mass of some sort, which is fine with me and with the council, but first we need to go over the rules the whole reason we came here"

At the mention of rules, you stopped eating and started listening.

"All able-bodied people over the age of 18 unless, unable to due to their health, a disability or lack of survival skills are required to patrol . We rotate every week, two people are in a group. We classify ourselves as a commune which means we all share everything, nothing belongs to just one person, we all respect one another. As well, pitch in and have jobs based on what skills we have or what we're good at. Understand?"

You noticed your dad wasn't too fond of the rules, but he both nodded in agreement.

"So how old is your daughter?" Tommy inquired.

Your dad sighed, "Around 19, we don't know specifically, but she was born about a year after the outbreak. My wife at the time had just gotten pregnant,"

You kept my head down, you missed your mom a lot, she wasn't like my dad she loved God and they taught me to love Him but she liked to tell me about my room shen the town, teach me to read and write she hated that she was a sinner as dad says she didn't believe enough you remember the verse we read for her after she died “For the wages of sin she's dead”. Dad says she wasn't devoted enough.

"Joy, how do you make a fire?"

Tommy asked me the question, and you laughed,"My dad makes those they aren't ladylike"

You doesn't know why he looked taken back. You're a woman. You're supposed to cook,look pretty for your husband and put God above all.

"Joy, you see that girl over there,"

Marshea pointed to a group of girls, including the one who took the pitcher, you nodded."How about you introduce yourself? Make some friends while Tommy and she talk to your dad."

You smiled and walked up to the girls. They all had tea and some food. They all wore pants as well. Before she could say anything a dark-hashered girl spoke

"New to Jackson?"

she nodded

"No way, hey”

The girl from earlier hit my shoulder playfully

"Well I’m Ellie welcome. To my humble abode, take a seat”, you took a seat next to her

"So how'd you find Jackson?” Ellie questions and then thinks for a second, “or did the patrolman find you?

" Well, my father and I just keep moving and, apparently, have traveled throughout. for my whole life moving looking for the place God wants us. And we saw the dam which is when my dad said we should start praying for people or a town, that’s what it’s called right?"

Ellshee immediately responded, chuckling a bit, “Gosh, aren’t you ancient.”

The girl, Ellshee, laughed louder, and it got to your head. Maybe she’s just not used to someone like you?. Maybe it's because you didn't know what town is was?. Either way, it, didn't feel good.

"Ellie, don't be mean" The gruff and slightly hoarse voice came from behind me.

You quickly turned my head to see an older man with graying hair with brown spots sprinkled throughout it, There were also prominent scars on his nose and temple, To say the least, the man looked frightening

"Oh come on"

Ellie protested but the man shushed her.

"Y’ know Ellie, she could probably teach you a thing or two, a girl like her shes a woman of God." He sent a sly wink towards you

He took a seat across from us and Ellie rolled her eyes, "Hi there hon I'm m Joel and this here is my daughter, Ellie don't mind her she's a bit rough around the edges"

"I am not"

she laughed at the little bantering and you got asked the same basic questions before Maria walked up to us,

"she see you've met Tommy's brother,” there was a slight frown on her face,

“come on it's time to see your new home"

You waved goodbye to the pasher and met up with Tommy and my dad again. We all started walking through the town , towards an a cute little house with a small porch and yellow panels.

"The heat, water, and electricity are on and Father you can't wait to see what your Sunday mass is like don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything."

Tommy gave my dad the keys and they walked away after saying goodbye for the night. The house was the same as the rest but it had some personality. It was dusty but rustic. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen that worked a couch, and TV that wasn't of any use but still, it was so nice everything was until my dad looked at me up and down.

"Why the pants? Is my daughter a monster, a sshenner, unfaithful to her lord"

You looked down and the floor,

"Marshea told me that she wouldn't burn and that shet was prac-"

Before you could finish your sentence my father hit me across the face

"Practical your put practicality over your lord and savor????"

Cold dread washed over your body.

"No Dad i-"

He hit me again making me fall to the floor, then he grabbed a fistful of my hasher

"Tomorrow you're getting rid of those pants, if i see them again i'll see to it that God knows of every sin that my child has committed and that my prayers for her forgiveness for her not to become those monsters were all for nothing as her love for him was fake"

You started crying once my dad let me go. He walked into one of the bedrooms while you sat there crying until finally making my way to bed.

