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breeofbree · 11 months

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You’re in my spot

Shikamaru x reader

Summary: reader finds someone in their favorite napping spot (Shikamaru fanfic because he’s one of my favorites? Yes please)

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself, I’m trying to nap here.” Shikamaru grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“You’re in my spot.” The stranger huffs, kicking the outer part of Shikamaru’s leg.

“Get lost, I was here first.” Shikamaru yawns.

“And you’re on my property.” The stranger giggles,” but if you’re insistent, at least scoot over.”

Shikamaru cracks an eyelid open, he didn’t notice he had walked off his own property but the girl was right. The Nara compound was almost half a mile away. He stretches and gets up to move as she pipes up,” you don’t have to leave. Just don’t disturb the wildlife.”

“Forget it.” Shikamaru huffs, starting to walk off and down to the road. She only shrugs before laying down in the ghostly warm spot that Shikamaru had given up.

“What a drag, to think I’d get some peace and quiet.” He mumbles.

“You’re telling me, it’s not everyday you find someone already napping where you wanted to. I offered to share, but your loss.” She calls out to him. Shikamaru stops in his tracks, turning back to the spot he was at,” you don’t snore do you?”

“How should I know? I can’t exactly watch myself when I sleep. Are you going to keep asking bothersome questions or are you going to lay down?” She grumbles back to him.

“I guess. Not like I have anywhere else to go.” Shikamaru rolls his eyes, plopping down in the plush moss. That was what made the spot perfect. This whole area was moss instead of prickly grass, it was almost a phenomenon compared to the dirt and grassy fields on the Nara compound, even the rest of the leaf village. The two spent hours in silence, napping on and off. Thankfully, she didn’t snore. But, the two were still complete strangers. She finally sits up and stretches out as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

“Great, I have to head home for dinner. You should probably go too, the bears are nocturnal.” The strange girl throws out over her shoulder.

“Bears?” Shikamaru asks.

“You are on Kuma compound land. Bears are pretty common here since we… work with them.” The sigh she lets off makes it seem like it’s a known fact.

“You’re an animal handler, Like the Inuzukas.” Shikamaru questions, finally intrigued.

“You’re half right. We can’t train bears like dogs, that’s just cruel. We have a contract with them. We offer them solace and safety on our land and in turn we inherit bear like qualities and can summon them in battle. It’s not that hard to grasp. What’s your name anyway?” She rambles on, deciding it was her turn to get a question in.

“Shikamaru.”

“Y/N. Now get off my property, I want to go eat.” Y/N smirks, showing it was at least half banter.

Y/N knew he was a Nara, she wasn’t stupid. It just threw her off with always being told the Nara’s had a genius kid, when the one she met seemed like a dunce. Maybe he had an older brother. As she watches his figure grow smaller Y/N decides to shout out,” you’re more than welcome to come back in daylight, just don’t show up after dark and don’t take my spot.”

The next day, he was there in the same spot. Only this time he had a basket full of random things.

“My dad made me bring this, just some useless stuff.” Shikamaru huffs, stretching his hand out to give her the basket. She looks down noticing berries and dried meat, as well as a few jars of what seemed to be ointments or some medical remedies.

“That’s crazy, my mom made me bring a basket to give to you instead of saying I had tell you to get the hell off the property.” Y/N chuckles, remembering how her mom was excited to hear a Nara had graced the compounds presence. The crazy woman filled the basket with acorns and apples as well as some preserved fruits and jellies she made. Then lastly a fancy scroll offering the Nara family to dinner and explaining the acorns and apples were for the deer. The two exchanged baskets, looking confused.

“I guess, do you want to feed a bear?” Y/N pipes up, reaching at the hide necklace around her neck and blowing at the trinket attached to make a sound. Three bears soon come lazily trudging from the tree line, already sniffing at the basket. Shikamaru could see the resemblance in laziness, maybe he should work with bears. Napping all day and eating whenever seemed like the perfect dream. One bear nudges him forward and crashing in towards Y/N, sending them both plummeting to the ground.

“Gure, stop pushing.” Y/N groans from underneath Shikamaru who winces himself.

“Your face is pink.” She points out, reaching a hand up to poke at Shikamaru’s cheek, causing his eyebrow to twitch and face flush hotter.

“That happens when all the blood rushes to my head, damnit.” Shikamaru quickly defends, rolling off to hide his face from reddening anymore.

“Anyways these are the triplets, Gure, Kuro, and Chairo. We work together.” Y/N explains nonchalantly while dropping a handful of berries in Shikamaru’s hand.

“You say that like you work an office job with them. It’s cool I guess.” Shikamaru yawns out while Kuro nuzzles in to him, knocking the poor guy down again before robbing the berries from his hand.

“You get used to that.” Y/N laughs laying down next to him and giving in to the pile of lazy bears for a mid morning nap.

“Well, You all look like you got in to some fermented fruit. And Y/N, what did I tell you about napping?” Y/N’s mom comes down the clearing laughing at the sight.

“I’m an adult now, and I don’t have another mission for three days. I can afford a nap.” Y/N reluctantly grumbles before getting knocked upside the head by the back of her mothers hand.

“If you’re an adult why don’t you find love and move out already?” Her mom recoils quickly back as Shikamaru rises from under Kuros giant paw. She blushes slightly,”I didn’t realize that’s what you were working on out here.”

Both Y/N and Shikamaru have to pick their jaws up from the forest floor from the off guard comment.

“Mom, disgusting. Take this basket and get out of here!” Y/N pushes the basket from the Nara’s to her mother and groans in embarrassment.

“Oh my, how thoughtful! A basket from the Nara clan. I can’t wait to rub this in Tsume’s face.” The older lady tilts her head back in laughter at the thought of the slim possibility seeing her favorite rival becoming jealous. It was common to have dinner with the Inuzuka’s, listening to the two mothers argue and try anything in their will to get any of the siblings together so the clans could finally unite. Kiba unfortunately was too much of a brotherly figure to Y/N, and Hana didn’t care much for Y/N’s brothers. Regardless, they still attempted. And it was annoying.

“I would apologize for her, but she’s not my responsibility.” Y/N mutters quietly to Shikamaru while standing and brushing off the stray pieces of moss from her hair. Shikamaru only shrugs, then crawls his way out of the mess of the still sleeping bears.

“Wait until you meet my mom, this is nothing.” Shikamaru groans as he gathers the basket to take home. Before leaving, he picks one last piece of moss from Y/N’s hair, letting his hand hover by the side of her face for maybe a moment too long as they both look at each other, refusing to blink.

The following days, it was the same routine.

Wake up, nap in the field, tend to the bear’s, eat dinner, train at dark, go to bed. Y/N couldn’t complain, but dinner with the Nara family before leaving on a mission loomed over her.

“This blows, why are we having dinner right before I leave?” Y/N groans, grabbing plates to set the table.

“It’s not like it’s any different than when we have dinner with the Inuzuka’s before a mission Y/N. You act like you actually like the boy.” She chuckles, grabbing the nice silverware. Y/N’s cheeks flush red as she becomes flustered,” stop trying to marry me off, you’re being nice to someone who trespassed on our property.”

“You remind me so much of your father.” Her mother groans, looking at the picture on the living room wall boasting a tall man sprawled over the same couch that still sits with four kids on top of him as he takes a nap without a care in the world,” lazy at home. Hated settling down. Always complaining… but still a stand up shinobi of the leaf.”

She pats Y/N’s head, messing up her freshly washed hair as the doorbell rings. Her eyes light up in realization as she whispers,” you even showered and put makeup on!”

Y/N groans as she opens the door, revealing Shikamaru and his own family. Shikamaru had even cleaned up a bit, tossing away his usual shirt for a dressier black one.

“These are for your family.” Shikaku grumbles out from behind, extended a bouquet of wildflowers as the two younger adults sigh.

“Charming… mom these are for you.” Y/N groans, passing the flowers to her excited mom,” go get your brothers it’s time to eat!”

“Hey, get down here and get some food before I possibly die on my mission.” She screams from the bottom of the stairs, unleashing three grown men tumbling down in a frenzy, only halting at the realization they have guests.

“Kyokuchi, Kawa, Mori, these are the Nara’s. Try to chew with your mouth closed, these people aren’t the Inuzuka’s”

“Figured that much out when ma busted out the fine china. These those fancy shadow people she always rambles about and your new boyfriend?” Mori chuckles out. Kawa is quick to slap him upside the head,” she’s an adult it’s called a potential suitor at this age, Mori. Can’t wait till you catch slack for bringing a girl home and Y/N gets to be an absolute asshole to you.”

“Language!” Their mom calls out in unison with the level headed of the triplets, Kyokuchi.

“Don’t chastise them on our account, swearing is shown to be beneficial in the traumatic life of a shinobi.” Shikaku sighs out, sitting at the table and unceremoniously taking his ratted deer skin shawl off to reveal a nice button down shirt.

“And you must be Yoshino. I’m Kuroi Kuma. It’s an honor for you to have dinner with us!” Y/N’s mom gushes, leading Yoshino to a chair before setting food on the table. The three brothers slide in next to each other leaving to seats next to each other for Shikamaru and Y/N. Shikaku glares at Shikamaru’s hand on the back of the seat before meeting his eyes,” such a gentleman I raised.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Shikamaru drones, pulling the chair out and motioning with his other hand towards a confused Y/N,” uhm, thanks?”

They awkwardly sit, blushing in the silence of everyone eating, save for the three rambunctious brothers gnawing loudly on their food. It was so quiet, it almost drove Y/N crazy listening to the old clock tick away,” I’m going to go eat on the back porch, it’s pretty stuffy in here.”

“Y/N, we have guests. Why don’t you tell us a little about your mission tonight?” Kuroi seethes out, motioning a threatening finger downwards. Y/N drops her plate back down and begrudgingly slams back in to her chair,” it’s a lousy mission. We’re just being sent as support to help track a rouge that’s trying to reinstate the Akatsuki.”

“That’s some dangerous stuff. Good thing Shikamaru is going as well.” Shikaku chuckles out with a sideways smile, egging on the mass humiliation of the two.

“It’s a drag is what it is. Some idiot thinks anyone other than Naruto is strong enough to reinstate an organization that leveled villages. No one is strong enough in these days.” Shikamaru groans, shoveling a spoonful of food in his mouth and talking.

“We said the same during previous wars. Someone in the academy will be stronger than you all one day. Surpass you with flying colors even. New Jutsus are invented everyday, Shikamaru. I figured you were smart enough to put that together.” Shikaku shoots back.

“It is pretty stuffy in here, I think I’ll join Y/N outside where there isn’t any nagging.” Shikamaru says in finality. He looks over to Y/N, waiting to be ushered to the porch. Her realization sets in, quickly jumping to the door with her plate as her mother calls out,” don’t forget to bring your plates in!”

“I’m sorry about them.” They both say as the door shuts.

“No I-“

“Oh sorry you g-“

“Ah, damnit.” Y/N mutters out as they both stumble over each others words.

“I guess it’s a universal parent thing to embarrass us.” Shikamaru finally smiles, taking a stewed miniature potato between his teeth as they sit across each other on the porch. Y/N smiles back, continuing to eat as they turn their attention to the moss covered land that stretches on. She can’t help but laugh,” I think it’s stupid really.”

“What is?” Shikamaru asks in confusion.

“Can I be honest for a minute? My mom thinks she can rope me in to these dinners to set me up with a man or try to tie in to another family. I think love is stupid. Why should I have to depend on another person?” She babbles out, dropping her fork and lounging on her forearms to soak in the high sun.

“Tell me about it. Look how vulnerable it’s made my parents. My dad would die for the woman without blinking an eye.” Shikamaru sighs, following suit in the same position as Y/N.

She lays fully back, smacking her head lightly against the rough wood beneath them,” at least someone finally gets it. Now convince my mother.”

Shikamaru lays on his side to look at her,” only if you convince mine first.”

They both laugh, and Shikamaru watched as she bared sharp canine teeth, how the sun bounced off her eyelashes and down to her irises. How her hair glistened. He became silent, realizing what his mind had just processed, she was a decent looking woman. They could have two kids, first a girl. Than a boy. He’d retire after their daughter was married and their son successful, and spend the rest of his days playing shogi or go before dying of old age before her. He quickly sits up, snatching his plate,” I’m going to go take care of this. I’ll take yours too.”

“Good luck, my moms going to pressure you in to a slice of her triple berry pie and talk your ear off for half an hour.” She fires back, curling in on herself to try for a quick nap. Shikamaru smiles, slipping back inside, and immediately bombarded by the two mothers,” I seen the spark Kuroi.”

“I seen it, I seen it Yoshino!” Kuroi fans out as they clutch each others hands, already showing a close bond.

“You two stop staring at them through the door like it’s a soap opera and leave them be.” Shikaku grumbles from the table, slicing a piece of pie before continuing,” now go share a slice of pie with her and get out of here before they start rattling off baby names.”

“You’re feeding in to this nonsense too?” Shikamaru asks defeatedly, grabbing the single slice of pie. Shikaku only smirks,” I’m thinking Shikainu.”

Shikamaru scoffs, leaving the possibly intoxicated parents, and quickly handing Y/N the slice of pie,” here. You can have it.”

“You should try a bite first if you aren’t having a slice to yourself. It is pretty good.” She confusedly suggests, sliding the plate back to him. He slides it back, causing a chess match with the small plate of pie before Y/N forcefully grabs the fork and his shirt collar,” one bite damnit!”

His mouth clamps against the fork harshly, quickly becoming intoxicated with the sweet taste against his mouth and the questionable sensation of her forcefully feeding him. His face once again reddens before turning away,” it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re allergic to berries, your face is going red again.” She says dumbfounded.

“It’s not the damn berries. It’s just hot out here.” He defends trying his best to look away.

“…you’re blushing?” She asks, sitting against her knees in front of him,” you fell in to their trap!”

“You just looked kind of pretty, I’m not in love with your or anything so calm down.” He quickly utters out, glancing quickly at her own blushing face.

“Why are you blushing? Did you fall in to their trap?” He shoots back, smirking at the small win. She turns away, trying to cross her arms but falls quickly over on top of him. She gasps at the closeness before scrambling backwards,” absolutely not! Are you crazy?”

