#and her group thought she died but she survived and is now trying to get polly to release the demon
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My Five Lore
Heyyyyy I thought it was finally time to make this post! I've been doing ZR for about nine months now and have been posting from the sidelines so I figured it was about time to introduce myself and Five. Just a little rundown on what my Five is like and her story and stuff. She's basically me, but with a couple things changed.
Apperance:
Sheâs on the shorter side- Sam is always putting his elbow on her shoulder to annoy her but she secretly loves it :) And pretty stocky but really strong. Simon challenged her to a lifting competition once and while he eventually won, she had him sweating and it was a close thing. She wears her hair in really long double Dutch braids, and has a round face with bright hazel green eyes and a big smile. She also wears really brightly colored gear, especially shoes, its a long-lasting joke with her and the other runners. She's unreasonably attached to axes and baseball caps, and is pretty much constantly wearing something Jody made her.
She has a couple of pretty faint nicks and slices on her hands, from before the apocalypse. She got those was first learning to butcher as a teenager. But since the outbreak, she's gotten a stab wound on her left shoulder, and permanent bruising on her shins. She's very susceptible to shin splints, but its the apocalypse, so it's not like she can properly rest and treat them.
[One day I will make the most beautiful drawing of her ever. One day.]
Background:
Five is basically me, with a couple things (appearance, where she lived, some family details, etc) changed. She lived in Northern Montana, a stone's throw away from Canada, and was doing college remotely while working on a farm that raised big animals, and took care of her nieces and nephews while her siblings were at work. That's why she's such a jack-of-all-trades, with book and street smarts, she had a very diverse range of skills due to how she grew up. I consider Five as an AU of myself if I had been thrust into the apocalypse, so personality and history-wise Five and I are similar, except for the trauma of the apocalypse, where she was on her own for almost four months after Z-Day, and hardened her a bit. Five's real name is Lydia, but not a single person besides her knows that.
Early Outbreak:
She went on a rare vacation with her best friend, Nina, and her best friend's family to London two days before the outbreak, in early November of 2023. The worst timing. One day she's on a plane, the next she's seeing Big Ben for the first time, and the day after that hundreds of people have turned, including Nina's family, and they're fleeing for their lives in the chaos.
The plan was for the two of them to try and contact Lydia's family and try to find a way to get home, but the phone lines were all down within a day. So they decided to just get out of the city. Nina got bitten when they were on the outskirts of London, after a week of them surviving together. Lydia stayed with her as she died. Nina begged Lydia to kill her zombie-self, but Lydia just couldn't do it- she fled instead. She decided to kill her name, Lydia, along with her friend's death. It was the only way she felt that she could mourn.
She was then on her own for about four months, and her circumstances really changed her. She'd always been a a happy and trusting person, but each person she tried to group up with ended up betraying her, in a multitude of ways. She threw up mental barriers and became pretty grim and trusted no one. She can talk, but only to people that she likes, and only to one or two people at a time. The bigger the crowd, the quieter she is. But when she gets in a place of being comfortable, she has a lot to say. But in those four months, she said less and less, to the point where some people assumed she was mute. She had to stifle who she was in order to survive, and it took a huge toll on her. The pain of her bottled-up emotions was buried deep.
She's a Christian, and the only thing that kept her going in the apocalypse was clinging onto Christ with all of her might, even if her faith had been shaken by what seemed like the end of the world. She just kept running and fighting for something greater than herself. Save the next person stuck in a building, even if they stole her supplies. Run supplies to different groups of people, even if they then beat her bloody and left her for the zombies. Lead a pack of zombies away from a guy trapped in a tree, even if he then throttled her neck and made it even harder to speak. Give a message to a radio outpost, even if they then dishonored their side of the agreement and held her at gunpoint, rather than just attempt to send airwaves to the States in search of her family. Because if she couldn't do the right thing, and try to stay faithful to her values and Jesus, what good was left in the world?
She ended up at Mullins because, once again, she got betrayed. A group of highway robbers caught her unawares, and she literally ran into some soldiers, who promised to just help her get out of the tight spot, but instead brought her to Mullins and enlisted her. Sour and panicked, she was so uncooperative to the point where they shipped her out to Abel for Project Greenshoot so they wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.
Getting to Abel:
While the apocalypse has been The Worst Thing Ever, getting her helicopter shot down was probably the best thing that ever happened to her in the apocalypse. It was the last thing that she expected, a rocket launcher barreling towards her, after everything she's already been through, and it shook her. For the first time since when she had a depressive episode as a preteen, she just simply wanted to die. Death seemed like the best option as she fell through the air to the sound of hungry zombies beneath her. Everything hurt too much. God wasn't answering her sobbing cries of help every night. She'd given it her all and it still wasn't enough. Gave far more than she took and got hurt every time. If she gave up, everything would just be easier. She was about to accept her death and simply let go of life. It wasn't like she had any friends or family left to love her anymore.
But when that voice crackled into her headset, urging her on and giving her a name, Five, which felt right in a way she couldn't explain, encouraging her- she knew she had to keep going. Life wasn't over yet. There was still hope. So she ran. And the longer that voice, Sam, spoke, the lighter she felt and the less emotionally exhausted she became. A voice in the back of her mind told her that this was the answer to her prayers for a friend, and for help. But she was still incredibly cautious. This seemed like the nicest person in the world, but what if he hurt her? What if she got betrayed again? After all, she knew nothing of who this Sam Yao was, beyond being awkward and sweet and kind of adorable. Wait, adorable? Where had that thought come from?
She wanted to be mistrustful of everyone at Abel when she got there, that was her intent. Especially after the doctor threatened to not let her in. But having those people show her kindness that she hadn't seen in months crumpled her barriers like wet paper. By the time her 8-week training was over she'd sunk right into Abel perfectly. Jody was her good friend who was always up for a hug and a story, Janine was smart and practical and reminded her of her older sister to the point where she started to treat Janine like an older sister, Eugene was a goofball who made bad jokes with her while sympathizing with what she'd been through, and Maxine was a God-send for figuring out how to turn off her survival mode again.
And during that time, she wanted to become friends with Sam, the voice who saved her, so badly. But he was wrapped up in grief from Alice's death. Which she understood. Nina's death still ate at her. Not to mention having no idea if her family was dead or alive. So even though it killed her, because this was the first time she'd wanted to have a friend in forever, she kept her distance to protect him from her brokenness. Because even though she'd lightened up, she still was a woman of few words who held all of her pain back from everyone. Even if that voice in her head saying Sam was God's answer to her problems got stronger and more insistent every day. And even if Maxine told her multiple times that Sam relied on her more than he could express or she could realize. She had to hold back.
Being a Runner: falling for each other
Until the night run in the dark. [fanfic one shot here that will eventually become a twoshot once I finish the post-run debrief.] Where all that slammed through Sam's head was I need a miracle for Five, and all that slammed through Five's was I'm running for Sam. And the moment she crashed into Sam's arms, him sobbing with relief and her sobbing with exhaustion and delirium, was the moment that she realized that she did, in fact, love Sam Yao. And for Sam, that was the moment he realized that he had to become her best friend. And the rest of that night was the first time Five told anyone about her past and her pain and what the apocalypse had been like for her. And Sam was there. As they talked and listened to one another was the moment they firmly became best friends.
Fiveâs love for Sam only grows in the next few months. But⌠she doesnât know what to say, or even think honestly. Sheâs never been in love before. Ever. Sheâs, well, sheâs scared. Which she knows is stupid. But what do you even say about something like that? âHey Sam, you've chipped away at the hardened exterior that I was forced to adopt bit by bit, and I've become myself again, and you push me to be even better than I was every day. Also I am totally in love with you.'? So she says it in every way besides words. With each moment with Sam. Each gesture is her way of saying I love you. And she runs. For the same reasons as before- her faith. Her trust in God. Her putting goodness back into the terrible world. But now for another reason too. For Sam. For his voice. And even if he doesn't understand it, how he pushes her to trust in her faith even more. Her faith and trust in God are stronger than ever now and she's very strong in it and tries to shine that light to others.
Sam realizes that he loves Five when someone sends Five to die out of spite, as revenge. She's coming back into the gates, angry but not as angry as he is. He's ready to throw down with the person who did that to his runner. Then the way she just grasps his shoulders, locking eyes with him, and reminding him to breathe, he just- falls. So hard and so fast. He knew that this was coming. He's felt it growing since she came back brandishing supplies with the biggest smile in the world for the DnD campaign he was starting. But he ignored it. And now he can't anymore. Because it's Five. His Five. But what do you even say about something like that? âHey Five, you mean everything to me, actually. You've given me something to fight for each day, given me hope when I've had none, and have helped me grow so much and overcome my doubts. I really, really, really love you, more than anyone or anything.â So he tells her with his words, with every single thing he says. Every voice crack of fear or excitement over comms. Except those three, which are coincidentally, the most important ones. He talks, for the same reason as before. To protect the people he loves. But now for another reason too. For Five. For her running. For who she's pushed him to become. How she's taught him to fight for something even bigger than before.
There is an ending for their story (its REALLY good) but you're just gonna have to wait to read it until I'm done writing it tehehehe! It's more climactic that way. I'll link it here when it's done.
And there we go! A little bit about my Five and her story <3 Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!
#i-will-go-with-you-five#mild spoilers#zombies run#runner five#sam yao#zr blog#runner 5#zr#maxine myers#janine de luca#simon lauchlan#jody marsh
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Mary Anne "Polly" Pockett being sent off to boarding school by her vindictive stepmother is rotatoing in my head
#random thoughts#polly pocket#she meets her og cast at boarding school and they make a friend group#they discover there was an old group of students who went there years ago who wielded magical music powers or smth#turns out there's an ancient demon locked away under the school by the old group which was led by lorelai#or maybe she wasn't the leader idk but she was in it#and she succumed to the promise of power and tried to release the demon (failed obs)#and her group thought she died but she survived and is now trying to get polly to release the demon#OOO MAYBE BETH IS LORELAI'S DAUGHTER AND POLLY'S STEP SISTER#like lorelai raised beth as like The Chosen One who will Free Our Dark Lord#(maybe she's also the daughter of the demon and has demon powers but like. not sure if i wanna do that since polly's 10)#(and lorelai was the same age when she went to school and that just seems a bit too groomy even for a patron of the devil)#(idk maybe she thinks she's the demon's daughter or lies about it or smth because she's insecure about not having a dad)
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You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias đâ¨
I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)
Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,
so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.
Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.
And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanorđ Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")
oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol
Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.
I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol
Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead đâ¨
Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).
If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff đâ¨)
#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twistedwonderland#malleus draconia#disney twst#twst malleus#lilia vanrouge#lian notes#twst malleus draconia#twst maleanor#twst maleficia#twst diasomnia#twst headcanons#twst theory#maleficia draconia#meleanor draconia#maleanor draconia#twst meleanor#briar valley senates#twst theories#twst wonderland#i love you bitter old people (senates) they deserve the worst <3#(by worst i mean them experiencing the good side of humanity and reflect about how awful their#generalizing on them have been lol)#overthinking about briar valley politics again at 1am#even though i knowww full well TWST would never expand on the Senates' morality deeply like this lol
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SECOND CHANCE â TYLER HARRISON
SUMMARY: Letâs pretend the group survives because Tyler finds out his ex-girlfriend had his baby, so Tyler decides to stay.
WARNING(S): angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, back-and-forth banter
WORD COUNT: 6,603
PAIRING: Tyler Harrison x fem!Reader
A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Don't ask me where this idea came from, I don't know either. Feedback is always welcomed! <3
MASTERLIST
âY/n?â You paused mid-step as you slowly turned around to garner the attention of Kay. You thanked the vendor and placed the meal inside your bag. Her curly hair wasnât hard to miss amongst the colony.
âKayâŚhi.â You offer her a small grin.
âOh my god, I havenât seen you in so long. Whatâs it been like three years.â You didnât mind the hug she gave you as she stepped forward.
âFour actually.â You grin with a faint laugh patting her back gently. You canât stand to bear a second of the awkward silence so you continue. Asking the dreaded question Kay had hoped to hear from you to report back to her brother when she returned home. âH-How isâŚeveryone? Navarro? Bjorn?âŚTyler? Yeah, whatâs he been up to lately?â You pocket your hands into your coat.
âMiserable, lost without you.â You roll your eyes at her exaggerated confession. âItâs true!â Her grin widens. âHe canât shut up about you not since you broke up.â
âSureâŚâ You hum in genuine curiosity.
âHe misses you. We all doâŚâ You give her a faint smile, it not entirely reaching your eyes.
âWhenâs the last time youâve seen Rain?â Thoughts of how her and Tyler had a small thing going flooded your mind. âI havenât seen her since I left.â
âRain?â
âYeah?â You nod.
âI havenât seen Rain since her parents died.â
âOhâŚthat's awful.â You gape in shock. âI hadnât known.â You muttered.
âWe didnât either till the news spread. News around here travels fast.â
âHopefully not too fast.â You breathe a laugh.
Kay stood back watching how your posture used to be better and how your comfort showed itself amongst the people. You had never shied away from anything apart from public speaking, looking at you now was like staring at your ghost. A hollow version of what she knew you to truly be like. For her, for Kay, news traveled at lightning speed, and you try to play it off as though motherhood doesnât define your entire being at the moment. Kay was well aware of the secret you thought you did well to keep.
âHow is she?â You donât even look at her to try and understand what she means by âsheâ. You knew you had caught sight of her curly locks all those years ago when you picked Jup up from her lessons. You close your eyes, a heavy weighted sigh leaves you as you fight the urge to cry out.
âI assumed it was you. No one else stands and lingers like a creepy stalker.â You muster a faint laugh.
âWould it have made any difference then, from now, knowing about her?â
âNo.â You look off to the side. Watching as the hustle and bustle of your colonyâs people flowed and moved. âI still wouldnât have told youâŚor him.â
âI think you should.â Kay suggests.
âI think you need to stay out of my business Kay.â You try and shove past her, but she doesn't let up easy.
"Y/n-" She grabs you by your arm.
"He left!" You whip around in her face. "He left, Kay. He was scared to be more and he walked away and got with Rain. I don't hold anything against her for it. She'd be stupid not to fall in love with him...I fell in love with him...and yet I was stuck trying to survive and eat for two on this stupid mining colonization." Your facade falling. âSheâs three KayâŚShe'll never get to see the sun.â Your arms fall against your sides in a slump.
"Then come with us...we have a plan. Tyler has a plan!" Kay pleaded. "But you have to tell him. You have to tell him about her!"
"I don't think I can Kay, not now at least. I got to go!"
"No wait we can figure this all-"
"Kay, I got to go." You pleaded, then took off. Knowing it was never good to leave Jup on her own. She knew to stay, but even then, if you took longer than usual, she'd wake up and begin to wonder where you were.
-
You had pushed through your shelter's door with a huff as your frantic mind gazed at the empty cot. "Jup baby, I'm here!" You call out to her.
"Who goes 'dere?" You whip around. The voice was far from intimidating as the high-pitched tone suddenly appeared from under a sheet on your small dining table meant for two, and two only.
You emit a sigh of relief as you lower yourself to her eye level. You tilt your head at her weapon of choice. A spoon...
"Do okay?" She wonders as she peers past your shoulder. You had taught her in a manner of speaking that only her three-year-old mind could come to grasp and knowing your baby girl she was quick to catch on. Your heart melts at the anticipation behind her eyes. The braved expression she held for you, but it was her eyes, ones you wouldn't dare admit to Kay that you missed, that gave Jup away. Where she tried to be fearless, she was still just your baby, fear hidden behind those brown eyesâ like his.
"Just like we practiced..." You haul her up into your arms and press a greeting onto her cheek. "How was your nap?"
"Good..." She murmurs.
"Yeah? That's good. Hey, guess what I brought?" You gasp enthusiastically. "I got us breakfast and dinner for this whole week!" You cheer, bouncing her on your hip. She brings her hands together and claps in excitement. "Maybe, next week we can score ourselves a rare steak. Heard those are hard to come by." You set her down and begin to unpack your bag with the food you were able to trade for scraps and material you had.
While you worked, Jup sat on your bed and began to play with her stuffed toy, a black bear made up from scraps of fabric and stuffed with leftovers of some pants that no longer fit. Jup's long dark hair is tied into a messy ponytail as she mumbles to herself quietly. You smile at her playing mindlessly.
You move around your small kitchen keeping one eye on her and the shadows of those that pass your shelter. You would wonder if Tyler would show up on one random night, knocking. You'd open the door and his gaze would meet yours then slowly meet that of the little girl whose hair and eyes reflected his own. You knew you'd never truly be able to get away from him. From the inevitable introduction of a father meeting his daughter for the first time. You just hoped that if the time ever did call for it. He wouldn't hate you for it like he does fiercely in your dreams.
After a little while, it's almost time to eat, so you go over to Jup and scoop her off of the bed. "Hey little lady, you hungry yet?" You ask her as she nods her head, her messy hair bobbing with her movement. You kiss her head and set her down in her seat at the small table. You give her a little portion of her dinner and a tall cup of water, then you take your seat. You sit in silence. Small sounds of chewing as she does her best to reach the tabletop. You offer her a smile as you poke at another stale cauliflower. It wasn't the best but there was more to complain about than the food on Jackson Star.
Jup begins to drink from her cup, but her interest is piqued when suddenly there's a knock at the door. She takes a small sip as she places the cup carefully back on the table, and looks to you for reassurance.
You were slightly taken aback. You hadn't been expecting anyone. For the most part, the only person who ever came to your door was your neighbor, Sue, she lent you stuff she thinks you'd find useful for you and little Juniper. But the knock sounded different. Heavier. You glance down at Jup then haul her up the seat. You tense hearing another knock before you make up your mind and decide the small closet is your safest bet. You set her down and go to close the door behind you. "Baby, you stay right here and stay quiet, I'll see who it is, okay?" You tell her as you slowly begin to stand up.
With one last glance at her, you close the door behind you. Another knock rings out and you take a small, deep breath in. Though another glance at the table you hastily store her leftovers away on the kitchen counter.
You walk over to the metal hatch door and unlatch it slowly. It opens with a small creak, revealing not your neighbor, nor an unfamiliar face, but Tyler. Your heart feels as though it's about to give out in your chest. You were frozen in place as you took in the sight of him. He never seemed to stray from the whole dark, tall, and handsome stereotype. It almost made you want to laugh, but you kept still as your hand gripped the door handle. "Ty?"
Tyler breathes out at the sight of you. How lovely you are. How beautiful you are. He never stopped reminding you how you'd always find ways to render him breathless. Albeit, it'd get him a punch or two in the shoulder but he would have complimented you over and over if it allowed him to see you smile once more. How he wished for it now, seeing your weary-eyed expression. You were breaking his heart and all you had barely done was look at him and call him 'Ty' after four years.
He didn't know quite how to approach you now. The look he earned from you was one of exhaustion. He could hardly read you, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. Not only was the thought of talking to you after so long terrifying, but the thought of messing it up terrified him further. "Hey." He mumbled through his thick accent, his eyes scanning how you had the door only slightly open. "Mind if I come in?"
Tyler almost grimaced seeing how you had closed the door an inch more, limiting the space between you both. He knew then and there the forward approach had been the wrong approach, especially when it came to you. You instantly put your walls up around you. He could see it from your tensed-up shoulders that you wanted to get him out of here as fast as you could.
The silence was loud between both of you. He wanted to say something. Maybe a compliment would get you to crack, but he wouldn't take the risk. He wouldn't risk scaring you off. Tyler's eyes had a look in them that showed his desperation to keep you from shutting the door in his face. He wouldn't hold it against you if you did. He could tell you wouldn't let him in. "Y/n-" He began.
"What are you doing here, Tyler?"
He almost visibly winces at the tone of your strained voice. He looks past you, into your home. Tyler's gaze lands on the small table with only one setting and his heart sinks. You notice his look and your grip tightens on the door. He couldn't help it. He had to ask. "Are youâŚalone right now?"
He almost visibly winces at the tone of your strained voice. He looks past you, into your home. Tyler's gaze lands on the small table with only one setting and his heart sinks. You notice his look and your grip tightens on the door. He couldn't help it. He had to ask. "Are youâŚalone right now?"
The look on your face doesn't waver. You know exactly where he's going with the question, yet you can't bring yourself to shut the door. You're frozen, but you refuse to answer him. It takes everything in you to keep your cool. You bite the inside of your cheek and avert your gaze.
He had wanted to say so much to you. To apologize for the way he had left you and treated you. To tell you he had missed you and to see you again without the fear of you shutting him out. But he found it hard to find all the words that he wanted to say. "Y/n, let me in." He stepped over the threshold as your hand shot out to stop his entry.
"Y/n-"
"What did Kay tell you?" You asked with grit in your voice. "I haven't seen your face in four years, why now? What the hell did she tell you?" You shove against his chest.
Tyler catches your arm as you shove him, he's holding it between you. He's taken by surprise by your reaction to him showing up. He looks down at you with his widened eyes as he tries to come up with the words. "She didn't- Y/n, just stop." He grabs hold of your wrists, stopping you from pushing against his hold. "I just want to talk to you. Just let me talk to you." Tyler pleads. He was scared. The anger you're releasing was almost unexpected but not unwelcome. Anger was something he could deal with. Anything was better than silence from you.
"Don't lie to me, Tyler." You say through gritted teeth, trying to pull your arm back to yourself. "Why are you here all of a sudden, huh?"
"Huh?" You go to shove him again. He grabs your wrists and uses his strength to shove you against the wall next to your door, pinning both of your arms on either side of your head. You look over in time to see him kick close your door. The slam drowning out your heavy breathing. Tyler looms over you, his chest rising and falling.
The air between you is thick and charged as he keeps you held against the wall. His chest was flush against yours and he held your wrists over your head as he stared down at you. You watched his gaze move from your eyes which burned into his own. He's staring at your heaving chest, the curve of your collarbone before he looks back down at your face. His own heart was pounding, so loud it almost drowned out the sound of your own. You could only hear one another's heavy breathing.
"Get outâŚ" You slump back against the wall.
Tyler's expression falters. He doesn't listen, of course. No, he only grips your wrists tighter in response as he leans in closer. His body pushes against yours more until there's almost no space between you both. "No." He says to your request, his voice is heavy and deep. There's a desperation in his tone. "I'm not leaving till you talk to me." His lips are close to yours and he doesn't miss how your eyes lower to glance at them. "Only if you talk to me."
"The nerve you have to show your face now-" You begin to give it to him.
He takes it as he keeps you pinned to the wall. He almost flinches at the harshness in your voice, but he doesn't say anything about it. This was nothing new. Tyler always seemed to love it when you gave him an earful. He enjoyed seeing the frustration in your eyes, how your lips would get in a pout. He watched as you opened your mouth again only he spoke before you could voice your opinion. "Just shut up for a second and listen to me damn it!"
That shuts you up for him. He almost smirks but catches himself, though you can see him almost enjoying the look of annoyance in your eyes. He didn't miss the way your eyes once again glanced down at his parted lips. "No more yelling. Just listen." Tyler mutters, his head moving slightly closer.
"You're yelling thoughâŚ" You furrow your brows at him.
He almost chuckles, almost. How stubborn you still were. But he was trying to be serious with you for once. He lifts his hold around your wrists, his nose almost touching yours. "Because you're being stubborn-headed." He lets his voice soften as he looks at you.
"I think you're just being a gigantic dick."
Tyler raises an eyebrow at you now. He almost wanted to laugh at you. What he does instead is tighten his grip on you again as he stares down at you. "And you're being a pain in my arse." He responds to you with a huff. "Always have been, always will be."
"TylerâŚwhat did Kay say to you?"
That stops him and his cocky demeanor suddenly falters. Tyler is silent for a moment, his lips in a straight line as he refuses to meet your gaze. "She saidâŚ" He begins to say but almost feels ashamed to tell you. "She said that I have-"
"MommyâŚdo good?"
Too engrossed by each other you had forgotten about the small human you had tucked away from sight. Her voice was small and curious. You look past Tyler, your eyes instantly falling onto Juniper.
You almost gasped, as did Tyler as both of your heads snapped to look at Jup in the moment of surprise. She was standing by the small little counter you had, still holding her stuffed bear tight in her grip. The sight of her causes Tyler to slowly step back away from you, his eyes are widened in disbelief.
"-a daughter." He freezes, and his shoulders drop as does your heart at the sight of Jup who was supposed to stay hidden, and in that moment Tyler looks back over at you. He watches you as he sees the guilt wash over your features.
You grimace as you go over and haul her up into your arms. Her head laid against your shoulder, clinging to her bear in her little hands.
