noise dept.

roma★
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One Nice Bug Per Day
Fieri Frames
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tannertan36
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titsay

gracie abrams
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
The Bowery Presents
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
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hello vonnie

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almost home

seen from Sweden

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@nodustollcns-blog
Continued from (x)
➳What was there to say? Never did Callum ever expect to be able to love someone so truly, so unselfishly. Never did Callum expect to love someone so much that he would literally rather die than see them suffer. Never did Callum expect to be able to love someone in the way they deserved after the way he grew up. He had been a damaged kid; a childhood filled with neglect and bruises and pity over love. His mother looked at him with guilt and resentment; he looked so much like his father who had abandoned them. How was Callum to know what love was? How was he even to know how to love at all? And, yet, here he was. Here he was, standing in a house he had only spent a few hours in over a year ago, with Robo and all their friends’ right beside him. He stood in this house once, after only meeting Fiona a few hours prior, and helped her make a shelter here. She had only just arrived with Robo. He’ll never forget being greeted by Robo in that hotel hallway, all the while Fiona finding them, almost terrified to even look, just in case Callum hurt him. If someone had told Callum that he was about to propose to that same girl from the hallway a year and a half later, he would have never believed them. He was never meant to love, he had always said, and here he was. He was surrounded by friends and f a m i l y, all of whom Callum had come to respect and love. Callum didn’t have a proper family growing up, not until his later years, but these group of people had become his sanctuary. They didn’t need to be blood and they didn’t need to have known each other their whole lives; these were selfless people that found respect in each other to call each other f r i e n d s. It was bigger and better than anything Callum could have ever imagined. The only thing missing was Finn; if he could see Callum now, he would have surely been a blubbering mess in the corner of the room. Olivia probably would have rolled her eyes, Rory probably would have been trying to hide an amused smirk ( or she would have been crying alongside him ) and Marissa would have probably offered him a napkin to wipe away the tears. It would have made this all the more perfect but, truthfully, Callum knew he was there. Callum was mentally placing Finn beside him and that was truthfully all he needed. Rory, Marissa, Alexi, and Olivia had already done so much for Callum and Fiona and it only seemed fitting to get their help in setting it all up. Never did he expect them to do so much but, again, this had become a family in its own, odd, apocalyptic way.
bile rose in fiona’s throat. when she’d first gotten robocop, he’d been a houdini of a dog. somehow he’d escaped every crate she put him in until she gave up entirely and he, after a few dog beds and several pairs of shoes, had done well to earn free reign of the house while she was gone. after that, he’d slipped out of their modest yard a few times as well. each time she felt the STAB of loss before it had even felt real. there had been so MUCH loss in fiona’s young life, that she could taste death on her lips before it ever occurred and, often when it was miles away as STRONGLY as if it was digging its skeletal claws into her heavy shoulders.
few things made fiona panic, she was a born and bred ER nurse. things that got under people’s skin and pulled at the hairs on the backs of their necks until they were erect with fright, seemed to push her forward into action. the things that reminded fiona of her humanity–the things that sent her spiraling and quaking with fear–were all tied to loss. robocop, callum, olivia, and a few others–they were the ones she FEARED losing worse than anyone else. she didn’t speak after callum explained, but tore down the hall after him with a stoney silence, after slingshotting her rubber gloves into the sink where they’d be cleaned later.
she took the revolver eagerly, forehead lined in concentration as she walked briskly along callum’s side. MOVE FAST OR DIE YOUNG, the old flight nurse who’d been her ER rotation instructor had told her once as she outpaced fiona on the stairs. how right she had been; fiona wondered sometimes if the woman was living yet or if she’d gone with the rest when DEATH CAME FOR THE HOSPITAL. she nodded sternly at the patrol, whom seemed surprised to see her in such rare mood. she could be as sharp as glass when she needed to me and the raiders who’d shot callum had not lived to tell of it. if she held a pure heart, she would’ve said a silent prayer for anything that laid a malicious hand on rocoop’s inky black mane, but she did not want the prayer to be answered on the off chance her ideas about god and man were wrong.
unable to speak for fear of letting loose the tears that already burned her eyes–acidic in their sorrow–fiona only shared a pained glance with callum, nodding once so that he knew she understood. LATER, she would commend him for his ability to hold her together. she would thank him for not asking her to stay behind. she would cry into his broad chest while they fell asleep with robocop pressed firmly between them. but FIRST they had to make it through to later.