“You’re the one throwing yourself at me, Y/N. And you said love was stupid.” He eggs her on, somewhat enjoying he caught her unable to hide her feelings as he keeps hold of her arms to prevent her from climbing away.

“It was-is! Let go of me before our parents get the wrong idea, damnit!” Y/N yells out, tugging against his grip. Shikamaru bravely leans closer,” or we could get them off our backs and pretend.”

“Pretend? How do you pretend to love someone?” Y/N shrieks out in a whisper, finally meeting his gaze and realizing how close he had leaned in,” like this.”

Shikamaru leans in, connecting their lips for a brief moment before mumbling against hers,” you don’t have to like it. But this should get them off our backs. They were starting to discuss baby names in there and I like my freedo-“

He’s cut off by Y/N reconnecting their lips and her hands sliding down to grasp his.

“At least make it convincing since this was your bright idea.” She grumbles between his lips. He kisses back, not for show, but for his own guilty pleasure. It felt kind of nice. Plus the scene of future memories flashes across his mind every time her lips touched his. A life he wanted, a life he maybe even craved. She pulls away,” we can stop now, they walked away from the door.”

“Or we could keep doing this.” He offers coyly, smirking dumbly towards her.

“You’re losing oxygen and brain cells.” She scoffs, placing another quick kiss against his lips regardless.

“You aren’t saying no.” Shikamaru points out.

“Love is stupid because it makes you stupid. But I guess if I have to go stupid for anyone… I could always settle with you.” She fires back, laying fully down against his side as he huffs a silent laugh,” I’m not dying for you though.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, but we should get ready for our mission.” Y/N croaks out between a yawn.

“What a drag. I forgot all about it.” He sighs.

“I told you, you lost too much oxygen.” She giggles back.

“Give me some motivation and I’ll make sure you live through this mission.” He smugly offers. She punches his shoulder,” not killing you should be motivation enough.”

He looks down to her toothy smile and threatening eyes in horror,” you got me there.”

She wraps an arm around his neck, placing one last kiss on his lips and sighing,” but that’s for making sure I live.”

“And one more to make sure you don’t get hurt?”

“Don’t push your luck, I can handle getting hurt.”

“Got it, I’ll see you in an hour.”

The Nara’s favored stronger women. Ones that could defend themselves. Ones that could become leaders on their own. And Shikamaru fell in to the fickle trap clueless men before him called love. It was a drag, but less of a drag than facing future events alone. Maybe it wasn’t such a drag after all…

#shikamaru imagine #shikamaru fanfiction #shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara #shikamaru imagines #naruto fanfiction #nara shikamaru #shikamaru is a lazy king

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celamoon · 1 year

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i would like a large soy candle with lemon scent please<3 ily cressie

"Ko?"

"Yeah?" Komaeda tilts his head, basket in hand, as you throw the blanket out.

"You locked the car, right?"

"Yeah." He nods. "Promise."

He helps you hit pin the blanket down, and the two of you sit in the field as Komaeda unpacks the basket.

You kick your legs as he places everything down, the sandwiches, chips, snacks. Komaeda opens his own food, digging in as you open your bento.

"Itadakimasu!" The two of you grin as you dig in.

Komaeda prefers sandwiches. He likes lighter foods, you find. You made most of them light on the palate just for him. You wouldn't want him to have a bad time. You pull a parfait from the bottom of the basket, popping the lid off.

"Did you make everything?"

"Mhm," You press the spoon to your lips, a grin on your face. "You don't like sweets."

"Yeah."

"Which is why everything is so light."

"Ah." Komaeda pauses. "Just for me?"

"Just for you," You grin.

Komaeda flushes, eating his sandwich again, head spinning. How lucky was he... surely a natural disaster would strike next. Almost as if it were planned, a girl's ice cream flies across the field, making way for Komaeda's face. You pull out an umbrella almost out of nowhere, and you block it before it can hit him, reaching behind him with the umbrella, chest in his face.

"Th-thank you," Komaeda laughs, and you grin at him, caging him in, the ice cream melting down.

"I'm sorry!" The father rushes up. "She tripped while getting ice cream. You two are alright, right?"

"Yes," You grin, putting the umbrella to the side to dry. "Don't worry about it. We're kind of used to it."

Komaeda puts his bento to the side, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his chest, his back hitting the grass. He lets out a little 'oof' as you land in his chest, and you roll to the side, staring up at the sun.

"This is terrible for our eyes."

"I know."

You yawn, blinking at the sky before sitting up to continue eating your parfait. Komaeda opens his mouth for a bite, and you feed him.

"Ko, oh Ko..." You mumble.

"Yeah?"

"I'm so in love with you..." You mumble, blinking at him slowly. "I'm in love with you."

"Please," Komaeda whines, rolling to the side, hiding his face.

You giggle. "Embarrassed?"

Komaeda sits up, putting his bento back on his lap, picking up his chopsticks again. "Yeah."

You finish the parfait, closing the lid, and digging through the picnic basket for something else.

"Did we forget something?"

"No," You mumble. "I realized you didn't put sunscreen on."

"Right.. I forgot," Komaeda laughs awkwardly. "Am I turning red?"

"I'm just worried," You pull out the bar, reaching to straddle him, popping the lid off the bar, hand pressed to his cheek to hold his face in place. Komaeda closes his eyes as you do, putting his bento to the side while humming quietly as you even out the sunscreen.

"arms."

Komaeda stretches out an arm for you.

"Pretty, pretty," You mumble. "So pretty."

Komaeda flushes as you press kisses before you run the stick up his body. He's not used to it. You do it every time, almost as if you were ignoring the stares from everyone else, spoiling him in your own little world. He doesn't deserve it, he doesn't think, but who is he to turn you down? You just love him so much.

You finish with the sunscreen, a grin on your face. "Now you're safe."

"Thank you, angel," Komaeda presses a kiss to your cheek, lips barely grazing it.

"Mhm," You grin. "How's the food?"

"Delicious." Komaeda grins. "The bento is great so far."

"That's good!" You peel open a sandwich, going back to eating as Komaeda stares up at the clouds.

"That one looks like Monokuma."

"Don't remind me of Junko's bear," You frown. "That one looks like Usami."

"That one looks like Cham-p."

"I'm willing to bet that one looks like a guitar."

"That one looks like Sonia."

"Oooh, so true," You mumble, sandwich in hand. "That one looks like Gundham's dog."

"Yeah..." Komaeda mumbles, going back to his bento and taking moments to stare up at the clouds you were looking at. "I wonder if my blue is the same blue as yours."

"Even if it isn't, isn't it lovely that we still love the same colors?" You grin. "And we love the same people."

"Yes," Komaeda grins at you. "It's beautiful."

"Of course it is." You match his grin, sun shining behind you. "Because it's with you."

"Mhm."

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #ty for the request nonnie!!!#☾.events

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rippleclan · 6 months

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RippleClan: Moon 1, Part 2

Downstar receives a dream from StarClan, much to Fennelspot’s envy.

[Image ID: Fennelspot and Downstar face each other. Downstar is surrounded by a few renders of pink flowers. Underneath her, pixel text reads + GUIDANCE FROM STARCLAN: THE FLOWER FIELD (DREAM)]

“I swear by StarClan, if Weedfoot didn’t ask me to take him in, I would have let him rot outside the Clans,” Downstar grumbled later that day as she trudged through the trees beyond RippleClan camp with Fennelspot at her side. The ginger cleric had a basket woven from grass twine in his jaws slowly filling with blueberries. He silently listened to Downstar as she carefully shuffled through a blueberry bush in the forests RippleClan carved out for their territory.

“AshClan should have let him stay,” Fennelspot said, his nasally voice muffled by the basket handle.

“It was hard enough to talk to Weedfoot when she lived there,” Downstar sighed. “I’m just glad she’s with us now. That we’re all together. Even if Puddlespeckle and Carnationkit are getting on my nerves.” Downstar spotted a few more blueberries deeper in the bush, hidden by afternoon shadow. She plucked each blueberry out with her mouth, careful not to pop the precious fruits. She dropped them in Fennelspot’s basket one by one. She snatched the last blueberry and dramatically chewed it up. She purred at the sudden sweetness.

“Lucky,” Fennelspot sighed. “I wish I could taste sweet things.”

“I think that’s all of the berries,” Downstar said. “Wanna head back to camp?” Fennelspot hummed in agreement.

The pair were still learning the territory, like everyone else in their haphazard Clan. They carved some of their eastern lands out of SlugClan and bordered WheatClan, but as they got further west, the more foreign the land became. Why SlugClan hadn’t expanded their land this way before, Downstar couldn’t guess.

“Fennelspot?” she asked softly. “I don’t think my mood today is just because of Puddlespeckle. I… I think I had a dream. From StarClan.” Fennelspot paused. “That’s common for leaders, isn’t it? StarClan likes to share stuff with us on occasion, rather than going to you clerics. It wasn’t a bad dream, either. I don’t think we have anything to fear. But it was so clear, Fennelspot.” Downstar pranced in front of Fennelspot.

“I really was in a field of flowers,” she purred. “I could smell them! I couldn’t tell what sort they were, but they were soft and red and beautiful! Oh, but that isn’t the best part, Fennel! There were these dogs, and for a moment, I thought they would eat me alive! But they got one paw deep into the flower field, and the flowers rose up and started hitting them! The flowers were protecting…” Downstar’s words died when she saw the look in Fennelspot’s eyes. He couldn’t meet Downstar’s.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fennelspot groaned, setting down the blueberry basket. “I’m glad StarClan spoke to you, if the dream felt that real, they’re likely saying something, but… Downstar, I haven’t heard anything from our ancestors since… since we formed RippleClan.”

Neither said a thing for a while. Gray squirrels, those parasites among squirrels, chittered somewhere in the trees overhead. Fennelspot wrapped his tail around his back leg. Downstar thought things through.

“Well,” Downstar gulped, “a lot happened when we formed RippleClan. It took a lot of effort. Maybe they just don’t have anything to say right now. It was probably a normal dream.”

“Maybe,” Fennelspot muttered.

“Hey.” Downstar tucked a paw under Fennelspot’s lowered chin. “It’s alright. When StarClan wants to speak with you, they will. You won them over before, right? They probably need a break from all this.” She waved her paw around Fennelspot’s face. He chuckled and batted the paw away.

“Alright,” Fennelspot sighed. “I’ll let it go.” He picked up the blueberry basket, but his tail still hung low.

“Let’s make something with these berries tonight,” Downstar suggested. “I can mash them up and pair them with the mussels Scrubmask collected this morning.”

“That sounds nice,” Fennelspot purred. “That sounds… really nice.”

(Downstar: 60, female, adventurous, valuable insight, very clever)

(Fennelspot: 58, male, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

#rippleclan #rippleclan clangen #clangen #warrior cats #warrior cats clangen #warriors #downstar #fennelspot #rippleclan story

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lunagb · 9 months

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A Plague of Sleet and Rot (ASoIaF x The Walking Dead fanfic)

BOOK 2 - A Road of Snow and Grime

CHAPTER 5: Confession

Masterlist

Relationships: Daryl Dixon x Carol, Rick Grimes x Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes & Sophia, and basically a friendship tag with Jon Snow & Everyone else [except Shane].

Summary: A month has passed since Jon Snow awakened on a highway outside of Atlanta and joined Rick Grimes and his fellow survivors. His memories of his death have returned and our alien world is beginning to make a bit of sense. Ever since the loss of the CDC, surviving in the apocalypse has been a daily struggle. The group is on thin ice. Supplies are dwindling. Hope is fading. The dead are walking. And their only chance for life may be a run-down farm, an old man and his daughters.

Chapter Summary: Jon is left to pick up the pieces after dealing with the barn walkers.

Time Frame: Farm Arc - TV Variant Adjacent

Featured Characters: Jon Snow, Ghost, Mormont's Raven, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Sophia, Dale, Glenn Rhee, Andrea, T-Dog, Edwin Jenner, Shane Walsh, Beth Greene, Maggie Greene, Hershel Greene, Randall Culver, Original members of the Culver Family

Warnings: gore, vivid descriptions of dead bodies, child mutilation, graphic violence, death, murder, active combat, descriptions of armed warfare

[Art above is a piece by Art.of.Azrael. You can support them here: https://linktr.ee/Art.of.Azrael ]

Any notes are appreciated!

Dusk settled over the farm, all pinks and reds. Sixteen graves lined the base of the barn’s hill, fourteen filled and marked, two open and empty. Fourteen crosses marked the filled graves, casting long shadows upon the hill. Fourteen long, reaching black fingers upon a field of pink and red grass. From afar, Jon watched Dale and T-Dog lower a corpse into the fifteenth grave. Careful, as if the corpse was pottery and glass rather than flesh and bones. Once, to hear Hershel tell it, the corpse had been Alex Culver, a friend of Beth’s, always smiling, always joking. Hershel’s voice travelled with the wind, drifting across the farm.

“May you forgive whatever sins he committed through human weakness and in your goodness, grant him eternal rest.” Hershel snapped shut a little book and bowed his head.

At the foot of the grave, Beth buried her face into Maggie’s chest. Her shoulder’s heaved and shook. A great tremble shot through her, buckling her knees. Maggie took hold of her, stopping her from falling. Tearless, she watched Dale and T-Dog fill the grave, silent and still. Hershel tucked his little book away into a pocket. Embracing his daughters from behind, he held them firm against his chest.

Jon watched the burial from across the fields, sat at the long plastic table, eating the last of the canned corn. Beside him, Glenn watched Maggie comfort her sister, bouncing his knee. Andrea sat across from them, focused on nothing but her bowl of corn. Beside her, Jenner occasionally gave Jon a sour look but otherwise focused on his corn too. In the seat beside the head of the table, Lori watched Rick with a frown. They’d planned on aiding the burial, but so had Hershel. Professions of apologies had earned Dale and T-Dog a role in the burials. Rick commanded that the rest gather around the plastic table but now, he stood out in the fields. Unaided, halfway between the graves and the camp, he watched the burials. But from afar all the same

“It’s time,” he’d whispered to Jon as they’d gathered.