"Ty, this is Juniper. Your daughter."
Tyler's mind went a mile a minute as he took in the sight of the little girl staring at him from the safety of your arms. He could see the guilt in your eyes, almost as though you were caught doing something you weren't meant to be doing. He looks down at his daughter, her messy black locks and big dark eyes. The girl was a mini version of himself. Apart from her ears, smile, and nose. She was his.
"I almost tore a new one into Kay after she got home and told me. Almost didn't believe her." His laugh fainted. "All this time?"
You had gotten her tray of food and sat her down on her chair. Juniper obliged but still kept a cautious eye on the random man in her home. "Tyler, you didn't want this." You gesture between you both. "You wanted an out, so I let you go."
Tyler couldnât take his eyes off of the little girl. His daughter. He couldnât believe it. He knew Kay was never one to lie about something so big, but to see it right before his eyes was a completely different story. âYou couldâve told me.â He said, more quietly than he thought possible.
"You would have stayed for her. When I needed you to stay because of her, and because of me. But you didn't want anything serious, and I wasn't gonna sit by and watch you stay for a baby, not when you couldn't even look me in the eye anymore."
Those words hit him hard, almost like a punch in the gut. He wanted to defend himself. You were right. He couldn't deny that you were. He had wanted freedom, he wanted off this colony, a new life. No strings attached. But now standing there, he wasn't so sure anymore. He could've had so much more than what he had settled for. He had pushed you away and ran because he was scared of something real. And as he looked at his daughter, he could see the proof of his cowardice.
âYou should have told me,â Tyler repeated, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He looked back at you. âI had a right to know.â
"No Ty, you didn't. Not then." You deny.
"And why not??" Tyler's voice rises. He couldn't believe it. He had a daughter this whole time. He had gotten you pregnant and ran away and you hid that fact from him for almost four years. âYou decided that on your own.â He retorted back. Tyler took a step forward, his hands went to his pocket, in a desperate attempt to look indifferent. He watched as you sat down beside Jup, running a hand along her messy hair. "I should have been a part of her life. I should have been with you- Y/n, I had a right to know about her, damn it.â
"You left me. You gave me no other choice." You peer up at him through watered eyes. "I needed youâŚ"
âAnd I needed space goddamn it.â Tyler snapped. He took a step back, as though to distance himself from you. But when he saw the tears in your eyes, something inside him ached. He wanted to walk over and comfort you, but he didnât. He stood there like a jackass, watching you fight back tears. âI just needed time to thinkâŚI couldnât breathe when I was with you. You overwhelmed me.â He admits, his shoulders slumped.
"OhâŚ" Your voice dies down at his words. You muster a nod before you look over at Jup watching the scene unfold before her.
She was watching with big curious eyes, taking in the atmosphere of this new man that was in her home. Tyler could see the similarities between himself in the little girl. How she looked and moved, it was as though he was looking at a reflection of himself in the small child. He watched as you smiled at her, reassuring her that everything was fine.
Tylerâs breath gets stuck in his chest as he watches how you are with his daughter. The two of you looked and moved naturally together. And here he was raising his voice wondering if she thought the worst of him. He notices your change in demeanor and suddenly, heâs kicking himself. He hadnât meant for it to come out that way. He hadnât meant for those words to be backhanded. But they were and he hurt you once more.
"I'm sorry." You glance up at him as he starts. "That came out wrong, I didn't mean for it to. Heat of the momentâŚ" He palms his face. Tyler sighs his mind and heart racing. Heâs hurt you by saying that. He hadn't meant it in that way, but he knew how it sounded. âY/n, thatâs not what I meant.â
"Yeah, but you still said it Tyler. Such a shitty thing to say too!"
âYeah, I did and Iâm sorry, okay.â He lets out a frustrated sigh as he runs his hands along his face again. It was frustrating. It was all so damn frustrating. Everything about this was. He was frustrated for hurting you, for saying those words and he was frustrated for having a daughter that he should have known about years ago. âDamn it-â He mumbles, shaking his head.
"You know the more you keep swearing in front of our kid, the more bad habits she'll be likely to pick up."
That shuts him up.
Tyler lets out a huff as he looks down at his daughter. He takes a few steps towards you and Jup. Heâs watching you, how you caress back her hair and keep her reassured as you try to act like everything is normal. He stops to stand beside her. He looks down at her, taking in the details of her face now that heâs up close to her. He smiles softly for her, hoping to appear as less of a threat to her.
"You're still a jackass..." You mutter under your breath, but the smirk that grows on his lips tells you he heard you loud and clear.
He snorts softly at that, unable to deny it. Tyler doesnât hesitate to lean down and whisper a response back to you. âAnd youâre still the love of my life.â
You still. Frozen from the shock and complete obscurity of his words.
Tyler grins at your reaction. He straightens up, hands back in his pockets. His eyes are almost mischievous as he watches you falter. âPerhaps I should have kept that to myself.â He teases.
"Yeah, that might've been wiser." You huff with a laugh.
âYeah, Iâve never been one to make smart decisions.â Tyler chuckles. He leans himself against the table, keeping his eyes on you. Heâs watching how you still have a hand on top of Jupâs messy hair as a reassuring touch. He nods his head at the sight. âShe looks like me, but itâs your ears.â He teases. "You're smile and nose."
"Well thank god, it wasn't your ears."
"Hey, what's wrong with my ears?" He says as he puts a hand over his heart, the other one goes to his ear and acts offended by your statement.
You feign a grimace.
Tyler huffs under his breath at your expression. "Oh, real mature." He grumbles as he crosses his arms, a pout visible on his face. "You never had a problem with my ears before."
You surrender.
Tyler grins at the sight, watching you throw in the towel. He takes his hands from his chest and ear, leaning himself down again so he gets close to you.
âI do mean it though. You are and always have been the love of my life."
"I'm a loss in your life, Tyler." You correct.
His head almost snaps back in disbelief at your statement. Tyler shakes his head. "No, you have never been a loss to me. You are- you have only ever been the best part of my life. I just-" He pauses as he suddenly feels himself get frustrated with himself all over again. "Damn it, can you just stop putting words in my mouth, and listen to the fact that I never stopped loving you! Even when I left to train. Even when we were over. I never stopped."
"Tyler this is crazy-"
"No this isn't crazy!" Tyler snaps again, but his tone quickly deflates as he looks to make sure that Jup hasn't heard him. He takes a breath as he runs a hand over his hair again in frustration. "Itâs not. You're everything I want. Everything I have ever wanted. You're the light of my life, and I canât let you go again. I have spent so many years miserable that-"
"Kay did mention that." He gave you a look. "Sorry."
"-I was never happy when I was away from you, I didn't know how miserable I truly was until I left."
"It's not that easy for me. Tyler, you just told me a few minutes ago that you couldn't breathe around me, that I overwhelmed you. Make it make sense!"
"You do overwhelm me, damn it!" Tyler snaps again, he stands straight now, and he can feel a rush of adrenaline suddenly running through his body. "You make my heart race a million miles a minute. You're the only person who can piss me off and make me feel like a damn fool in love. You don't take my shit and make me want to kiss you every time we've argued. You make me feel so much all at once and sometimes I can't handle it. But I don't want to feel numb anymore! I didn't know what I had until I lost it. Until I lost you. No one else makes me feel thatâŚgod not even Rain."
"Oh god...Tyler." You ran a hand down your face.
Tyler sighs as he watches you, seeing your expression change yet again. "I got my second chance right here with you. With Juniper. Us."
You tilt your head hearing his words. "TyâŚ"
Tyler reaches over and grabs your hand, it surprises you by the sudden touch. He gently pulls you back up to your feet, getting you to stand in front of him. Heâs got a tight grip on your hand like if he lets go you might disappear. "I want us. I want you. I want you and our kid and I-" He struggles for the right words that he so desperately wants to say. "I want this family more than anything."
"You do?"
Tyler can hear the uncertainty in your voice. He hates it. He reaches up and cups your face with his hand, forcing you to look at him directly. He gazes into your eyes, almost pleading for you to see that heâs being sincere. "Yes," He answers simply, quietly. He leans in, resting his head against yours. "Iâve never been more sure of anything in my life."
"Tyler if you leave us, I will never forgive you-"
"I wonât." He exclaims. Heâs gripping your hand in his like a vice. "Iâm not leaving. Not this time. I made that mistake before, youâre not getting rid of me." He gently presses his forehead against yours. Heâs looking at you carefully. "âŚdo you believe me? Do you trust me?"
Your faint nod had him relaxing.
Tyler lets out a relieved sigh at your nod. Heâs got all of this energy, adrenaline, and fear coursing through his body and it takes all of it to not just grab you and kiss you. Instead, he just pulls you against him and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. He closes his eyes as he buries his face in your hair, pressing kisses into your skin.
You wrap your arms around him and inhale his scent. Your hug only lasts so long when Juniper has you both pulling away again. "Mommy."
You can both hear her soft voice and when you and Tyler pull away from each other, you see that little Jup has come to stand beside you both. Her bear and now a picture you were all too familiar with in her hands. Sheâs looking up at you with her big brown eyes, and her messy hair. She tugs on your shirt with a soft pout of her lips.
"What do you have there baby? Is this for me?" You haul her up into your arms. Tyler lingers behind you, watching your interactions.
Jup happily climbs up into your arms and she is careful of the picture sheâs holding as she tucks her face into your neck. Sheâs still holding onto it tightly between her little hands as she mumbles something against your skin, but her words are muffled. She pulls back slightly so she can hold up the picture to you.
Tyler registers what is it before you can turn it over. "You kept it."
Your eyes are now fixated on the picture in your hands. Itâs the picture you had taken the day you found out you were pregnant with Jup. Your hair was done, and you dawned one of your nicer shirts. Both you and Tyler were looking at each other while his arms were wrapped around your waist and his chin was resting against your shoulder. He had kept the picture in the inside pocket of his jacket for a while. Now you held onto it.
In the picture, the essence of your happiness had been captured. It was one of the happiest days you had ever felt. The month that followed after that day. You tried to forget it ever happened.
Yes, you had kept it. Youâd kept it under yours and Jup's cot all these years.
"You gave it to me remember."
"I would've thought you'd thrown it out by now."
You were both silent for what felt like an eternity as you looked down at the picture, running your thumb over your faces.
"No, I couldn't." You admit, softly. "It meant too much to throw away. Besides, it's the closest thing I got to an ultrasound around here." You shrug.
Jup peers out of your neck as she watches the two of you talk, still not quite registering who this man is. âWho?â She says, with her head at a tilt.
"Jup this is Tyler, TylerâŚHe's your-" You peer up at him not knowing what to officially label him as.
Tyler clears his throat as heâs suddenly put on the spot. He looks at her, seeing how she looks at him with such curiosity. He feels his heart suddenly flutter again when he hears the word your, like some sort of proof of belonging.
âIâm your dad,â He answers confidently, smiling softly at her and her messy head of hair. "Your daddy." His accent coming through. "I'm here to stay if you'll have me. If your mommy will have me." He peers cheekily into your eyes, where you have to fight the urge to roll your own.
"What do you think Jup. Should we let him stay?"
Jupâs eyes go wide at the question and her interest is perked by the sudden proposal. Her head suddenly pops away from your neck as she looks at you and she nods her head, with her messy hair flailing. It was a rather eager nod on her part. "Yes!"
"Yeah?" Tyler's grin widens.
Jup nods her head. "Yes!" She confirms again, more excitedly this time. She's looking down at Tyler with those big brown eyes, and she's got a smile on her face. Tyler leans in and pecks her curls, grinning from ear to ear, knowing he has her approval. "Looks like I'm sticking around then, Jup's orders," He replies, meeting your gaze.
"Guess so, soldier."
"Guess so." Tyler repeats back, with that damn smirk of his. He canât take his eyes off you. Heâs watching you like youâre something he's finally got to have again. It makes his heart clench.
Tyler takes you by surprise when heâs suddenly close enough to touch you. He brings his hand to your neck, cupping it in the palm of his large hands as he leans in, using the leverage to pull you into him. His lips are on yours in an instant, firm and eager against your mouth. Your surprised gasp has your mouth open to his and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
You use one of your hands to pull him closer.
Tyler pulls away, breathing heavily against your lips. "I've been wanting to do that since you opened the door." His chuckle makes your grin widen.
"So stupidâŚ" You shake your head.
Tyler lets out a huff as he grins. He cups the side of your face with his hand, resting his forehead against yours. âDamn you. You drive me mad, woman.â
"Yeah? Well, you're gonna have to get used to it around here."
"I think I'll manage. I'm tougher than I look." Tyler grins as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. He's close enough that you can hear his accent through his words as he peers into your eyes.
"No, you're notâŚ"
"No?" Tylerâs eyes were narrow as he picked up a bit of a teasing tone in your voice. "Oh, it's like that then, is it?" He says as he raises an eyebrow. "You hear this Jup, your mum says I'm not tough." He feigns hurt.
"Tuff." Jup repeats back to him. "Tuff, tuff, tuff."
Tyler grins. "That's right, Jup." He says as he gently reaches out and boops her nose with his finger, earning a little giggle out of her and the sound makes his heart warm.
"Please don't encourage her. She doesn't need to learn bad habits from her dad."
"Oh come on, sheâs not going to pick up my bad habitsâŚ" Tyler glances between you and her. "Besides, she already has your cautiousness, so it's too late."
"Well, I'd rather that than have her watch your macho tough guy act unfold. Jackson Star knows I've seen enough of it."
Tyler huffs. "Itâs not macho. Itâs called having a backbone." He snaps back, with a tone that you know is more playful than serious. "Iâm teaching my daughter to be strong."
"I think you mean thick-headed, excuse me it's time for her bedtime." You walk around him to get her settled onto the cot.
"Hey! I'm not thick-headed." Tyler protests as he gives you a look of disbelief. He glances over at Jup who is sitting quietly in your arms and suddenly he looks concerned. âW-Wait, bedtime? How early does she sleep?â
"Tyler, It's a quarter past eleven." You gesture to the hologram clock on the small counter. Tyler turns to look at it.
He blinks. "Itâs that late already?" He exclaims in disbelief as he looks from you to the clock and back again.Â
âQuarter past eleven. No wonder sheâs so tired,â He muses as he looks back over Jup. Sure enough, your daughter is fighting to keep her eyes open, and her head is slowly drooping against your shoulder. "Damn, I guess I didnât realize we had been talking for that long."
You shift her so that her head is on the pillow you share. "I put her down early, but you showed so I really couldn't at the moment. The best I could do is get her to eat her meal."
Tyler steps to your side as he watches you gently arrange her on the cot. He canât help but smile as he watches you make sure Jup is comfortable before you give her a soft kiss on her forehead. âSheâs a big girl.â He muses, softly, as he watches her little head fall back against the pillow and the even little puffs of her breath.
"I wouldn't say that. She still needs mommy to tuck her in."
Tyler glances at you as he grins. He lets out a huff of a laugh. âIâm guessing she inherited that from you, huh?â He teases. "Does mommy need daddy to tuck her in?"
"No." You huff with a laugh, shoving his shoulder.
Tyler laughs as he rubs his shoulder. âOw.â Despite it being a very soft shove. He glances down at you, his eyes scanning over your features. "You are just as stubborn as I remember you being. I'm telling you, love." He muses as he steps closer to you, using his height to try and intimidate you.
"Just like you remember?" You hum.
"YeahâŚ" Tyler slowly nods as he takes another step closer to you. He stands in front of you, and you have to have your head tilted back to look up at him. "Just like I remember. Stubborn. And beautiful. A deadly combination, Iâm telling you."
"I'm glad you came." You admit. Tylerâs smile softens at your words. He reaches down and takes your hand in his, squeezing it.
âIâm sorry I took so long.â He apologizes, softly.
"Took you about four years...but who's counting." You shrug.
Tyler rubs the back of his neck embarrassed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Iâm sorry it took me a while to get my head out of my own arse." He glances at you, looking sheepish. âIâm here now, though. Iâm not going anywhere else.â
"Good, 'cause if you do. Iâll throw you into outer space." You lean in and peck his lips for a sweet kiss.
âOh, I donât doubt you would.â A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest.
#alien romulus#tyler harrson#tyler harrison x reader#tyler harrison x fem!reader#tyler harrson imagines#tyler harrson imagine#tyler harrison x you#tyler harrson oneshot#alien romulus tyler#alien romulus tyler harrison#writings by juls#my gif
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savior complex (pt. 1) | bang chan
summary: Your father had wielded you to become a machine; a weapon. And a machine you would become. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat. He taught you how to protect; specifically how to protect your family. But he never taught you how to survive with other groups, especially when their leader seems to have it out for you.
pairing: bang chan x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | strangers/enemies to lovers + zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut word count: 19.9K chapter summary: you'd always known the end, and it had always known you. you just didn't know the beginning would be waiting for you when your time finally came. warnings/notes: zombie apocalypse au so . . . blood, guts, gore, sad, sad, sad. beware. lots of inspo from every zombie thing i've literally ever seen (twd, tlou, train to busan, etc.), typos probably, parental death, actions of violence and murder, religious TRAUMA, religious undertones, reader does not believe in god but she's deeply influence by it bc of her childhood and it haunts her, reader comes from a small toen and it's not explicitly stated where she's from but hollows are mentioned, hunting, reader wishes for death multiple times, chan goes by chris, no smut in this chapter but there will be in every chapter after, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything, and enjoy! <3
chapter one: i know the end (and it knows me) ( series masterlist | next â )
Sometimes you felt like a ghost. It happened when the world was so silent that you could almost hear the beat of your unsteady heart pounding in your chest; when everyone else was asleep and you stayed up, eyes watchful and searching for threats. That was when you felt like the lost faces that haunted you.
It hadn't always been this way, at least not until the world ended. Most of the time you tried not to think about it. You tried not to think about much except survival these days.
Because that was smart. Surviving was smart. Anything else was stupid; anything else would get you killed.
Ironic, how you used to fear that very thing. Death. Now it was all you knew.
The apocalypse had come.
You knew how it sounded. Honestly, you didn't believe it when it first happened. You had been too afraid to admit it; too scared that if you did, you could never go back. There was no going back anyway. That was something you wished you had known back then. And as you sat on a log in the middle of those dark woods, overlooking your group who all slept silently while you stayed up, bloody knife in hand, and eyes watching for threats, it was hard to ignore the fact that this was your cruel reality.
Because the reality of it all was: you were living on borrowed time, trying your best to do right by your father and keep your family alive. You'd faltered that night, dotting the line between protection and predation.
And now . . . now you couldn't help but think about the beginning. How you would've never ended up like this if things had been different. But things hadn't been different. Things had happened exactly the way they had, and it'd left you with rot in your bloodstream and hate in your heart.
That was what made you clutch the knife closer, nearly cutting your own flesh. Because things hadnât been different, but they also hadnât always been this way. You hadnât always been like . . . this.
You supposed it was because it was easy to kneel when you were just a girl. It was easy to ignore the ever-present scabs on your knees when you didnât know any better. It was easy to tear yourself down the middle, pulling stitches from the back of your legs when you knew itâd all be re-sewn by morning. It was easy back then when the world hadnât died.
From the moment you were brought into the world, barely kicking and silently screaming like it was a sin to voice your pain, you had been taught to be that girl; that easy, complacent girl with not so much as a rotten thought. From the moment you were born, you had been taught the foundation of the Church and its vocation, and it had carved its way into your rotten flesh even when the world was no more.
At age four, you were in the pews, listening to the words of God while creating imaginary friends in the statues. At age seven, communion. Then at age eight, you had begun to become an altar girl, fetching and carrying, ringing the altar bell, bringing up the gifts and the book, among other thingsâessentially being a servant to God. At age fourteen, confirmation. At fifteen, your mother doused you in holy water before your first date with a boy from school. Sixteen, heartbreak, praying to God and begging for him to help ease it all, only to be left with no response . . . even after all you had done for him.
Seventeen and the stitches down your legs remained undone, the scriptures now more of a question than a statement. Then . . . eighteen, the timer clicked into place, and you felt yourself begin to rot along with the world, forcing you to realize your entire life was just a cycle of kneeling before God, praying, and asking for forgiveness for your sins.
It had been easy to kneel when you were just a girl; when you didnât know any better. And then it happened.
It.
Armageddon.
The Rapture.
The fucking apocalypse.
It didnât matter what you called it. Doomsday was still doomsday even dressed up with fancy scriptures and sacred wine.
The apocalypse had come. Humans were deemed horrible creatures by some almighty who you didn't give a fuck to acknowledge. It didn't matter. Someone or something had deemed the human race unworthy.
The apocalypse had come, and you were deemed worthless. You were made to die. It was inevitable.
The apocalypse had come. There was talk that it had begun in the North. But much wasnât known in your town. Now you realized they tried to keep it a secret. It was a way of controlling everyone, you supposed, but not like it mattered much now.
That was just how things were. Your mother refused to let you and your younger sister watch the news, refused to let you search anything about what was going on in the world, adamant that everything was lies and those lies would cloud your mind. A religious town bordering on a commune that resembled a cult perhaps just a tad too much. You realized all this now, of course, but back then your knees were still covered in scabs from kneeling before a God who would never come. Back then your mother kept you kneeling until the final bell tolled, her hand firmly clutching your shoulder to keep you in place.
You were only eighteen then. And while the outside world was torn apart month by month, its people haunted by death piled upon death, your town continued on as it always had. The whispers of a war that would end the world were just whispers, covered up by scriptures that the local preacher would sight every Sunday morning just after youâd collected the eggs from the chicken coop and put on your best dress like your mother had always taught you.
But it was different for you, even back then. Because while it had been easy to kneel when you were a girl, you had begun to grow. Eighteen then, but you had begun to see the flaws within the Church when you were sixteen. And by eighteen, you knew better.
By eighteen, you could see the sweat beading along the preacherâs forehead. By eighteen, you could hear wavering in your motherâs voice when she proclaimed that this was just a test. That this was meant to happen. That the Bible had always predicted this, and if you remained faithful, then you would be saved . . . spared.
But by eighteen, you knew better.
It took one quiet night and a hammering heart for you to sneak into your fatherâs study and head straight for this desktop. It took even less time to discover what had become of the world. One. Two. Three clicks and then . . .
You remembered the choking feeling bubbling up your chest as your eyes scanned the news articles. A virus. One so horrible and unforgiving that it could take a healthy vessel, and within twenty-four hours, the body would succumb to death. But, youâd seen stuff like this before, right? You knew there had been plenty of diseases and viruses and they all had cures. They all had to have cures. They had to.
That was just the thing: no matter how hard you looked, you couldnât find any article that explained how this virus came about. It was unknown, deadly, spreading rapidly, and there was no way of telling when itâd reach your town. It was just . . . just . . . (It was the first time you truly felt helpless.)
You remembered staying up with the sun, looking for answers, only to come out empty-handed. And when your father discovered you in his study that morning, you nearly confessed right away, sobbing into his arms. But no shame was brought upon you that day.
Your father had been a good man. He had loved you so. He had loved his family, no matter the consequences or conditions.
This town, your town, was small. It consisted of around only three thousand people give or take, all of which were either Christian, secluded, or . . . your father. In all the years you had been alive, not once had your father stepped into the Church. You never asked. You never worried. Your mother just always told you your father was busy every single time, and you believed her because back then, youâd trusted her with all of you.
As you grew, your suspicions of him did, too, but you remained silent as you always had in life. And it was only until that morning when he wrapped you in his arms and let you cry into his shoulder, did you realize why he never entered the Church, why he never spoke the prayers your mother praised, why neighbors would talk of his name only in hushed conversations.
He didnât believe.
No, he believed in something just not . . . this sacred word your town so desperately worshipped. And that morning, he told you the truth. From his childhood to how he ended up in a town like this. He told you it all, and then he told you the truth. He told you how your mother was scared (how she always had been) and how one day he hoped with enough trying, sheâd see the world for what it was ( . . . she never did). And then he told you about the virus, and everything was so much clearer.
The town had everyone convinced this was some kind of test. There was no virus to them. This was the reaping. The scriptures were true to them. And so every Sunday, you were forced to acknowledge that Pestilence, War, Famine, and Deathâthe Four Horsemen of the apocalypse had come to earth with the power to destroy humanity.
That was how it had been explained to your town, and all its people believed. A sickness had struck the world, yes, they told that much truth, but they chalked it all up to being some kind of plot point in Godâs plan. To top it off, it was said that if the townspeople all repented and did right by his name, then salvation would be given.
That was what was told, and that was what was believed.
You remembered the preacherâs voice even now.
Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, "Come." I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.