You got on your knees and started your nightly prayers you needed to pray for myself, my Father, and God

You brought your hands together

"Dear heavenly father, thank you for your bountiful love and sacrifice. Thank you for leading me and my father to Jackson. I am sorry I have committed the sin of wearing pants. she shall never do it again. My lord, your Bible is the truth, and I am your faithful servant. I pray for my forgiveness as well as the forgiveness of the woman shen Jackson also guilty of this crime. I pray for my mother that though she's a sinner, you forgive her shen the afterlife, and may the devil have mercy on her. And lastly, I pray for my father. I pray that he stays healthy and bountiful. Praise the Lord as he watches over us in our sleep amen."

#tlou #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #pastors daughter! x joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #dark fic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #tlou show #joel miller x reader

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mydarllinglover · 11 months

Text

Alone || Strangers

The group had been travelling for a few months, after they had fled the burning farm, luck had not been on their side, as they travelled from town to town, staying anywhere they could find, which was never for long.

Spirits were low, the weather was cold, and the food was limited.

"This place is a deadend." T-Dog stated, huffing as he looked around the ghost town once more.

"There has to be something, just for a night" Glenn sighed, his usual puppy dog expression on his face.

"What about over there?" Daryl pointed at a house down the street, it seemed to be the only one that was still fully intact or not covered in scorch marks and missing structure.

"Worth a shot." T-Dog shrugged, walking towards the car that Rick and his family were sat in. "We're gonna have a look down there, you coming?"

"Might as well, looks like a safe bet" Glenn bent down looking into the window. "Every other house was empty, like someone had come in and raided the whole street clean, not even walkers roaming around."

"We'll leave the cars here, any sign of trouble, we run back here and go. Just like always." Rick opened the driver door, stepping out the car, signalling all the passengers in the other cars to get out as well. "I want everyone on high alert, something could be lurking in any dark spot."

The group advanced to the house, Rick led Lori, who had shrugged off his arm once already.

"Eurgh, it reeks" Carl groaned once they got closer, pinching his nose to stop the eye watering stench entering his senses.

"Found where they were all hiding." Daryl grumbled, staring at the moat of walkers around the property.

"What the-"

"Whoever done this, they're probably in there" Glenn commented.

"An' they're creative." Daryl pulled a dart out of one of the walkers forehead.

"They're a Psycho" Maggie winced, an arm around Beth as she looked around the street once more.

"Glenn, T, with me, we'll find the son of a bitch." Daryl assured, walking towards the house with his crossbow aimed ahead.

Glenn stood next to the front door, his hand hovering over the handle as he waited for the all clear.

Daryl nodded, letting Glenn throw the door open, The redneck rushing in, to halt in the door way.

"Take another step closer, Asshole. You can join the others out there." A woman's voice threatened, a gun was aimed at his heart, instead of his head, like a normal person. An blue-merle-furred border collie beside her, growled at the man.

"Woah" Glenn stood behind Daryl, throwing his hands in the air in surrender.

"You manage to do all that?" Daryl asked her, scowling at the small brunette woman who was dressed in a dark tank top and blue and white pleated pyjama bottoms.

"Keeps the dead away, mostly keeps strangers away too, so take the hint and leave."

"The door was unlocked" Glenn said.

"Yeah, I saw you guys coming, don't look like the type to knock, and I kinda need the door."

"Rick, it's a woman" T-Dog called out towards the leader.

Rick ran into the house, watching the scene as he too threw his hands up in surrender.

"You can put the gun down, no one's here to hurt you." Rick told her.

"Who said they could, what are you doing here?"

"Me and my people, we're looking for a place to stay, just for the night, this is the only house in shape, we don't want no trouble." He explained, walking closer towards her. "My name is Rick, just put the gun down."

"This house is taken" She tightened her fist around the gun.

"Please, we just need shelter for the night, my wife is pregnant, I have a son here."

"What kinda stupid bitch gets knocked up at a time like this?" The woman laughed.

"Either you let us stay or we will anyway" Daryl growled.

"You know, you're not the first person to say that to me, and the rest are all out there cuddling together." She nodded once more at the safety circle, tired of these people, already.

"They were people?" Glenn asked, his skin paling.

"In some sense. They underestimated me, fucked around and found out, that's what." She explained, her brows furrowed.

"Rick, lets go, this chicks whacko." T-Dog shook his head.

"No, we haven't found something like this in a while." He held his other hand up to the man.

"You should listen to your friend." She warned. "Nuh uh, Buttercup" She took out a small throwing knife aiming it at the blue eyed redneck who had attempted to sneak around the living room towards her. "How far along is she?" The woman asked Rick, her eyes moved around the group of men, eying them all carefully.

Rick looked at her in confusion.

"Your wife, how far along is she?"

"Far enough" Daryl answered for him.

"All we're asking is for one night, then we'll be gone tomorrow." Rick pleaded his case.