Daryl, Carol and Shane were hidden away. Shane had vanished inside his tent come sunrise, to hear it told, and hadn’t been seen since. Daryl and Carol had remained inside the house to watch over Sophia, who had grown too weak to risk being left alone.

“Corn!” Bloodbeak strutted up to Jon and pecked his hand. “Corn! Corn!”

“Aye. Corn.” Jon pushed the bowl to the raven.

As Bloodbeak gobbled his precious corn, Jon turned on his stool to watch the woods. Hours ago, Ghost had left to hunt. Oddly, the direwolf’s absence reassured Jon. Ever since re-uniting among the quarry hoard, Ghost had nary left his side. Occasionally he left to hunt but far less frequent than normal. Direwolves aren’t lapdogs or even pets but free spirits. To see him so close, never far from Jon’s heel made the wolf seem as queer as the world they’d found themselves in.

Reassurances had escaped Jon of late. Last night, he’d lied. Unknowingly, but a lie all the same. Taking the farm by force was no longer a simple matter. Rick had made as much clear the moment he’d chastised Jon for putting down the walkers. A glare and a few harsh words complicated everything. Apart from Lori, those who sat around the table would take the farm if need be, undoubtedly. Shane too, but Dale, and now T-Dog, would aid the Greenes. Daryl and Carol were less certain but Jon suspected they would side with the Greenes. A forceful takeover put Sophia at risk. Just as it did Carl. No matter, they had the numbers yet, Jon was under no delusions of his place in the group. They respected him, yes, even trusted him. But at the end of the day, they’d granted Rick the mantle of leader. If Rick told them to leave the farm, they would, no matter what Jon had to say. The farm was life and safety and a chance to rebuild; worth fighting for; worth killing for. He had to make Rick see that. Their old world is dead. New rules reign; rules written in blood.

Once Dale and T-Dog finished refilling the fifteenth grave, Beth planted a wooden cross at its head. The name, Alex Culver, marked the cross. Fourteen other names marked the other crosses. They spoke of friends and family. In a neat row before the sixteenth grave, the corpses of five strangers lay rotting. Dale and T-Dog seized the corpses by shoulders and ankles and then dropped them into the twelve-foot-deep grave. Beth watched on, standing on her own, back straight and stiff. For all her madness and incessant weeping, Jon could not detest the girl the way Andrea could. It took a certain courage to watch so many of those once close to you buried, in succession no less. In time, the truth would make her strong, as it had him, and the others too. Hershel opened his little book again to read a prayer for the strangers. Maggie left her sister and father. She marched across the fields. The wind carried Hershel's words after her.

“God, we thank you for the life that you give us. It is full of work and of responsibility, of sorrow and joy. Today we thank you for these strangers whom we never had the pleasure of learning their names, for what he has given and received. Help us in our mourning and teach us to live for the living in the time that is still left to us. Thank you for eternal life that can give light and joy to our days and years already here on earth. God, we thank you for your Son, Jesus Christ. Help us to see that it is he who opens the gate to the life that shall never die.”

Maggie passed Rick and took a seat at the plastic table beside Glenn. Of all the Greenes, she saw the truth, Jon knew. A thought dawned on Jon. Will she help strangers take over her family’s farm? No, quite unlikely. And would her allegiance with her family be enough to sway Glenn? The man has fallen head over heels for her, like a boy with his first woman. Glenn has sense, but a man’s cock oft persuades him to senseless acts. More and more, a takeover of the farm appeared more and more difficult, even with Rick’s support.

Andrea and Maggie shared an uneasy gaze across the table. Scorn and mistrust soured Andrea’s eyes, and Maggie hardened her own gaze in response.

“You got something to say, Andrea?” Glenn asked, breaking the table’s silence.

His words drew the attention of Lori and Jenner. Even Bloodbeak lifted his good eye from the corn to stare.

“Say!” he quorked.

“I ain’t got nothin’ to say to our gracious host. For however long that lasts.” Andrea shoved a spoonful of corn into her mouth.

Maggie’s lips twisted into a tight, thin scowl. “I’m workin’ with my dad. He’ll come around. He just needs time.”

Andrea swallowed and then scoffed. “I don’t know how things work in fantasy land, but in the real world, the one where dead people walk, time is precious. If y’all are gonna kick us out, just get it over with. Sleep’s fucking impossible while, for all I know, tonight might be my last here.”

“Andrea, cut it out,” Glenn said.

Maggie spoke over him. “I’m sure that must be really hard for you.”

Andrea slammed her palm on the table. “You ain’t got a fucking clue, do you? Fucking du-”

“Enough!” Jon cut above Andrea’s shouts with a Commander’s voice.

All eyes went to him.

“What, you on their side now? You?” Andrea asked.

“This isn’t the time for this. Both of you.”

“Seems as good a time as any other, while we’re all here.”

Jenner spoke, hushed and gurgled. “He’s right.” His eyes found Glenn’s. “It’s time for a more pressing talk.”

Glenn’s eyes widened. “That’s what he wants us here for?”

“What else?”

“The hell are you two talking about?” Andrea asked.

“You’ll see,” Jon said. “Now be quiet, and wait for Rick.”

“You’re keepin’ secrets?” Lori asked.

“Not any longer,” Jon said.

“Fuck waiting, tell us now,” Andrea said.

“I agree.” Lori stiffened in her chair. A scornful gaze flashed Rick’s way.

Jon met Lori with a hard, stern gaze. “I keep secrets when it’s asked of me.”

Lori dodged his eyes and gummed her lips.

“Is this about the virus?” Maggie asked.

Jenner gawked at Maggie, his spoon hanging limp from his grasp. While he gawked, Jon glared at Glenn, who’d paled.

“You told her?”

“I-It just kinda slipped out.”

Andrea scoffed. “Yeah, I bet it did. Jon, just tell us already. You can speak as well as Rick, why’s he gotta tell us?”

“We agreed to tell all of you, at once. And that’s what we’ll do.”

“Well, it seems-”

“We did.” Rick stood at the head of the plastic table. The setting sun draped his face in long shadows and twinkled upon the sheriff’s star pinned to his chest. “The truth about the virus needs to be told to everyone at the same time.”

Andrea wrinkled her nose and scowled, but shut her mouth all the same. Lori grasped Rick’s hand and looked up at him.

“Should we be worried?”

Rick mulled over the question for a lingering moment before sighing. “Yes.”

“Yes!” Bloodbeak cackled, his beak clattering.

“Once they’re finished with the dead, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“DEAD!” Bloodbeak shrieked. He erupted from the table, a fluttering mass of black feathers, shrieking his damnable head off. “DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!”

Rick’s eye twitched as Bloodbeak soared away towards the barn.

“Did you train him to do that?” Maggie asked.

“No.” Jon shovelled corn into his mouth.

Rick scanned the table and then frowned. “Where’s Daryl and Shane?”

“Shane’s in his tent,” Glenn said. “And Daryl’s with Sophia and Carol.”

“Go get Daryl, he needs to be here. I’ll get Shane.”

Glenn nodded and made to stand.

Jon swallowed his corn. “Daryl already knows.”

Glenn furrowed his brow. “You told him?” He glanced at Maggie.

“Aye.”

Andrea sighed and Jenner gave Jon an incredulous look.

“God…” Rick kneaded the bridge of his brow. He glanced at Maggie. “Is there anyone else who knows?”

“Only Carol,” Jon said, sharp and curt.

Rick’s face softened. “Oh… yeah, right.”

“Some fucking secret guys,” Andrea muttered, poking at her corn.

“You shouldn’t get Shane,” Jon said.

Rick wrinkled his nose. “Why? He know too?”

“No. Your face is the last he’ll want to see right now.”

“True… Fine. You get him then. Glenn, go with him.”

Glenn nodded. “Right.” He left the table.

Jon joined Glenn in making their way across the fields. Shane had set his tent up by the corner of the scrap-metal fence, nestled amongst the wheat. Its blue point poked above the golden stalks. Jon and Glenn waded through the wheat.

“Think he’ll listen?” Glenn asked.

“Not likely,” Jon said.

Glenn’s hand rested on his machete’s red handle. “So, we make him come?”

“Let’s see what kind of state he’s in first.”

“Yeah… Okay.” His hand moved away from his machete.

When they reached the tent, they found it zipped shut.

“Shane. Come out.” Jon spoke slow and clear.

No response.

“Come on, dude. It’s important,” Glenn said.

Again, no response.

Glenn whispered to Jon. “He is in there, right?”

“Shane, come out or we’ll come in.”

Jon waited for one heartbeat, and then another. When he received no response, he crouched and unzipped the tent. Inside, dusk’s pink light filtered through the tent’s blue plastic, casting all in burgundy; a bedroll, a cleaver and a bald man sat in the corner. Curled shavings littered the floor. Patchwork stubble and fresh, small cuts covered Shane’s head. His back to the light, cast in dusk’s shadow, Shane glared at Jon.

“Fuck off.”

Glenn poked his head in after Jon. “Jesus…”

“You need to come with us. Rick wants you at the table.”

Shane smirked. “Look at you two, doin’ glorious leader Rick’s biddin’ like a pair of dogs. He got a treat waitin’ for you when you get back?”

“It’s not a request,” Glenn said.

“Do I really gotta say it twice? Fuck. Off.”

“Glenn, wait outside.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.” Jon entered the tent and sat across from Shane. “Close the flap behind you.”

Glenn’s nose wrinkled. His eyes switched from Shane to Jon and then back to Shane before he clicked his tongue. “Fine.” He stepped back and zipped up the tent.

Jon slid Shane’s cleaver out of the man’s reach. “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll drag you from your tent and you’ll listen to Rick say the same thing.”

Shane folded his arms. The burgundy light warmed his scabbed and stubbled head. “Whatever. Say your piece, kid.”

“Myself, Rick, Jenner and Glenn have kept a truth from you and the rest of the group.”

Shane arched an eyebrow.

Jon continued. “Jenner revealed to us how the virus actually turns people into walkers. It isn’t the bite. The bite only kills. It’s death itself that creates walkers. We’re all already infected.”

“Okay. That all?”

Jon studied Shane’s face. Stiff, stern features spoke of a lack of shock or concern. A facade, Jon assumed at once. But on closer inspection, his eyes matched the face. The eyes always revealed the truth of a man’s intent. Even so, Jon did not trust them. Perhaps he does not understand. Or perhaps his wits have left.

“You’ve understood what I’ve said?”

“We all become walkers in the end. Got it. Get the fuck out of my tent.”

Madness then. “Not yet. One more thing.”

“Jesus,” Shane chuckled. “What are you, kid? A fuckin’ telegram? Got a little speech from Rick?”

“Don’t overstep yourself. My promise still stands. Try to take control of the group, or revenge on Rick and I’ll kill you.”

Wrinkles furrowed Shane’s brow and shaved head. His jaw clenched. “Got it.”

“Good.” Jon slid Shane’s cleaver back to him and left the tent.

Glenn awaited him outside, hand resting at his machete. “Well? He coming or not?”

“I told him.” Jon headed off into the wheat.

Glenn trailed him. “Dude… seriously. And you gave me shit for telling Maggie. That’s two now, Daryl and Shane.”

“Aye, I know, I know. But it was either that or drag him from the tent.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Glenn clicked his tongue. “How’d he take it?”

“Well. To well. I fear he’s lost his wits.”

“Probably. You see his head? Did he do that with his fucking cleaver?”

“Aye, most likely.”

“We should tell Rick.”

“There we agree.”

Back at the table, Rick met Jon and Glenn’s return with a scowl.

“Where’s Shane?” Rick asked.

“We… ” Glenn glanced at Jon. “Uh…” He rubbed the back of his head.

Jon spoke. “He refused to cooperate. We were left with two options; drag him from the tent or tell him the truth there. I told him the truth.”

“Great,” Andrea grumbled. “One more fucking person who knows.”

Rick sighed. “Fair enough. Good call. Sit down, they’re about done.”

Jon and Glenn retook their seats. At the base of the hill, Dale and T-Dog shovelled the last of the dirt into the sixteenth grave. Hershel and Beth watched side by side, holding the other’s hand.

“How’d he take it?” Rick asked.

“Well enough. Too well. He’d acted like I’d told him something trivial. I fear he’s lost his wits.” Jon said.

Glenn made eye contact with Jon as he nodded confirmation.

“He ain’t crazy, just sulkin,” Rick said.

“No, man. He shaved off all his hair, with his fucking cleaver,” Glenn said.

Rick avoided their eyes. “We’ll keep an eye on him then…”

Lori shuffled on her stool.

“So, this secret is something we can take badly then?” Andrea asked.

“I’m sorry for the waitin’,” Rick said. “Just be patient a little while longer, that’s all I ask.”

“Yeah, whatever…”

In silence, they waited. Dale and T-Dog shovelled the last of the dirt and flattened the grave with their shovels. Beth planted a wooden cross, Hershel spoke some final words, and as one they crossed the fields. They joined the table, on the opposite side to Rick. All except Hershel sat, who stood at table head, scowling.

“What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until mornin’?” He asked.

“You might want to take a seat,” Rick said.

“I’m fine where I am.”

“Alright.” Rick sighed. Head hung, he put his hands on his hips, staring at the table for a moment before addressing them all. “For the past few weeks, it’s been my decision to keep somethin’ from all of y’all. Somethin’ awful. It was my belief that it should be kept from y’all until he had a bit of stability. But now that we’ve got food, water, shelter and medicine, I believe the time has come. A few days after the CDC, Jenner told me how the virus actually turns the dead into walkers. It ain’t the bite. The bite only kills us. It’s death that turns us into walkers, bitten or not. We’re all infected. The whole world.”

Speechless, the group looked around the table at one another with wandering gazes. Hershel sat, took Beth’s hand into his and held his head with the other. Dale, sat up, head tall.

“And you know this for sure, Jenner?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jenner said

“How? What proof is there?”

Jenner wet his lips. “Washington’s CDC ran… experiments, that gave credibility to the theory. In Atlanta we… we were able to reproduce their results consistently.”

Dale’s face dropped. “Beyond a shadow of a doubt?”

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

“No. No, you can’t know for sure that we’re all infected. You had, what? A week? Maybe two to run your tests? You could have been wrong. You could have missed-”

Andrea scoffed. “You’re a scientist now?”