ââRevelation 6:1â2
That scripture haunted you just as your fatherâs face did, but back then you hadnât realized the detriment it would have on you. Back then, you played your part. Back then, you dressed as your mother advised, went to church, and listened, and then, when all was said and done and your mother had gone to her room, you snuck off to accompany your father on his hunts. And during those times, youâd learn the truth.
While the two of you hunkered down, waiting for deer to pass through your side of the woods, he told you about what was going on with the rest of the world. He explained how the CDC had claimed this thing; Pestilence (as your town believed) was some kind of virus, yes, only they wouldn't release the survival rate except for a few things that stated it was deadly, spread rapidly, and anyone could have it, but by the time symptoms had started to kick in, it would be too late.
As the weeks went by, as the more hunting extravaganzas you went on with your father piled up, his news became more worrisome. At first, the virus was contained in the North of the world, but as it took more lives and less information about it was being provided to the public . . . people began to panic. Hysteria spread throughout the world. Cases of this unknown virus peaked, and the government released statement after statement informing the public that face masks would be required to prevent the virus from spreading and travel restrictions would soon be put into place.
Only by that time, it was too late.
Carriers of this unknown virus had already traveled far and near, spreading the disease throughout the world. This so-called Pestilence might have only been given reign to a quarter of the world, but his disease had spread farther than his radius.
And while you had been young, you realized that this virus had only one purpose: to kill. There was no survival rate. No hope.
The world shut down soon after more and more people started dropping like flies, succumbing to the miserable disease that left them with boils and blisters covering their skin. Hospitals became overrun. Schools were wiped out with kids coming home with this deadly virus. Workplaces were abandoned, the people wishing to stay at home with their families, too afraid to step outside without any real knowledge of how this virus worked.
Your town remained oblivious, too, as the region shut down, gates being made so no one could enter or leave. It was safer that way they claimed. All of those who could be saved would be saved and helping those seeking a refuge was against the rules. It all felt like some kind of sick plan if you had anything to say about it.
By the time your father had taught you how to shoot your first deer without you sniffling in fear, Vaccines were finally attempted, but nothing worked; the disease only spread, and more people died.
Then . . . it all just stopped.
But your town continued to spread its lies.
The story remained the same even all these years later. You remembered how while you had learned the virus was supposedly coming to an end, your town still painted the picture of the Horsemen. Tales of Pestilenceâs reign still remained.
They went on and on about how he rose from the depths of Hell. Pestilence had come. He, who sat on his white steed, had a bow, a crown that had been gifted to him by his gods had come, and when he had, he went out conquering. And so he did.
Until he was put to rest; until his conquering had come to an end. You listened with half a heart as the preacher went on and on about how his time had ended, yes, but this was not the end. All you had to do was keep praying, keep repenting, keep . . . kneeling, and youâd be saved.
But you knew better.
While others would attend midnight mass in addition to morning, you claimed you had to pray on your own, and when your mother had left with your sister on her hip, you snuck off with your father to learn of the world. You snuck off to better your shooting arm, to seek comfort in the only person who seemed to have their head screwed on right, to shoot ducks and geese and deer and everything in order to keep your town fed while everyone else prayed to a God that wasnât doing half your work. And yet, every time, every kill, your father knelt beside the animal and prayed, until you had begun to do the same.
You werenât sure why he did it. You had never asked. You never thought you needed to. (Now you wouldâve done anything to know the answer.)
And so . . . life went on like that. Completely cut off from the world without the help of the internet your father provided for the two of you, life went on.
The virus no longer spread further, and many believed it was all just some hoax. News stations came to life again, but not much else was restored. That was how everyone found out the virus had concluded. Hell, even you remember being twenty-one years old, having your first legal shot with your father in the middle of the woods while the two of you watched news reporter after news reporter claim the virus had mutated and mutated so much to the point our bodies had accumulated a natural resistance to it.
But you couldn't believe it.
Three whole years of this deadly disease taking out population upon population, and then it all ceased. It felt almost too good to be true.
Of course, the town believed this too. Pestilence had conquered, and that was just the problem.
Every day, day in and day out, words spread throughout the hollow, the word in the Church mutated each week, even your mother who had spent the last three years praying to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary; your mother who had gone through rosary after rosary begging for God to have mercy on your family; your mother who had always forced you to attend those days at church on Sunday went around the house, boarding up the windows and hiding the special silverware in the basement, claiming that he would come next.
He has conquered, she had hissed over your shoulder when you and your father came back from one of your hunts.
Pestilence's reign had ended (according to your mother, who you were almost certain had a few screws loose). You didnât believe it for a second, ignoring your mother's desperate ramblings.
War will come, she warned.
War will come.
But . . . you knew if something did come, it wouldnât be this War.
And then . . . then he did.
The first sighting of the dead coming back was spotted just months after the virus that had plagued millions had ceased. And this time . . . the town allowed its folk to see the reports. Even your mother had brought the television from the basement to witness the dead rise . . . or rather . . . War. The news stations had captured a recording of these . . . people; people who had suffered from the virus coming back, and then with only their teeth, tearing any live thing apart. The recording was aired all across the world, fear, and hysteria spreading like wildfire.
The government was still up and running at this point with only one mission: to shoot down these seemingly reanimated corpses before they could cause more harm. People believed this to be a fluke, but your mother's words had stuck with you.
War will come.
It was all a little hazy now, but you remembered bits and pieces of the world back then. War had been quick, ruthless, and determined.
This was no man. This was War.
And it all became clear soon after.
While Pestilence had been silent, War had wanted an audience.
The things he could do; the people he could hurt . . . it was all so gutting. Those lost to the virus kept coming back, all with one purpose: destruction. With one bite, their victims would soon fall ill to that same virus, and then once it had taken their body, theyâd come back, reanimated with the same gruesome purpose.
The government finally fell when the dead could no longer be stopped. Quarantines dropped, people ran, and everything just . . . stopped. These creatures tore through cities, sinking their teeth into civilians. And you watched it all on the television, until that, too fell, leaving the rest of the world in the dark.
That was when you realized just how real all of this was. That was when you realized the past three years of hunting with your father was not just something the two of you would look back on and laugh about one day when this virus was over. No . . . it seemed . . . it seemed you couldnât quite see the end or maybe . . . maybe you could and that was the problem all along.
Your father, the man he was, tried to remind you that this was not War; that this was not the supposed Godâs plan everyone was convinced of in your godforsaken hollow. And you tried to hear him, but for a while, you wished to be like everyone else in the town. You wished you could believe this was some greater plan. You wished you could believe that this was all because of some Horseman . . . but you knew better, and your father seemed to know this as well.
(And yet, when you thought back on it now, the stages in which the world ended still presented themselves as the Horsemen in your troubled mind.)
Because, well, you supposed that was truly when the world had endedâthe day War came.
War will come, your mother had warned, and you knew that to be true the day the electricity stopped working. War had come, and he'd taken civilization with him. And while he reigned over the quarter of the world he'd been gifted, the rest of the world lay in the dark, trying to navigate throughout this new world.
From time to time you had heard talk of distant wars. You, however, had never seen one.
But War's ruthless hand still reached your town.
There was no news or contact with the outside world other than the people you could see with your own eyes. No transportation, no government, no nothing. It was said that cars had even been abandoned on highways as people tried to leave town to find their families. But they never got far; not with this newfound order bestowed upon the earth.
Because truly . . . War did not need to come to earth to corrupt it.
The government had fallen, the world had ended, the apocalypse had begun and that was all it took for chaos to ensue. People became their worst selves at the end of the world, you'd been told all your life through media upon media. But you had to disagree. You thought, perhaps, the end of the world brought out who people truly were deep inside. It allowed people to let go of civility.
And you discovered people really were perhaps even worse than this supposed War himself. Or rather a product of War and his righteous hand.
(Although, how righteous could he truly be?)
While War reigned, the rest of the world scavenged. Your family stood stagnant in your childhood home, holding up there for as long as you could. It was still warm when the second wave hit. You knew you'd need to find a different shelter when the time came.
The cold wasn't your only problem either. People were at their worst. When the news broke out in your town, the scriptures they held so dear began to fall apart. A lot left, some stayed, and others turned on each other, leaving houses with bloodstained splatters and a fear of thy neighbor. Your family stayed, however. Your mother read scriptures every day. Your father recited the truth. And they argued, while you sat by the window, terrified out of your mind as you watched the empty streets.
That was when you realized another truth about yourself. You were just about to turn twenty-two, the world had gone to shit, and you had never been so scared. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. Their names raged on inside your head and it was as if you were still just a young girl, kneeling in church despite the scabs. Except now, you were a girl who could no longer kneel in church, and yet you were still so scared.
It felt cruel. Perhaps even unreal.
The scriptures had predicted thisâthe four harbingers coming down to scorn the earth. But you hadn't believed it. You were forced to now.
It was Warâs reign back then. But Death would come one day. He had come to kill you all; to finish off everything his brothers hadn't touched, and one day he would.
It had been predicted. The words stuck in your head even now.
When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.
ââRevelation 6:7â8
Your mother told you long ago of these scriptures. When you were a child, you'd cover your head with your blankets, hiding from the mysteries of the night. Somewhere in your innocent mind, you'd convinced yourself the devil himself would find his way into your room, wrap his bony hand around your ankle, and drag you to the pits of Hell.
Back then you'd feared death. You'd done everything to steer far from its clutches.
Sheâs afraid of the world, your peers would hiss under their breath, not knowing you'd heard every word. And you knew they were right. You knew you had always been a scared kid, trying your hardest to keep the monsters at bay.
You wished you'd realized there had been no real monsters . . . yet. You would've lived more. Now you knew the consequences.
Now there was no more living, just surviving.
Still, sometimes you found yourself missing it; missing life. It was a bitter thoughtâwhat could've been had the world not ended all those years ago.
Back thenâbefore the endâyou'd feared death.
How far will this go? you remembered thinking back then when it was still Warâs reign. How long until things are normal?
You didn't have the stomach back then to come to terms with the truth. You barely remembered it now.
But you did remember the day everything truly changed for you.
Up until that day, you'd been following your father's orders, huddling up in your home with your mother and little sister as the four of you survived day by day. Then . . . your house had been broken into, the intruder coming in through your window.
Back then you had feared death. You had thought you were going to die.
You'd thought this up until the very last scream ripped through your throat just as your father emerged from the shadows, a look on his face youâd never seen, moments before everything went red. You remembered that to this day. While everything else was blurry, that moment was clear. You could still feel the blood splatter on your face as you watched your fatherâthe man who used to tie your shoes for you before you hopped on the school busâkill a man before your very eyes, ripping out his jugular with his bare teeth.
Once a girl who could no longer kneel in church, became one painted with the blood from another. And you remembered a small part of youâthe part that had once knelt so much her knees had turned to scabsâthat this was all Warâs fault.
You thought it until you watched the man pale, falling to your childhood bedroom floor with a thud. You remembered how his eyes stayed wide open, locked on you as he gurgled and choked on his blood, bleeding out onto your pink carpet. He didn't blink. Not once. Not even at all. They stayed cold and empty as your father breathed heavily above him.
And then you looked at him.
Your father was a good man. He was kind and just, despite the town. He believed in science and facts. He wanted the truth. But none of that mattered if his family was at stake.
Your father was a good man. He loved you, and he wouldâve done anything for you.
Your father was a good man.
Your father had ripped out another manâs jugular in front of you.
Your father was a good man.
Your father had killed someone.
This was the end. You knew it, and it knew you, too.
(It wasnât talked about, and you never brought it up again. He simply embraced you in a tight hug and kissed your forehead, leaving a smudge of blood from the man in doing so, and whispered apologies that would never sink deeper than your skin.
(Now you wished you wouldâve told him you understood. Now you wouldâve looked at him and seen an image of yourself staring right back. Now you wouldâve hugged him back.))
That was all it took before your father took it upon himself to gather your mother and little sister, put all necessities in the car, and collect enough portable gasoline as he could before the four of you set off down the road. Where you were going was undetermined. There was no knowing . . . because there was nowhere to go.
The world had ended. There was nothing left. You just had to go.
You have to grow up. No more kid stuff, your father said to you that night on the road while your mother and little sister were fast asleep in the back of the car. One day I might not be here to protect you. You have to learn to protect yourself.
And you'd promised him you would. Because you had to. You had been old enough then, after all. You had been twenty-one . . . technically an adult.
(Now, however, you realized you had still been too young. Twenty-one wasn't old enough to face the end of the world.)
But . . . what happens when a scared young girl is forced to grow up too soon? She turns into a machine.
Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.
Your father had borne that burden back then, when you first set off on the road. The car hadn't lasted long. Not that it mattered. The world was a wasteland anyway. Walking from town to town on the vacant streets and highways was nothing new now.
You just have to survive, he kept telling you. Survive long enough to keep them alive.
And you always knew what he meant. He was training you for the day when he would be no more. Because when that day came, you would be the one left in charge. He'd turned you into a machine because that was the world you lived in. You were the oldest. Your sister was barely five years old back then. And your mother . . . your mother who once believed this was all some greater plan, was now convinced that if she prayed hard enough it'd stop Famine from following after his ruthless brother.
It was your job to remember what your father had taught you when Pestilence first came to reignâhow to hunt, how to shoot a shotgun, and now . . . how to survive.
And when Famine came; when you caught sight of the words Famine has risen spray painted on a billboard on the side of a highway, reminding you of your sick home. It was then you finally learned how to survive. You didn't realize how hard it would be until a year after Famine's birth, your father had passed because of you (because of a stupid decision that you had made which you still couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge).
Survival became all that you knew after that.
Your father was gone. It was just like he had warned. You were in charge now, and you had one purpose: keep your family alive.
The burden became yours to bear.
This was your purgatory and you'd do well to repent for what you'd done; for the man you'd sent out to die; for the father you'd lost.
Survive, survive, survive. It was all you knew.
And when the final Horseman rose, you knew what you had to do. It didnât matter if it killed you, you couldnât let your family die at the hands of one of those . . . creatures.
Death had risen. The entire world was a wasteland filled with undead and wars made by man.
If you crossed paths with one of those creatures and let them lay a finger on your family, your oath to your father would be broken. Death would kill you all.
So you kept going, trying to outrun the inevitable.
Because you had to. For him. For your father. For the ghosts that haunted you.
Your father had wielded you to become a machine. And a machine you would become.
Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.
The routine was ingrained in your brain, going on and on like a mantra. You couldn't escape that. Not that it mattered. Survival mattered. Keeping your group, your sister, your mother, and your family alive mattered. They were all that mattered. You would skip as many meals as your body would let you if it meant they'd stay fed.
Sometimes you found yourself laughing at how naive you had been in the past. At twenty-five now, you were equal parts machine and woman, still oozing blood when wounded despite your protests. You didn't tremble at the sight of blood now. You didn't fear death.
When you were a kid, death was your greatest fear. Now, you envied it. Envied the fact you had to walk the earth; the same earth the dead destroyed. Because you couldn't die. That was the harsh truth: you couldn't die.
You'd feared death for so long and now as you sat awake, keeping watch while your group slept, you yearned for the clutches of death to drag you into nothingness. It was almost laughable.
In a world where people now fought for their lives, trying to outrun the dead, you wished to succumb to death. You knew it was wrong, and you'd never speak it aloud, but you yearned for it. This world was shit. Complete and utter shit, and you wanted to give up. Everything in you wanted to just wait like some brainless sitting duck and let Death or disease or even those wretched beasts you heard groaning in the dead of night have their way with your hollow body.
But you couldn't . . . not when you promised your father you'd protect them. He'd died for you, and it was your duty to keep your family safe. Your duty.
You couldn't die, not when you had to keep them alive.
So you let yourself turn into a machine.
And a ruthless machine you had watched yourself become.
That night had been enough evidence of this. Because that night as you sat on a log, slowly dragging yourself out of the past and into the present, you realized one thing. A bloody knife sat in your hand while you watched over your sleeping group, eyes searching for any sign of the dead, and that was when it dawned on you that you had been right all those years agoâthe end of the world brought out who people truly were.
You were a machine. You didn't feel. You couldn't.
Glancing down at the bloody knife in your hand, you realized you hadn't felt anything that night.
That night you'd done something you never thought you would. That night your group was attacked by a man with a gun; a man who wanted to harm; a man who had put his hands on your little sister. She was only eight going on nine, and she was your responsibility, and as soon as his hand clamped down over her shoulder while he held a gun to her head, threatening to pull the trigger unless you gave up all your food, you lost it.
Everything went black. You couldn't see. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think. You just felt this pure blinding rage.
When you finally regained your sight, you realized what you'd doneâyou'd killed the man.
No, killed was too vague.
Like the true machine you had become, you had slaughtered him; the bloody knife in your hand was evidence enough of that.
The man was dead, a chunk of his jugular ripped out while he clutched the many stab wounds piercing his stomach. And you . . . you stood above him, eyes wide, bloody knife in hand, and the bitter taste of blood on your tongue.
You'd never killed anyone before. You'd put people out of their misery, but you'd never taken another life like this. You'd never had to.
But you had that night.
And now you paid the consequences.
It had been hours since then. No one had spoken a word since. And your sister . . . your little sister had only looked at you once since then, and you could see the utter terror her round eyes held. Normally she would sleep by your side, but she'd curled up next to your mother that night.
She was afraid of you, and you couldn't blame her. You had once given your father the same look.
So you sat alone on that damned log, bloody knife in hand as you thought back on how you managed to end up in this Hell. Sometimes you felt like a ghost, and now you knew why.
Your brows pinched together. You couldn't help but think: is this what your father had intended?
How much of a machine had he meant for you to become? Were you supposed to clutch onto the part of yourself that was still human? Or had becoming a monster been part of the deal when you'd signed off your soul for machine parts?
You weren't sure. You weren't really sure of anything anymore.
Your sister had looked at you like you were one of the monsters that plagued your earth, slowly destroying it region by region.
Were you no better than the dead to her?
You swallowed hard.
Had you become a monster?
âYou did what you had to do,â you heard a deep voice from behind you, perhaps answering your thoughts.
But you didn't jump as you turned to see Felix sit down on the log beside you, exhaustion weaving through his delicate features. You didn't speak a word, just stared at the side of his face for a second before you glanced back down at the bloody knife in your hand.
You did what you had to do.
You nearly laughed. It was just like him to say such things.
You see: Lee Felix had joined your group around the same time Famine took his reign, and ever since then he'd been following you around like your own personal shadow. That was three years ago now. Your father had saved him, offering him to join your family on the road. Perhaps your father had seen something in him. Or maybe he had just saved him simply because that was just who your father was: a hero.
Not that it mattered. You'd taken a liking to Felix, too. He was kind.
Kind had been rare back then. It still was.
And Felix stayed kind.
When your father passed, Felix stuck by you. Your mother had begun to look at you as if you were a stranger, and your little sister still had been too young to understand much. Felix had made life easier.
You'd taught him everything you knew partly because you needed to and partly because you liked being around him as if he were the younger brother youâd never had. Little bird, you called him . . . because you'd taught him everything. You'd taught him how to survive. And sometimes you thought maybe you would've been friends outside of this. If things were different, if you'd met in a world where the apocalypse hadn't happened . . . then you'd like to think you could have met; that your paths would've crossed.
But things weren't different. You weren't even sure if you could let him in entirely. Your friendship would surely put him in some sort of jeopardy. Because, really, it all came down to survival, and you needed him to live. You didn't care what happened to yourself. You just needed to stay alive long enough to make sure they'd all make it.
That still didn't stop the feeling of relief that washed over you as soon as you felt him lean into you, arm touching yours. He was trying to comfort you in the way that he knew, and you couldn't help but lean against him further.
He was still just as kind as the day you'd crossed paths.
But you?
Well . . .
âI ripped his throat out . . . " you heard yourself roughly mutter before you felt the words tumble from your tongue. You lifted a hand to your blood-stained lips and swallowed. âI ripped . . . throat . . . his . . . with my teeth.â You swallowed once again, harder this time as your eyes drifted to your little sister's sleeping figure. She had been so scared. You had done that. You had scared her. âShe looks at me like Iâm a monster.â
âYouâre not."
âLix."
âYouâre not,â he reiterated, his voice as harsh as he could manage (which was not harsh at all) while he clutched your blood-stained hand and took it into his. âYou did what you had to do.â
Your eyes flicked down to your hands. But you didn't look at him. You couldn't. You just kept thinking and thinking and seeing that look on your sister's face. And then . . . then you felt yourself say. âShe says all life is precious. She cries when we have to put down a squirrel for Christâs sake. I shouldâve known. I shouldâveââ
âSheâs just a kid."
âI didnât have to kill him,â you continued. âThere was a point where I couldâve knocked him out. I thought about it. And I still killed him.â Your eyes finally snapped to his then. âI wanted to kill him, Lix.â
A muscle in Felixâs jaw twitched. âItâs people like him that make me wonder if this world got it all right,â he admitted after a second. âIâm glad heâs dead. I just wish I couldâve been the one to do it.â
Your breath hitched at his words, not because they'd shocked you . . . but rather because you found yourself agreeing. But that wasn't . . . right. Felix was kind. You were not. He was good, and you . . .
âYou donât mean that,â you mumbled, squeezing his hand. âYouâre not . . . â
âNot what?â Felix countered, eyes searching yours. âHmm? Not what?â
You blinked, your throat constricting. âToo far gone,â you choked out.
His brows twitched, his expression softening. âNeither are you."
His hand touched your face a second later, his thumb wiping the dried blood from your chin. You weren't a monster in his eyes. You were just his friend. He didn't fear you, but you knew he should've.
But for a second, you let yourself forget this. Instead, you closed your eyes, allowing him to clean your face of the man's spilled blood. And when he was done, your eyes fluttered open just in time to see him try to reach for the knife in your hand, probably to release it from your tight hold.
However, you shifted it out of his grasp. His eyes snapped to yours then, questioning.
You offered a weak smileâsomething you didn't do often, but would for him. âSleep,â you hummed, patting his shoulder. âWe need your brute strength in the morning.â
âWe need your brain more,â he countered, tapping a finger to your forehead.
âSleep, little bird."
He rolled those round brown eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."
Nevertheless, Felix listened to you. He shifted down onto the ground, resting his head on the log, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes closed. And you watched him until you were sure he was resting soundly. Then, your eyes went back to watching, making sure to keep your promise to your father.
But just as you were sure it was just you and the silence of the night again, you heard Felixâs voice filter through your ears, âYouâre not too far gone."
You swallowed hard but said nothing.
You're not too far gone.
Oh, how wrong he had been.
As if like some sort of phantom, your knees had begun to itch like they used to after mass all those years ago. For the first few days, you tried to ignore it, writing it off as poison ivy or not bathing for a few weeks, but even when youâd scratch, the itch would remain. You came to realize that this wasnât something you could write off; this wasnât something that hadnât been caused by anything other than . . . you.
A few nights ago, youâd killed a man. Youâd ripped out his throat with his teeth, and for a second too long, youâd enjoyed it. Now . . . now you wondered just how deep your guilt ran. Now you wondered if given the chance, would you do it again?
But you already knew the answer.
Your knees had begun to itch once again . . .
And you tried to ignore it. Honest, you did, but his screams; how easy it was to bite into his flesh; the bitter taste of metallic blood on your tongue which oddly tasted too similar to honey; the life in his eyes quickly dissipating as you towered over him like a predator to its prey; all of it kept playing in your head over and over again. You couldnât escape it, not even when night came and you were forced to close your eyes.
His face was always there.
Sometimes you wondered if any of it had actually happened. Sometimes you wondered if none of this was real or if you even were. Sometimes you wondered if this man had been Death; if the tales your town preached had been real and this was your test.
Sometimes you wondered if you had failed.
And you knew you had.
At night, you could hear your mother whispering prayers under her breath, pleading to the heavens that she and her daughter would be spared. And every time, you knew which daughter she meant. Every time you knew she was praying to be spared from you. Every time you knew it was you who she feared the most in this world. And every time you wondered if one day heâd finally answer her prayers.
You couldnât even blame her, because a few nights ago youâd done the one thing youâd never thought youâd have to doâkill a man. You knew you were some kind of fucked for that alone.
Then, last night, you began to wonder if this was how your father had felt. You began to wonder if this was why he was dead and not you. You wondered if heâd done it to save you, and to put himself out of his own misery.
And then you began to pray, too. Youâd stopped believing in God years ago, but it was an old habit that you sometimes indulged in for some sick kind of comfort. And this time, in the dead of night, youâd shut your eyes and beg for your fatherâs ghost to return to you. You begged for just one more minute. One more minute and he could tell you how to deal with this; how to survive this, too, just as he had taught you how to endure everything else.
But no ghost ever came, only the perpetual darkness galloped in, consuming you whole.