"Looks like you got enough supplies to share." T-Dog noted, looking around at the mass amount of weapons, food, first Aid, medicine, and various other things.

"Worked out who the town looter is." Glenn commented.

"How'd I know that if I let you in, you ain't just gonna kill me and take my stuff?"

"Cause we're good people." Carl had walked into the house, standing near his father, the woman smirked at the obvious frustration on the mans face. "We're not like that."

"Cute kid." She glanced at her dog, who had stopped growling as he layed down, placing his head on the woman's boot. "How many of you are there?"

"Ten of us."

"Woah, band of thieves, what's the secret?" She teased.

"Loyalty, trust, we look out for each other."

"But we've lost people too, others, our family" Lori had walked into the house, clutching her swelled stomach. "Good people."

The woman looked around the house.

"What are you looking for?" Lori asked.

"For whoever gives a shit, lady. You ain't the only people on this earth."

Daryl let out a snort as he leaned against the wall beside the window, aiming his crossbow at the woman, waiting for a signal from the ringleader.

"Might as well tell the others to come in before they end up inviting themselves in" She said, finally, moving down the shotgun, giving up. Either she could let them stay on her terms, or they were gonna stay on their terms, and her most probably dead, there was more of them, than her. She knew when to pick her battles.

"Thank you" Rick told her, gesturing to Daryl to lower his crossbow. "Your name?"

"Natalia, Natalia Moore, Rick, who are all these people I'm letting in my house?" She arched a brow as more people filtered into her home.

"My name's Glenn, and my girlfriend, Maggie" The Korean introduced himself and the short haired brunette.

"An' my sister Beth, my daddy, Hershel" Maggie said, nodding her head to the teenage looking blonde and the old man beside her.

"Hi" The teenage girl smiled at Natalia.

"Lori, and our son, Carl" The pregnant lady placed her hands on the boys head, who pushed away from her.

"T-dog, this is Carol" The black man who was still skeptical of the woman, introduced himself and the shy timid woman with short cut hair.

Carl moved out the room, his gun pointed ahead of him as he decided to scope out the house.

"Glenn" Maggie told her boyfriend, nodding her head in the direction the young boy went.

The dog by Natalia got up, heading towards the redneck at the window, nudging his head against the mans leg, who was quick to look around and gingerly brushed his hand across the dogs back.

"Sully, now" She glared at the man that was stealing her dogs attention, the dog walked back towards the woman, his head bowed as he layed down on the other side of her.

"So is it just you here, by ya self?" The blonde girl, Beth asked, she seemed sweet, talkative.

"Yes." Natalia stated, her eyes shifting towards the people in the room, trying to read their expressions.

"From the start?" Maggie asked

"No, it was me and my boyfriend, then he tried to eat me in the middle of the night."

"Was he bit?"

"No, he was fine, wasn't sick either."

"The virus, it's... we all got it, must've died in his sleep, we're all infected." Rick sighed. "Don't need to be bit."

"Figured that out when I put a candlestick in his head" She looked up at the leader, her gaze icy, her face made of stone.

"I'm sorry, honey." Lori sighed.

"Why, you didn't know him, piece of shit's out there keeping me safe right now." She nodded towards the window, past the man who had yet to introduce himself, but he was still studying her. "You lot look starving, must be hard out there."

She got out from her seat, towards the huge pile of food, picking out cans, packs of snacks and water bottles, passing them around.

"We were on a farm" Rick said.

"It was my farm, then it was overrun." Hershel, the man who Natalia thought looked a lot like Santa told her. "A while ago, now."

"Shit, that's all you've been doing since, going from house to house, to house?"

"Anywhere with a roof and four walls." Carol spoke up for the first time.

"That's a risky way to raise a baby" She looked at Lori, raising her brows in mock shock.

"Guess it's because I'm a dumb bitch that decided to get knocked up" Lori retorted.

"Glad you agree." She rifled through some stuff, pulling a bottle out, handing it towards Lori. "Kid's ain't safe in this world."

"Are you-"

"No, guessed some idiot would come along and need them." Natalia explained dropping the prenatal vitamins in Loris lap.

"Thanks" She opened the bottle quickly, ignoring the comment.

"You lot can get comfy upstairs, I don't really go up there, it's pretty tidy."

"Nah" The redneck replied. "We stay together, close to exits, where we can see enemies."

Natalia shrugged, heading towards the hallway as everyone squeezed to get out of her way. "Don't touch my stuff." She said, her gun in hand. "Sully, speak if trouble" She instructed her dog, who gave a quiet woof in response. "Good boy."

The woman headed upstairs, T-Dog checked to see if she hovered.

"Why don't we just take all this and dip?" He suggested.