“Dale’s got a point,” T-Dog said, fidgeting.

Andrea scowled at Dale. “I’m sorry, do you two not remember the first few days of all this? People dropping like flies all over the world at once? Where do you think all those dead ones came from?”

Dale scowled at Andrea. “That was then. You don’t see people just up and dropping dead anymore, do you?”

“The virus mutated in order to adapt to its environment,” Jenner said. “What you’re talking about was the first wave. It spread, symptomless in order to-”

Dale snapped. “I don’t need you to tell me about the start. I was out there, watching everyone I ever cared about die, while you were holed up. Safe and sound. With food and water and hot showers.”

Jenner slammed the table. “Safe and sound?”

“That’s right!”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Stop!” Andrea shouted. She swept a glare over Jenner, Rick, Glenn and Jon. “Who gives a shit about the start? What the hell possessed you to keep this from us?”

Jon steadied his voice. “As Rick said, we believed we required stability before the truth could be revealed.”

“Only Jon and I,” Rick said. “Jenner and Glenn wanted to tell y’all earlier.”

Glenn wrung his hands. “Well, actually I changed my-”

“I don’t care,” Andrea snapped. “We should have been told, all of us, right away. I mean, shit. What would have happened if one us died out there? If one of us passed in our sleep? Got an infection, or sick or, or anything! You put us all in danger, dammit.”

“We were barely keeping it together as is,” Rick said. “To tell y’all the truth would be to take away hope.”

“No,” Lori said. “Andrea’s right, we should have been told. I mean, what is this? We’re keeping secrets now, in some secret council? This is meant to be a democracy. We make decisions as a group.”

Rick took Lori’s hands into his. “This is a democracy. Always will be.”

Lori snatched her hands back. “A democracy is by the people for the people. All the people, not just four.”

“Lori, I-”

Andrea made a sardonic chuckle. “Oh no, we’re a democracy all right. Fucking, shadow government and all.”

Jon began. “It was-”

“Don’t you dare say it was for our own good. I don’t treat you like a kid. Don’t think to treat me like one.”

“A mistake,” Jon finished.

Rick’s brow furrowed, Glenn gawked and Jenner raised an eyebrow.

Jon continued. “And we apologise. It was ill befitting of us to assume you could not handle the truth.”

For a moment, Andrea did naught but stare at him but then her scowl softened somewhat, and her head cocked. Jon concerned himself not with her reaction. Rather, he focused on Hershel, Beth, Dale and T-Dog. Beth glared at him openly across the table. Seething malice swirled dark storms in the blue pools of her eyes. Hershel gazed at nothing particular, hollowed-eyed, squeezing Beth’s hand. Denial and despair twisted and knitted Dale’s brow. T-Dog slumped in his chair, stooping his broad shoulders.

Maggie’s voice came as a surprise. “We’ll never be free of this. Will we?”

Glenn frowned and squeezed her hand. Jenner answered.

“No. Not for a while.”

“C-Couldn’t a cure be made?” Dale asked. “If you got the right equipment?”

“Yeah!” A thin, wavering grin pulled T-Dog’s lips taught. “Once we rebuild, a cure should be possible.”

“Possible. But not in our lifetime.”

“Come now.” Dale smiled. “Look around. This is the bedrock of our future. Civilisation will start a new right here.” Dale prodded the table. “Right here. We can harvest food from the fields, fortify the town, and build houses, and walls to keep out the dead. This could be a sanctuary for others, a place to kindle the embers of a new age. Who knows? Maybe in a few decades, we could have power, government, jobs and laws and, and normalcy. A cure in our lifetimes doesn’t sound too unrealistic.”

“Yeah…” A grin spread across Glenn’s face. “The town’ll have all the infrastructure we need right?”

“Yup,” T-Dog said. “And once we fortify it from the dead, we’ll be back on the path to a normal world.”

“And what happens when another group comes along and wants what we have?” Jon asked.

The smiles and grins vanished as quick as they’d come.

Dale laughed. “Why’d anyone want to do that, when they could have a place here and help rebuild the world?”

“Because in times like these, some people survive by taking what others have.”

Hershel stood. “People like you, you mean?”

“Dad!” Maggie shot to her feet.

Hershel curled his upper lip, snapped on his heels and marched off for the house.

“Don’t yell at him! Traitor!” Beth shouted. Tears welled. She scrubbed them away and took off after her father.

Maggie stormed after her but Glenn remained, shifting and fidgeting in his chair.

“What would we do if another group attacked?” He asked. “We haven’t got any defences. And even if we did, we haven’t got enough weapons to defend it.”

“We don’t fight,” Dale said. “If we offer an olive branch, any reasonable person would accept it.”

“No, they’d see it as a trick,” Jon said.

“But it isn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What then? Do we just attack anyone who comes across this place? We need people to rebuild, not more corpses.”

“Corpses is what we’ll be if we allow just anyone to join us.”

“Enough,” Rick calmly said. “Clearly, there’s a lot to unpack here. It’ll be night soon. Let’s pack in for the night and continue this in the mornin’.”

“That would be best,” Jon said.

Dale nodded. “Fine.”

T-Dog nodded too while Glenn stood, looking towards the house.

“Whatever,” Andrea muttered.

“Hold on,” Lori said.

Glenn froze. “What?”

Lori scowled at him, then Jon and Jenner, but none more so than Rick. “No more secrets. From now on, we share important information as soon as we find out about it.”

“No matter how awful it may be,” Andrea added.

“Sure,” Glenn said.

“Aye, deal,” Jon said.

“Of course,” Jenner said.

Lori arched an eyebrow at Rick.

Grunting, Rick went to one knee and squeezed Lori’s hands. “The truth, now and always.” Pain flashed across his face. His arms trembled.

Lori smiled and punched Rick’s shoulder. “Don’t do that. Get up, idiot, you ain’t recovered yet.”

***

The stench of piss and vomit burned the back of Jon’s throat. Sophia had been laid on her side. Dried vomit crusted the sheets below her mouth. A wet spot darkened the sheets beneath her groin. Her blankets lay heaped in the corner, stinking of all things vile. Her clothes topped the heap of blankets. Only her small clothes remained, darkened by grime. Flakes peeled off of dry, blotchy skin, pale like milk. Blood swelled her feet and ankles, puffing them pink and bulbous. Bald spots littered her head. Only hair thin like straw and brittle like twigs remained. Her chest puffed and fluttered as she wheezed. Empty, glazed eyes stared at the wall while she lay on her side in filth and decay.

“Fuckin’ old timer can’t let go of the past.” Sat on a stool, in the corner of Sophia’s room, Daryl whittled a stick to a point.

Hair once shiny with grease and dark with grime had been fluffed and lightened. A crude cut left tangled ropes that once hung past his ears, as a lopsided head of short, straight hair. Soap and water rid him of a perpetual stink. Instead, a sweet honey aroma fought a losing battle with the room’s stench. Even his skin looked clean. Yet, the wash did naught for the man’s sour scowl.

“Aye, seems so. T-Dog as well, I suspect.” Jon stood at the foot of the bed, back to the closed door.

“Dumbasses.”

“They ain’t dumb. Their hearts are in the right place.” Carol sat in a pink, cushioned chair by Sophia’s side.

Grease-matted hair encroached past her ears. Heavy bags hung beneath her eyes. Chipped and cracked fingernails topped every one of her fingers. She stunk as foul as the room and her daughter. The smallest, wisp of a smile lingered on her cracked lips.

Daryl glanced at her. His scowl softened to a frown. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. He tossed his pointed stick into a pile of many others and took up a fresh stick.

Carol picked at her thumbnail. “What about the Greenes? How are they after everything?”

“Just as misguided. If not worse,” Jon said. “Except Maggie. She appears to see things for what they are.”

“Don’t count on her, man. Push comes shove, family comes first. She’ll take their side.”

“What do you mean, push comes shove?” Carol asked.

“If we gotta take this place.” Daryl tossed another sharpened stick into his pile.

“Oh. Okay.”

Jon allowed himself a smile. “So you’d side with us then?”

Daryl wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, man. ‘Course we would.”

Carol gave a slow nod. “If it really came down to it. Yeah. What other choice is there?”

Thundering footsteps raged over Carol’s voice. They stormed down the hall outside. A door slammed. A second pair of footsteps stomped after them, followed by the pounding of a fist.

“Beth!” Maggie yelled.

“Go away! Traitor!”

A door handle rattled. “Open this door!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Stop acting like a fucking kid!”

“Stop acting like a psychopath!”

“Ugh!” Maggie thundered back down the hall then slammed a second door.

Sophia’s wheezing filled the silence. Daryl and Carol shared a disquieted look.

“Hershel’s not really stupid enough to try and make us leave, is he?” Carol asked.

“He strike you as smart?” Daryl asked. “Fucker housed up walkers like they were cattle or somethin’.”

“Let’s hope he finds reason,” Jon said.

Sophia’s wheezing stopped. She shifted and groaned. In a heartbeat, Carol snatched her knife from the bedside table and Daryl whipped his from his belt. Jon touched his dagger’s hilt. Tense as steel, they stared as Sophia rolled onto her back. Again, she groaned, then pissed herself. Carol sighed and put down her knife.

Daryl scowled. “Fuck’s sake. She needs new clothes and sheets. This shit’s fuckin’ undignified.”

“I’ll talk to Hershel about it. They must have other sheets,” Jon said.

Carol got up and rolled Sophia back onto her side. “That a good idea? After what you did?”

Jon’s jaw clenched. “Perhaps I should get Rick to do it…”

“That’s probably better.”

Daryl put away his knife. “The fuck we even askin’ for? Just go take-”

An engine’s roar filled the air. It peaked, assaulting Jon’s ears. Then faded off into the distance, giving way to a commotion of shouting.

“The fuck?!” Daryl rushed to the window.

Jon joined him. Outside, the others rushed across the fields and gravel to meet Rick before the porch. Off in the camp, Daryl’s bike was gone. A cloud of dust streaked down the farm’s road towards the asphalt.

“What’s going on?” Carol’s voice tightened.

“Someone stole my fuckin’ bike!” Daryl slammed the windowsill. “God fuckin’ dammit!” He snatched up his crossbow, a handful of arrows and barreled for the door.

However, with one foot out the door, he paused and looked back at Carol.

“Go,” Carol said. “They need you. Both of you.”

“You need me.”

“I’ll be fine. If she passes while you’re gone, I can do it. You know that.”

“Maybe…” Daryl stepped back inside the room. “But you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

A full smile spread across Carol’s face. Tears welled in her eyes. Daryl put down his crossbow and grabbed Jon’s shoulder.

“You get my fuckin’ bike back.”

“Aye. I will.” Jon patted Daryl’s hand.

Daryl nodded and knelt at Carol’s side.

***

Downstairs, Jon flung open the front door and entered a world of shouting and raging. Atop the porch steps, Rick faced a huddle of raised voices battling to be heard. Empty bottles lay scattered about his feet on the steps.

“Everyone calm down!” Rick shouted over the voices. “He couldn’t have gone far! Glenn and I will go after him, y’all just go back to your tents!”

“Screw that!” Andrea yelled. “If he wants to run, let him. Why should we risk our lives?”

“Where’s your heart?!” Dale shouted. “The man’s grieving!”

“He’s insane, that’s what he is!”

“Where’s your fuckin’ empathy?!” T-Dog shouted.

“Give it a rest you guys!” Lori shouted.

“Be quiet and listen to Rick!” Glenn shouted.

Every voice raised as one in a grand, chaotic cacophony of noise. Rick shouted for calm and quiet, which only worsened things.

Bloody hell. Jon made to cross the porch and approached Rick. But before he’d taken more than two steps, Maggie burst out of the door with Beth in tow.

Her voice cut above the others. “What’s going on here?!”

Silence killed the cacophony. Rick gave Maggie a sullen look and opened his mouth to speak.

Andrea shouted. “Your dad’s lost his fucking mind! He stole our bike and drove off!”

Maggie sighed and wiped her hand over her face. “God dammit…”

Beth’s nostrils flared. She marched past her sister, pointing at Jon. “You! This is your fault!” She made to slap him.

Jon caught her wrist. “Calm yourself.”

“Let go of me!”

Jon let go and Beth snatched her wrist away. Tears welled in wide, sharp eyes. Maggie yanked Beth behind her, and Rick stood between her and Jon.

“Jon, where’s Ghost?” Rick asked.

“Hunting.”

Rick clicked his tongue. “Okay… then go get Daryl. We might need to track him.”

“No, you don’t,” Maggie said. “I know where he is. I’ll take you.”

“Where?” Beth asked.

Maggie frowned at her sister. “There’s this bar in town. Whenever he and my mom got into a fight, he’d always take off in the truck and spend the night there.”

Beth voice’s shrunk. “Oh.”

“How far?” Jon asked.

“Those cars still got gas?”

“They do,” Rick said.

“About ten minutes, then.”

***

By the time they’d gathered weapons and ammo and piled into the rangerover, dusk had given way to twilight. A new moon forbade but a faint sheen of silver starlight to linger in the absence of the sun. Jon sat in the back of the car beside Glenn, a pair of shotguns in their laps. Maggie waited behind the wheel, weaponless.

“But why does it have to be you?” Lori asked as Rick opened the passenger's side door. “You’re in no condition.”

That he isn’t. Weakness pestered Rick. Each step taken with a tremble and a clenched jaw. Every action done with stiff, taught hands.

Rick turned his back on the rangerover’s doorway and leaned on a rifle. “’Cause these people look up to me. If I say, ‘go out there and risk your lives’, how can I stay behind?”

“God, Rick. Look at yourself. You can barely stand.”

“Me bein’ out there gives ‘em hope.”

“You being out there’ll get you killed.”

Jon stuck his head out the window. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep him safe.”

“We won’t let him do anything dumb!” Glenn shouted.

Rick smiled at them both. Lori frowned.

“And what about Carl? What happens if he wakes up while you’re gone? He’ll be scared and confused. He’ll need his father.”

“Lori…” Rick chewed his lip. “Carl’s asleep; at rest. And safe and around those who care about him. Hershel’s out there right now; alone and hurtin’ and in danger. He could have fallen from that bike and hurt himself for all we know. And part of that’s my fault.” He glanced Jon’s way. “I gotta go.”