Callum Saxon used to break down in any situation that was stressful or emotional. He could remember all the fights and cries and pleas from his grandparents when his sobriety wouldn’t last and, yet, Callum didn’t show emotional range. He remembered hearing them talk about his lack of empathy and human emotion, which was so HARD to think about it now given just how emotional he really is. It was the drugs making him so stoic and impassive and when they wore off, he was an emotional roller coaster, daring to drive his grandparents insane. Even after his sobriety, he doubted his ability to control himself, even four years later. When he met Fiona and she was there for him through all of his emotional ups-and-downs and it so easily felt like HOME. She didn’t NEED to be there for him, not after people lost so much already, but she had fought against him until he realized he loved her.
It was why now he was desperate to be supportive for her. He feared the outcome of going to find Robo together and he adamantly fought against the visuals of finding a hoard of the undead, surrounding him. Just the thought made his knees buckle and he desperately didn’t want Fiona to be there to see it. He desperately wanted to cry out and scream – please don’t let this world take another beautiful LIVING thing – but he needed to be strong for her, just like she had for him. He remembered her finding him after being taken hostage and his knees gave out and he climbed to her so desperately that he didn’t even care how pathetic he might have looked. He had to be just as strong as she had always been.
Callum knew he needed to take the reins. Fiona was good in high intensity situations, of course, but this was too close to home for her. This WAS home for her. As soon as the doors opened and they left the fenced in area of camp, out in the open, Callum kept a tight enclosed hand over Fiona’s. He pulled her gently as they took West, out towards the farthest point of the park where they would then circle back around. However, after only moments, two undead appeared and Callum released Fiona’s hand to grab out his hunting knife, swiftly pushing off the first undead to jam the knife in the other. Then, as the walker took to its feet, he again jabbed through its temple.
Gently grabbing her again, they made it into the first entrance to the park. He could feel his eyes darting, momentary jumping on an elevated platform to get a better look. “He always liked the skate park and the softball area, right?”
Uncertain where the two stood within the context of conversation, now that her handkerchief had been safely returned to her, Francesca could not help but linger. He was not as rigid as his armor nor as chilling as the Umidum winters she had heard so much about. The longer she lingered, the more she found herself wondering about him. He had gone out of his way to return her kerchief–to speak to her–and, paired with his comely looks, she was CURIOUS.
Francesca considered him for a moment, intelligent eyes scanning his face for any semblance of mockery in his apology. She tried to force back the smile that crept upon her at his explanation–the earnest flattery burning her cheeks–as she kept a stoic demeanor. “Only a lovely lady?” She barely made it through the sentence before the wry upturn in her lips cracked into a grin. “I cannot hold against you the crimes of your peers.” She added genuinely, face softening as she realized the extent of his sincerity. “If it is the cold that turns the charm out of you, it is certainly the blade mountains that give us our sharp tongues.” And wasn’t she guilty of the crimes of her countrymen in that regard? Sharp tongues, it seemed, were bred and branded into every Zeiranian newborn babe. It had taken years for her to dull her edges and, despite her fine point, she was soft enough to be trusted by most.
“My name?” Dark brows asked the question as plainly as her lips and tongue. “Francesca Fle–” She almost completed the old name as if it were her own–as if it were ever hers at all instead of being a name she borrowed while tending to a dying, lonely old man. “It is Chanteur. Francesca Chanteur.” Not half of an hour into speaking and she’d already besmirched her own name–outing herself as a young widow. “I should–” go. An Imber knight; a physician and a widow. “You’ve seen me before?” The statement was made a question by the lilt of her voice on the last word. “Have I seen you?” She wondered aloud, before answering her own question. “I think I would remember … if I’d seen you.”
There was no doubt that Imber was a strong militant group that followed their Majesty’s lead incredibly closely. They could be tough and aloof, often acting first and thinking later; it was only more intense when face-to-face with their rival home, Calx. While Francesca was most likely the least person who deserved the other warrior’s abrasiveness, Caradoc was still not at all surprised. Many grew up in strong and emotionless militant families and, therefore, it was all they knew. However, for Caradoc, he couldn’t imagine being harsh with someone like her. There was something so different about her, something so GOOD. Was it true that a person could feel so pulled to another so quickly without even saying a word to them?
“I never used the word ‘just’. I have no doubts that there are more words to describe you than just lovely.” He teased in return, relieved that she didn’t appear offended by his sudden comment. He was sure this was an odd run-in for her, especially when it seemed she hadn’t noticed him at all before today. He wasn’t doing the greatest job in trying to prove he wasn’t following her, which he wasn’t, but it might appear as so. “If I say so myself, you must be holding back your sharp tongue. You, so far, have only been very kind to me.” He offers her a kind, less mischievous smile this time.