Your father was gone, and it was all your fault. Guilt was your ghost, not him.
He would still be here if you hadn'tâ
"Mom thinks you've been possessed by the devil," your little sister's voice brought you out of your mind.
You blinked once. Then, you glanced down at her, taking note of her skeptical eyes and furrowed brows. It was almost as if she were inspecting your face, trying to decipher if you, her older sister, really were possessed as your mother had claimed.
It had been the first time your sister had spoken to you in the past week. The four of you had been walking through the woods, steering clear of the main roads ever since youâd come into contact with that manâthe man whose blood you could still taste on your tongue.
Sheâd taken to walking hand-in-hand with your mother, just a few feet behind you and Felix as the two of you led the way into the unknown. You didnât know where you were going. You never did. That was the thing about the end of the worldâthe only thing that mattered was surviving day by day. There was no end-point.
But today while you led the group through the woods, eyes searching for any rodents or small animals to capture for food, your head stuck in the past, your sister had taken the chance to walk into step with you. And those . . . those had been her choice of words.
Mom thinks youâve been possessed by the devil.
And now with the world a ghost of itself, you thought perhaps maybe your mother could be right. Youâd changed. The world had changed you. The old taste of blood on your tongue was evidence enough of that.
Youâd killed a man. Youâd ripped out a chunk of his jugular with your teeth and plunged the very knife in your belt into his flesh over and over again until you were sure he couldnât do more harm.
Kill or be killed, sure, but . . .
. . . Youâd still killed a man.
Youâd actually taken a life.
(You werenât expecting it to haunt you this much. But it had. You could still see his face, hear his voice, smell him, feel him. He was still very much alive in your mind, haunting you like a ghost.
It didnât matter if he was more monster than man . . . you had still killed him. You had still taken a life without a second thought. His evils didnât matter . . . guilt still seeped in.)
Mom thinks youâve been possessed by the devil.
And maybe you had been.
That wouldâve been easier to fathom.
But instead of voicing these thoughts aloud, you adjusted your backpack on your shoulders, touched a finger to the knife tucked into your belt to make sure it was still there and tightened your grip on your fatherâs shotgun in your hand before you finally spoke.
"Mom's off her meds," was all you offered. It was all you could say. And it hadnât been what your sister was searching for.
Your sister stepped back, allowing you to walk alone. You knew you were losing her. You knew she barely trusted you now just as your mother stopped considering you a daughter.
And you couldnât blame them.
The end of the world brought out who people truly were, and you were someone not worth saving.
The sun had begun to set when you finally declared youâd be stopping for the night. It wasnât a solid resting place, which meant another night of no sleep on your part, but that didnât bother you much anymore. All that mattered was there were no signs of the dead, no low groans in the distance, no immediate danger, and the small creek running just a few meters from your camp would provide just enough for you to wet your face and clean any dried blood from your skin. That was what matteredâa temporary sanctuary.
Felix had taken to accompanying your little sister to the creek, while your mother gathered small twigs and broken branches to add to the fire you had just started. But your eyes never stopped watching your little sister, keeping an eye on her to ensure no danger would reach her or Felix while you were occupied.
That was your only concern. Your second was food. There had to be some crawfish lingering in the creek that you could fry up. That was your second concern right after the fire was steady enough to last until nightfall.
With a soft sigh, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from your sisterâs smiling face. You tried to ignore how she smiled at Felix while he splashed water at her. You tried to ignore the soft laughter you could still hear as you stabbed at the fire with a branch. You tried to ignore the thought that sheâd never look at you like that; never laugh like that with you; never trust you like that again.
You tried to ignore how you had become more of a loose end your family needed to tie off, than a daughter or an older sister.
But you couldnât. The thought was always there. There it would remain, you were sure of it.
Clenching your jaw, you added the branch in your hand to the fire, watching it crackle under the embers. And for a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to reach forward and let the flames lick your fingertips.
Had he felt like this, too?
Had your father had these thoughts before he died for you?
Did he ever wonder ifâ
âYouâre just like him, you know?â your mother nearly whispered, tearing you from your mind as she set down the pile of branches she had collected.
You glanced at her once, then glared into the fire. âIs that supposed to hurt me?â
She shook her head only once. âIt should scare you,â she clarified, standing to her feet so she could tower over you once again. âGodâs planââ
âGodâs plan?â you immediately spat out with a humorous scoff, now standing to your feet as well. You were taller than her now, unlike when you were a kid; unlike when you used to do everything she told you; unlike when she still considered you her daughter. âWhat does Godâs plan have to do with my father?â
A muscle in her jaw twitched. âHe has protected us this far. He couldnât save your father. Iâm worried if you continue down this path, he wonât be able to save you either,â she muttered back as she clutched the cross around her neck as if she thought it would ward you off like you had become one of the evils sheâd warn you about when you were just a girl.
But you were no longer small; you were no longer moldable by her hand, and now, you were only made of anger. âYou think Godâs the reason weâre alive?â you questioned her, eyes narrowing into slits.
Your mother remained silent but clutched her cross harder. And you knew what that meant.
Your eyes flicked from her hand to her face. Then, you took a step forward, chin jutted out. âIs it God who kills so we can eat? Is it God who got us here, to this point? Is it God who holds dadâs gun?â you bit out as you touched a hand to your chest. âGod doesnât have a fucking plan.â You drilled a finger into your chest, your angry eyes never leaving hers. âI do. And God couldnât save dad because it was supposed to beââ
But your words halted in your throat. You couldnât admit it to her. You couldnât tell her you were the reason behind your fatherâs death. It didnât matter if she already knew. You just . . . you just couldnât admit it to her face.
âGod doesn't fucking exist,â you muttered out instead, turning away from her. âAnd if he did, heâs sure as hell dead now.â
âYour father filled your head with lies.â
You turned back to her, eyes glaring into hers. âBullshit,â you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. âHe was the only one who ever told me the truth.â
Ignoring your words, she took a step away from you, her hand remaining on the cross around her neck. "Your father . . . I knew he was deeply flawed when I married him, but I just figured heâd change. I figured heâd see the way, instead he only got worse, but he knew when to control it. He knew right from wrong,â she went on, her voice steady, but her eyes had begun to water. And you knew tears would come, and when they did, youâd leave to kill the crawfish. "But, you, honey . . . I don't know where we went wrong with you. It's like you came out of the womb defective. You got all the bad traits of your father and nothing else. I look at you and I see this angry little girl. And, you know, sometimes I ask myself how in the world we managed to raise a daughter who is even more deeply flawed than her bastard father, but I never seem to know the answer."
There were the tears now.
But along with it came a knife in your chest that kept twisting and twisting the more she spoke.
Twist the knife, and she did.
"There's something wrong with you,â she whispered again after a momentâs silence, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. âYou frighten me.â
Twist the knife, and you refused to pull it out.
This was what you deserved.
Still, you didnât cry, not for yourself. Never for yourself. Instead, you continued to stare at her with no emotion in your eyes as you muttered, âTalking ill of the dead is a sin, remember?â And then you began to turn.
But your motherâs hand landed firmly around your arm. âDonât you turn your back on me, girl,â she warned, her words sharper than the knife sheâd twisted into your chest.
Swallowing hard, you sucked on your teeth. âWhat else do you want me to say?â you questioned, but didnât bother to turn and face her. âI have nothing else to give you, mom.â
She released your arm as if youâd burned her and hissed, âDonât call me that.â
Your brows furrowed in confusion for a mere second before you realized what she meant; before you realized what youâd said; what youâd done. It was an honest mistake, as well. You hadnât called her that in so long, and yet it still came out. You hadnât meant to say it, but it still came out as if you were still small and thought the whole world was in her arms.
âThen what do you want me to call you?â you asked, your voice quieter now as you took a step back. âIf not mom, then what should your daughter call you? Hmm? Or is the answer nothing? Is that what we are to each other now? Will that make God come down from the heavens and give us salvation? . . . If you abandon me?â
Your mother remained silent.
And you knew her answer.
Sucking on your teeth, you nodded in acceptance. âWhat?â you spoke in a whisper as you took another step back. âAm I not being loud enough for him?â You outstretched your hands at your sides, gesturing to the heavens. âShould I scream it? Will he finally fucking answer then?â
âStupid girlââ your mother quickly scolded, grabbing you firmly by the armâ âdonât you dare put this family in danger,â
But you only tilted your head in question. âDoes that include me?â
Her eyes fluttered, taken back. âWhat?â
âThis family,â you reiterated. âAm I a part of this family?â
Once again, she remained silent.
But you knew the truth.
âGodâs plan as long as Iâm out of the picture, right?â you muttered under your breath, swallowing hard once again. âAt least we finally agree.â
Then, you were tearing your arm out of her grasp, but you didnât move, you didnât even look away from her. Instead, you kept still. You kept your eyes locked with hers as if breaking that eye contact would sever the final string holding the two of you together. She didnât speak either, and she refused to move. She wouldnât move first. You knew that. Sheâd always been that way. So had you . . .
And when you were sure the world had begun to rot around you, you could have sworn her bottom lip quivered as if she were on the verge of saying something . . . anything. Only, when her lips parted a mere sliver, a shrill scream sounded from behind, and the perpetual darkness of your world crept back in through your peripheral vision.
Beat. Your heart shot to your throat.
It happened too quickly for you to think.
Beat. Beat.
You heard the scream and you knew your sister was in trouble.
Beat.
Without a second thought, you dropped everything and ran toward the scream; toward the creek; toward your sister. It wasnât far, but it was far enough for you to catch sight of two of the dead. One Felix fought off, while trying to grab his knife from his belt. The other had found its way to your sister, pinning her to the forest floor as she thrashed and screamed, her weak limbs desperately trying to keep the thing from sinking its teeth into her flesh.
And you knew what to do.
For a brief second longer, there was screaming. Then the squelch of a knife being plunged through a skull. Then nothing.
The world faded away. No noise. No people. No nothing.
One. Two. Three seconds, then the world started to return.
Breathing heavily, you watched carefully as your mother rushed past you, tearing the dead corpse off your sister and holding her closer . . . closer than sheâd ever held you. Your nose twitched for a mere second as your gaze shifted from your mother and sister staring at you in shock ((?) no, maybe it was horror) to the stilled corpse, and finally to the bloodied knife gripped tightly in your hand.
Youâd killed that thing, yes. But you hadnât even thought about it. You hadnât stopped to think that this thing was once a person. You hadnât even seen it as such, unlike your mother; unlike what the town had tried to drill into your head during Pestilenceâs reign. And . . . you could see that realization in your motherâs eyes.
. . . You were getting worse.
Your legs had begun to weaken at the thought, but you quickly stabled yourself, afraid theyâd see it as another sign to put you down like the violent dog you knew they saw you to be. Instead, you tore your gaze from the knife in your hand and met your motherâs eyes once again (but you couldnât bring yourself to meet your sisterâs tearful stare). âTell me, moââ you quickly stopped the word from tumbling from your tongue, then went onâ âis this still what Godâs plan looks like to you?â
But your mother didnât reply, and you didnât wait for her to. You could barely stand to hold her gaze for a second longer. Instead, you wiped the blood from your knife on your pants, shoved it back into your belt, and turned, walking back to the fire you had begun to make minutes before.
And as you walked, you took note of the silence which followed you. You took note of how even Felix hesitated slightly before he followed after you. You took note of how your mother and sister sat near that creek for a few minutes longer and didnât bother to wander after you as if you were no longer their blood.
The final string tying your family together had begun to wear thinner. You wondered when it would finally snap. You wondered how long it would take for a violent dog to succumb to its instincts; how long it would take you to become the lost cause you knew you were destined to be.
Would they make the decision to put you down then?
Four days. Two sleepless nights. And one squirrel shared between the four of you. You felt a fever coming on a couple days ago. You saw the infected cuts from the fight with that man. You knew your body was weakening day by day.
If you didnât stop soon, youâd sure become one of the dead.
But you tried your best to ignore it. You had to.
Your mother; however, remained hopeful (of course). You could hear her chattering on to your sister throughout the day while you watched the world.
According to her, no one really knew why the Horsemen came to earth. She claimed the world needed saving from certain people (what you were sure she was leaving out was the fact that she was convinced you were one of these people). So, she went on and on and on, and you quietly listened, too, because you were still a girl who used to kneel in church, after all; because you could still feel the bruises on your knees; because you could still see the scars left behind from the scabs.
So, you listened, but you did not believe.
The world was fucked and needed cleansing. People were inherently bad and God saw no other way for salvation (apparently) than to send his four loyal Horsemen to destroy Earth and its people. . . . Well . . . supposedly. You knew the truth; however. There were no Horsemen. There was just death. Something had gone wrong and no one really knew what, so they blamed it on some higher power.
Whatever.
(Supposedly) Pestilence had been a shadow. War had wanted an audience. The world fell before you could get a proper grasp on Famine. And now Death was here. Heâd been walking the earth for two years now, and still no one knew why.
Just like the town, your mother had her theories. And while she believed this God was still on your side, still searching for the good in humanity, you thought him fucked up. The human race was just his playthings.
Heâd made sure there was nothing left.
Hell, you knew there wasnât even a god. The world was just fucked. The end.
Point blank: it didnât matter. Nothing did anymore.
Survival was all that mattered.
Everything else was fucked.
And as you continued to lead the way into nothingness, listening to your motherâs ramblings about the Bible, all you could do was ignore how your knees had begun to itch once again, while you focused on one thought: survive, survive, survive. But . . . not for yourself . . . for them.
Survive long enough for them.
For your father.
For your sister.
For your mother.
For Felix.
For them.
By sundown, Felix managed to find an abandoned warehouse for the night. It wasnât much, but it was better than sleeping out in the wild. Perhaps all of you could get some shuteye that night. Sure, luckily it was around Fall or maybe just before where it was still warm, but sleeping on logs wasnât ideal. (Not that you could be picky. Not that you were.)
But, just your luck, sleep never found you.
Beside you, Felix softly snored, laying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest and his head resting in your lap. Your hand found its way to his dark waves, gently scratching his scalp as he slept. It brought you peace where you normally had none.
Sometimes you wondered when Felix would finally realize the monster youâd become. You wondered what it would take. How many more people would you kill for them in order for him to look at you as if you were a stranger?
You didnât want to see that day come.
Itâd already come for your mother the day your father died. Then for your sister when youâd butchered that man. You couldnât bear living through Felixâs realization.
With a sigh, you glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on your motherâs sleeping figure as your little sister curled up into her side, miles away in her dreams. You hoped it was better there; that her dreams were still pure and innocent despite the world.
You tore your eyes from them a second later, instead opting to glance out the large opening in the warehouse where a window used to be. The world was so bleak now. Even the sight of the empty lands before your eyes stirred nothing within you. It was just so . . . distant.
Nothing was left.
Truly.
Reluctantly, you shut your eyes, trying your hardest to drift off into sleep, but the pounding in your head and the scratch in your throat kept you up. You were getting worse. You squeezed your eyes tighter, hoping this fever would subside soon. The world was darker now, the nothingness intensifying. You werenât even sure if you could sleep anymore. Had you been? You couldnât remember.
But just when you were sure sleep wouldnât greet you that night, forcing you to keep watch, you couldâve sworn you heard an inhuman howl echo throughout the darkness beyond.
Your eyes snapped open, heart hammering.
No.
It couldnât be.
Another howl echoed throughout the air. But this was no howl from a wolf or even a beast.
Youâd heard stories from survivors in the towns youâd passed through in the two years Death had taken his reign over your lands. Youâd heard the stories of Death and his steed. His steed, pale in color similar to a corpse, was rumored to have this cry.
The cry was no ordinary cry. Deathâs steed cried similar to a wolf or rather a beast, hungry for blood. It was a war cryâa warning sign.
Of course, Death was not real and there was no horse with their cry. No, you knew what this was. Youâd heard these cries in smaller amounts. Youâd heard these cries as you plunged your knife into each undeadâs brain, killing the parasite living within. And a howl like this only meant one thingâa horde.
You swallowed hard.
Death was near.
Youâd thought the undead didnât horde unless . . .
The man.
Your eyes widened.
The night the man had attacked your group, you had managed to hotwire a car. That had been your plan. You were going to use that car to get your group farther and safer. But because of that man . . . because of what youâd done to him, youâd accidentally popped one of the tires in the process, forcing your group to stay the night in those woods when you shouldâve been on the road.
And his screams . . .
Youâd slowed down and made yourself known, and now they were following the noise.
And . . . it was all your fault.
You exhaled a shaky breath.
Death was coming.
Immediately, you swung into action, quietly waking Felix up. His eyes questioned yours before he, too, heard the war cry.
Death was coming. Felix knew this now, too.
The two of you silently awoke your mother and sister, Felix informing them of the matter they had on your hands, while you gathered your fatherâs shotgun, crouching near the window for a better look. If they were near . . . how near?
You swallowed hard.
Maybe you could still run. You could still get everyone out if you ran. It could workâ
But then you saw it.
In the distance, you caught sight of the undead as they cried, following each other.
You checked the gunâs chamber, removing and reloading the cartridges just to make sure they were in place in case you were forced to fire. Your grip tightened and loosened, and you could hear Felix whispering your name, but your eyes were transfixed on the horde up ahead.
Death was here. So close. Too close.
They couldnât see you now, couldnât hear you, but . . . if you ran, theyâd catch sight of you. Theyâd kill your family. Theyâd kill Felix. Theyâd kill you all.
There was no way you could outrun the horde. Not when they were this close; not when they could smell you; hear your every breath.
Fuck.
You wanted to scream.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Your father had trusted you. They all had. And now you were going to let another person down all because youâd been stupid one night. Youâd fucked all of you.
âSnap out of it,â Felix whispered, his hand on your shoulder. âIdeas?â
You could only shake your head.
Felix swore, running his hands through his hair. "There's no way," he nearly gasped at his words. "Fuck."
You swore you felt your heart drop as you slumped against the wall. They were going to die. Because of you.
There was no way out; no way any of you would make it past the horde without them noticing. The moment they saw any of you, theyâd follow you until they could get their teeth into your flesh. And while you had no care for your own life, you still had care for theirsâthe people you'd sworn to protect.
Your father had died for all of you. He knew it wasn't safe, and he still went out. He'd traded his life for yours. He'd made you swear to protect your mother and your little sister, and along the way, you'd sworn to not only keep them safe but to keep Felix from harm. You'd sworn that, and you were not one to fall back on your word.
There was no way out together. But . . . there was one way out.
You knew what that meant.
This was what your father would've wanted. This was what he would've done; what he had done.
It was always going to turn out this way. You'd known that.
And in that moment, you accepted that. After all, you'd always been told you were your father's daughter.
This was how you made things right.
You nodded at your thoughts.
Then, you felt your eyes burn, your brows scrunching in confusion. Wetness slipped down your cheek and you briefly touched a finger to the tear, finding you were crying. You hadnât cried in so long.
Angrily, you wiped the tears away. You didnât get to cry.
This had been your fault in the first place. This was how you made it right. You didnât get to cry. You didnât.
So you sent one last glare at the horde up ahead, then turned to Felix. Fuck. He would be the one in charge now. You trusted him, yes, but you knew how heavy that burden was. That was what you would regret the mostâputting Felix through this agony, too.
Still: "Little bird," you whispered.
Fearful tears were already in his eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."
"Can't help it. I taught you how to fly," you hummed, voice soft and unlike you.
You both knew what you meant. You'd taught Felix how to fire a gun, taught him how to gut a fish, you taught him how to surviveâyou taught him how to fly. But he didn't need any more teachings. Like a baby bird, he'd flown from the nest ages ago. He could fly without you. The thought brought a melancholic smile to your chapped lips as you fought back the burning in your eyes when they met his worried gaze once again.
"Makes me feel important." You touched a hand to his cheek. He felt soft under your calloused skin. "But . . . you don't need me anymore."
Felix exhaled with a strained choke, his eyes widening in realization. "No," he rushed out, shaking his head as his soft brown eyes searched yours. "No." His hand enclosed around the one you'd touched to his cheek. "Don't. Don't."
You knew what he meant. Don't be the hero.
But that wasn't his decision to make. You had debts to pay; people to protect.
Living had never been something you wanted in a world like this. Sometimes you felt like a ghost; when the world was quiet and your heart beat a little slowerâyou felt like one of the many corpses you'd passed by on the daily.
Years ago, you promised your father you'd take over his job and protect. You'd never wanted to live, but you had forced yourself. Back then, you made a promise to yourselfâyou had to stay alive, not for yourself, but for them; you had to stay alive for the one you had lost. And you'd upheld that promise, but now . . . in order to save them, you had to break it.
You knew this.
Felix did, too.
He rested his forehead against yours. "Please. Don't. It's supposed to be you and me."
Your eyes squeezed shut. "I'm the reason he's dead."
The two of you knew what you meant. This was how you repaid him; how you repaid your father.
"Then let me do it," Felix muttered, hand dropping from yours to grasp the shotgun in your other hand.
You were quick to rip it from his hold. "It was always going to turn out this way," was all you said, and he knew what you meant.
The sound of the cries coming closer made you spring back from him. Your head swiveled, taking in your surroundings as your hands found their rightful place on the shotgun. Your eyes briefly found your little sister'sâher round eyes wide with fright, only furthering your decision. You knew doing this for them, for her.
"Fine," you heard Felix hiss in a quiet whisper. "But I'm coming with you."
Your head snapped to him. "Like hell you are."
"You don't get to die."
"Neither do you."
"Then I guess we have a predicament."
Your eyes softened. "Lix."
His brows pinched together. "You don't get to die."
And you almost felt yourself smile. "Little birds are meant to fly," you hummed. Little birds are meant to fly; they aren't meant to die.
He shook his head.
You swallowed hard.
The cries grew closer, and your heart raced. You were out of time. This was your last goodbye.
You gripped his hand. "Protect them."
He latched onto your shoulders. âNo. No. Iâm not ready. Donât make me say goodbye to you.â
Against your will, your bottom lip trembled. âItâs not.â
But it was. You both knew that.
Felix could only shake his head. âPlease.â
âSee you later, little bird,â you hummed, weakly, kissing his forehead before you tore yourself from him. And he reached for you, begging you to stay.
But . . . no amount of pleas could change your mind. You were already moving before Felix could stop you. You didnât have the heart to glance back at your sister or your mother. You never wanted to live in a world like this, but if you looked back, you feared you mightâve found salvation in their eyes. You couldnât put them through that. Youâd put them through enough.
You worked quickly. You had to. For them.
The quiet cries of the horde approached, moving slowly. You kept your eyes on their figures, stealthily stepping down the creaky stairs to the bottom floor. From there, you moved to the woods surrounding the area. You quickly crouched down in the dark forest, clutching the shotgun even tighter. This was your fatherâs, now it was yours, and you were going to use it to save your family.
You werenât naive enough to think that you could actually kill all of them. But that didnât matter. You were solely supposed to be a distraction. You would fire that damned shotgun at those things over and over again, not caring if it even did any damage. You just needed to keep their attention long enough to get them to follow you in the opposite direction. That would allow your family to escape. That was all you intended to do.
You knew there was no surviving this. And you were fine with that.
Death didnât scare you. Not yours, anyway.
So you hunkered down, hands clutched on the shotgun as you waited for the horde to get near enough to strike.
You heard them before you saw them. The cries echoed throughout the dark night, making your heart pound faster. It became louder and louder, so loud you felt yourself start to tense, and then the first came into view.
It came to a gentle halt, almost as if it had been expecting you. But that couldnât be. It hadnât seen you. You were still in the clear.
Still, you watched, remembering the lessons on hunting that your father had taught you. This was how you huntedâquiet, hidden, and alert.
The creature tilted its head back, eyes closed as the moonlight cascaded across its pale face. Your brows scrunched in confusion as you watched it, tilting your head to the side. It was almost as if it were basking in the moonlight, soaking up the feeling of the satellite shining down on it. And then you realized what it was doing: sniffing you out.
Behind it, the world was bleak as the rest of those damned creatures sauntered forward. The trees seemed to sag, the grass stale, and it was quiet, so very quiet. Every step they took, decay followed.
And then they began to move . . . toward the warehouse where your family still resided.
Your jaw ticked as you raised the shotgun. Your fatherâs instructions rang through your ears and you lined up the barrel, aiming at one of the creatureâs chests as it was perhaps the only part of it you had direct access to. You were certain the impact wouldnât kill it, you were almost certain it wouldnât even hurt it, but . . . it would distract it, and that was all you needed.
Last week, you killed a man. You ripped out his jugular with your teeth. Youâd slaughtered him. So this, killing this entity shouldnât have made your stomach churn, but it did.