Lori let out a shaky sigh and pressed her head against Rick’s chest. “You come back. You hear? I will not lose you again.”

Rick bundled her in his arms. “I will. You won’t.”

“You two done?” Maggie asked.

Stern of face, Lori pulled away and nodded. “Done.”

Rick seized her by the shoulders. “Keep ‘em calm. Don’t let ‘em do anythin’ dumb. Shane especially.”

Lori nodded. They hugged again, kissed and then separated. Lori hurried away from the car a few paces while Rick ducked inside. Grunting, he slumped into his seat, lay his rifle across his lap and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life, rattling the car around Jon. Twin beams blazed, dousing all ahead in bright, white light. They sped off across the field and down the gravel road, followed by a cloud of dust.

Through fields and forest, the asphalt road showed no signs of old men or motorbikes. Nor much of anything for that matter. Bar a few of the dead, wandering without purpose. They livened at the sight of the car and made to reach for it. Maggie clipped a few in her haste, splattering brains and black blood across the windows. Yet, for the most part, she weaved around them. The vet looked much the same as Jon’d left it, as they passed. Dark and dusty. The rangerover’s twin beams of light glimpsed the two corpses. They still rested outside on the gravel, headless, in pools of dried black blood. The tracks of the boy’s bike-without-engine remained in the gravel, a wavering line from vet to road. But new tracks joined it, thicker and straighter.

Jon tightened his grip on the shotgun. “We may not be alone out here.”

“We can deal with the dead,” Rick said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I speak of the living. The companions of the boy who attacked Jenner and I are likely not far.”

Rick looked back at him, tight-jawed. “You sure?”

“Aye. There were new tracks on the gravel. And the boy spoke of revenge when he ran.”

Glenn gripped his shotgun. “He could have been bluffing.”

“Better to be safe and keep an eye out regardless.”

Rick nodded. “If we encounter hostiles, we run if we can. A shootout’s the last thing we need in the dark, with the dead all around.”

“Okay, good idea,” Glenn said.

Jon nodded. Best to avoid a fight, he agreed. Besides, Jon suspected that compared to blades, the conventions of battle varied quite vastly where it concerned guns. In a gunfight, he’d be out of his element, always on the back foot.

Maggie huffed. “I ain’t runnin’ without Dad.”

They drove into the heart of the town. Sidewalks and close-knit buildings replaced gravel paths and open fields. The dark bred blind spots upon blind spots. Thin alleys between every building, with spiked, steel fences harboured shadowy voids. Crossroads upon crossroads littered the streets with corners. Places to hide; places of ambush. Even with the light of twin beams, Jon felt as blind as if he were in a cave with no torch. Not a single corpse roamed the streets. Yet, signs of death were everywhere. Smashed windows, broken-down doors, crashed cars, burnt cars, burnt buildings, black blood, red blood; it all followed them wherever they went.

All of a sudden, Maggie stopped the car. “We’re here.” She moved a lever between her and Rick before rushing from the car. “Dad!” She yelled, marching for a building.

They piled out after her, guns at the ready. The building stood short and stout, made of brick walls and wide, paned-glass windows. Daryl’s bike lay discarded at it’s stoop. Starlight cast a sign hanging above its door in silver. ‘Joe’s Tavern,’ it read.

“Keep your voice down,” Rick hissed. He hurried after Maggie.

Glenn made to hurry after her too but Jon slowed him with a touch. “Keep your eyes open. Threats are everywhere,” Jon whispered. He scanned the inky pitch that filled the alleys and windows.

“Right.” Glenn took a deep breath as he scanned too.

Together, they approached the tavern with slow, considered steps, eyes trained on the dark. In an alley across the street, the starlight glinted off of nine pairs of eyes. Jon froze and squinted. He made out the silhouettes of several dogs. One crept forward, a lanky thing, all sleek black fur and pointy bones. It squeezed between the bars of the spiked, alley-way fence, bore its fangs and let out a low, guttural growl. However, a larger dog burst from the shadows and snapped its jaws by the other’s ear. The smaller dog tucked tail and retreated while the larger stared at Jon. For a moment they did naught but stare at each other before the dog snarled. It disappeared back into the shadows beyond the spiked, alleyway fence, along with the rest of the pack

“Where are all the dead?” Glenn whispered.

“Lurking, most like. Come, best we get out of sight.”

Inside, darkness, dust and blood covered the tavern. Two, half-decomposed walker corpses lay killed. One, sprawled out in the middle of the smooth, wood floor, rested a bludgeoned head on a crust of black blood. The other slumped over a long counter that ran the length of the tavern’s back, a hole blown through the back of its head. Maggots squirmed within the gaping wound. Tables, chairs, stools, cabinets and draws were all left in a chaotic state of disrepair as if a small storm had torn through the space. A lone stool remained on its legs and stood at the opposite end of the counter to the corpse. Atop the stool, Hershel sat, bathed in the golden light of a lamp. He poured drink from a dust-covered bottle into a filthy, smudged glass and drank deep.

Jon and Glenn joined Rick and Maggie in staring from across the tavern. While wrath darkened Maggie’s features, Rick’s stayed still and stony.

“Jon, Glenn, watch the windows,” Rick whispered.

“I might be old, but I ain’t deaf.” Hershel slurred his words. He poured another drink.

Glenn moved to the windows but Jon remained at Rick’s side.

“Is this place clear?” Jon whispered to him.

Rick whispered back. “Don’t know.” He raised his voice to speaking level. “Hershel, you gotta come with us.”

Jon moved to the window, attention split between the shadows outside and inside.

“Who else is with you?” Hershel drank.

“Dammit, Dad. It ain’t safe here.” Maggie marched across the bar.

Rick followed. They stood on either side of Hershel, looming over his shoulders.

“Jon, right? And Glenn?” Hershel chuckled bitterly as he poured another drink. “That boy follows you everywhere now, huh?”

“Glenn’s here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed,” Maggie hissed.

“That right?”

“How many you had, Hershel?” Rick asked, soft and calm, leaning on his rifle.

“Not enough.” Hershel drank.

Hershel made to pour another but Maggie snatched the bottle from his hand. He sighed, slumped his shoulders and stared at the counter. Rick rounded the counter and crouched with great effort so that his and Hershel’s eyes were level.

“Let’s finish this up back at home, okay? Back at your farm.”

“My farm? Is that right?”

“Get up!” Maggie grabbed his arm.

Hershel shrugged out of her grip.

“For fuck’s sake, Dad! Beth needs you! She just buried her mother, her brother, her friends, neighbours, even that Culver kid she was sweet on! You ain’t the only one who’s hurtin’!”

“What could I do? Make her worse? Fill her head with more… more lies.”

Maggie turned and threw her hands up in the air. “You’re unbelievable!”

“Hershel, I think you’re in shock, okay?” Rick said.

“She needs her mother.” Hershel’s voice wavered. “Or rather to mourn. Like she should have done weeks ago. I took that from her.” Hershel raised his head and stared at the ceiling.

Jon tightened the grip of his shotgun. Outside, he swore he spotted movement yet, when his eyes snapped to it, the shadows stiffened.

Rick clenched his jaw and stood, matching Hershel’s gaze. His rifle remained on the ground, out of hand. “You thought there’d be a cure, right? Can’t blame yourself for holdin’ out for hope. If I’d been in your situation, if that’d been Carl and Lori in that barn, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”

“Then you’re just a big a fool as me.”

“I’m as scared as you. Scared for the future. Scared for now. But runnin’ away don’t fix none of that. You can’t run from this.”

“I ain’t runnin’. But I can’t fight neither. So, go ahead. Fight your fight. Try and rebuild for all it’s worth. Just do it without me. I’m done.”

“You’re just gonna give up?” Maggie snapped.

Hershel looked over his shoulder at Maggie. Golden light glinted off of moist eyes. “I’m layin’ down, Maggie. I’m old. Sometimes, you forget how old I really am. The fight, the fight I used to have, it’s gone. Has been for a while now.” He looked back at Rick. “You can have the farm. Not that my blessin’ means much. Couldn’t make you leave even if I wanted. So, take it. Use it for as long as you can. Never wanted the darn thing in the first place.”

Some of the sharpness left Maggie’s voice. “What do you mean?” She sounded like a frightened child. “You’ve lived there your whole life.”

“I grew up there. Bein’ farmers, that was Nan and Pa’s dream. An American dream for a pair of Scottish immigrants. I left for veterinary school first chance I got and never looked back. Until Pa had his stroke. I could have stayed, there, in Montgomery and finished my residency. I wanted to. But I came back, opened my little vet, met your mother… then Beth’s… By the time Nan passed and left the farm to me, you and Beth had lives here, school, friends, boyfriends. What kind of father would I have been to take that from you? So, take it Rick. Take the darn farm and leave me be. Lead your people, my daughters. I ain’t fit for what this world’s become. He showed me that.” Hershel pointed at Jon.

Rick glared at him, part shame, part fury.

Jon stood tall. “None of us are fit for this world. Yet, we go on living in spite of it.”

Hershel smiled and looked on Jon with soft, doughy eyes. “That’s your youth talkin’, son.”

An engine roared, faint and distant. Then another. And another. Jon whipped around to face the window. Outside, all remained dark and still. Yet, the engines roared louder, closer.

“We need to go, now,” Jon said, scanning the dark.

Rick’s voice gruffed. “Hershel, please.”

Hershel answered with silence.

“Glenn, do you see anything?” Jon asked.

Glenn jostled back and forth, craning his neck. “Nothing.”

The engines drew closer.

A stool or chair scraped across the ground, then slammed. Someone sat, hard. “If you’re stayin’, Dad. So am I.”

Hershel sighed and muttered. “Dammit, Maggie,” he said. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The engines roared loud, shaking Jon’s core. Beams of light flooded the street, gleaming off of dusty windows and the bulbs of arching street lamps.

“Behind the counter! All of us!” Jon hurried from the window.

“Shit,” Glenn followed.

Hershel gawked at them, afraid and confused. “What? Why? Do you know these people?”

“No, but best not to, aye?”

“Is there a side exit?” Rick asked, grabbing Hershel’s arm over the counter.

“Y-Yeah, right there-”

The front door flew open, rattling. Three figures meandered inside, veiled in shadow, armed with rifles and shotguns. As they stepped inside, the golden glow of the lantern revealed a short, stout older man with a head of stubble. He wielded some sort of shotgun, Jon assumed, with one barrel rather than two. A short, lean man, owner of but a single hand stood to the older man’s left. In his good hand, he wielded a shotgun with the barrels cut off. To the older man’s right, stood a tall, lanky woman wielding a hunting rifle. Above her left eyebrow, the numbers 1488 were tattooed in black ink. The three of them shared a look; long faces, narrow noses, and black of hair. Their dark, sharp eyes scanned the group.

“So it was you,” the older man said. “Didn’t think you’d survived, Hershel.”

Hershel rose from his stool and stepped forward, joining Jon’s side. “Clyde? Clyde Culver?”

Clyde Culver answered with a nod as he scanned the rest of them with a squint.

“What happened to your boy’s hand?” Hershel asked.

“That don’t concern you. Now, how about your little friends put down their guns so we can have a nice, calm conversation?”

“We will if you will,” Glenn answered at once.

“I’m afraid, that ain’t gonna work, Slit-eyes.”

In a flash, One-hand and Numbers had their guns raised, fingers on the trigger. Hershel gasped and staggered back. Maggie stiffened. Glenn cursed and went to his knees. Jon froze, staring down One-hand’s shortened barrels. Ice, steel and stone streaked through Jon’s veins, planting him firm where he stood, tightening his grip. The moment his hand squeezed the shotgun’s handle, Clyde’s eyes were on him.

“Don’t, son. Be smart about this now. Put it down.”

Before Jon could even think to kneel, Numbers’s eyes found his sword and widened.

“Look, the sword. That’s him! He’s the one who killed Dan!” she said.

“That true?!” One-hand bellowed, waving his gun. “You kill, my brother?!”

Jon’s chest clenched and he lost his breath. The scars along his chest, belly and heart flared hot red, like a dozen branding irons pressing hard into his flesh. He felt half mad; he aught to lie, to make some excuse, anything. But he couldn’t breathe, let alone think or speak. Desperately, he tried to breathe but instead, he only gawked at them like a fool. Clyde sighed.

“Go on, Caleb. Get it over with.”

“NO!” Hershel screamed.

A great weight slammed Jon from the side. The ground vanished from under him and the world spun. Sound beyond sound split Jon’s ears, a blast of heat flashed past his face and the floorboards rushed to meet his back. The ground took him from below and the great weight from above, squeezing the wind from him in one huge impact. As his ears rang and his mind spun, Hershel’s face filled his vision, afraid and bloodied. A boot knocked it away and then stomped Jon’s chest. In place of the old man’s face, twin barrels and One-hand’s glare bore down on him. A blast roared. One-hand’s chest exploded into red mist and pulp. He cried and fell; a ruptured sack of flesh and blood. The twin barrels vanished and beyond, Jon saw Clyde holler and raise his gun. Another blast rocked the world and Clyde’s throat exploded. Spluttering, he collapsed beside his son. Fire blazed in Jon’s chest and all of sudden he found himself on his knees, gun in hand, sights trained on Numbers. She fled for the door, unarmed. He squeezed the trigger ever so gently, just as Shane had taught him. A blast rocked Jon to his core and the woman’s back exploded. She hit the floor at once, soundless.

As a calm settled in, Jon’s ears continued to ring. But his mind sharpened all at once. Clyde lay before him, dying noisily in a growing crimson pool atop his son. Sticky warmth clung to Jon’s hands and face.

To his left, Maggie screamed. “Dad!” She scrambled past Jon to where Hershel lay, face down.

A curtain of blood wept from a streak across Hershel’s temple. Maggie seized him and he grunted struggling to all fours.

“Jon!” Rick shouted from behind the counter, rifle in hand. Crimson droplets speckled his face. “You okay?!”

Jon found his breath. “A-Aye.”

Glenn’s blood-soaked face filled his vision. “Are you hit?” he grabbed his shoulders.

Jon shook him off. “No.”