At her sudden faltering of her last name, he realized she must have almost slipped using her married name. An embarrassed chuckle escaped his lips when he let it slip out that he had noticed her before. Once trying to play it cool, Caradoc took no time to embarrass himself and, in some ways, reveal his curiosity for her. “I don’t mean it to sound like it did. I just..” He nervously chuckled once more, suddenly feeling so boyish, which was humorous considering he was a KNIGHT. “There is something about you, the way you carry yourself. You stand out from the rest here. It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Caradoc.”
Travelling could be unkind to a woman of any means, but the small inheritance Francesca had been left behind by her late husband had certainly facilitated adequate arrangements. Determined not to regimen her talents to Calx alone, she was only too pleased to find herself among a hearty mix of kingdoms, where she might further explore her well-meaning attempts to take care of the sicker members of Tellus’ society.
After her arrival to the city, Francesca had settled herself into a routine. Around lunch time everyday, she set out to pick up supplies from the various shops and stalls before returning to her work. Most of the ventures were uneventful, but news had gotten out that she was from Calx ( not that it had ever been a secret ) and she had noticed a certain shift in ever treatment among those who had made their way from Imber ever since.
”I did not--” She began defiantly, certain the knight meant to hassle her for some sort of indiscretion she had not committed, before stopping her speech entirely. It was not often that she encountered a comely knight -- many of the ones back home looked like meters of bad road from the combat they’d seen. At least the ones that had visited her late husband’s keep ( she sometimes wondered if he turned the loveliest of them away, ashamed still of his own impotence ). “I am afraid it is no longer missus.“ Francesca spoke softly, deliberately before letting her gaze fall to the handkerchief in his hands. “Oh!” Startled surprise knitted her brows together. Embroidered with a cursive. ‘D. C.’ were the initials of her father. A gentle hand reached for it, and she offered a warm smile for the first time. “I cannot thank you enough.” she spoke before adding quickly, scanning their surroundings for voyeurs or gossips. “I’m sorry. I have not had the warmest of welcomes among your countrymen, as you might imagine.”
Surely there was an instinctual air about a Knight -- they were meant to be strong, distant and emotionless. Those were all things that Caradoc could be when he needed to but there were moments, like this, where he often felt as if he was living two personalities in one body. Part of Caradoc was that cold and harsh warrior he needed to be for his kingdom; after all the years of suffering and training, he wasn’t as passionate about anything as much as he was about being a warrior. But, on the other hand, Caradoc had been born a simple baker’s boy who was sweet and non-violent and there were moments where he questioned whether he could be both.
However, standing before her, he felt the latter. He could be dressed in garb or stand with importance but there was a softness there, even with her initial defensiveness. Not that he could blame her; in a new environment and in their heated climate, it was instinctual to protect yourself.
He nodded apologetically, eyes gazing downward briefly before returning them to her view. “My apologies.” He wondered if he was involved with the infection breakout, having lost his father the very same way. At the mention of his fellow house members, he nodded slowly, feeling a certain guilt for her experiences. “If I could apologize for the entirety of them all, I would. No...lovely lady such as yourself deserves such treatment.” He bowed to her slightly, a small and soft smile reaching to his lips. “I do hope I can prove that not all of us are as awful as we may seem. Maybe it is the cold that gets to us.” It’s an attempted joke, and he finds himself glancing around as villagers moved around them. “May I ask your name? I feel as though..well, can I be honest? I have seen you around the village before today.“
Going towards town center, it didn’t take long for him to spot HER. Flowing brown hair and eyes so beautiful that he wasn’t sure he’d seen anything more PURE or GOOD, this was only his third or fourth time happening upon her. Why was he so taken? Was this what they meant of ‘love at first sight?’. He hated himself, knowing the house that she came from is the same he had been programmed to hate with every fiber of his being. Even so..
Still, there was no talking to her. He can get away with just admiring, right? There was no harm in that..
However, his mind couldn’t catch up when he saw her drop something and he practically ran to pick it up. Weaving through the crowds, it seemed his rule on not talking to her was already out the window. “Missus..” Was she married? He wasn’t sure he’d be prepared for that answer. “I think you dropped this...” He passed her the item, eyes dancing over her features as an instinctive grin spread over his features.