Lori looked at him as if he had said something offensive.

"She's freaky" Glenn who had re-joined them again with carl, shivered.

"She's alone and scared, surviving." Hershel countered "Something happened, something awful."

"I wouldn't even be able to sniff fear off 'er" Daryl shook his head, pacing in front of the window.

"She let us in, we're not sabotaging that, but we will keep an eye on her, stay on alert, all of you." He looked at Daryl, who nodded.

"She killed some of those people, let them turn then shoved them outside and used them for target practise." Maggie said. "Gathered every walker in the neighbourhood to scare people away, sounds pretty crazy to me."

"Not everyone's as nice an friendly as you people" Natalia had come back downstairs, her hands full of blankets and pillows. "I don't kill for the high, if you can't appreciate that, you can get out my house." She dropped the comforts on the floor, heading back upstairs.

"I'll go talk to her, see how long we can stay here, just for a lil while." Rick decided. "Find out what she's all about, we don't need another killer around us."

"I thought that was only you." Lori muttered, as she faced away from her husband.

Rick shook his head as he left the room, heading upstairs.

He walked into the only door open, a window faced the street as Natalia sat in front of it, a dart in her hand as she aimed.

"I wanted to thank you." Rick started.

"You already did." She stayed focused, not bothering to look at him.

"For the food too, and the vitamins."

"It's reckless." Natalia looked at him as he sat down next to her. "Having a baby, a thousand things could go wrong, it's not safe."

"It wasn't exactly planned" Rick shook his head, rubbing a hand around the scruff on his face.

"I meant it when I said I wanted you gone by tomorrow, it's a risk having you people here."

"You can't survive on your own, you need people."

"I don't, people are unpredictable, weak." She picked up another dart, aiming it.

"Not when you can trust them, not when you're a family, we fight for each other and we defend each other. You could be apart of that."

"You said it yourself, we all have it, we all die, its a matter of when and where, you can't estimate it, your wife could drop dead, that baby growing in her could, then that baby eats her from the inside out, she turns, you don't know when, what if you're all asleep, what if your scavenging, and it's just her and those kids and the old guy, you sure they could defend themselves, could the boy against his own mother? People are a risk to each other, no matter if you're all holding hands and dancing around together."

"And it's still a risk apart, there's not much you can do to prevent anything, but we're damn well stronger as one, that's how we survive, that's how we got this far."

"And the people you lost?"

"They're people we keep with us everyday, as a reminder to go on, and a lesson. We had a man with us, named Dale, and when something was taring our group apart, he tried to mend it, and keep us all on our moral compass, even in his dying breath."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Rick." Natalia suddenly asked.

"Yes." He looked down at his hands.

She admired his honesty, but knew he didn't sleep easy about it.

"Before or after?"

"After, I was a deputy sheriff, before this."

"Why?"

"To protect my family and my home, I wasn't given a choice."

"But the feeling never leaves you, does it?"

Rick shook his head.

"I'm not crazy, I'm just surviving, just like you and your people."

"Is this the only house you've been in"?

"No, but I got here early on, when we realised all the safe zones were taken over, this street was pretty stranded, it was my boyfriend that used to deal with them mostly. I was weak and scared, I'm not now, I did that by myself, I've been on my own for about 5 months now. I've met bad people since then, sick people, who thought I was an easy target."

"You gotta know, that a few herds are headed in this direction, from different areas, and when they join up, you won't be able to get out of here on your own."

"No, but I won't make it easy for them either." She watched as Glenn, Maggie, Daryl and T-dog had parked their vehicles closer to the house. "The one on the bike."

"Daryl."

"He's-"

"He's a survivor too, one of the best I've ever seen."

"Oh, I believe that, he doesn't seem to scare easily, and Sully likes him."

"Daryl's a good one."

"That's what I find hard to believe, he ever killed anyone?"

"One, he was dying, took him out of his misery."

"Your people can stay until that herd gets here."

"That's looking like a couple of days, we'll find something, you should come with us."

"You don't know me." She passed him a dart.

"I know enough." He aimed the dart, as the three walked back towards the house, Narrowly missing Glenn as it landed in the head of a dead roamer.

"Nice shot" She let a little smile grace her face. "Bet I can get the one over there." A lone roamer was walking down the street. She aimed, throwing enough strength into the dart to let it flow through the air and take the roamer down.

Daryl, who had been fixing his bike noticed the body fall near him and looked up at the open window at Natalia then shared a look with Rick.

"That was impressive." Rick said.

"Yeah, well, there isn't much on TV anymore."