Eyes wide, Glenn nodded and scrambled over to Maggie. He helped her drag Hershel behind the counter. Outside, a voice shrieked.

“Pa! Caleb! Cynthia!” It sounded vaguely familiar. “Pa?!”

After a pause, a second voice shouted. “You motherfuckers!”

Hellfire erupted through the tavern’s front wall. Without thought, Jon threw himself to the ground and covered his head. Glass and mortar hailed. Rolling, rapid thunder crackled, smothering distant screams. It lasted an age, the gunfire bore down on him, crackling, crackling, crackling, never-ending sound. It tore his head apart from the inside out. Until all of sudden, it vanished. Jon scrambled, hands and knees. Numb pricks stabbed his palms, wetting and warming them. He saw only the counter, shelter, cover, safety. Like a maddened beast, he scampered behind it where he found the others, knees to their chests, hands on their heads, cowering in the golden lamp-light.

“The light!” Rick shouted.

Hershel sprang up and made a grab for the lamp. A single gunshot boomed. Hershel screamed and he and the lamp came tumbling down. The lamp hit the ground but didn’t break. It bathed Hershel in light. Where two fingers ought to be, two bloody stumps gushed crimson. Hershel wailed. Maggie screamed. Jon pounced on the lamp. He dashed it against the counter, dousing them in darkness, stealing sight, leaving only sound. The others’ voices clashed and combined, yelling over Hershel’s feverish wailing.

“Put pressure! Put pressure!”

“Who’s armed?!”

“Are you hit anywhere else?!”

“Oh god! Put fucking pressure, I said!”

“I am!”

“His hand not his head!”

“Jon, Glenn have you got your guns?!”

Jon ignored them and listened elsewhere. Outside, other voices were shouting. Jon honed in on a man’s voice.

“Fuck’s sake, just move the truck back, Pete! Give us some fuckin’ light!”

An engine roared over the others' shouting, silencing them all, even Hershel. Bright, white light poured through the tattered front wall of the tavern, illuminating all. Jon saw Maggie and Glenn holding rags torn from their shirts over Hershel’s wounds. Despite the pressure applied, his lifeblood gushed in pulsing, crimson waves from beneath the rags. Rick crouched by their side with a rifle in hand, finger on the trigger. His eyes found Jon’s. He touched his holster then nodded to Jon’s, to Needle. Jon nodded and unsheathed the pistol. Unwelcome shakes troubled his hands. Shakes that persisted no matter how steady he breathed. What’s the matter with me? An icy chill burned the scar over his heart.

“See, empty. We got ‘em all,” said a different man’s voice outside.

“No way, I heard ‘em,” yet another voice said, the same who’d shouted for his Pa, the one that sounded vaguely familiar.

“You don’t know what you heard, Randy.”

“Better safe than sorry,” said the other man.

A second round of hellfire erupted through the front. Jon tucked his knees and covered his head as the others dived to do the same. Rolling thunder roared and crackled. Bullets peppered the back wall, back and forth and back and forth, showering Jon in dust and mortar. When it became clear the gunman had aimed too high, Jon lifted his head. The light lit up the back of the tavern, revealing a side exit.

Jon shouted over the gunfire. “There’s a side exit! We can flank them from the alley!”

Rick uncovered his head and nodded. “I’ll go!”

“No, you stay here! You’re too slow!” Glenn’s shotgun lay discarded by Hershel’s side. “Glenn, you come!”

Glenn uncovered his head. “What?!”

“Come with me! Out the side! We’ll flank them!”

Suddenly, the gunfire stopped. The changing of magazines clicked and clacked. Rick whipped his colt from its holster and thrust it into Maggie’s hands.

“We’ll cover you,” he whispered.

“Right.” Jon pointed to Glenn’s gun. “Pick it up!” he hissed.

“O-Okay.” Glenn scrambled for the gun.

“Dammit, Jack! That’s enough!” A voice outside yelled. “You’ll draw the dead ones!”

“You ain’t never let me have fun! We killed all the dead anyhow!”

“God dammit, do as your-”

Rick and Maggie sprang up and unloaded their weapons over the counter. The voices outside screamed and shouted. Jon and Glenn made a dash for the side exit across shards of brick and glass. A shot rang out and a bullet clipped Jon’s shoulder, carving a line of pain across his skin. He put his head down and barged through the exit just as the third bout of hellfire tore through the tavern. Jon charged down the alley, Glenn hot on his heels. At the end stood a spiked, alley-way fence with a gate open ajar.

“They’re comin’!” shouted the familiar voice, muffled by the hellfire.

But by then it was too late. Jon and Glenn burst through the alley gate, guns raised. A black-haired man crouched behind the rangerover, spraying the tavern with bullets. He noticed them. But too late. Jon had him in Needle’s sights. He squeezed the trigger. A tremble plagued his hands and Needle’s shot exploded through the man’s shoulder. The man cried and fell, raising his gun at Jon. Glenn appeared at Jon’s side. Thunder screamed. Heat and flames spat from his shotgun. The man’s face and chest erupted into bloody mist and pulp. He died spluttering. Glenn fired at a truck with a flatbed on the back, parked across the street. Its front window shattered.

“Shit, he ducked!”

Thunder clapped from the rooftops. Sparks spat off the pavement, inches from Jon’s feet.

“Fuck!” a voice shouted.

“Take cover!” Glenn dove back into the alley.

Jon ran forward and dove behind the rangerover. Thunder cracked and a bullet spat sparks above Jon’s head.

“Get out here, motherfucker!” A voice shouted from the roof.

The man in the truck yelled. “Forget ‘em, Randy! Jump down! Get in the back!”

“Okay!” Hurried footsteps scampered across the roof.

Jon peered over the rangerover and spied a shadow silhouette dashing across the rooftop. He put the silhouette in Needle’s sights and fired three times. The first shot missed. Then the second. But the third landed. Screaming, the silhouette tumbled from the roof and impaled itself on the steel spikes of an alleyway fence. The screaming persisted, carrying high into the night, wailing and shrieking, like game caught in a trap. The other man cursed loudly and the truck’s engine roared. Tyres squealed on asphalt as the truck peeled off down the road. Jon unloaded the last of Needle’s ammo but only managed to spit sparks off the truck’s steel.

Jon shouted above the incessant wailing of the impaled. “All’s clear!”

“Are y’all hit?!” Rick shouted.

Glenn gave no response. Lowering his shotgun, he crept out of the alley, staring at the corpse in the street. The impaled cried for help and mercy.

“We’re fine! Hurry, the dead will be upon us soon!”

“Good! Get the back seats down! Hershel’s losin’ consciousness!”

“Aye!”

Jon flung open the range rover’s back doors and found the handle behind the back row of seats. He lowered them, extending the trunk.

“I killed him...” he heard Glenn say.

“Aye.”

“PLEASE!” wailed the impaled. “HELP ME HELP ME PLEASE!”

“We gotta help him…”

Jon ducked out of the car. “Leave him, he’s doomed and our enemy besides.”

“Don’t leave meeeeee!” the impaled sobbed. A boy’s voice, Jon realised. Boy, man. Woman, girl. It makes no matter.

Rick and Maggie stumbled out of the tavern’s ruined entrance, supporting one of Hershel’s arms each. Feebly, Hershel staggered between them, tripping over his own feet. A crimson curtain masked half his face, matting his white beard. As Rick and Maggie were about to get him in the car, the impaled cried again.

“PLEASE! I don’t wanna die…”

Hershel cried out and flailed, wrenching free of Rick and Maggie’s grip. “We can’t leave that boy to die!”

Rick looked as if he were about to agree, so Jon spoke first to stop the folly.

“Aye, I’ll end his suffering.” He sheathed Needle and drew Longclaw.

“No, dammit! Look at him!” Hershel pointed to the silhouette. “He’s impaled through the legs. We can save him.”

Jon didn’t look to confirm. “We haven’t the time and he’s our enemy, besides.”

“He’s a boy! Randall Culver!”

“I want my mom!” the boy, Randall Culver screamed. “I want my moooooooom! Pa! It hurts!” Sobbing overtook the screams. The silhouette thrashed.

“Dad, Jon’s right.” Maggie grabbed her father’s arm. “Randall Culver’s a skinhead piece of shit like the rest of ‘em, anyhow.”

“A child! A few years younger than Beth even!” Hershel wrenched free again, splattering blood on the pavement from his ruined hand.

He shouldered past Jon and hurried across the street. Maggie ran after him.

“Dad, get back here!”

“God dammit,” Rick muttered. He hurried after them.

“He sealed his fate the moment he fired upon us. Just as the others did.” Jon followed at Rick’s heels.

“We killed those guys 'cause we had to, man,” Glenn said. “He isn’t a threat anymore.”

Jon ignored Glenn’s folly. Before the spiked fence, Hershel and Rick stood before the thrashing boy, inspecting his impaled legs. The spikes skewered either thigh from beneath, danging the boy over the back of the fence. Maggie watched from afar, arms crossed. Glenn rushed to help.

“I guess we could break the spikes,” Glenn said. “That way the wounds stays sealed.”

“With what?” Hershel asked.

“If you free him, the moment he’s healed he’ll try to kill us all,” Jon said.

Hershel and Glenn scowled at him but Rick took pause.

“What if he were Carl?” Hershel asked.

“But he isn’t,” Jon added. “That’s our enemy. We’ve just murdered his family. He’ll kill all of us, the first moment he gets, Carl included.”

“Please please please no I won’t I won’t please I promise I promise!” the boy blabbered.

Hershel grabbed the boy’s right leg. “Listen to him, Rick. He’s one scared boy. He ain’t a threat no more. Now help me lift him off.”

Rick ran his hand through his hair, sighed and grabbed the boy’s right leg. As one, Rick and Hershel yanked the boy off of the spikes. Blood sprayed and the boy wailed.

2 notes · View notes

dianalolihikki · 20 days

Text

Hey!💜

Today, unfortunately, I didn't have my hair in two ponytails. Instead, I had it tied in two braids (even now I have my hair tied like this as I type this post). Braids are my second favorite hairstyle, so I didn't lose anything.

💮💮💮💮

On the way to physical therapy, B and I discussed the E's negative behavior, and we often do that. I also have to admit that sometimes E and I talk about B's traits I don't like.

I guess such a thing shows hypocrisy on my side. However, I'm not sure I feel guilty, although I probably should.

I can't recognize my emotional states until they are extreme, but of course that doesn't excuse me.

💮💮💮💮

As planned, E and I went for a walk where there are lots of stairs. There were actually a lot of them. When we climbed these stairs our eyes showed a park,behind the park is a church. All this is on a mountainous area. Of course, we weren't there for the first time.

We practiced seemingly very simple things. For a brain-damaged person, however, it is not always a piece of cake.

I sat on a bench with no backrest and E walked further and further away from me. I had to overcome my fear of falling.

Then I overcame my fear of falling in walking. True, I walk on three-legged crutches, but I still panic when someone doesn't walk beside me.

Today I walked ten steps away from E on the grass. Then I increased the number of steps.

Despite the fact that I only walked like this for upwards of fifteen minutes,my legs ached a lot, probably more from stress than physical fatigue.

E said that I was very brave and as a reward took me to McDonald's for ice cream. They were delicious as usual.🍦

💮💮💮💮

Let me return to the topic of the park for a moment. Despite the early hour, I saw many teenagers there. When I see them, it brutally occurs to me that I'm not one of them and haven't been for a long time. Oddly enough, I never envied them being healthy. I just feel very sad that I'm not one of them,or at least that's how I feel.

It is very unfair that I am no longer fourteen!!!! Why? Am I mentally ill? Or is it some strange form of mid-life crisis?

One of these girls in particular was beautiful. Exactly what I imagined the main character of my novel to be.

I like to admire the beauty of girls aesthetically.

Besides, young people always seem beautiful to me.

💮💮💮💮

Despite what I had decided, I told E about the fact that I would have additional physiotherapy from the State project. I told her this while we were eating ice cream in her car.

Her reaction positively surprised me because she was happy.

The physiotherapist from the State project texted my mother today. Let's call him K

K texted that tomorrow he is going to my

GP to get the necessary paperwork, and he will also be in touch with my mom about the schedule.

On the one hand I want him to be my physiotherapist,and on the other hand there is some opposition in me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm looking for another physiotherapist to befriend, to fill the void left by J.

💮💮💮💮

My neighbors who came to see me yesterday visited me again today. Again they brought me gifts. This time, in addition to field flowers, they gave me a seashell, a necklace, a bracelet, two small chocolates and a bookmark. They sat with me for a good hour, then later came again.

I seem to have had a nice chat with them, but overall I feel very uncomfortable with this relationship.

What should I talk to them about?

What about the parents of these girls?

What if these parents think I'm some kind of pervert? After all, even women can be them.

Unfortunately, these children do not want to give me peace. They want to accompany me tomorrow on a walk with B

You can call me: Diana - professional babysitter.

I agree with them in one thing: we all think that the neighbor's dog that I am afraid of is aggressive and its owners do not give a damn.

According to one of these girls, this dog attacked my dog today. As far as I could see, my dog was not injured.

💮💮💮💮

That's it for today.

I'm sleeping with the window open again. Outside, the frogs are giving their concert.

Again, I will show you today the J-pop group invented by me!⭐

#cerebral palsy #neurodivergent #neurodiverse stuff #physically disabled #hikikomori #teacher attachment #actually neurodivergent #older men crush #diary

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disneynerdpumpkin · 6 months

Text

God literally has a sense of humor.

How do you think animals make us happy? He literally blessed us by creating animals!

Genesis 1:20-25 Then God said, “Let the waters abound with an abundance of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the face of the firmament of the heavens.” So God created great sea creatures and every living thing that moves, with which the waters abounded, according to their kind, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” So the evening and the morning were the fifth day.

Then God said, “Let the earth bring forth the living creature according to its kind: cattle and creeping thing and beast of the earth, each according to its kind”; and it was so. And God made the beast of the earth according to its kind, cattle according to its kind, and everything that creeps on the earth according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.

He purposely created them to be adorable, and to provide us with entertainment.

He creates personalities for animals like He does for us! He creates every animal to be so unique and special.

Matthew 6:26-34

"Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?