@bencficent
hell’s event 002 ; "The land of tellus”
Basics: -name: Caradoc Irving -age: twenty-seven -alliance: House of Imber -job: knight for house Imber -fc: Sean Teale
I looked at her as a friend, until I realized that I have fallen in love with her.
If I told you the whole truth…
@bencficent
Having just slipped off her worn, blue scrub jacket–leaving it haphazardly across the nurse’s station desk–Fiona had just sat down to prepare for a bland lunch of scavenged oatmeal and dried blueberries from the summer’s haul. Lunches were taken where they could be had, just as they’d been so many years ago, but gone were the days of food cart thai take-out on south waterfront. Never in her life had she wished she could cook more than her father’s fare, which had almost exclusively consisted of a hamburger patty paired with a baked potato and any combination of canned green beans, pork ‘n beans, or any other vegetable which was handy at the time. Oh, how they’d loved takeout.
The sound of footsteps down the hall did not give her cause for alarm, despite their rapid pace. It was Callum’s head peering through and the strained tone in his voice that set off sirens in her mind. At his question, she stood suddenly, bumping the table and clattering the porcelain bowl and spoon together such that it sent a din through the quiet area. “He’s–he’s not with you?” She asked, instinctively looking around for him at her side, a quick hand steadying the bowl to quiet the noise–any additional tension sent chills down her spine. Already, her hands were clammy. “Or with the kids downstairs?” Already, she was tearing across the room to him, scrub jacket left on the table and her large, warmer bomber in hand. “H–he didn’t get up with me this morning. I thought he’d be with you or–are you sure he isn’t making his rounds?” The devastation threatening in her voice for outweighed her desperation for a logic that came out in the words she chose.
Truthfully, he really had expected Robo to be with her. Never had Robo escaped or gotten out and it was rarely something they feared about given their own attention and everyone else’s. Robo missing was so clearly obvious but it still didn’t feel like a possibility. How many years were they living in this world and just NOW this was happening to them? He could feel his heart sink at the way her eyes widened and her stance went into panic mode, his own following suit. Shit, shit, shit FUCK -- it was the only thoughts that could circle his brain now. He had to have gotten out, especially now that Callum had checked the entirety of camp. As she grabbed her jacket, he knew that he needed to leave camp and he also knew that Fiona would demand to go with him, not that he blamed her. There was no way she‘d sit idly by while Callum went to go find him, although he wished he could gone on his own. “No, I checked with everyone. He was gone by the time I got up.” His words rushed, he took a sturdy breath, now opening the door to the medical room.
He began down the hall, stopping at the armory to grab a pistol for Fi and then moved down the stairs towards the main center, rushing towards the person on patrol. “Robo is missing. Have someone on the roof look out for him and if he comes back and turns up, I’ll have my radio on the normal station.“ Throwing his jacket over his shoulders, he waited for them to open the front doors before he turned to her. “He always likes the park right ahead. We’ll make a big circle and see if he’s in his favorite spots. We are gonna find him, okay?” Callum was scared, there was no doubt, but he refused to let Fiona know his doubts, mustering as much confidence as he could find in himself.
have you ever felt a l o n e in a sea of people
“No, I… I just came from inside the … medical centre.” She answered him, gesturing with her chin to the building at their side. It struck her then, how different she might have looked from before she’d arrived here. Less bloodied, less smeared with ash. Then she thought about how different she must have looked from before her world crumbled. Less softened, less painted with foolish optimism. With some effort, she put the notion away.
While she didn’t make a conscious note of it, part of her saw the shift in his demeanour. She would mirror it without meaning to. Her shoulders fell. Her careful gaze wandered.
“Uhm… I’m Rose.” She introduced, and could offer a sweet, if flat smile. “I was looking for…” She didn’t know, in truth. “Fresh air. Do you need help?”
He offered a smile, nodding. “Hope they were nice to you in there. That’s my camp.” Although he was sure she would have figured that out by now; he was a real idiot sometimes. He wondered if the girl had a camp or had people looking out for her, considering how small and young she was. He nodded, another smile lifting to his lips. “Nice to meet you Rose, I’m Callum.” He glanced over at the dirt piles and shrugged lazily, a small chuckle sounding from the pit of his belly. “No, don’t worry about it. I’m almost done anyway and could use a breather. Do you live in one of the other camps?”