Your world was gone. Death remained. And it was all his doing.
Still . . . still, your finger hesitated on the trigger.
You would die tonight . . . by its hand, no doubt. And perhaps that scared you. Perhaps a part of you truly didnât want to die. But you dumbed down this hesitation to just pure fear.
Fear that those things would find your family after disposing of your body; fear theyâd kill them; fear all of this would be for nothing.
You swallowed hard and adjusted your grip on the gun. You had to try. Your life for theirs. It was that or you all died tonight, and you wouldnât have that, not after all you had done; all you had put them through.
All you had to do was pull the trigger. And yet . . . you still hesitated.
Fuck. You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as your heart hammered in your chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
And as your eyes remained closed, you heard their voices then.
You're not too far gone.
Mom thinks youâve been possessed by the devil.
Thereâs something wrong with you. You frighten me.
You have to grow up. No more kid stuff.
Your breath hitched. You have to grow up. And you had. Too quickly you now realized. It was always going to end up this way.
This was the only way to save them. The only way.
Your eyes snapped open, catching sight of the creatures still sniffing the air like they could just smell your terror. You sucked in a breath, then pulled the trigger. Exhale.
The ringing in your ears was almost immediate and the explosive sound echoed throughout the silent night. You barely even noticed the shotgunâs kickback, too focused on the creatures before you, watching with wide eyes as the pellets hit one of the things, knocking it entirely to the ground.
The others cried out, their noses no longer needing to be depended on as their eyes searched for the origin of the noise. And then you caught the eye of one, and you knew it was the end.
You faltered at the sight, stumbling backward as you tripped on a root, causing your body to hit the ground. A low groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.
Fuck.
Had that been too loud?
Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly glanced up, eyes landing on the creatures. More eyes stared back at you, hungry with . . . something as a few had begun to make their way toward you.
You swallowed hard.
Death itself had seen you.
Acting fast, you hastily grabbed the shotgun. You werenât sure how long you could keep this up, but you needed to buy your family more time. You needed to end this.
And end it you would.
You clutched the shotgun tightly in your hand and sat up, groaning slightly when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. But still, you went on.
Remembering your fatherâs teachings, you knew what a machine was good for at the end of its reign: making a lot of fucking noise.
And so with a heavy heart and angry tears pricking your eyes . . . you belted out a loud yell.
There was no hiding now. They had all heard you. And that was all that mattered to them.
���Come on, you fuckers!â you took it a step further as you yelled at them, clanking the butt of your gun on a tree to make as much noise as you could. And then, when you heard their cries echo with yours; when you saw one turn to two turn to ten following you into the woods, you knew it was time.
With a fleeting look at the warehouse where your family still resided, you fought back the urge to crawl into yourself and let that anger youâd been holding inside yourself for years now finally just . . . snap. You didnât know if you fired the shotgun at one of the creatureâs heads first or ran off further into the woods, still screaming. You didnât know the present from the past, but you did know you couldnât look back.
And so, you let yourself be loud, screaming for yourself, for the people youâd lost, for the people youâd never see again, for your father. You yelled and yelled, racing through the woods as they all quickly followed after you, releasing cries of their own.
The world fell behind you in those moments, time moving in slow motion as you weaved through the dark woods, your feet bounding off the ground as if you were in zero gravity. Sound evaded your senses, only the muffled noises of your rapid breathing could be heard echoing in your ears.
But you just kept running, letting the world escape you. Even when youâd trip over hidden roots, your knees buckling as you fell to the ground, surely bruising and cutting up your skin, you persisted each time. Like your fatherâs daughter, you pulled yourself to your feet each time, sparing a glance over your shoulder only to be met with the sight of the horde getting nearer and nearer. And every time, youâd force yourself to swallow the bile crawling up your throat before you cocked your shotgun and fired into the horde, taking off screaming for them to follow after you.
This was the end, and you planned to gather as much of them away from the warehouse and closer to you. You knew it would hurt, but you didnât care. Their teeth ripping into your flesh would never be a match for the sins youâd committed in this lifetime. That was why you met every dead that got in your path with a lethal hit from the butt of your shotgun and a silent prayer that your damned soul could be traded for the safety of your family.
You were sure you would have continued running had your foot not slammed into a divot in the ground, twisting your ankle with such force that you hit the ground instantly, crying out in pain. And this time when you tried to stand to your feet, you realized the pain was too much to stand.
It hit you then.
Beat.
This really was the end.
You couldnât run.
Beat.
The horde was gaining on you.
This was the end.
Beat.
Swallowing hard, you clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes as you realized what you needed to do. Clutching your fatherâs shotgun close to your chest, so close it nearly touched your heart, your lips parted, and a scream bubbled up your throat, ripping through your vocal cords as it echoed throughout the dead of night.
But before you could inhale and breathe out another war cry of your own to match theirs, a hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your screams. Another hand was gripping your arm the next second, pulling you off the ground and shoving your back against the nearest tree.
Your eyes shot open, dropping your shotgun as your hands instinctively clasped around the wrist of the hand covering your mouth. Deep dark eyes stared back at you, a sense of urgency in them as you realized what was going on.
It happened so fast, too fast for you to process. But you quickly realized the eyes belonged to a man not much older than you. Dark eyes. Full lips. Sculpted nose. It was your first time seeing a man other than Felix . . . other than the one youâd gutted . . . in a long time.
What was he doing?
But you couldnât ponder long as his eyes twisted to the scene behind you, and you couldâve sworn you felt his heart beat faster against your lips where his hand still lay. And at that sight, he kicked into action.
âYou listen to me. We have a few seconds before those fuckers are at our throats,â he spoke in a hushed tone, his voice deep and controlled, but you could sense the fear on him. It was different from yours. âWhen I tell you, you run as fast as you fucking can in that direction and you donât stop. You follow me and you donât get lost or youâre dead.â His hand fell from your mouth as he began hastily digging through the pack over his shoulder. âGot it?â
You skipped a beat, not answering.
His eyes were on you instantly, expectantly.
But you only blinked.
You didnât want to be saved.
No, he couldnât do this. It was your time. This was your punishment. He couldnâtâ
Your thoughts were cut short as he pulled something out of his pack, and you quickly realized a grenade now sat in his hand. Your eyes widened. He was going toâ
âRun,â he bit out, an order.
And it all happened so fast.
You stayed put.
He turned from you, quickly pulling the pin and chucking the grenade as fast and hard as he could from your location. You watched the weapon soar, your heartbeat stilling in your throat as the seconds of anticipation crept upon you.
Beat.
Beat.
Beâ
A loud explosion sounded in the distance, the ground shaking beneath your feet as ringing in your ears commenced. Only then did you realize your feet had been moving on their own, carrying you farther and farther away from the scene as you caught a glimpse of the horde following after the explosion. But you wouldnât do this. You had accepted your death. You wouldnâtâ
Your feet werenât moving of your own volition. The world had fallen away from you, you realized, but as you turned your head away from the horde you realized it was the man who was dragging you away from the scene. You realized in your daze, that he must have locked his grip onto your arm and took off running, dragging you along with him despite your injured ankle and dormant mind.
And for some reason, despite the urge to fall to the ground and let yourself fade away, you allowed him to drag you further and further into the woods. You didnât realize just how much land you had covered until the sound of the horde was so far, that heâd begun to slow down ever so slightly. You didnât realize until the woods turned into sparse grassland, until the sight of what appeared to be a latched roof to an underground bunker of some sort. Youâd heard of shelters like these, but youâd never seen one. You always just assumed the military had covered it all up, leaving people to die while they sat safely under the barren earth.
Your mind raced with a million thoughts, but you could barely see straight let alone think right as you allowed this man to drag you to the entrance. Hell, you allowed him to shove you inside, as you crawled down the ladder in the tunnel. It was a subconscious action, honest. Otherwise, you wouldâve begged him to leave you outside to die. But there was no breath for begging as he followed in after you, shutting the hatch and twisting it closed to ensure it was tightly locked.
And when your feet finally met the metal flooring of the inside, you stepped back in shock.
As you had predicted, this was a government bunker. A rather large one at that. You swallowed hard. Fuck.
And when you turned around, your eyes searching the area, you were met with the scene of a group of survivors staring back at you in confusion. People. And they were alive. You hadnât seen so many people since before Famine.
What the fuck?
But before you could react, something hard cracked over the back of your head, throbbing pain followed. The darkness seeped in instantly, your mind losing control of your body as you smacked the ground, eyes fluttering as you faded in and out of consciousness.
There it was, you realized.
Your punishment.
You were going to die.
And you couldnât help but allow yourself one last selfish look because maybe there was still a small part of you that wanted to be alive. But that part could only live if things were normal again, if things were the way they had been before the world died. Still, that part of you took over and you watched silently, your vision fading in and out as you caught a glimpse of those dark eyes that had saved you, just moments before the world faded into darkness.
The next time your eyes fluttered open, a metal ceiling stared back at you.
There was a throbbing in your head, searing through your thoughts, and your shotgun was nowhere to be found. You released a soft groan, trying to shift in your spot, but you were met with resistance. You tugged and tugged, but your body didnât budge.
In confusion, you glanced around, finding yourself on a medical bed, your hands tied together with rope, attaching you to the bed. This didnât make sense. You hadnât seen a bed in months maybe a year now. This didnât make sense. Where were you? How did youâ
And then . . . then the memories all faded in.
The warehouse. The man. The shots. The horde.
This was Deathâs doing.
The town had warned you of this and youâd denied it. You still didnât believe. You couldnât. God was dead and the Horsemen were just a figment of fearmongering. But for a second, you wanted to believe. For that second you were strapped to that bed, you wanted to believe that this was your purgatory and Death was punishing you. That would be easier: if you believed.
Death was an entity; one you had no idea about. There was no knowing what exactly he could and couldnât do. And this . . . being bound to a medical bed with not even a soul to be heard felt utterly ordinary if he did exist, considering what you did know about this dark being.
But . . . why were you still alive?
Slowly, you lifted your head, groaning at the pain that followed as you assessed the rest of your body. You were alive. Cuts and bruises everywhere, but you could still inhale, exhale, breathe. You could still hear the beat of your heart if you closed your eyes and focused. You were alive.
You were alive.
Your jaw twitched. âIâm alive,â you whispered to yourself, a bitter taste left on your tongue. âIâm . . . alive.â
And for a second, you truly allowed yourself to believe Death existed. You allowed yourself that he had done this to you; that the two years heâd reigned all led up to this very moment. You allowed yourself to believe that he had kept you alive because suffering was for the living.
Was this his way of being kind? Sparing you?
Swallowing hard, you glared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. If you prayed, would he give in? Would he end this suffering? Would he finally give you your punishment?
Your mind wasnât allowed much longer to ponder as the sound of a door opening brought you out of your repenting. Wearily, you watched with stern eyes as a man stepped in, carrying a bowl in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You watched as he let himself in, still not looking up while he closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh and finally . . . glanced up, meeting your gaze.
Him.
The man.
Slowly, your face softened as confusion consumed you. Him. He had done this to you. He had been the one to lead you here. (Heâd also been the one to save you . . . ) He had knocked you out cold. And now . . . now here he was.
You clenched your jaw hard.
The man just stared a minute longer at you, his gaze stern, cold, calculating. Then, he was walking toward you, resting the bowl on the bedside table beside your head before he reached forward and tapped a finger to your chin, tilting your head so he could analyze the wounds on your face.
And you let him, analyzing his actions, preparing for his next.
âYouâre awake,â was all he simply said as he dropped your chin and diverted his attention to the bowl on the bedside table. âSorry about the blow and the rope . . . itâs . . . protocol.â
But you remained silent, watching.
"Your stunt back there . . . couldâve cost us this entire place," he muttered, his voice calm and controlled but you knew he was seething inside. He remained quiet as he dipped the washcloth into the bowl of what seemed to be warm water before he turned to you once again, his eyes lethal. "Screaming only attracts more of them, donât you know? If you wanted to die, you shouldâve just stayed put.â
You swallowed thickly.
There was something terrifying about a quiet rage.
"There's always someone like you," he continued, his eyes racking up and down your body in a menacing glare before the warm touch of a washcloth to your cheek startled a quiet gasp out of your lips. "Someone who ends up surviving longer than they should have." A scoff left him. "Someone who doesnât care who dies for them as long as they get out unscathed. Did you even think there might be other survivors around before you took off attracting all of those things? If there were children? Families? People who survive together and want to stay alive without running into someone like you?â
And you hadnât.
You never thought yourself to be stupid or any of the sort. You hadnât been thinking. There hadnât been enough time. You just needed to do something so your family could make it out alive. You hadnât thought that there could be others. You hadnât thought that saving your family could damn another.
Had your mother been right about you?
Were you really just a stupid girl? A stupid girl playing hero?
The man pulled a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it beside your bed, sitting on it as he dragged the washcloth down your arms now. His touch was somehow gentle despite his glare. Perhaps it was because no one had touched you so gently in so long. Perhaps it was because you had given up, but you let him clean the wounds on your body as you rested your head back onto the pillow, your muscles relaxing ever-so-slightly.
"No?" he questioned, reiterating his accusation. âIn my experience, people like you donât find themselves in trouble like that unless theyâre planning something.â
You remained expressionless as you watched him, taking in his words. He thought youâd lured the dead here, and for what? Looting? Or just plain insanity?
Had you really become that corrupt even a stranger could sense it on you?
Slowly, you blinked, wondering if your father had ever felt this way before his death. And as you wondered, the man beside you continued cleaning your wounds, but this time, remained silent. Maybe he realized you wouldnât answer. Or maybe he already knew the truth about you and your damned soul.
And as the minutes of silence ticked on, you did your own inspection.
Now, under the light, the man sat beside you, his eyes fixed on meticulously cleaning each wound with care despite his lethal words. It had been so long since youâd seen another man like this; a man that had to be around your age; a man so young yet so riddled with age. His dark hair was slightly curly, more tangled and messy than anything as if he hadnât slept in days. The dark circles under his equally dark eyes were enough to show his evident sleep deprivation. And yet, he seemed almost too alert: his full lips were hidden as his teeth worried his bottom lip while he continued to clean the blood from your skin.
(Youâd be lying if you said he wasnât beautiful; so beautiful it almost made you believe in God once more.)
And for a second, you let yourself wonder what else your mother had been right about. You let yourself believe once again. You let yourself be a girl who could finally kneel in church without bruises being left behind. For a moment, you let yourself believe that she and the town had been right; that this whole thing was Godâs plan; that the Horsemen had come; that they could be saved, but you would be condemned.
Then . . . you began to wonder if you had already been. Maybe it was the blow to the head youâd taken or the fever raging through your body or maybe it was the truth, but you began to believe that perhaps this was your purgatory; perhaps you had died in that horde and youâd been sent here; perhaps the beautiful man beside you was Death himself.
Was this it then? Were you always meant to see him at the end?
Oddly enough, he reminded you of this small dog your sister had found near one of the abandoned houses your family had stayed in over the years. This was during Famineâs ruleâwhen food became sparse, when lands became stale and yellowed; when the dead had only just begun to migrate south. This tiny dog found your younger sister then, and sheâd brought it home, leaving you no choice but to care for the little thing.
Your sister had named her Berry. (A few months later you had to put her down; it was what we had to do to survive, youâd told your sister back then. You were sure it was then she first started to hate you.)
And as you stared at Death, taking note of how his eyes were a particular shade of brown, you realized they were the same shade that the silly dog had.
You tilted your head. Death somehow had eyes that were kind; eyes that were warm; eyes that reminded you of Felix. Was that how they planned to transfix you? Was Death meant to be this beautiful; this familiar so youâd go willingly? Had God forgotten youâd already condemned yourself? Had he forgotten you didnât need to be tricked? Had he forgotten where your prayers resided?
Only a moment later, when you felt his hands running over your torso, did you snap out of your exhaust-ridden daze. You realized quickly he was cleaning the last of your wounds which resided on your ribs. And when he was done, he tossed the washcloth into the bowl without another care before he slowly leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you with scrutinizing eyes.
Death narrowed his gaze, but it wasnât menacing this time. Rather, he seemed almost perplexed. "Why arenât you fighting?" he questioned. "You didnât stop to run before. Why calm your fire now?"
Why arenât you fighting?
The thing was: it was over. Your fight was over.
Sure, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Death was painfully beautiful . . . but it went beyond that.
It was surely daylight by now.
Daylight had come, hours had passed, and Death had you in his hold.
By now, Felix had probably taken your mother and sister onto the road again. Theyâd escaped, and they were miles and miles away from you and Death. They were safe.
So . . . where was your fight?
You didnât have one anymore. This was the end. Death would either kill you or make you suffer again and again and again, and your family would live. Youâd once told yourself that you never wanted to live in a world like this, but youâd kept yourself alive to protect your family. Only now . . . you didnât need to fight because there wasnât anyone left for you to protect.
Your fight was over. Maybe you could rest now. Maybe heâd let you.
Death seemed to catch onto the shift in your demeanor as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you not speak?"
For a moment, you considered not replying. Until: "There's no point," you heard yourself say, voice dry and hoarse.
The look on Deathâs face was unreadable as his eyes shifted across your face, his mouth slightly parted. "You smell of death," he muttered, gaze still searching your being.
And you almost laughed.
Because this was your end, and Death himself just told you that you smelled like shit or well . . . like him, you supposed . . . apparently.
It all felt a little unreal.
Death must not have liked your silence as he shot you one last glance before he pulled away and walked toward a table on the other side of the room. As he walked, you caught sight of the blood painting his body, his skin, him.
You swallowed hard. Youâd brought that horde to him. Heâd fought his way out. Youâd caused those wounds, and now he was more than likely going to do worse to you. Heâd probably take that scythe you were told he carried and cut your head clean off.
But unlike what you thought, Death sifted through the miscellaneous items on the table before pausing and grabbing a small knife. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched him approach you, knife in hand.
There it was.
This was the end you were promised.
Was he going to slit your throat and leave you to bleed out? Or cut you open so you could see just how dark your heart had become? You wouldnât put it past him. Hell, you might have even welcomed it. But as he approached you, your eyes closing in anticipation, he did not bring that knife down upon your body. No, instead, with a few quick motions and the sound of the rope being cut, you slowly opened your eyes just as your hands were released from the ropeâs grip.
On instinct, you brought your hands close to your chest, rubbing your raw wrists. You couldnât even speak, you just watched as he kept the knife in his hand but returned back to his position of leaning back against the chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on you.
"You're human," you found yourself uttering as you watched him watch you.
His brows twitched in confusion. "Of course I am.â
But Death couldnât bleed. . . . Could he?
"You bleed,â you spoke your thoughts, dumbly.
His eyes met yours, but only briefly. "Am I not meant to?" he bit out before his gaze fell back on your hand rubbing your wrist. "Even the dead bleed."
Your confusion only spiraled. This was your end; your purgatory. This was Death, was he not? Your mother had been right. She had to have been right otherwise you were still alive; otherwise, you had managed to escape death once again without so much as a punishment. That wouldnât be fair. That wouldnât be right. That wouldnât be just.
This had to be Death. You had to be dead or somewhere in between. It didnât matter, this just had to be your end.
So, why hadnât he condemned you yet?
Whyâ
"Whyââ Death interrupted your thoughts, once you finally dropped your hand from your wristâ âdid you think I couldnât bleed?"
You glanced his way, finding his eyes already on you.
His stare only unnerved you more.
Why couldnât he just kill you? You deserved it.
Your brows furrowed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" you found yourself spitting out, finally finding your voice despite his devasting beauty capturing your words. "I put your lives in danger. I lead them here like you said. I could be with anyone. Having me here could kill you all, so take your revenge. Kill me."
The crease between his brows deepened further. "I'm not letting you die," he simply said, his anger quiet and calm . . . still. âYou put my group in harm's way. I wonât pardon you for that . . . but . . . we donât kill the living.â
That only unnerved you further.
Was this truly Death?
Surely he had killed before.
Although . . . you supposed perhaps heâd only just ever waited. Was that his fault? Waiting for the dead to find him? Is that how he found you in those woods? Is that how heâd taken your arm and helped you crossover to the other side? But . . . if that were true . . . where was your father now? Surely, he wouldâve come to see you. Surely, he wouldâve been the first one knocking at your door. Surely, heâd be here.
As you briefly wet your lips, your eyes flicked up to meet his. âWhereâs my dad?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
A look of deep confusion twisted onto Deathâs face, and then he was leaning forward to feel your forehead with the back of his hand. âFever,â he mumbled more to himself before he pushed himself to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. âGet some rest. Someone will be in to bandage you up and . . . Iâll be back in a couple hours with medication.â His gaze dropped to the large gash on your arm from just a few nights ago. âWhen youâre healed, weâll give you some supplies and then youâll be on your way, understood?â
But you just stared at him, silently pleading. Pleading for what? You didnât know. All you knew was if your father wasnât here, you couldnât be dead. And if you werenât, you wanted to be. Youâd be able to find him then, because although you were no longer a girl who could kneel in church, you could still feel the scabs on your knees from years ago; you could still remember what it was to believe so blindly; you could still feel that insistent desire for there to be something beyond this world . . . something after this world.
There just had to be. You had to see him again. You had to find him.
You could die now. You could find him now. You would find him.
âGreat,â Death muttered under his breath, breaking you out of your own mind. And with one final glance at your exhausted body, he began to turn and head for the door.
Fear struck you then. You had to find your father. âWait, pleaseââ you hastily grabbed onto his arm, only being able to reach his hand enough to dig your nails into his skin to halt himâ âI beg of you.â
His eyes snapped to yours, wide and cautious as if at any moment, one wrong move and heâd grant your wishes. And all you could do was hope.
âKill me,â you weakly whispered, hopelessly searching his eyes.
His brows twitched, taken back.
âDeath,â you begged in a whisper, your bottom lip trembling, âplease.â
But Death only stared back at you with a perplexing look written across his face. It was as if he couldnât believe your request. Had no one ever begged him to die?
A heavy beat of silence pounded in your ears.
Death only continued to stare, a world raging on behind his eyes as he took you in. His demeanor was still calm, still collected, but he seemed . . . perturbed by your request, by your presence, by you. And you watched as his eyes trickled across your face, searching for something until finally . . . his gaze zeroed in on your cheek, his brows furrowing.
Then . . . you felt it.
A tear had slowly begun to slip down your cheek as if your body knew it was a sin to cry. But you were . . . crying that was.
You nearly gasped.
Another tear trickled down your cheek. Guilt followed.
But just as you were about to angrily wipe it away, there was a sharp knock at the door, breaking both you and Death out of your spell. The door opened a second later, a man peaking his head in with a solemn look on his face.
The man didnât spare you a glance, he only cleared his throat and said, âChris?â His brows raised, a silent message passing between the two. âA minute.â
Death only nodded, and then the man was gone, the door shutting behind him. Silence followed, but Death stayed unmoving, his arm still in your tight grasp.
âYou wonât run,â he slowly spoke, his words a statement, not an order, but he didnât turn to look at you. He kept his eyes on the door. âI donât kill the living. I wonât kill you.â He paused, audibly swallowing, and then his eyes were on you. âAnd I know you wonât kill us.â
And then he was gone before you could blink, quickly tearing his arm out of your grasp before he reached the door and closed it behind him. You were alone with yourself once again, your thoughts running wild as your hand remained outstretched, almost frozen in place.
I know you wonât kill us, heâd told you.
But how could you kill Death? How did he know you wouldnât if he didnât give you what you wanted? How could he be so sure that you werenât a killer, when you so clearly were?
You had killed before, and if he didnât take you to the other side, youâd surely kill again. That was who you had become. That was who you were. He shouldâve known that.
And then as you slowly laid your head back onto the pillow and allowed the minutes to tick by, the throbbing in your head began to subside, and the world became a little clearer. You were no longer a girl who could kneel in church. You did not believe anymore. The world had gone to shit, and it wasnât because of Godâs plan. There were no Horsemen. Your family was gone. And that . . . that man had not been Death.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed thickly. What was happening to you?
It all hit you then.
These were a group of survivors. That man surely was their leader, and you had just led hundreds of the dead to their doorstep. They shouldâve killed you for that alone. You wouldâve. You wouldnât even hesitate if this had been your family. You wouldâve done everything to keep them safe, even if it meant killing others, and yet . . .
I wonât kill you.
But why? You deserved it. You could see it in his eyes that he knew.
These were good people. And you were their bad omen.
It wouldnât be long before your presence brought misery upon them, too, just as it had to your family. And itâd be all your fault.
Youâd live, only to see many die. Youâd make it out unscathed just as you always had, while theyâd suffer, just as he had said.