“So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

Whenever you see a cat stuck in something,

or a duck quacking and drumming a drum with its feet,

or a dog playing piano,

GOD MADE THAT!!!

He perfectly intended for animals to be hilarious. He perfectly intended for animals to be adorable. God made animals to make us smile and laugh!!!

He made animals to make us happy!

So as well as turning to Him on our bad days and reading His word and coming to Him, He made animals to make our bad days better too!

Lots of people tend to forget about or not even think about that!

God is so good, more than we deserve. If God cares about the animals and takes care of them and creates them with personalities of their own and makes them unique, just how much more does He care about YOU?

#disneynerdpumpkin #jesus #cute animals #funny animals #we literally don't deserve animals they're just so cute #and hilarious #thank you jesus!#Matthew 6:26-34 #Genesis 1:20-25 #God is so good

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ericleo108 · 1 year

Audio

01/06/2022 Click here for Spotify or Apple Music. This is my 28th official release. “Gold Shaw Farm” is a country rap track I wrote about the farm on YouTube by the same name. I don’t know Morgan, I just love his channel and farm. I like how Morgan narrates his videos. I feel like the song is me rapping his narrative, in a way. Everything I know I got from him and his channel. He also has different cameras that do videos spending the night in the hoop coop with night vision or from the cats perspective for example. I’ve probably been watching consistently for a year now along with a lot of his catalog. I got the idea because I wanted to show a sample of making a song about a subject, and I chose one that I genuinely enjoy, the farm , and it basically turned out to be a theme song.

youtube

I started writing the song on September 5th. The beat is from Ryini beats. The cover art was made by ArtworkGang from Fiverr. The track was professionally recorded, mixed, and mastered by Sam Peters at LA Luna Recording Studio in Kalamazoo Michigan. You can stream or download the track wherever music is sold. Thank you for your support. Be sure to follow because new music is released every first, third and if there is a fifth Friday of every month.

Lyrics:

Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass

Welcome y’all to Gold Shaw farm Just watch, you’ll see Toby dog is the star We got Abby, Ginny, and Molly murder mittens On a goose farm of ducks and weird chickens Our hill farm in Vermont Is a cozy little spot Of moseying bird flocks And a mossy center earth rock We get it up, get it cracking Eggs for breakfast and it smacks’n We go out to back and Then release the quackin

Don’t visit, just watch on YouTube Where you can see the animals playing like Sudoku Family friendly we care and review When the last time you amused those that disagree with you? We got a mobile hen house Where the chicken get down Pick all the little bugs out The stuff cows poop out Got ducks with bumble foot And geese with angle wing But we still love them just as much as anything

We give em a good life At gold Shaw farm alright Their future and past in the fields are bright We plant trees like chestnuts Have a patch for lettuce Make bear cheese And get shipped seeds through FedEx You can buy your own goose And make um into soup Eat it with couscous Or canned bamboo shoots I thank the lord everyday she gives the strength to stay On the path and sway To videos that say

I feel like Allison and Morgan Taken whatever comes toward me Optimistic cuz and the lord can And I’ll tell you as a poor man I do my chores everyday And put it in a portrait So my family gets paid And on YouTube I say

Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass x4

#gold shaw farm #kitten #kitty purrs #dog #dogs #farm #ericleo108 #rap #rapper #country

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sleevesareforlosers · 2 years

Note

i’m going as a cheerleader (outfit of course based on gerard’s dress although mine is a three-piece more traditional modern uniforms. genuinely wish i could have worn a vintage uniform/dress but those are hard to come by and i don’t have a professional costumer to dissemble and reassemble a vintage dress for me. unfortunate!) and i’m going to dress as a very simple classic black cat for class on the monday of halloween! little studded black ears and a black blouse and leggings and then either these little black ankle boots i have or if i’m feeling saucy my new demonias ❤️ i might actually go pick up a tail too just to be fun ❤️ like yes okay this is also inspired by gerard but this one is much more classic!

ok ok so aside from like actual halloween festivities/parties my favorite fall activity is going to this haunted house attraction that’s local to our house in MD called field of screams! i’m actually going to fos this weekend because i’m flying home! i also love going to the pumpkin patch and drinking apple cider/eating apple cider donuts!

color that shows up most in my wardrobe other than black is actually probably green! there’s more olive green in my wardrobe than i was expecting. maybe blue? weirdly there’s not a ton of bright color in my actual wardrobe, i think i tend to make more of a statement with the graphics on my shirts and with my jewelry

28 is a special number to me because it’s my birthday! but i also really like the number 22 for reasons i can’t put my finger on; that’s my baby sister’s birthday so maybe that has something to do with it?

anyways UNO REVERSE!! your turn to answer!! 💝💖💕 love you!!

[ID: a photo of a fluffy light gold puppy dog wearing a black harness. he is mid-running through a big green field of grass, mouth open and looking at the camera. end ID]

YES YES YES I AM SO EXCITED FOR UR COSTUMES!!!!! esp the cheerleader one ive been so invested in it for literal months now i cant WAIT to see it. the cat WILL be cute too i love classic little black cat costumes

oh!!!! YES haunted houses r soooo fun esp when uve got a local one and its like 'this is MY haunted house' and it is yours!!! have fun going home i hope you get ALL the fall activities in that you want to! pumpkin patches r so cute i havent been to one in years

oh huh! i wouldnt have thought of green when i pictured your wardrobe. id have probably said red but thats maybe just bc of ur hair? you DO make a lot of good statements w accessories and makeup!! i always love ur fits sm

augh <3 birthdays as lucky numbers <3 yeah def family associations can be a big thing like how 14 is a big one for me it IS my birthday but its also my dads!

and i DID my uno reverse but ill add another fall activity that i like which r costume parties! no one does costume parties outside of halloween season and its like. cmon. why cant we get a little dressed up to sit in someones living room?

thank you for the pretzel!!!! hes SO sweet im kissing him kissing him kissing him giving him belly rubs

#ty pi ily #discussion group #ghostxraven

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jaedore · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: jaehyun x reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mythology!au, angst, romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, suggestive (just making out lol), mentions of alcohol, violence (mentions of choking)

𝐚/𝐧: if you are uncomfortable with these themes then i highly suggest you no longer interact! also, thoughts/emphasis are italicized. I'll just put the header on when I have the patience bc I felt like this is long overdue

[4.5k words]

You woke up finding your body was stiff and sore. It overpowered the pain in your wounded knees that stung with every movement of your limbs. Yesterday seemed like days ago, it felt like a fever dream. No, a nightmare. All you wanted to do was just curl up in bed, but then you remembered that your mother and you were having dinner at Jaehyun’s place. You’ve never gone to the Underworld, you didn’t hear many good things about it and that terrified you. What if Cerberus ate you? What if a wandering, lost soul stole your soul? The questions were endless and it sent you down a spiral of nervousness.

“Y/n?” Your mother softly came in, an apron hung around her neck and the aroma of breakfast food seeped into your room.

“Morning, mom,” you croaked.

“How are you feeling?”

Your mind flashed back to yesterday; Jaehyun in your room, tending your wounds, being flirtatious, or whatever. You remembered it as clear as the Fountain of Youth.

“I’m fine,” you answered, swiping the sheets away from your body to peer at the wounds.

You gently peeled back the bandage a bit only to see that the wound was almost gone. It held a faint discoloration as it was in the process of healing, but you were impressed nonetheless.

“So,” your mother began as she sat on the edge of your bed, “tonight, I was thinking about bringing a pasta dish. Or should we bring a cake? A pie maybe?”

“We can just pick up a pie from the bakery,” you brushed your hand in the air, dismissing any ideas, “it’ll be easier anyways.”

“Ah, yes. Hades does like his spicy chocolate pies,” your mother hums as she smoothes her palm against your bedsheet.

“Ugh, I don’t know how he eats that stuff,” you grumble, swinging your legs off your bed.

“Well, he is the God of the Underworld,” she raises both of her eyebrows at you, “so, what will you be doing today? It’s super nice out.”

Peering at your window, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The sky is bare of clouds and it does seem like a beautiful day today. You can imagine yourself sitting in the grass with a book in your palms. But you had more important things to do today, like beating the shit out of Maeve.

Your shoulders slump as you reply, “I’m going to go train with Mark.”

“You’re always training with that boy,” she narrows her eyes at you, “are you in love with him?”

“Mother!” You raise your voice, snapping your head to her, “No, I am not.”

Athena only laughs at your reply as she gets up and makes her way out of your room.

“Hey, Y/n?” her voice stops you before you step into the bathroom.

“Yes, mom?”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” she asks, her voice sweet and loving.

You nodded, recalling the things that happened last night at the beach. You haven’t told her and she must be worried, but you’re too drained and confused to spill it. So you spare her a small smile as you walk into the bathroom, not saying a word about what happened.

“Come on! You can hit harder!”

Annoyed at Mark’s ‘words of encouragement’, you purse your lips as you attempt to hit the boxing pad with your mitts. You were beginning to get tired, your arms burned from the repetitive movements and your knees ached as it chased after your feet. Mark hasn’t given you a break since you’ve gotten here and it’s almost been an hour of constant hitting.

Growing frustrated, you shouted in protest, “I’m done!” you throw your mitts on the dirt.

Mark sighs, seeing the frustration in your eyes, “Okay, what’s really going on?”

You exhale a short breath, “Nothing you’d be interested in,” you answer him sharply as you walk towards one of the rocks to sit on. Mark follows you closely, but quietly afraid to set off the fuming bomb of anger you always held.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve heard a lot of mysterious things about you,” he plops right next to you.

You curl your legs up to your chest as you stare forward at the waterfall, “Like what?” you mumble, really not interested in what he’s heard because it’s all been bad stuff.

“You tell me,” Mark shrugs.

You tighten your hold on your legs, “I think someone’s out to get me,” you whisper.

Mark leans in to hear you clearer, “Maeve?” he whispers back.

You shudder, her name bringing back awful memories, “Yeah, but I’m not sure why. I have nothing that has to do with her. Sure, I provoked her on the first day, but...it wasn’t severe to draw it out this far.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?”

You explained what happened last night at the beach party. You quivered as you retold the story from your perspective. It was a vivid nightmare that you didn’t know how to wake.

“Where is Lucas now?” Mark asked.

You fumed at the male’s name. He hasn’t texted or called you since last night. He would be the key to all of your answers, but he wouldn’t answer any of your messages or calls. Lucas was friendly, always nice, and shined bright like the sun. You just wondered what he was up to.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, picking up the mitts from the ground, “come on. We came here to train. Plus, I want to forget it all.”

Mark quickly jumps to his feet, “do you think this has anything to do with the feud between Hades, your mother, and her’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “What feud?”

Mark smirked, “Guess you don’t know then.”

“Mark,” you lowered your voice when he dismissed your question, “what. Feud?”

“I’ll tell you if you can beat me,” he said, picking up the other pair of mitts that laid on the ground.

Storming into your house, you shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me about the feud you had with Hades and Eris?”

Taken aback, she looked at you with wide eyes, almost dropping the spoon she held, “w-what are you talking about?”

You inhaled, “Why didn’t you tell me that after the Titan War, Hades, and apparently Zeus, imprisoned Eris in Tartarus? And that you were helping them and now she’s after me, possibly because of it?”

“Who told you that?” your mother calmly put down the spoon and rubbed her palms on her thighs.

“Does that really matter right now, mom?” your voice rose in anger.

“Sit down,” she wipes her hand on a napkin, discarding it as she walks towards you, who begins to be seated at the dinner table.

“Eris and I were good friends, we trained together as kids. She was good, almost better than me, but there was always the tension of competition between us. One could only be good in the eyes of Zeus so we grew up and trained with that mindset. As we got older, we were still good friends, but there was always that silent tension between us. When the Titan war came to be, Eris rebelled and fought against us,” your mother sighed, anguish tainting the streaks of her face, “I tried everything in my power to persuade her to fight with us, to be on our side, but that’s when she said all of the things that were never said. That I was the favorite, I was the best only because I was the favorite, I was only fighting along Zeus because he favored me more than her. Not because I was good or tactful, she disregarded our training together...our friendship, the bond that we had growing up. It was stupid really, but eventually, we beat their army and imprisoned her. According to Zeus, she did more damage during the war that I wasn’t aware of. That’s why she’s imprisoned in Tartarus. I haven’t asked because she’s...she’s dead to me really.”

You leaned back in her seat, realizing that Maeve probably was only acting out of feeling because of the relationship between both of your mothers. Her mother was imprisoned in the deep abyss below the Underworld, while yours lived a perfect, rewarding life.

“Is that why we’re going to the Underworld tonight? To talk to Zeus?” you quietly asked.

Your mother nodded, “I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think of the possibilities of her coming for you through her daughter because of me.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. I just want this to stop,” your fingertips brushed against your neck.

“Well,” your mother sighed, peering at her watch, “you don’t really have time to get ready, so why don’t you rinse your face from the sweat, and then we’ll pick up the pie and head on down.”

Head on down. You whimpered as you stood up. And it wasn’t because of your sore legs.

As you washed your face, you wondered if Jaehyun would be eating with you guys. You recall that Hades said Jaehyun was always at the Mourning Fields talking to the souls that wandered there. There, holds the souls that wasted their souls on unrequited love. Does Jaehyun love someone? Or does he not? Then you remembered how he took up space in your room last night. His fingertips sent icicle daggers through your skin that you felt their phantom as you wiped your face on the nearby towel. With the hopes of Jaehyun not speaking to you tonight, you braced yourself on the journey of walking down into the Underworld.

You jumped back at the sound of barking. Cerberus. The three-headed dog barks at both you and your mother. No matter how powerful your mother, Athena, was, she had no power over a creature created to guard the gates of the Underworld.

“Why isn’t he coming? I rang the doorbell like five minutes ago,” your mother grumbled.

As if on cue, the gates opened and the growling sounds of Cerberus silenced in question.

“They are not the enemy or the dead, Cerberus. They’re our guests.” a voice rang above you. You found out later that the voice belonged to Hades, but you saw Jaehyun stepping out from behind the black, iron gates.

“Good evening, sorry for the wait.” Jaehyun bowed to you both.