She froze at the sight of that knife, eyes wide and hands lifted palms up, as her heart hammered within her throat. “I’m sorry,” she managed to murmur, wetting her lips as she gave him an anxious smile. She didn’t recognize him—did not know him, and so she understood the wariness. The need to be on guard. Yet still, this new world’s need for violence—that hyper-focus taking the pasts wars and aggression into greater heights still managed to turn her stomach. To bring a paleness to her cheeks. “Just here—” she thought of shifting then, of reaching of her bag but then quickly thought better of it, “I’m here to help? To bring some supplies that the traders missed…I didn’t mean to startle you…”
He hated himself right now, watching the fear in her eyes and the lifted hands in mock surrender. Callum wasn’t aggressive or dangerous but after wielding a knife, how was this woman to know that? He always felt so horrible when he came face-to-face with females, seeing the way their eyes bulge in hope that he wasn’t some awful, horrible monster who threatened to hurt them. He hated that the world came to be like this and, yet, there wasn’t much he could do stop it. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, putting the knife back in his waist belt. “Just been a long day.” He offers her a smile, hoping it’d at least help with some of the nerves she had after his initial reaction.
ashley had seen the figure digging for so long, that it had almost become ridiculous. in this HEAT, especially. whilst she wasn’t much of a digger, or could physically exert herself in any way, really... there were a few things she could help with. as the male spoke up, just as ashley neared him, she felt herself blush- as if CAUGHT OUT. “oh, no. no, thank you.” she hesitated, before holding out a water bottle as an offer to him. tucked under her other arm was a shovel. ashley was a lot of things, but a QUITTER wasn’t one of them. and if people needed help... then she’d do anything, anytime, to ensure they got it. “just thought you might need a break. or a h a n d . two people’s gotta be faster then one, right?”
Maybe he was a pessimistic, he wasn’t quite sure, but Callum was always surprised by GOOD people. It was such a rarity for people to care, to lend a helping hand, unless it benefited them in some way. And maybe the girl would ask for favors later, who knew, but her smile and tone seemed genuine and that was fine enough for Cal. He might have thought ill of people but it also didn’t take much for Callum to change his mind about a person when they were, simply, nice. “That’s..really nice you. Thank you.” His tone was genuine, gracious, and he took the water bottle from her and took large sips as he took a moment to rest. “There isn’t much left, really. But if you want, there’s just that pile right over there -” he pointed, only just a mere two feet from where she stood, “that I wanna throw in this wheelbarrow.” He offered a smile, sticking the water bottle in his back jean pocket. “I’m Callum.”
Despite his short time here, Ross had managed to forge a few connections at the camp. The one before him was quite an interesting one that he hadn’t gotten the chance to really know. Ross had a habit of prying a bit too far but he couldn’t satiate his curiosity and people usually enjoyed a trustworthy outlet. In due time.
“I hate to be the devil’s advocate here so I won’t admit that I agree with Fiona.” He mused, a smirk on his lips. “I also won’t mention that rest is important and without it you won’t be able to keep up this macho facade for long. I won’t say that.” He smiled at the end in a sarcastic way, with one corner slipping just barely higher than the other.
“Do you have an extra shovel or do you expect me to just stand around out here? “He smirked before continuing. “Actually, give me yours and sit down. Fiona might kill me if she knew I let you continue working.” He reached out for the tool, scarcely giving Callum another choice.
It was always interesting, seeing the reactions from those around him and wondering what they thought of who he was as both person and as camp mate. God, if they only knew the horrors he had faced and caused when he was younger. So many years spent hating himself, hating where he came from and that hatred drove him to numb himself with anything he could get his hands on. He had done awful, stupid things that Callum wasn't sure he’d ever forgive himself for. He was a different person now but that didn’t mean all his insecurities had left him. However, Fiona and his new sense of purpose helped cushion it all and helped his heart heal in ways it never had before.
So when people like Vanessa, Ross and even newcomer Lucia seemed to think he was GOOD and genuine and, god forbid he say it, NORMAL, it was still an adjustment. It was still hard to swallow that he WASN’T that monster anymore nor would he ever let himself be again. “Macho?” Callum got a good chuckle out of that. “Don’t think anyone would think of me as macho. But I’ll take it, why not?” He smirked, his own smile mirroring that of Ross’.
“You wouldn’t be wrong.” Callum chuckled again, knowing full well how both Fiona and himself thought the other worked too hard. Fiona worked long hours in high intensity situations and he was often forcing her to take breaks. Fiona was probably the most known healer in all of Cheyenne - even the leader of the Capitol wanted her - and he figured that might be more of a reason for her passionate drive to do as much as she could. He was sure she felt the same about Callum; he refused to come back empty-handed. “Don’t worry about it, man. Could use a break anyway. How’s it going inside?”