It was then you realized this was not your purgatory, it was your Hell.
taglist:
@amaranth-writing @binchanluvrr @dreamingsmile @eternalrajin
(i did post the teaser like a year ago, so if you want to be taken off, send me a lil message <3)
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POOKS I HAVE AN IDEA
Ahem...yandere aiden, logan, tyler n ash or whoever u want w WEAK READER N YK THEY R PRETTY OVERPROTECTIVD OF HER WHY? bc she is fragile af-- always manage to get herself injured in the most dunb ways possible n how tf is she gonna manage to survive in this realm? She needs them âźď¸âźď¸
đđđđđđ đđđđđđđ // School Bus Graveyard
TW: Yandere themed, NO NSFW, gore/injuries mentioned, fragile!female!reader who is paranoid and anxious, AU explanation-wise writing? Itâs kind of short but itâs like an explanation what my SBG x reader AU is;;u ;
You donât know how you even ended up here in this situationâŚ. Restless sleep, insomnia, hallucinations,â Ah⌠Who am I kidding? You knew exactly what was happening and it all started way back when you were ordered to tutor around the new students. Being the one who wasnât new, it was hard to keep a conversation with them becauseâŚ.. One would keep her distance away, one would be thrilled to nag the girl who distanced away, the twins didnât give a damn, and⌠Ben and Logan were probably the only ones who ever offered to listen to you.
However despite those hours you eventually got to bond with them, all because of⌠WellâŚ. You tripping down the stairs all of the sudden until Ashlyn caught you. And thatâs where the spark happened⌠Thatâs what clicked in Ashlynâs mind to suddenly want to protect you, with you in her arms looking hopeless and defenseless. The group claimed you as their pink princess but, you didnât thought much of itâŚ.
And why they even bother to call you that, you still felt loved at least by your friends.
But⌠Every time you walk home after hanging out with them, especially on that trip, your hands wouldnât stop shaking. The thought of that hideous creature behind AshlynâŚ. You havenât left your house since then, and gave excuses to your teacher even for him to understand.
Youâve never felt anything weird like this before⌠The ones you are looking to avoid were mostly creepy men, or just in general a group of people who you think could possibly bully you, or take advantage.
So why? Why did you suddenly have to endure horror?
â[NAME]!!!â
Youâve impaled yourself on accident by trying to get away from a monster, youâve tripped and fallen into a dark void where you died by the fall, you even somehow died by trying to save Tyler, but you ended up dying anyways! It was getting so⌠So much harderâŚ
Youâve gotten injured. Over, and over, and over again. Itâs pissing Ashlyn, Aiden, Tylerâ everyone off. It was as if they saw life flash before their eyesâŚ. And while youâre alive in the real world, with no scratches or injuries, they couldnât afford to lose you again. To make you hopeless, to make you unable to walk.
It was another dream, another dream where suddenly youâre locked in the bird cage Aiden had somehow decided to buy⌠You stared confused, yearning for an explanationâŚ. But the boys and girls wouldnât give you any.
âGuys..? Please⌠I thought we were a team..â
âPrincess⌠We are! We swearâŚ! Please donât take it badly! Weâre doing this for your own goodâŚâ
You couldnât really argue with them. Youâre just tired and you have been unable to get proper sleep⌠You suppose itâs okay but⌠It wasnât getting better as you thought it would. Despite dreams having you only locked up every now and then, in the morning in reality- you are FOLLOWED constantly by either the twins, Ashlyn, Aiden, or Ben⌠Logan? Probably cameras in your house (not your bedroom or bathroom) to ensure you made it home safely.
Itâs getting out of hand. Itâs going bizarre, but are you doing something about it? NO! Their parents scares you! You donât want to break your friendship either⌠You knew how easily broken theyâd be⌠And⌠You donât want to handle or deal with Aidenâs family, nor do you wanna karate with Ashlynâs mother. You canât even fight!
So the only thing you could do was just⌠Accept it as it is. And let it be⌠Although you probably arenât aware that the parents adores you, finding you so sweet and matchable for their little children. You donât pay attention to that, all you could focus on were your eyebags and your injured bodyâŚ. There wasnât anything, reality-wise, but God it stung that you could barely make it through school. Even though I kind of said you give excusesâŚ. You still had to do exams for at least collageâŚ.
Donât take them wrong, theyâd love for you to stay safe and to not join the horror attraction⌠But also, after the reveal when the parents could also see the demonic creatures, it instantly clicks that you werenât safe. Nor were your parents. (Donât give a damn about your parents, they donât like them)
They need you. They constantly need you. They canât have you out of your cage, but they canât have you out of the dreams as wellâŚ. Which considers leading it to having you as some sort of a motivation. They need you to support them for everything they do.
So when the parents are going into that situation, itâs best to believe they NEED you with them so nobody in reality can kidnap you while theyâre asleepâŚ. Fighting off monsters, you know?
And the shady guys? Do not worry a single thing about them at all.
I mean, what more could you possibly do than to be stuck in your own bedroom or classroom? Youâre going nowhere near the stores or arcade. Not after that Logan incident, that isâŚ.
#various x reader#various#yandere x reader#school bus graveyard x you#school bus graveyard x reader#school bus graveyard
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Steve has powers, specifically of a Doesnât Stay Dead variety. He knows theirs a limit on how many times he can come back. Letâs go with eight. Aka he has nine lives. He knows thereâs a cap, and he has some kind of mark on his body that counts down. He lost one as a kid, doing something like riding his bike too fast, and crashing over a hill. Nothing nefarious, just a bad accident.
He drinks himself unconscious freshman year, and wakes up in vomit, missing a marker.
He survives the demogorgon.
Billy kills him though. So does the Russian beating.
The kids realize after Starcourt that Steve really was killed by the Russians, but donât realize thereâs a cap. It makes them feel safer if they think that Steve will always be there for him.
He doesnât tell them that he died twice. The only reason he knows about the second is because he woke up the next day missing one of the marks. He never went to the hospital, so doesnât know why or how, just that heâs used six of his eight chances.
Definitely drowns getting dragged through watergate, and barely revived before the others reached him. Only one left.
Eddie survives, barely. Steve learned his lesson from Starcourt and goes to the hospital, takes the antibiotics. Takes it easy, tells himself that itâs all over. So itâs fine. And he still has one spare.
Gets close with Eddie as they recover and wait on the Feds. And Eddie loves stories, knows fairytales and immediately declares that this infinite life glitch is fake. Thereâs no way itâs Infinite. He assumes that Steve doesnât know that, and isnât going to tell him. They get close enough that Eddie sees the marks on the back of Steveâs neck, sees seven faded, sees one left. He freaks out for a while. Tries to talk to Robin about it, but even she doesnât know, and he doesnât know how to tell her this secret that doesnât belong to him.
Steddie is not quite together, but everyone knows itâs an any day now thing. Thatâs when Vecna comes back.
Steve goes down protecting the kids. But he gets up a moment later. Itâs the first time they ever saw it happen, and it cements Steve as the coolest dude ever. Heâs invincible.
Something something, they have a plan that needs someone to take on a very dangerous bait role. Obviously, to the kids, Steve is the only possible choice. And since it doesnât matter, Steve wouldnât let anyone else do it anyway, thereâs no reason to tell them. Either heâll survive or he wonât.
Eddie though? Not having it. Informs the group that heâs going with Steve. No one likes this plan. Eddie has vivid, vicious scars from last time. Steve can come back to life. Itâs just stupid for Eddie to risk himself.
Theyâre both self sacrificing idiots, and when shit goes down, theyâre both determined that THEY will be the one to die and save the other.
Luckily, they cancel each other out. Neither dies during the fight, and the others find them fast enough to get them to the hospital. Itâs not until Eddie wakes up from the surgical anasthesia, and frantically asks about Steve that the secret comes out. Heâs drugged out of his mind, and rambles his fears and the marks and how he knows that Steve wonât survive another one.
Unluckily, the kids and Robin were clustered around Eddieâs bed - around the bed of the guy they thought was at risk of dying and staying dead, because they knew Steve would be okay no matter what - and they hear all of it.
So itâs a horrible thing as they look at the other bed in the room, at Steve, still not awake, still critical, and have to grapple with that fear, even as they try to count, and learn all the times and ways that Steve has died before. Praying that it wonât happen again
#my writing#bedtime angst#this is because of a hobbit fic#and cause I think Steve should die more often
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Various Perrine Headcanons
because i love that silly little moose
NOT a mother figure
In fact, due to the way she grew up, sheâs extremely uncomfortable with being treated like one
She does take care of the others, but itâs not in a motherly way
Sheâs a big sibling to them, and thatâs it
Anything more than that makes her very uncomfortable and uneasy
(Personally, I think of ClĂŠmmie as the Mom Friend of the group)
To bounce off of that, Kingsley once called her âmomâ as a joke, and she got legitimately mad at him
He was like âđ§đťwhatâ
ANYWAY!
Perfectionist
Does most of the cooking in the group
Doesnât know how to ask for help, and she mostly shoves away concern
Tries to be the voice of reason, but sheâs a total hot-head and gets upset/mad easily
Kingsley loves to poke that bear (moose)
Scared of storms but would rather die than tell anyone that
Likes collecting animal skulls (she names all of them)
The other kids will sleep in her room sometimes, but every time she goes to their room for the same comfort, she stops short and returns to her room, unable to actually ask
She takes being the oldest way too seriously
By that I mean she uses it as an excuse to never let anyone help her or take care of her
Sheâs trying to get better about that, but itâs hard
Soooooo emotionally constipated oh my god
Sometimes hears humming out in the woods, but she never heeds its call
Also sometimes thinks she sees a looming figure of something tall in the trees surrounding the cottage, but she does the smart thing and closes the curtains
WOULD survive a horror movie tbh
Will fight for the other kids
Cold hands
Very tender-headed
Covers her mouth when she laughs
Really fast and quick on her feet (sheâs terrifying at Tag. itâs like being chased by an actual moose) (similarly, she never gets caught at Tag)
Also really good at climbing trees
Now getting down is a different story
Once fell out of a tree, breaking at least three branches underneath her on the way down, and the others actually thought she fucking died
She had this GIANT bruise striped across her stomach for WEEKS, as well as MANY broken ribs, and Cole was so worried because they thought she might have some internal bleeding, too
But she was FINE!
Doesnât trust doctors (or whatever the whimsy forest version of a doctor is) (physician?)
Not above biting
Doesnât like when things get too close to her face
Loves when people play with her hair, but sheâd rather die than tell anyone that
Will remind Cole to drink water when theyâre hyperfocused on writing, then not drink water herself all day
Bites her nails down to the quicks
Gets mad when people mistake her mask for a deer
#she reminds me of amicia from a plague tale#if anyone has played that game youâll understand#iâve seen a lot of people call her a mother figure#but if you look at whatâs been revealed about her backstory#i think she Would Not be comfortable in that role#thereâs a very big difference between a mother figure and a big sister figure#just because perrine is the oldest and physically the most feminine does not denote her to the role of âmother figureâ#but thatâs just me!#yaelokre#meadowlark#the lark#perrine yaelokre#yaelokre headcanons
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I've been reading some fanfics with Noa and I love them, so I thought I'd give it a go. It's my first time writing so...don't judge me to hard.
Noa Ă human OC
Belonging
Always the same thing around the 'bunker', no one told you the things that were happening, you hated that. You felt like they still treated you like a little child even though you were in your twenties already.
"Yes, didn't you know? We're going on an excursion." Samantha said to me while I was drying the dishes after dinner.
"Of course, I didn't, nobody tells me anything around here. It's annoying" You muttered
You were the best tracker they had, you loved being outside, learning the ways of nature, and still nobody ever took you into account when expeditions like this happened.
"Hey, that's enough Sam." A voice said entering the kitchen. "Don't listen to her, she's just trying to get on your nerves"
You looked back and smiled at the comment. Lila always knew how to calm things down.
"Why don't you speak with Anna? Maybe she'll let you go this time." Lila said
"Yes, like every other time I asked her" You scoffed and shook your head.
"C'mon, I'll go with you." Lila pushed
"I don't even own a horse yet." You said
"Well...that's your own fault, Envy could've been yours, you just gave her away to Kiara". Lila reminded you.
Kiara, the daughter of a couple that was part of the council, the leaders of your group. She was like a little sister to you ever since you met her. You had no family, your dad died on an expedition, most say apes killed him, and your mother died soon after she gave birth to you. Medicine was scarce and trying to make it from scratch was hard, not impossible since you had a lab in the facility but still, sometimes the main components were just to available.
Most expeditions could last for months, trying to find more humans, more medicine, or even mark places where apes had their homes so no one would go near. You had the firearms, but not the manpower to fight them alone.
You never understood the hate your kind had towards the apes, yes, they were now more and had claimed a lot of the land humans once ruled, but they had also healed the land. No humans meant trees and animals were free to repossess what was once theirs, and apes were not using human machines that harm the earth, so everything had regained its balance in a way. Since you were little, you went out of the bunker with a horse, you learned how to fish, how to hunt, how to track and look for things outside, you never understood why you felt more connected to nature than to your own people. 'They never understood' you'd think. âThey will never see the world as I see it'.
Anyway, all of that wasn't going to change, so you had to take what was given to you and make the most out of it. Lila and you went to Ana, she was distracted with the preparations for the expedition. This time, from what Lila had told you, they were going to look for more survivors and other bunkers to see if those had more medicine.
"Ana, mind if we talk to you for a moment?" Lila asked
"What? Yeah, sure. What's up?" Ana said absent-mindedly while she tripled checked the supplies. It looked like they were going for some months at least.
Lila looked at you and pushed you softly, and nodded at you when you looked back. You took a deep breath and spoke.
"So...Ana, I heard about the expedition and I wanted to know why you hadnât called for me? You know I'm one of the best people to take in things like that. I can survive pretty well on my own while I'm outside."
Ana sighed and stopped what she was doing.
"Y/N, you know the reason, I need you here, protecting everyone else" She said while putting her hands on your shoulders
"No one ever comes close to this place since we put the electric fence around! Let me go!"
"Y/N" Lila spat at me. "Careful with your words!"
I just stared at her with anger.
"You have absolutely no good reason to not let me go. Please, I can really help if something goes wrong!"
Ana didn't have a comeback for that, she knew what you were saying was right, she knew how helpfull you could be, and still the promise she had made to your mother drilled into her head could not allow you to go with them. You were already in your twenties, now there was no good excuse to tell you to stay and Ana knew this. She sighed again and with a very sad tone agreed to your request. You were going with them, and that was that.
----------â-----------------
-The next morning-
Ana and Aaron, parents of Kiara, were the ones in charge of this expedition. Samantha, Lila, Carlos, Seth (Samantha's uncle), and you were the rest of the group.
You went to get your stuff ready on Envy, the mare that was meant to be yours, but for some reason you had decided to give her to Kiara, still, she thought of Envy as a shared horse more than her own. Kiar knew how much you loved her, and she didn't mind giving her to you in times like this.
"Take care of each other, ride safely." Kiara said with a smile on her face while petting the side of the mare.
"We will, sis, we'll be back before you know it. Anything special you want me to look for?"
Kiara shook her head. " I just need you to come back to me, that's it."
"Aaww dear, of course I will." You said hugging little Kiara.
You loved her, she was the only one that understood you and never judged you. One day you were going to take her exploring with you, so you could show her everything you loved.
Two weeks passed. Everyone was a little on edge since the news of contact had gotten to you. Apparently, a week ago the satellites started working again and your walkie-talkies that you carried mostly just to feel like you were connected somehow started working again. The people on the bunker told Ana and Aaron that a girl, similar age to you and Lila, had found the missing piece to get satellite connection back on. We knew about the bunker on the east but we had little contact with them and the nomads that were looking for ways to communicate with each other had been murder by a big group of apes, but apparently one of the girls of the nomad group had survived and, with the help of some apes, was able to get to where the main computers where locked and retrieve de disc.
This news had everyone in our group freaked out, it had been a long time since we had been able to communicate over long distances. Some were happy about it, they were thinking that this way we were going to able to rebuilt what was ours, but others were weary of what other humans wanted. 'Humans are selfish and will do anything to get power' Others thought.
Our group tried to maintain calm during all this, we still had to find supplies and medicine that was not going to arrive even if we had connection with other humans. More people meant more food, more space needed and more medicine that we did not have to spare.
At night everyone was silently eating what you had hunted for the day. You were pretty good at using different weapons, but your favorite was the bow and arrow, you almost never missed unless you wanted to. The others had guns, and some knives with them, but most of them knew that using guns out hear meant that everything in a 1km radius or more could hear and pinpoint our location.
"We could've been eating earlier if we had used my gun, I never miss" Samantha spoke showing a cocky grin to you.
You just rolled your eyes at her.
"If we had done your way, every single ape around here would've come looking for us." Seth said calmingly.
Samantha hated it when he agreed with your methods, and you knew it; in a way, it made you proud when he did. He would always be om Samantha's side and agree with her, he never liked agreeing with you, but sometimes he just had to.
"You should be thanking Y/N for her quick thinking. Otherwise, we would've had to eat the dried-up food we brought, and I don't think anybody wanted more of that" Ana said laughing at the end. The rest of the group followed making faces of disgust and laughing at the comment of our leader.
"How long until we get to the big buildings?" Lila asked when everyone had calmed down
"Sadly, I think we'll have to go back. Ana and I have been thinking about it and it's better to be with everyone else at the moment." Aaron answered
"Uncertain times call for unity." Ana added
Seth nodded and kept eating.
You were thinking. The group needed medicine, and other things...maybe a tiny group could keep pushing forward while the adults went back.
"And what if some of us stayed? You said it yourself Aaron, we are a week away from the buildings and we need everything we can find over there. A small group will not be noticed as easily as all of us" you said.
You had a point, and they knew it. After some discussion, the leaders agreed, Lila and you could keep going, the rest was to go back with them. Samantha was going to disagree, but she knew better than to stay with you two. Lila and you were inseparable, and Samantha would only be outnumbered in any decision you made.
The next morning everyone gave you half of their rations for food since you two were going to need them more than them, and then they set off for the bunker.
Lila and you waved at them, and then kept going.
For some time, it was quiet between you two, but Lila was not going to let that be.
"Sooo, wanna race?" Lila said with a sparkle in her eyes.
You knew what that meant. The idea was in her mind, now you could only accept the challenge.
"I mean...It's kind of unfair. Char is not meant for sprinting" you said with a grin.
"And Envy is?" Lila replied
"Oh, I know she's faster that Char." You said, knowing full well that she was fast in short distances and Lila was thinking more of a long-distance race.
"Well, then start! See you at the end!" Lila said kicking softly the side of her mare that sprinted away.
"Hey no fair!" You yelled doing the same with Envy.
You passed trees and creeks so fast you felt like you were going to fall off the horse. Impressively you were just behind Lila and Char, who was galloping with all her might.
You were so enthralled by how fast Char was going that you barely missed a branch that could've hit you down.
Eventually Lila made Char stop. You kept going, but Lila screamed at you to stop.
"What? I thought we were going to end?" You said out of breath riding back to where they were.
"Look up" She said, almost like a whisper.
You did and saw tall buildings in front of you all covered in vines and trees. The trees had broken some of the sediments of the building but were also holding them up. Most of them were broken, and some had collapsed, probably by the sheer size of them.
"Wow, they are amazing" Lila said.
There were rows of them, all conquered back by nature itself. It was beautiful to see how two completely opposite things could come together to create art. All green and grey together forming structures that you had never seen before.
You were both still gawking at the immensity of the buildings when you heard a noise up in the sky. Eagles, huge and magnificent eagles. You had seen some flying around on your own little excursions, but now they were closer than ever.
"Should we follow them?" Lila whispered, this was unknown territory to her, this was more your area of interest.
"Mmm maybe for a while just to see where they take us." You said firmly. " We can also walk and get in some of these buildings to see if we find something" You added.
Lila nodded and dismounted Char, you followed suit. Both of you took the reins of each mare and pulled gently so they kept up with the pace you set.
Three days you walked and searched for supplies with no luck. You tried entering every building you could, but some of them where to destroy to even walk on the floor. Others had entrances that were too high for either of you to climb, and if you did climb the hard part later was going down.
"Thank goodness you came prepared, Y/N." Lila said, struggling while climbing down a rope.
"Don't mention it, just keep going we're almost at the bottom" You said short of breath. You were no stranger to climbing but doing it almost every day for 3 days was taking its toll on you.
Lila let go of the rope and landed on the ground huffing.
"We can't keep doing this, Y/N. It's too tiring. We aren't apes to be climbing around without a care in the world!"
"I know I know, but we've found some good stuff nonetheless" You said as you stretched out after jumping off the rope, you went back and pulled the rope 2 times so it could fall off the makeshift hook you had made to tie it up.
"Some expired painkillers and a bunch of gardening tools is NOT good stuff!"
Lila sighed, even though youâd a nice time sharing this little adventure together you were starting to feel hopeless. Maybe it was time to go back, maybe the others had gotten supplies from the other camp, and you were doing nothing out here but waste time.
"LilaâŚyou can go you know?" You said softly cleaning some arrows that you had used to hunt rabbits earlier.
"What? And leave you here?? Are you insane?!"
"No⌠I just feel like my time here is not over yet. Yours thoughâŚ"
"Nu uh, I'm not leaving you alone, we don't even know where exactly we are."
"It's my decision Lila"
"Bullshit! I know you love nature and such, but everyone is waiting for us!"
"Everyone?" You said lowering your head.
Lila didn't answer, she knew that most of the people treated you like an outsider. No one ever told her why, the only reason she could think of wad that you had no family left alive, but that was a cruel way of treating your own kind.
"Fine, I'll take what we found back. What do you expect me to say to the rest when you don't arrive with me huh?" Lila asked
"You tell them half the truth, that I simply didn't want to come back"
"That's the 'half-truth' to you?"
"Ok ok," you said rolling your eyes. " Tell them you begged me to go back, and I said I would keep looking for stuff for a couple more days, then you never met again with me"
"Mmm, alright. So, you got killed?"
"What?! No! Idiot" You said pushing her playfully. Lila just chuckled.
"I'm gonna miss you (Y/nickname)." Lila sniffled while hugging you.
You hugged her back with some tears in your eyes.
"I'll be back before you know it, I promise"
Lila waved goodbye to you while riding Char out of the jungle of buildings, you waved back until you couldn't see her anymore.
After that you kept searching for anything really for a couple of days, until one day the promises you had made to Lila and Kiara were going to be broken.
â----------------------------------------
One day while you were scavenging around in a building you heard noises, noises you hadn't heard before. You took Envy and hid her next to some bushes at the side of a building and tried to keep her relaxed.
As the noise came closer it became clearer: apes.
You never really had contact with them since you were always cradled inside the bunker. The only experience you had was the stories people would tell you, but once you started growing up you stopped believing everything the adults told you.
You were a little apprehensive about the situation at hand but as long as Envy obeyed you, you were sure the apes would pass as quickly as they came.
"You only try to show off when climbing, the other things you just avoid!" A female voice said
"Not true! Anaya never avoids challenges, right Noa?" A male voiced reply
'Anaya and Noa' you made a mental note of the names, not sure why. You heard them walking away so you went out of your hiding place little by little, looking around you just in case you needed to hide from them.
From where you were you could see 3 apes; one had an armband different than the other two. You felt bad spying on them, but your curiosity got the best of you. You kept listening in the conversation, but you also noticed they would sign sometimes and that got lost in translation. The only signs you knew were tactical warfare signs that Aaron had thaught you when you were learning about weapons with Lila and Samantha.
"Soona is right, Anaya always showing off then running away when something goes wrong" The third one spoke, another male. After that the three started making a noise that you could only compare to laugh.
"I'll show you, climb to top to see sunset. First one wins!" The other male said running in all fours and starting to climb the building in front of you with ease.
"Anaya wait!" The female voice shouted but followed right behind him.
The other male chuckled and followed his friends up the building.
You were mesmerized by how athletic and big they were, but something inside you also wanted to follow them so you could see at least one sunset. The past days you've had missed all of them because of the tall canopy, but not today. The renewed strength gave you confidence that you could climb to the top of the building you were hiding behind.
You took your trusty rope and, your bow and some arrows just in case they attacked you and started climbing up. The building that you had chosen was in pretty good state, it still had most of its stairs and you didn't have to jump too far from one part of some broken stairs to another, which would also be handy when climbing down.
About 3 floors from getting to the top, you encountered the biggest problem: no more stairs. They were all broken or looked very unstable, your best option to climb up was the outside of the building. The design made it look like a stair, and if you went a little bit over the edge that was keeping you from falling you could see a metal hook thingy in which you could tie a rope to climb down.