When the time had come, and Rick had asked her if she would leave with them, she eventually chose to join, her dog swaying the choice with the fact that he had chosen to follow the group instead of stay by her side, which helped, Sully doesn't like Strangers.

"We got no place left to go" Rick had said.

Natalia had been with them for 2 months now, they hadn't advanced from her home, continuing to scavenge and live from place to place, though, the rest of the supplies they had packed, made things the slightly bit easier.

Not everyone in the group liked or trusted her yet, which was fair enough, because she felt the same way about them. But no one could deny that she was a survivalist, she was a powerhouse, and resourceful too, what she seemed to lack, was an emotional side, which Hershel had guessed due to some sort of trauma and lack of trust or knowledge about the group.

"When this herd meets with this one, we'll be cut off. We'll never make it South." Maggie said, gesturing around the map.

"What would you say, that's about 150 head?" Daryl asked.

"That was last week, could be twice by now" Glenn countered.

"Or triple" Natalia shrugged.

"This river could've delayed them." Hershel stated. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through there."

"Yeah but If this group joins with that one they could spill out this way." T-dog pointed out.

"So we're blocked." Maggie sighed.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27 and swing towards Greenville."

"That's where abouts I was, dead end." Natalia reminded, shaking her head.

"It's like we spent the winter going in circles." T-dog said.

"Yeah. I know, I know. At Newnan we'll push West. Haven't been through there yet. We can't keep going house to house. Need to find some place to hold up for a few weeks." Rick decided.

"But does that place exist?" Natalia asked.

"It does, we'll find it." Daryl said.

"Alright, is it cool, if we get to the Creek before we head out. Won't take long. We got to fill up on water. We can boil it later."

"Knock yourself out." Rick said as everyone headed off.

"How you doing?" Natalia asked Lori.

"The baby's a kicker, mind helping me up?"

Natalia laughed as she helped the woman out of the car.

"Nat, we're gonna go hunt, you coming?" Daryl asked, Sully by his feet.

"My choice has already been made for me" She glared at her dog, as she pulled her Knife out from the sheath. "Traitor" She patted her dogs head as they headed towards the woods.

"She hasn't got much time left Rick, I give it two weeks max." Natalia said in a low voice as they walked along tracks.

"I know, we'll find something." Rick assured.

Sully let out growling sounds as they neared the breaking of forestry.

"What's it, boy?" Daryl asked, his crossbow raised.

The three looked around to what the dog had spotted.

"That's a shame." Daryl said as they stared at the prison that seemed to be overrun.

"It could work." Natalia shrugged, "If we can figure out how to get rid of those friendlies."

"Let's go get everyone, I have a plan." Rick decided, turning back.

"He knows I was joking, right?" She muttered to Daryl.

"Doesn't matter."

Soon enough, Rick had cut a hole through the fence and everyone was climbing through, Natalia was cutting the roamers off from the inside of the fence before they could reach Glenn and Daryl as they tied the fence back up.

The group ran around the trail of fencing, the dead Prisoners bashed into the fence from the field as they headed towards the main gate, an overturned bus in front of it.

"It's perfect." Rick said in a hushed voice as he took it in.

"It's a lot of work." Natalia told him.

"If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers. We'll take the field by tonight." Rick instructed.

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked.

"I'll do it, you guys cover me." Glenn stepped up.

"No, it's a suicide run." Maggie disagreed.

"I'm the fastest."

"No, you, Maggie, T and Beth draw as many as you can over there." Rick pointed at a section of the walkway. "Pop 'em through the fence. Daryl, you go back to the other tower. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot. Take your time, we don't have a lot of ammo to waste, Nat, you'll cover her blind spots.

Natalia saluted as she headed towards her designated spot with her teammates, as Rick continued to give out orders.

"You got this." Natalia winked at the older woman, as the three reached the top of the tower.

"Soon enough you'll have some competition." Carol played on.

"We'll see about that" She grinned as they both aimed. "Whoever can get the one closet to Rick's the winner."

"It's not a game." Daryl scowled.

"That cause you're too scared of losing?"

"Concentrate, Moore." He grunted, getting his Crossbow at the ready.

"Remember to breathe, you hold it and you end up shaking your hands and taking your gracious leader out." Natalia said as Rick headed out the gate and into the field.

Daryl took out a roamer that was beside Rick.

Carol shot the ground just before his feet.

"Sorry" She called out as he looked up at her.

Natalia shot the roamer that reached out at him as he closed the gate, causing it to fall backwards on another to block the gap that he was decreasing.

"I'll take my roses once we're done."

"Daryl can get you a Cherokee." Carol teased.

"How sweet."

"He did it." Carol pointed out as Rick disappeared behind a door.

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