First you made a knot at the end of the rope with just enough space to insert it in the hook, after that you threw that end of the rope with just enough strength to get it to where you needed it. It took you 3 attempts, but eventually you made it and started climbing the rope. Your hands were already tired from days before, but the view would make it all worth it.
Eventually when you were halfway through something made a weird noise. At first you didn't pay much attention to it but then y sounded again and this time you felt the rope moving. The hook couldn't withstand your weight anymore, and you could feel it just pulling down.
You tried to keep taking deep breaths but that was not working, they were faster than before.
*crack*
You looked up and saw the rope sliding off the hook even farther than before, that was when you started panicking. Your breathing wasn't steady anymore and now you were seconds away from falling from the almost top of the building.
A piece of the building where the hook was gave up and you let go of the rope for milliseconds and eventually grabbed the rope but it burned because of the friction, and you screamed in pain.
Noa and his friends, who were happily watching the sunset, looked at each other when you screamed. The three of them looked around for the thing that had made such a horrible sound but couldn't see anything.
You tried climbing up again, but now your hands were bloody from the fall, and you were slipping from the rope. You were in agony.
"Please, not like this, I can't die like this" You said to yourself trying to reassure yourself that you were not going to die.
That's when Noa heard you and looked over the building, he signaled his friends to jump to the other building.
"She will die if we don't help," Soona said with worry.
" What do we do?" Anaya asked Noa.
Noa went to were the rope was tied.
"Please don't kill me!" You shouted, looking up seeing one of the apes.
Noa frowned his face but kept trying to pull you up.
You understood then he was trying to help, but you knew the extra weight on the now unstable floor was not going to help.
"No, let go! You'll make it worse!" You tried to explain with tears rolling down your face. You couldn't stand the pain anymore.
Eventually the rope itself started tearing up, you were about 15 meters from the ground, you knew it was unlikely to survive that fall, your only hope was now with the 3 apes that were trying to help.
You saw the male ape trying, again, to pull you up, but it was useless with the rope tearing, and that's when it happened.
The rope tore apart, and you started to fall, your only hope for surviving was the trees below you would cushion your fall enough for you not to die. The only thing you were able to come up with was using your left arm to cover your neck as best you could.
Silence. Silence followed after your fall. Anaya was the first one to get to you and he poked you with a stick.
Soona quickly took the stick from him and went to check if you were still alive. She saw that you were still breathing thankfully. But your left forearm was completely broken.
"What happens now?" Soona asked Noa.
Noa was not sure what to do, his instincts told him to leave you there to die, after all, you were Echo. You would only mean problems to the clan, but there was another part of him that felt responsible for you and wanted to help you out.
"We take her home, help her wounds. After that, she has to leave." Noa said to Soona.
Soona nodded and took your frail body, and the three friends started their journey back home, back to Eagle Clan.
#noa x human reader#noa x reader#soona#the planet of the apes#noa planet of the apes#noa#planet of the apes#kingdom of the apes#soona pota#anaya
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Yandere Jugram Haschwalth x F!SR!Reader
Note: Reader is female and a Soul Reaper, and I'm also not going to use (Y/N)/NAME in this fic.
Also this is my first time writing a a whole yandere one-shot
Warning: Yandere tendencies, Cussing, Maybe a little ooc Jugram
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Summary: During the war against the Quincies, a Soul Reaper finds herself targeted by the Sternritterâs Grandmaster, Jugram Haschwalth. While she fights for her life, Jugram has other plans for her
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The Soul Reaper stood amid the ruins of Seireitei, her breathing labored and her zanpakuto trembling in her hand. She had barely escaped a brutal fight with a large group of Quincy, but she knew she wasnât safe yet.
Not yet, Quincy Soldier keep are almost everywhere
When she manage to escape and hide inside one of the ruin building
"Fucking damn it, I almost died back there"
She mutter under her heavy breath, trying to calm her own breathing
She lay her back at the wall of the building, closing her eyes hoping for a small rest before she head back out to continue fighting the invaders
âWhy do you struggle?â
as a calm, deep voice was heard in the shadow not too far infront of her, dread filling her eyes as she start to shake uncontrollably
Eyes widening as a blonde and tall Quincy walk out of the shadow showing himself
His cold blue eyes staring at her, there was an intensity with how he stare at her but maybe it's because their at war with each other, she thought to herself. She quickly force herself to take a defensive stance, gripping her zanpakuto tighter turning her knuckles slightly white
âWho wouldn't struggle in a middle of a war...â
she replied, her voice shaking from the exhaustion that she barely get to recover from
âHey pretty boy, can you be a gentleman and give me the name of the person I'm about to fightâ
Slightly giving a cocky smile her voice more louder than earlier, hoping another soul reaper nearby hear her
The blonde quincy smiled faintly, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes.
âI'am Jugram Haschwalth, Sternritter Grandmasterâ
Her smile instantly drop as her body began to shake more, realizing that she's definitely fuck right now and wouldn't survive this fight
Jugram took a slow, deliberate step closer. âIâve been watching you⌠your bravery, your determination, and your skill⌠It would be a waste for it to be crushed beneath this war.â
Her heart pounded as she watched he slowly approach her. She couldnât tell if he was mocking her or if there was something darker hidden behind those calm, dark eyes.
âIf you know anything about me. . .
Then you should know I wonât back down. Not from you or anyone else.â
She reply as she try to stable herself
For a moment, he stop snd stare her in silence. Then, as if entranced, he murmured, âYouâre right⌠Thatâs what drew me to you.â
"Fuck!"
Before she could swing her zanpakuto, Jugram moved with impossible speed, appearing just right in front of her with his sword unsheathe and the next thing she knew her zanpakuto is cut in half
Jugram move again with the same speed earlier, appearing just inches from her. She tried to raise her broken zanpakuto, but he caught her wrist effortlessly, as he put his sword back into it sheathe with his other hand before pulling her closer. The cold touch of his hand sent a shiver down her spine.
âThereâs something about you,â
He said, his voice barely above a whisper.
âSomething that makes me want to keep you close, to ensure that no harm comes to you. Even if you're our enemy.â
Her eyes widened as she process his words. She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch
âYou know that your spitting bullshit right now?
Keep me away from harm when you guys started this war and killed many of my friends and comrades!â
She spat out, heart pounding with a mix of fear, confusion, and anger.
Jugramâs gaze softened, a strange warmth in his usually cold eyes
âNo matter how you see and feel about this matter, from this moment on, you belong to me. No harm will come to you⌠not from the Quincy, and certainly not from anyone from Soul Society.â
His tone turned possessive, almost desperate.
âIâll protect you⌠whether you wish for it or not.â
She shook her head, panic flooding her veins.
âYouâre insane! Iâd never agree to this.â
Jugram's expression hardened, a dangerous edge returning to his gaze
âYou misunderstand. This is not a choice.â
His other hand cupped her face, and for a brief moment, his touch was almost gentle. âYouâll understand in time⌠that no one can keep me apart from youâ
As she struggled against his hold, the weight of his words settled over her like a curse. In the heart of the war Jugram took her away and confined her in the deepest corner of Silbern where no prying eyes could see her nor any eavesdroppers could hear her desperate cry for help
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Extra note:
This fanfic is dedicated to Jugram birthday which is today 11/05
Look at this pretty birthday manđĽ°
#bleach#bleach tybw#bleach x reader#female reader#jugram haschwalth#jugram haschwalth x reader#yandere#yandere bleach
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Bloomingđź
Summary: Youâve been in the group since the start and have always liked Carl but once you see Enid moving into your territory you get jealous
â˘Masterlistâ˘
You grew close to Carl at the prison, you were both the same age so it was easy to get along, you were there for him when his mom died and when the prison fell you were scared youâd never see him again but when Carol found you and helped you survive she found the other leading to you seeing Carl again when you Tyrese and Judith coming out of the cabin
He hugged Judith tight then came over and squeezed me so tight as I did the same, hearing his quiet cryâs
You were there for eachother on the road and always shared body heat at night to keep warm and now you were all in Alexandria and even though you were all in the same house it felt like Carl was slipping away from you
You were walking to the gardens with Maggie when you saw Carl and this girl Enid kissing, and it felt like your heart was being crushed, you quickly looked away and Maggie noticed
Sheâd grown to be like a sister to you and she could tell when something was wrong
âYou okay?â She asked
âIâm fineâ you lied as you finally got to the garden
âI can tell when youâre notâŚ..is it about Carl?â She asked making you look at her shocked
âHow did you know?â
âCome on y/n I know you, Iâve seen the way you act around Carl since you both were little at the farm, and now youâre both grown up and you still treat him like the center of your universe, everyone sees itâ
You sighed knowing you couldnât hide it anymore
âIt hurts Maggie, I thought he liked me back, I mean maybe he just sees me as a best friend but I was just holding onto hope that maybe he felt something moreâŚâŚand now heâs with her and it just hurts so muchâ you cried finally feeling everything youâve been bottling up to yourself
âOh sweetie Iâm sorryâ she said as she sat beside you and wrapped her arms around you
âHe doesnât even hang out with me anymore heâs always with her, heâs pushed me away and I feel so lonelyâ you said into her chest as she held you tight
âItâll be okay, you have all of us but I know you have a different hurt, itâs your first heartbreak sweetie but you know Iâm always hereâ she said holding you back so she could see you and wiping your tears
âI know I just hate feeling like this, I just miss him so muchâ
Maggie obviously told Glenn and the others because you were all one big family so when you entered the house later that evening you saw the sad look some people gave you as your face was puffy and red from crying so much
âYa alright?â Daryl asked from beside you
âI donât knowâ
âHeâs stupid fer not wanting yaâ he said trying to sooth you in his own way
âThanks Darylâ you smiled at him weakly
âItâll be alright kidâ he said before walking to his spot in the living room where he slept
You went and laid on the book corner ledge by the window, a lot of you slept in the living room still needing that reassurance, you turned and looked out the window seeing Carl walking up the porch
âWhat are you doing out so late?â Rick asked as he was at the kitchen island
âJust had to finish some thingsâ he said looking over at you as you were all watching the interaction
Everyone went to sleep and you couldnât close your eyes without seeing them kissing then you felt someone poking you, you rolled over and it was Carl standing above you
âHey can I talk to you?â He whispered as you nodded and he sat next to you as you also sat up
âI know you saw me and Enid kiss earlier, Iâm sorryâ
âWhy are you sorry?â
âCause I know how you took it, I didnât really wanna kiss her, she kinda just kissed me and I didnât know what to doâ
âDo you like her?â You knew some people were listening it wasnât hard to tell when they kept moving around
âNot like that, not like how I like youâ he said as he held your hand, your heart was pumping so hard
âAnd how do you like me?â You asked nervous
âI donât like you, I love you, of course I love youâ
âReally? You love meâ
âIâve always wanted you, when I first saw you I knew you were it for me, even with all this chaos going onâ
âI love you too Carlâ you smiled as he pulled you into a hug
He leaned back and looked at you lips
âCan I?â
âPleaseâ you whined having waited for this for so long
He leaned in and it was the sweetest kiss as he held you closer and the kiss deepened
âYouâre my everything Carlâ you said when he pulled back
âAnd youâre mineâ that night you held eachother close as you fell asleep in his arms
He was finally yours
#carl grimes x y/n#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes#twd fanfiction#carl grimes imagine#twd x reader#twd fluff#twd carl#twd#the walking dead#twd imagine#twd fic#twd fandom#carl grimes fic#carl grimes fanfiction
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hey! I love the na'vi x human!reader trope a lot so I want to request lo'ak smut where they.. try to make it fit? Only in case you are comfortable with it of course! thank you a lot! <3
loâak x human!reader smut
2.7k words
repost since the last one got marked
warnings- aged up lo'ak!!!! sex, underage drinking, fingering, size difference, making out, etc.
GIF by helicarrier
i got so carried away.
in this fic, neteyam survives and quaritch dies. y/n and spider and the sully family return safely to the forrest. this event takes place several years after the battle where quaritch is killed, the clan being unbothered. also letâs pretend exopacks arenât needed, reader can just breath the air bc of a tea that ronal made for humans to breath air or something idk.
laughter echos around the forrest as neteyam, loâak, some other teenagers from the village, spider, kiri, and i sit in front of fire, passing around a bottle and talking. this morning, me and loâak went to the abandoned military base and found some âalcoholâ from the old food crates. jake had told us about alcohol before, and we wanted to see what would happen since it wasnât going to ever get used. itâs turns out itâs pretty good(but not good tasting), now that all of us are drinking and laughing.
kiri says we should play 7 minutes in heaven, a game that she read about in her mothers old diaries. apparently, you spin a bottle and whichever two players it lands on have to go into another room and sit together for 7 minutes, allowed to do anything. it seems like we all simultaneously agree, and i wink at loâak (one thing about this alcohol is that it makes me bold; letting me do all the things iâve always wanted to do, but thought about twice or got too scared). he stares at me wide eyed before chuckling and winking, leaving my cheeks pink.
we put the bottle in the center, sitting on the ground around it. i sit next to kiri and her friend, both of them eyeing their target kisses. kiri stand up to explain the rules to the group.
âok guys! the way that this game works is pretty simple, you spin the bottle twice and whoever the two people that the neck of the bottle points to have to go in that closet for 7 minutes. oh and to spice it up, if you stay in the closet for less than 7 minutes you have to take a shot.â
everyone nods and kiri sits back down. i make eye contact with loâak again, this time kiriâs friend aloâya notices and gives me a playful shove and leans down in my ear, whispering, âi bet if it lands on you two, youâre totally going to fuck.â
i laugh, âno way, he doesnât like me like that! i wish though.â
âfine,â she says, âif youâre so sure then if iâm right, you have to do my cleaning duties for a week. same goes for me if youâre right.â
âdealâ, i snicker and shake her hand.
kiri leans into the middle, spinning the bottle. turns out bottles donât spin well on grass, the glass barley moving. we laugh before neteyam gets up and grabs a flat stone to spin it on. he sets the bottle down and turns it before sitting down. when it stops turning, it lands on kiri and spider, who both blush before getting up and go into the closet. everyone goes quiet as we try to hear what theyâre saying or doing, only hearing little laughs and small talk. i groan, wondering if theyâre just going to talk the whole time.
it seems aloâya is thinking the same thing; she gets up and bangs in the door, drunkly yelling, âif you two donât hurry up and kiss, i think itâs majority time that you have to take a shot.â
i laugh and make small talk with her while the 7 minutes passes. when the timer goes off, spider comes out blushing and kiri wipes her lips off. people woop and make kissy noises, both of their cheeks getting red.
âok letâs spin it again.â
this time spider spins it both times, landing on loâak and aloâya. my heart sinks a little as they both stand up, but aloâya pats my back and tells me not to worry. they both walk into the closet and it goes quiet again, everyone trying to listen. the room is completely silent and so is the closet.
i hear loâak clear his throat after about 15 seconds of silence.
âummâŚâ he starts.
âso ummâŚâ
they sit in awkward silence for 10 more seconds before aloâya says, âyeah i donât think this is gonna work, shots?â
loâak lets out a relived sigh just as i do too, thankful for her playing my wingman.
âyeah, i could definitely use a shotâ, he says, laughing.
the closet doors open, both of them standing as far a way from each other as possible. kiri pours both of them a shot, they gulp them before sitting down. i give aloâya a thankful smile as she winks at me.
a couple more rounds are played before it lands on me and kiri. we both giggle and go into the closet, drunkenly joking. i whisper to her, âso how good was your kiss with spider?â
she giggles, âit was so good. heâs so cute and it was so sweet and i think i might be in love with him?? i donât know though iâm so drunk and heâs literally like half my height but y/n it was so good.â
i laugh before responding, â ok kiri come on be serious heâs only likeâ, i pause, holding a pinched finger in front of my face, â heâs only like a foot and a half shorter thatâs not that bad.â
she sits very seriously, contemplating what i said. i laugh at her sudden change in demeanor.
âyeah i guess youâre right.â she snickers and looks at me.
âi donât know why iâm complaining, youâre actually half of loâak's height. i guess thatâs good though, you wouldnât even have to get in your knees-â
i gasp and slap her hands.
âkiri do not say that!! youâre so dirty minded! plus iâm not even that short and you know it.â
âiâm just saying!! like would it even fit-â
we both start laughing like hyenas and before we know it the timer goes off. kiri and i stumble back down still laughing, now because she is hiccuping since sheâs so drunk. neteyam gives her a look before clearing his throat, â kiri, i think itâs time you go home. you donât need anymore to drink.â
she starts to complain before spider interjects, âyouâre right neteyam, iâll walk her back to her tent.â
i giggle and wiggle my eyebrows at her, aloâya yelling, âgo get some girl!â as they walk off.
once theyâre gone i get up and spin the bottle, it landing on me the first spin. i spin it again and it lands on loâak. i giggle and grab his hand, pulling him into the closet with me. once i close the door, i turn around to see him staring at me with a smirk. god, seeing this man smirk does things to me.
âsomeone seems excited to be alone with me, huh?â
i blush and look down at my feet, losing all my new found confidence.
âwell i mean itâs a fun game-â
âno, no,â heâs says, grabbing my chin and tilting it up to look at him, âdonât get all shy on me.â
i stare up at him and nod, trying to keep myself together as his huge hand lets go of my chin. i blush again and smile, looking him in the eyes before my gaze drops to his lips. he notices and laughs, licking his lips.
âloâak?â
âyeah y/n?â
i giggle again before whispering like iâm about to tell him a secret, âdid i ever tell you that youâre like⌠really really pretty?â
he laughs shaking his head.
âwell loâak, i think youâre really pretty and i love your eyes and you hair and i really like how tall are because sometimes i wish i was tall-â
he cuts off my drunken rambling, grabbing my waist. his touch sends butterflies into my stomach, sobering me up quickly. i look up and him and put my hands on his lean chest.
he leans down, warm breath fanning on my neck and sending shivers all down my back.
âcan i kiss you y/n?â
i nod up at him before standing on my tip toes, pressing my warm lips against his. his hands tighten around my waist, lifting me up to wrap my legs around his torso. i feel my back hit the wall of the closet, grabbing his hair hard. he groans into my mouth, moving his hands to grab my ass. he breaks from the kiss, moving to kiss my neck. i quietly moan as he sucks hickies onto my neck, swiping his wet tongue over them when he finishes.
just as he goes to suck another hickey, the timer goes off. he laughs before setting me down, opening the door while holding my tiny hand in his huge one. when he opens the door we see aloâya straddling neteyam as they make out. i tap the off button on the timer as loâak and i sneak out, leaving them to do eywa knows what.
i lead neteyam to my tent, laughing as we run. when we get there, i struggle trying to untie door fast enough, finally getting it done and shoving him inside. he laughs and falls onto my bed, sitting up. i tie the tent shut, happy that itâs not around anyone elseâs. i walk over to him, standing between his huge legs.
he looks as me, they same height sitting as i am standing. his hands go to my waist, pulling me close to him. i put one of my small hands on his leg, the other on his chest. he rests his huge hand on top mine. i look at the size difference, my whole hand only the size of 3 of his fingers. he smirks at me before grabbing me by my waist again, pulling me onto his lap.
he pulls me closer, kissing me hard. i grip on his biceps, feeling the strong muscles. my hands follow up his arms to his hair, tugging him closer to me. his teeth tug on my lip, sharp bangs making me gasp. when my mouth opens his tongue enters and i tug on it, still wanting more. he groans, his huge hands gripping my thighs and pressing them down on his hard bulge.
i pull away from his lips, nails scratching his back, making him shudder. i go to kiss him again but he grabs me and flips me under him, making me whine. he hovers over me and before i can complain, his lips crash into mine. he moved down to my neck again, hands fiddling with my top as he kissed his way down to my breasts.
once he tugs my top of he, gropes my breasts, whispering, âyouâre so perfect y/n. youâre so beautiful.â
i whine and put my hands on his back, trying to pull him closer, but he grabs both of my wrists with one hand, pining them above my head.
âloâak please,â i say, arching my back to try and wiggle out of his grip, âdonât tease me right now. i need you.â
âdonât be a brat y/n, hold on.â
âplease loâak, i need you inside of me.â
âyouâre going to have to patient, i have to prepare you first.â
i look at him confused before he moves down, taking off my bottoms. he rips them off, kissing my thighs before licking a stripe down my folds. i moan loudly at the unexpected contact, closing my legs. loâak pinches my inner thigh, making me writhe before using his huge arms to pin my legs open. he puts his tongue on my clit, lazily flicking it. i buck against his face, hands going into his hair.
âoh fuckâ, i whimper loudly, feeling myself already starting to come undone.
âyeah, do you like that?â he says, pinching my clit.
i nod wildly, feeling the tip of his huge finger against my entrance. he spreads my wetness around before pushing in, tongue now returning to my clit. i moan loudly as he curls his finger in me, adding another one after. he lets me adjust, not moving in and out but still sucking on my sensitive bud. after a couple seconds, he slides both fingers all the way out before sliding them back in. he repeats this, getting faster every time. he starts going at light speed right as i reach my climax, moaning and pleading for him to let me cum. i feel the knot in my stomach untie, breathing heavily.
loâak laughs at the fucked out look written across my face, licking his fingers off. he leans down and kisses me, my sweet taste on his tongue. he grinds on me hard as we make out, my slick staining his loin cloth. i move my hands down, trying to tug it off. he stands up and pulls it down easily, his cock springing up and touching his toned stomach.
now i finally realize why he said he needed to prepare me; his dick is easily 11 inches long. he grins at my wide eyes, âexpected less?â he asks. i just look at him dumbstruck before shaking my head no. i kneel on the bed, grabbing his thighs as my other hand trails up to his huge dick. i go to lick it before he stops me.
ânot tonight, i need to be inside you now.â
i giggle and lay back, his huge hands spreading my legs. he gets on top of me, kissing me before grinding on top of my pelvis. i whine and grab back, trying to press his closer to me. he leans up, letting me look as he sizes me up, putting his dick on top of me for me to see how big it is compared to me. i open my mouth at the size difference before capturing his lips in a kiss. he rubs the tip on my entrance, teasing me as he kiss. he breaks apart from the kiss as he pushes it in, making me moan.
iâve never felt this full before, and itâs only half way in. he slowly pushes the rest in, a bulge visible in my stomach. he presses his hand down on it, leaving me the whimper loudly. even though he âpreparedâ me, nothing could have mentally prepared me for how good this felt.
as he starts moving in and out, i clench around him hard, making him groan loudly. he starts sliding in and out faster, finger circling my clit. i moan over and over again, barley able to catch my breath.
âoh fuck y/n, youâre so tight.â
i clench again at his words, already feeling myself getting close to another release. he grunts and pounds in and out of me, whispering how good i feel. he pushes my legs onto his shoulders, the new angle making my eye rolls into my head.
âlook how big i am in you, i can see my cock in your fucking stomachâ
my final straw his when he pushes onto my stomach, making me cry out every time he thrusts into me. i clench around him as i cum, shuttering and shaking as he continues to fuck me through my high.
after i calm down from my high he pulls out, jerking off before his warm cum lands my stomach. he lays down beside me, both of us panting and exhausted. i look over and him and smile.
we lay there for a couple minutes before he goes and gets a rag for my stomach, wiping it off. he goes and cleans himself off before laying down beside me again. i sigh and cuddle into his chest.
âi see you loâak.â
âi see you y/n.â
i smile up at him him before groaning and rubbing my eyes.
âwhat is it?â he asks, confused if heâs done something wrong.
âi have to do a week of aloâyaâs chores now.â
he laughs, and before we know it, we are asleep in each others arms.
#avatar#avatar 2009#avatar way of water#avatar x reader#avatar x you#jake sully#jake sully imagine#jake sully smut#jake sully x neytiri#jake sully x oc#jake sully x you#jake sully x y/n#jake sully x reader#loâak x y/n#loâak fanart#loâak x reader#tsireya x loâak#loâak imagine#loâak#loâak sully#lo'ak x reader#neteyam smut#neteyam x oc#naâvi oc#neteyam x you#neteyam imagine#neteyam sully#neteyam#neteyam x reader#neteyam x y/n
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The Person Within: An Analysis Of Professor Layton's Hidden Character Development
Spoilers for practically all of the Layton games!
Hershel Layton as a character is sometimes criticized outside of the fandom for having no personality other than his gentlemanly nature and taking the concept of enjoying puzzles to the extreme.
While I think this criticism shows a blatant misunderstanding to his character, I do think from a different angle that perspective makes Professor Layton more interesting.
Think about it. Most of his personality is taken from the tragedy of those around him. Randall was the one who was originally obsessed with archaeology and puzzles. Claire was the one who originally perceived Hershel as a gentleman (thus giving him the idea.) We donât really see Layton take these aspects of his personality onto himself until tragedy strikes and these people are taken away from his life.
In the case of Randall's death, Hershel blamed himself for surviving and moved out of town because of his self-loathing and guilt. And when Claire disappeared Layton paused his studies for an unknown amount of time trying to find out what happened until he was beaten into a coma by a group of people associated with her death.
And yet instead of grieving like youâd normally expect from a person who lost his best friend and girlfriend, he internalized their interests and aspects of their personalities into himself. He wears their passions and dreams as his own to remember them. In a way, heâs always reminding himself that he couldnât save them.
However one might wonder how Layton really feels about those things outside of his previous losses. Does Layton even enjoy archeology and puzzles? Or is it something he has grown to accept in his life simply because he is living out Randallâs dream? Does he feel like he has a choice in the matter?
I can easily imagine Layton having doubts deep within himself: Randall didnât get to live and itâs my fault. His dreams should live on. I donât deserve anything else.
Same with Claire. She saw him as a gentleman but he certainly didnât feel like one after her disappearance if his memory of events is to be taken seriously. How long did it take for him to turn into the perfect gentleman? Especially if it's just a painful reminder of her loss?
Itâs probably after waking up from his coma that he starts to really embrace the idea that he has to be the perfect gentleman because he knows he can never get her back. So all he can do is embrace what she thought of him before she died. So with all of this in mind is Laytonâs gentlemanly persona genuine to who he is as a person? Or is it just a persona created in order to keep her memory alive?
Layton has kept the shadows of his lost loved ones close to his heart for years and probably would have always done so had he never gotten any closure. However, when Randall turned out to be alive Layton now has the opportunity to let go of that guilt. Claire came back in the future momentarily and Layton got to say goodbye. He no longer needs to keep their personal traits as his own.
So why does he still embody Randall's passion for archeology and puzzles and Claire's perspective that he's the perfect gentleman?
I think it's because Layton doesn't know who he is without these borrowed parts of his personality. Without those aspects that he adopted into himself⌠who is Hershel Layton? Deep down he is someone who has silently mourned his loved ones and repressed those emotions. And yet most of his life has been embodying said grief. It makes me wonder if Layton would ever look deep within himself and realize that he doesnât have anything to claim as his own. His entire personality revolves around past guilt and trauma from people he loved and lost.
Shoot even his name isnât his own! Hershel Layton was actually the name belonging to his brother and in a moment of sacrifice switched names so our Layton could be adopted. So our Layton loses the only family member he has left without even knowing who that is for the majority of his life!
So we have a man who feels guilt and remorse for the deaths of his best friend and his girlfriend so he doesnât allow himself to develop his own interests and personality because he doesnât feel like he deserves to be his own person. It's even implied that he believed for a time that he didn't deserve to be the one who survived the events that killed his best friend and girlfriend. And then adding to the fact that he never knew his real family so he most likely felt a different kind of loss by not knowing where he came from. All and all we find a man that feels alone and tries to make it right by embodying the traits of those he cared about.
We donât get to see Layton develop his thoughts on all of this but we do see an interesting development later on. Iâd like to think that Layton slowly began to heal after his adventures thanks to adopting Katrielle in the anime.
This is because, for the first time in Laytonâs life, he had a family to look after. Someone who doesn't need a mystery-solving archeologist or a perfect gentleman detective. Someone who doesn't need the grand "Professor Layton." This little girl just needs someone to be her father and, while he tries his best, he doesn't really know how to do that.
Sure he had a familial relationship with Luke and Flora, but he never called himself their father. I donât think he allowed himself that privilege because of all the self-loathing he had been dealing with before. When he adopts Kat it feels like itâs the first time we see Layton truly allowing himself to be a father figure. And yet he is still uncertain about if he should be the one in this role.
Layton feels like his adopted daughter should know where she came from (something he didnât get to have) before he can start thinking of himself as a father. Heâs scared that if he gets attached then it'll hurt worse when she eventually returns to her own family should she decide that is her wish. But if he finds her family first then he doesnât have the go through that heartache. He wants to find them first so she can make an informed decision.
And he says this with the logic that he always had as âProfessor Laytonâ with that calm and collected smile. Notice that he says "I want to solve this puzzle so that we can become a true family." He doesn't say "so that we will become a true family." Itâs almost as if he is going to let Kat decide if she wants to stay with him or go back to her real parents and that choice will be up to her. However, it's somewhat implied that he already thinks that she would naturally choose her real parents if she had the opportunity.
Despite his wishes to be her father, he still seems to be internally preparing himself to say goodbye (hence why he disappeared for so long in the first place.) He just doesnât want to get too close to another person only to lose them and suffer alone again.
It makes sense why he is distancing himself, but heâll still solve the mystery. It's what âProfessor Laytonâ would do and heâll have to accept whatever happens once Kat learns the truth. He doubts that she would still see him as her dad if she could be with her real parents. He doesn't even know himself outside of the role of "Professor Layton" so how can he be a true father to her? She'll go away with her real family eventually anyway. Why would anyone choose him?
And yet when he sees her again Layton is surprised when she immediately cries out for him. She still calls him papa. She wants him to be her papa.
In a public display of overwhelming emotion, we see Layton openly weep for the first time. He is so overcome by these emotions and for once doesn't repress them. He's just so happy to see his daughter again (to truly call Kat his daughter again) and allows himself to fully express those feelings for perhaps the first time in decades.
If Layton from the original game trilogy saw himself like this he would have been mortified by this âun-gentlemanlyâ behavior. His mindset back then was that a gentleman never cries because he has trouble coming to terms with his emotions. He even chastised Luke in Unwound Future because âa gentleman never makes a scene in public.â
However, he was never a gentleman for himself. It was always for holding onto the guilt of losing his loved ones while trying to honor their memories at the same time. But he doesnât have to hold himself to those impossible standards anymore. He no longer blames himself for their deaths, he found closure, and now he has found himself in a family who chooses to love him not because of those attributes âProfessor Laytonâ embodied, but because she loves him for the person hidden under that persona. And that is enough for Layton to openly weep as he embraces his child.
I believe Kat's words here helped Layton more than she'll ever know.
So who is Hershel Layton if heâs not a gentleman or a fan of archeology?
The solution to that puzzle is really quite simple.
He is a caring person. And thatâs all he ever needs to be.
#professor layton#professor hershel layton#hershel layton#layton#luke triton#flora layton#jean descole#claire foley#randall ascot#pl#katrielle layton#kat layton#lmj#miracle mask#unwound future#azran legacy#plvsaa#plvspw#professor layton vs phoenix wright#pl vs pw#pl vs aa#phoenix wright#professor layton analysis#layton anime#ace attorney#professor layton vs phoenix wright ace attorney#and THAT is what happens when I watch Puss and Boots the Last Wish#Pus' struggle with keeping up with the legend sounds eerily similar to how Layton carried himself after he lost his friends over the years#layton is a deep character doggone it
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I know request are close but maybe this could be a headcon where you and Joel are married have Sarah but then the apocalypse happens some years later while Joel is in Jackson with Ellie Tommy and the town the reader gets rescued and finally reunite with Joel and what his reaction would be
You can 1000000% choose if itâs an imagine or a headcon or if you want to do it my mind Is currently on joel miller and yeha
Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: I hope you enjoy it anon â¤ď¸
⢠Joel thought he'd lost everything the night the outbreak happened, he lost his daughter, she died in his arms and he never thought he would have to bury his beautiful daughter in some unidentified shallow grave
⢠he knew he had died that night with her, something inside was simply gone, his heart had gone cold and though he still had you, he knew he would never recover
⢠but you also went missing, you never made it home after the outbreak started, you three had plans of celebrating his birthday after your work shift ended but with the whole chaos, you never made it home
⢠in the first few months Joel went after you, FEDRA station after station, trying to look for you, see if you were hurt or if you were taking one of the volunteering jobs but he could never find you
⢠so he just assumed you'd died and focused the next years of his life in surviving even if he wasn't sure it was worth surviving in this world
⢠Joel was almost used to his life in Jackson, it was still odd for him to be able to sleep at night, without worrying about finding food and having enough blankets in winter
⢠but he never recovered from the loss of his family even if it happened all those years ago, he was still broken and lonely, deeply wounded from not having you and his daughter
⢠the gates of Jackson opened for another group of patrol bringing a group of rescued people, it wasn't often that it happened, but when it did, Joel didn't care about it very much, he just didn't want to meet new people and he always had the impression of seeing a known face, only to realize it was just a trick of his mind
⢠so the moment the group of people arrived in the city, Joel just turned his back and began walking away at the same time you scanned the place, always in hopes of seeing your husband and your beautiful daughter once more, also convinced they were dead
⢠but your heart never lost hope and the moment you spotted the broad shoulders, the curls you had ran your fingers through it gently so many times, now looking a little grayer but still the same man you came to love with so much intensity
⢠you screamed his name as loud as you could, drawing attention from everyone around but you didn't care at all, all you wanted was to see if it was him
⢠and when Joel turned around, his heart skipped a beat, not believing his ears at first but he did recognize you voice and rushed to you, his heart felt like it was about to explode the moment he saw you
⢠you were looking older just like he was, you were skinny and he could tell you had a few scars here and there, but you had survived
⢠he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you closer and falling onto his knees, he couldn't believe you were in his arms after so long
⢠he held you, kissing your lips, at the same time tears ran down his cheeks, after so long, you were back to being his again
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller headcanon#joel miller headcanons#joel miller tlou#tlou#tlou show#tlou fanfiction
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Dead Man Walking: Chapter Two
Chapter Summary: You tell Chan and Hongjoong how you ended up alone. Afterward, you get to know the group and start to work on pulling your weight.
Warnings: Descriptions of violent deaths, allusions to SA, suicidal thoughts
Series Masterlist
You refused to look up from your lap, scared that you would lose your fragile composure.Â
âIt happened a little over three weeks ago,â you began, already feeling the sting of tears at the back of your eyes. âI wasnât alone in the beginning. I was with four other people. My two brothers, Noah and Ethan, and their girlfriends, Emma and Grace.
We were trying to make our way north. Ethan had heard a rumor that the dead donât like the cold. We had set up our camp for the night in the woods at the edge of the city. It was the middle of the night and it was my turn to take watch.â You paused to suck in a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.Â
âI fell asleep. I woke up to screaming. A group of, like, ten men ambushed us. One of them slit Noahâs throat and fed him to a zombie they had on a leash. Four of them crushed Ethanâs head with their boots and shotguns. Me, Emma, and Grace were clinging to each other. The men surrounded us, talking about bringing us back to their camp so they could have some fun.â You spat at the memory.Â
âThree of the men moved to grab us while the others gathered our stuff for themselves. All of a sudden, Grace screamed and threw herself into the men. She told me and Emma to run. I was frozen, but Emma pulled me up and dragged me toward a thicker area of trees. Someone shot her in the leg. She pushed me forward, begging me to keep running. The last thing I saw was their pet zombie ripping into her neck.
Iâve been alone since then. Iâve been in a pretty hazy state of mind, I donât know how I wasnât killed. Before Yeosang found me, I was wandering around the shops for anything useful. I turned a corner and saw the herd a block away. One of them must have smelled me, cus they started sprinting toward me. I was going to let them kill me, I was tired and so, so lonely. But in my mind I heard Emma and Grace yelling for me to run, to survive, and I ran on instinct. Thatâs when Yeosang grabbed me.â You finally lifted your gaze to the men sitting across from you. They looked back at you with a mix of sadness and understanding.
âIâm sorry. Weâve lost people, too, but I canât imagine how you must have felt seeing your family taken so cruelly,â Chris sighed, trying to offer some comfort with a kind look in his eyes. You sniffled and swiped at the traitorous tear that escaped.
âIt was my fault. If I hadnât fallen asleep, I would have seen them coming. Theyâd probably be alive right now. It should have beenââ
âDonât.â Hongjoong interrupted, speaking for the first time since you met him. âDonât you dare say it shouldâve been you. Whatâs done is done, the past canât be changed. Mourn them. But you canât give up. If you die, their memory dies too. Then theyâre truly gone.â His words cut into you deep and you couldnât hold back your sobs any longer. You hunched in on yourself, burying your face in your hands.
âYou can stay with us.â Chanâs voice was closer now. You felt hands on your knees, and looked up to see him crouching in front of you. Your body sagged in relief as Chan ran his thumbs in soothing circles on the tops of your thighs.Â
âMinho told us that youâre an âalmost doctor.ââ Hongjoong stated with air quotes after you calmed down. âWhat does that mean?â Chan moved to sit beside his co-leader again.
âI was in my last semester of medical school. I was in my residency and getting ready for commencement. I was going to be an emergency room physician, and already had a job lined up.â The leaders shared a look of approval.
âWe need to get our inventory more organized. Minho is trying to do it all himself and wonât admit he needs help. Can you try to get him to split the responsibility?â Chris asked. âWe obviously wonât need medical attention all the time, so inventory can be your secondary job.â
âIâll try, but I canât make any promises,â you agreed. They told you where you could find Minho, so you headed toward what used to be the officeâs break room. You made a pit-stop at the maintenance room to pick up your backpack and peeped in the break room. As promised, Minho was sifting through the groupâs resources.Â
âWhat do you want?â Minho didnât even look up at you to ask. You stepped fully into the room.
âChris asked me to help with inventory. I figured I could take over for the medical supplies.â
âYou figured wrong, I can handle it,â he denied. You bristled at his cold tone and marched over to stand directly in front of him, arms crossed over your chest.
âI donât want to argue with you, Minho. I know you donât trust me, but Chris and Hongjoong agreed to let me stay. If Iâm going to help, I need to know what medical supplies you have,â you asserted. Minho finally looked up at you with a scowl. When you looked closely at his face, he was pale and clammy with prominent dark circles.Â
âI donât need help,â he snapped at you.Â
âYouâre tired, I can see it.â Minhoâs eyes narrowed while yours softened. âYou look pale, a little clammy, and you have horrible dark circles under your eyes. Youâre taking on too much at once and youâre going to burn out if you donât let someone take some of the responsibility.â You could see his inner conflict in his eyes.Â
âWhat do you have in mind?â He asked hesitantly. You smiled gently and pulled one of the chairs over to sit in front of him.Â
âSplit everything into categories, and have one person in charge of each category. I would say we split it into medical supplies, food and drinks, miscellaneous items, and weapons,â you suggested. Minho tapped his fingers on his chin, considering your words. Slowly, he nodded.Â
âThatâs⌠not a bad idea,â he admitted.Â
âThanks, I think. Obviously I would take over the medical supplies, but you know this group better than I do right now. Who would you want to put in charge of the other categories?â The room fell to silence while Minho mulled over his decision. You didnât want to pressure him, so you busied yourself with finding notebooks to catalog everything. This turned out to be a very easy task. The former office building had an abundance of extra notebooks, pens, markers, and various other stationary supplies. You brought four notebooks and a marker back to your seat. On the cover of the first notebook, you wrote âMedical Suppliesâ and your name underneath.Â
âI want to do the food and drinks. Jongho should do the miscellaneous, and Changbin and San should split the weapons, one in charge of guns and the other silent weapons.â As Minho spoke, you wrote the category and group member name on the front covers of each notebook, grabbing one more for both weapon categories.Â
âOkay, letâs go let them know. I still donât know everyoneâs names, though.â You stacked your notebooks, hooked pens onto the spirals, and tucked the marker into your pocket.
âIâll introduce you.â Minho led you out of the break room. He went through each room, pointing out what it was used for and telling you the names of anyone inside. Jongho was the quiet guy from the rooftop and he readily agreed to his new role. You handed him the notebook and pen and he immediately left to get everything written down. You had met almost everyone, with the final two being the appointed weapons masters.
âChangbin, San, I have an offer for you,â Minho called out as he pushed open the door to the maintenance room. These two were the obvious muscle of the group. Both of them were absolutely jacked.
âWhatâs up?â The shorter of the two furrowed his eyebrows, looking warily between you and Minho.
âI want you two to take charge of our weapons catalog. Who wants to take guns and who wants silent weapons?â The way he phrased it made this more like a demand rather than an offer.Â
âOh! Iâm glad youâre finally letting us help, man. I donât mind either way. You have a preference, San?â You could finally put the final names to their respective faces.Â
âI can take the silent weapons.â You added Sanâs name to the silent weapons notebook and handed it to him, doing the same for Changbin and the gun notebook. They, too, got to work cataloging the groupâs weapons. You and Minho returned to the break room, joining Jongho to work in silence. Jongho had moved the miscellaneous supplies to one of the long tables along the wall of the break room. He was breaking the supplies into subcategories while Minho got the food organized in the cabinets.
âIs there another room I can bring the medical supplies to? I donât want to have to treat wounds in the same place we eat.â Minho nodded and showed you to one of the empty offices. It was just big enough to fit a desk, office chair, and a hip-height cabinet. The desk and cabinet were both, thankfully, empty. You wheeled the office chair back to the break room and began piling up the medical supplies.
âWow, you guys have a lot of good stuff here,â you remarked. âWhat, did you raid a hospital before you settled down?â
âYes,â Minho and Jongho answered at the same time.Â
âOh!â You decided against asking any more questions. It took two trips to get all of the supplies to your new office. You put most of the supplies in the cabinet, delighted that there were shelves for more storage space. You kept most of the over the counter medications on top of the cabinet so the group would have easy access to them. You left a note reading âlet Y/N know if you take any meds!â taped to the wall above the cabinet. You decided that the desk would serve as your exam table. You were so engrossed in your work that you didnât hear Felix come in.
âWow, you actually got this looking like a doctorâs office.â You yelped, dropping your pen and swinging around to glare at the Aussie from your spot on the floor. He cackled behind his hand, leaning against the doorway.Â
âFelix! Donât sneak up on me!â
âHoly shit, sorry, but you jumped like a foot off the ground,â he teased while clutching his stomach. You rolled your eyes.
âAlright, alright! Itâs not that funny. What did you need?â You huffed and changed the subject.
âDinnerâs ready. Weâve been shouting for you for a couple minutes now,â he explained.Â
âOh, shit, sorry.â You quickly stood and followed Felix to the break room. Minho was dishing out small portions of rice topped with a slice of spam.Â
âFinally! Chan wonât let us start eating until everyone gets their plate,â Jisung complained. You muttered an apology, more focused on the food. Youâve only had a granola bar today, and that was right after you woke up. Minho handed you a plate and you had to force yourself to eat it slowly.Â
âI saw the new inventory notebooks. Good job, guys,â Chris praised.Â
âI like how you divided the supplies up. It makes things a lot easier to find.â Hongjoong agreed. You perked up at the praise, pleased that you were earning your place in the group.
âWhoâs going on the run tomorrow?â Seonghwa chimed in, looking at the groupâs leaders.
âHyunjin, San, Wooyoung, and Seungmin. It should be a quick one, there and back within a few hours,â Chan answered. âTheyâre gonna head out after breakfast.â The rest of the evening went by in a blur. After dinner, you finished up your inventory list then joined everyone else in a large waiting room-looking area of the building. Thin blankets were strewn across the carpeted floor.
You sat against the wall, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them. Yeosang quietly removed himself from Jisungâs crushing hug to sit beside you. The group split into various cuddle piles but still included everyone in conversation. You stayed quiet for the most part, opting to listen to the others talk. You chimed in every now and then, and answered their questions about medical school and your home state. One by one, the group members succumbed to sleep. Mingi stayed up on first watch, looking out of a nearly invisible slit in the wood planks.Â
Falling asleep sitting up would leave your neck sore in the morning, but your contentment and feeling of safety being surrounded by others made it worth the discomfort.
Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98
Series Taglist: Open, comment or send an ask to be added!
#stray kids fanfic#ateez fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#skz x reader#ateez x reader#ateez x you#zombie au#zombie apocolypse au#bangchan x reader#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#seo changbin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#lee felix x reader#kim seungmin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#i.n x reader#kim hongjoong x reader#park seonghwa x reader#jeong yunho x reader#kang yeosang x reader#choi san x reader#song mingi x reader#jung wooyoung x reader#choi jongho x reader#fanfiction writer#writing
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AvA/M Cast Redesign
Phew, well.. I DID IT I REDESIGNED EVERYONE! Time to present them all again, but this time with some more info, right?
Color Gang
Green (He/him) - 17 y.o. | Let's say he's literally a perfectionist okay? Green is the one of a protective friend but can annoy his brother Red sometimes. His love of his life is Blue
Yellow (She/her) - 16 y.o. | A girl who knows everything about redstone, Minecraft commands and style. Has a twin sister Pinkie (Keep in mind that Pinkie is not a canon character. She's my AvM OC). Also Yellow has a partner Red
The Second Coming/TSC/Second/Orange (He/They) - 17 y.o. | A sleepyhead but somehow understands math and physics(unlike me ;v;). They're really overprotective over their friends and have their own powers but they're not aware of them(let's say AvA VI didn't happen yet). Chosen is Second's sister. Also Sec is in love with Purple
Blue (She/her) - 16 y.o. | Really knows her thing when it comes to brewing potions and gardening. Has bandages cuz AvM Ep. 20 events. Can get worried if anyone of the gang gets sick. Loves Green and his tunes
Red (He/him) - 15 y.o. | Apparently the youngest one of the group. He's a clumsy guy and also a prankster. Got possessed by Herobrine twice. Was in a timeout once cuz messed with Yellow's staff and the lucky block. Yellow is his girlfriend and Green is his brother. Oh and his pets are his friends
The Royal Duo + The Angelic Trio
Purple (She/They) - 16 y.o. | A little shy but very nice girl. Considers MT as her older sister. Still has trust issues but is trying to fix it. Cherishes her dead mother Orchid and doesn't give a damn about her dad RB. Second is her boyfriend
MT/Mango Tango/Queen Orange (She/her) - 20 y.o. | A young adult who was a queen once just to destroy Minecraft cuz it took away her little brother Gold. Tries to move on from Gold's death and now considers Purple as her younger sis. She's on neutral terms with Color Gang. Her husband is actually an Enderman named Jacob (Tulip said that we can have our own Jacob so)
Gold (He/him) - 12 y.o. | A smol kid who is MT's brother and had unfortunately died from Minecraft. Observes his sister and spends his time with Orchid and Victim. Sometimes wishes he could hug MT one last time
Orchid (She/her) - 38 y.o. | A caring woman who is also Purple's mother. Has no empathy for RB cuz he left her and Purple. Unfortunately died from an unknown disease and now observes her child from above
Victim (They/Them) - 25 y.o. | A guy who never experienced life for once. Tries to develop themselves and find their own personality and hobbies. Currently is friends with Orchid and Gold
RB, Alan and The AvA Duo
RB (He/him) - 40 y.o. | A ex-husband of Orchid and ex-dad for Purple. Left cuz he thought his daughter was "pathetic and would never protect herself from any danger"
Alan (He/him) - 35 y.o. | The creator himself of the whole AvA/M community. Considers Chosen and Second as his kids, but also has a real life family
The Dark Lord/TDL/Dark (She/her) - 18 y.o. | The terrorist of the whole Internet herself and Alan is her creator. She was created to defeat Chosen but she teamed up with them and confronted Alan. Somehow survived Second's attack and now is trying to change. Has a girlfriend Chosen
The Chosen One/TCO/Chosen (She/They) - 19 y.o. | The Chosen One herself who just wants to live peacefully with Dark after all the trauma she endured. Saved a kid once and now friends with her. Is currently being wanted by Rocket Corporation. Dark is her girlfriend
The Rocket Corporation
Hazard (He/They) - literally a robot- | A restored robot who can control electricity as his power. He's also a part of the mercenary team
Agent Smith (He/him) - 24 y.o. | The main mercenary of the corporation who can use any Adobe Animate tool. Has a small crush on Vic
Alive!Vic (They/them) - 25 y.o. | The first stick ever created by Alan that somehow came to life to get the revenge they so desperately want. They're a leader of a whole corporation and they hunt for Chosen cuz she knows where Alan is
Ballista (He/him) - 27 y.o. | The shortest mercenary of the team. He can turn his head into a tank and also adores his big pixel sword
Primal (She/her) - 28 y.o. | The tallest mercenary and the only woman in the team. Is good at archery and can get buff if needed
#animator vs animation#animation vs minecraft#alan becker#ava green#ava yellow#ava second coming#ava blue#ava red#ava purple#ava mt#ava gold#ava orchid#ava victim#ava rb#ava alan becker#ava dark lord#ava chosen one#ava hazard#ava agent smith#ava ballista#ava primal#mari arts#mari masterposts
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