Your mother paused, regretting the comment she made before as she saw how handsome Jaehyun was, “You’re Jaehyun, right? You grew up so well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tch “ma’am”. As if you actually had manners. You rolled your eyes at his sense of poise. You wonder where he learned such acts in a short amount of time.

Your mother nudged you, “do you have anything to say?” she whispered.

You inhaled a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes at the prideful male in front of you, “Thank you for having us,” you mumbled, barely nodding to him.

“Please, this way.”

Jaehyun led your mother and you towards Hades’ Palace, the stone tower tall enough to peek through the rising fog of the evening. Across the path to the left stood the Judgement Pavilion. Several souls lined up waiting for their next home where they’d be trapped forever. One of the souls snapped their eyes to you as if they knew where you stood, who you were. Their eyes were full of darkness and fury, almost consuming you into a tunnel of doom.

Jaehyun snatched your arm, his grip vice-like, “Don’t look at any soul who hasn’t been through the Judgement Pavilion, it’s their last chance to steal a living being’s soul before they’re judged into exile.” You hadn’t realized it but it was only you and Jaehyun who stood on the pavement that led you to Hades’ Palace.

You looked ahead not seeing her, “Where’s my mom?”

“She already went in. We didn’t even notice you were gone until she asked you something to only find you not behind us.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, “How long have I been standing here?”

“Around five minutes, you didn’t hear me call you?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed.

Shaking your head in denial you said, “No, I didn’t until you grabbed my arm,” you eyed down to your arm seeing that he still held you. Jaehyun’s grip loosened as he also realized that he hadn’t let go yet.

“Come on, let’s go,” his hand tightened around your arm once again as he dragged you towards the stone palace.

“I can walk myself,” you snapped at him, attempting to yank your arm from his clutch.

Jaehyun turned to you, his eyes cool and icy, sending chills down your spine, “I know,” he lowly said, “but I’m not taking my chances,” he gripped your arm again, leading you to his home.

The moonlight barely shined against the copper stone of his palace, creating sheer darkness looking like it hadn’t been touched for centuries. As unwelcoming as it felt, you could smell the complete opposite; a small scent of mint, the natural smell of tree bark, and the faintest feather of lavender. You glanced forward at Jaehyun, he hadn’t spared you look as you two made your way towards his home.

Jaehyun led you past the Asphodel Meadows, only tugging on your arm harder to bring your senses back. He was right to do so because looking at it was hypnotizing. You were even surprised that the ground-up dirt was able to grow flowers, and not knowing what kind they were, they were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. The trees that sheltered them were bare of leaves and plants, creating a haunting aura, but it didn’t alarm you enough to look away.

“Come on,” Jaehyun tugged at you once again, this time gaining your attention.

You glared at him making you feel like some child that wasn’t able to concentrate. “What’s down there?”

He glanced back at you, mirroring your expression, “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Now hush, we’re almost there.”

After a few more steps, you both came to face his home. The palace was bigger than you expected as it loomed over you. It felt like you were walking into your own exile.

“I thought you got lost,” your mother called to you as you walked in with Jaehyun behind you.

“She almost did,” he mumbled as he passed you to sit at the dinner table.

“She’s always been a curious one,” your mother laughed.

“That could get you in some serious trouble, girl,” Hades walked into the room with spoons in his hand. The high-pitched cackling sound of the spoon hitting the dishes made you wince, “come sit, it’s almost time to eat.”

Obeying Hades’ words, you idly sat next to Jaehyun with shame settling in your bones because you felt embarrassed that he had to drag your ass back to his place. The skin where his hands once grasped your arm felt tingly and you couldn’t burn it from your mind. It’s not like you and Jaehyun had many encounters, or rather, pleasant encounters, but you can’t help yourself but stare at him from the corner of your eye. Jaehyun sits with poise and pride, but you can see the burden he carries in the way he slightly slouches and the exhausted sigh that wriggles from his lips.

As everyone eats, you can’t help but think what Jaehyun’s thinking about. You can tell he’s thinking about something from the tension in his brow and the small pout coming from his bottom lip. From time to time, you ignore the small moments where his arm or leg brushes against yours or when you both reach for the same dish. And there’s a sort of tension over the table as everyone silently hides their comments as their food reaches their lips.

Hades is the first to speak, “So, I’ve heard you’ve had quite the events lately,” his tone low and cautious.

You clear your throat, “Um, yes.”

You begin to tell him everything that’s happened from the start of Maeve to the event in the Phantasms Forest. Not leaving out a single detail, you didn’t even notice your hands tensing up until you felt warmth from another on top of your chilled skin. Turning to your mother, she nods to you in comfort, letting you know that you’re doing well and you’re strong for facing what you’ve been through. Hades listens closely, not reaching for his food and feeling the slight disgust from those who caused you harm. Truth be told, he knew what was happening and why it was happening to you. Slightly nodding at your mother, they both lifted themselves from their seats and walked out the door leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

You turned to the male to your right, “Where are they going?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing the nearby plates, “Probably to Tartarus.”

“What?” You snapped up on your legs, immediately following him to the kitchen sink, “Why?

“I’m sure you know that’s where they’re keeping Eris,” Jaehyun spares you a glance as he begins soaking a sponge in soap.

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms, “but why are they going down there? To talk to her? What is she going to do? What are they going to do? How long is this going to take?”

Tired of the overload from your questions, Jaehyun turns to you. Unbeknown that you were leaning forward towards him as you spoke, your eyes widened as you came face to face with the hot-headed male. His eyes were a pool of darkness with a hint of brown like melted dark chocolate. You stood in front of him with your feet glued to the ground. Heat radiated off your body as you parted your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered down. He sharply inhaled to only let it out as he turned away and began scrubbing the dishes again.

“Bring the dishes to me and I’ll wash them,” he said before you could turn away from him.

You clutched the collar of your shirt. What was that? Your fingers trembled around a plate when you realized that he didn’t even answer any of your problems.

Setting them on the counter next to him, you snapped, “You didn’t even reply to my questions.”

“You talk too much.”

Stunned, you purse your lips and walk away. He can clean the kitchen by himself. You sat yourself in their living room, plopping yourself on the couch. If it weren’t for the dim lamp that flickered in the far corner of the room, you would’ve walked around blindly. The walls were painted in black, the rug was black, and even the couch you sat on was black. Everything was black like a fire had torn through the palace. The only color that caught your attention was the pictures that sat on top of the unlit fireplace. Making your way towards the photos, you found family photos of Jaehyun and his parents. It looked like a regular family you would suspect in the human world, a mother and father playing with their toddler son in the park. Except it wasn’t a park and it wasn’t a regular family. The field Jaehyun played on was the Field of Asphodel, but it was beautiful, there was greenery, grass, and beautiful flowers that bloomed around little Jaehyun. You wondered what happened to the breathtaking scenery. Your eyes landed on a particular picture that made the corners of your lips lift in the slightest. There, laid little Jaehyun sleeping peacefully in the embrace of Cerberus who also laid in slumber around the little boy, sheltering him from the rain that penetrated to the Underworld. Cute. The faint blur of a finger covered the corner of the picture, you wondered who took this photo. You thought that maybe it was his mother, Persephone, who no one’s heard of for years. The last thing you heard was that Hades kidnapped her after eating six pomegranate seeds and she was forced to live six months in the Underworld and six months in the mortal world, Earth. But she hasn’t returned from her six months on Earth. And it’s been 20 years.

“No, I don’t know where she is, nor do I really care,” Jaehyun said beside you.

Jumping, you didn’t even realize he was there. Holding your chest, you panted, “I didn’t even say anything this time.”

“I know,” he glanced at you, his gaze flickering back to your lips, then lower to your neck, “but you were thinking it.”

“I-”

“Come, I might have some ointment left for your neck,” Jaehyun doesn’t even give you a chance to protest.

Grabbing your wrist, you obediently follow him back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” he commands.

You look around in question, “Where the hell am I going to sit?”

Jaehyun reached up to the upper cupboard, the bottom of his shirt slightly lifting with his shoulders to reveal his back, “on the counter, of course,” you averted your eyes somewhere else when he turned to face you, “unless you want to sit on my lap,” he smirks.

You shake your head, lifting yourself on the counter. Even if you sat on the counter, you were only tall enough to meet him at eye level. Snapping the cap open, the familiar smell of mint and ginger filled your nose as he dipped two fingers in the gooey substance. A very sinful scenario flashed across your mind as he pulled those fingers back out, his digits drenched in the healing fluid. Squeezing your legs together, you cleared your throat as he crept closer to you, but that only led to Jaehyun sliding his free hand around your nape to pull you closer.

“I don’t bite,” he whispers, that smirk returning.

“I didn’t ev-”

You tensed as Jaehyun’s fingertips brushed on your skin to apply the ointment. Both of your bodies were so close to each other, the only blockage being your knees that dug into this stiff abdomen. It also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s face was incredibly close to yours. With one movement, your lips would’ve met.

“Relax,” he whispers, his eyes switching up to meet yours.

Chills shoot down your spine, a sudden heat pooled at the bottom of your stomach at the breeze of his breath. But eventually, you relaxed. Until you felt his hand on your neck rubbing circles. He repeatedly dipped those long digits of his in the ointment and reapplied it to your neck. To be honest, you thought it looked fine, it was still sore and hurt in certain places but it felt like he was lathering you in it. Once in a while, you’d wince at the pressure Jaehyun’s fingertips pressed against some of the bruises.

“Sorry,” he’d murmur. You’d thin your lips but relax as soon as he apologizes, his voice sounding sincere and gentle.

Slightly turning to the side, you let out a troubled breath, sharply inhaling another, repeating those steps over again and again until Jaehyun slowly pulled away. His warm hand slipped from your nape and your breath trembled, the cold air settling on it as soon as he pulled away. You watched him set the ointment back where he got it from, not missing the flutter of his skin that revealed the slight muscles in his lower back. Oh boy, you sighed.

Jaehyun turned back to you, “You alright?”

You nodded, “Will it still be there by tomorrow?”

Jaehyun walked to you as you stayed glued to the counter, he hummed, “Considering that you almost met death twice in the span of two days, it’ll take a few days,” he was closer once again, “just be careful,” his voice in a low whisper.

You could feel his breath brisk your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was your own heat warming you up or the faint warmth of the words that escaped his plump lips. You felt his abdomen on the curl of your knees like before and there wasn’t a way to bring them closer because it’d reveal to him what you were thinking...or feeling. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly, maybe you were just lonely. But the longer you stayed in front of him, your desire to kiss him grew. He’s been nothing but cold and mean, but he’s been so kind and taking care of you despite his spiteful aura. You sucked in your bottom lip, stopping whatever trembling words attempted to escape from the cage of your tongue.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jaehyun’s hands slid to your waist.

“Don’t do that,” Jaehyun brought him closer to you, prying your legs open to create space for him.

You sucked in another sharp breath, “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Jaehyun seemed to be drawing closer to you, his gaze occasionally glancing at your lips as both of your breaths began to weigh down. Closing your eyes, you swore you felt his lips brush yours until you realized he wasn’t kissing you at all, but instead lifting you until you were back on your feet. With bodies still closer than the stars were to the moon, you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. Already looking at you, Jaehyun let out a heavy sigh.

You should’ve inhaled another breath because the next second, you found yourself against Jaehyun’s lips. Those lips that were so pink and so inviting met yours. It felt like Olympus was on pause and it was just you and him. No Maeve, no darkness, nothing. A heavy sensation of peace settled in the curve of your palms as you dragged them down his chest. You gasped when he bit your lip, sucking and, licking it for permission of entrance and you immediately complied, not giving it any thought at all. Those calloused hands of his wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you closer flush against his body, against his hips. Jaehyun’s tongue danced with yours, a gasp revering the way he held you close to him, the way with each stroke, you moaned enough to satisfy him. Until he pulled away.

With panting breaths and blinking eyes scattering across yours, you could see the panic in his eyes. You could see instant regret that pooled in the darkness of his eyes, yet you couldn’t help but inhale when he stepped away, the heat of his body replaced with his familiar coldness. Your eyes follow Jaehyun as he runs out of his home. Not saying anything to you, but leaving you alone in the darkness of his home. In the Underworld. Standing alone in his kitchen, you could hear the loud beating of your heart penetrating your ears, blocking the sound of droplets from the faucet, the hum of the house, and the confusion in your breath. Your fingers fly to your lips, the feeling burns yours like a scar. Was it something you said? Was it something you did? Gulping, you frantically searched the cupboards for a cup of water, thirst reaching your throat, but instead you found a section that opened up to bottles of whisky and wine.

Even better. Finding a drying cup in the sink, you poured yourself a glass of the bronze liquid, not caring for it’s age or make. You winced as the liquid scorched your throat, coughing at the slightly burning sensation that warmed your mouth, but anything was better than the searing feeling of his lips and the pain of when he pulled away.

#neowritingsnet #nct writers #cznnet #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jung jaehyun imagines

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 years

Text

A distant memory - Loki

Loki Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Thor finds a letter Loki wrote to a woman called Y/n. He does not know this woman but the language used in the letter is loving and sweet, so Thor decides to ask about her. What he doesn’t know is that this woman has passed.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2110

My dearest Y/n,

Not a day passes without my mind, body, and soul yearning for your touch and pleasant conversation. Just yesterday I slept on your side of the bed in hopes of smelling traces of your perfume on the pillows. It did not help. Your books still hold your bookmarks on the places where you stopped. I must say, I admire your will to read every book that belongs to you but worry that you might never finish one. Just today, I found five different books that have your bookmarks. Yesterday, I found two. I have put them aside for you to make it easier to finish them. A fair maiden asked me for a dance last week at one of my father’s feasts but I had to refuse. No maiden could ever be as fair as you, even if you do step on my toes while we dance. It gives us more reason to keep practicing. My love for you grows every day and so does my longing. I fear you might be away for longer than I can take and I wonder if you would mind if I came over to see you for a day or two. Just the two of us.

Love,

Loki

‘Brother, who is this letter for?’ ‘What letter?’ Thor holds a letter that looks old and withered. It takes less than a second for Loki to realize what it is. He suddenly looks enraged. ‘Put it down,’ he snaps with venom laced in through his words. The sudden change in demeanor surprises and scares his brother. As careful as he can be, he puts the letter back on Loki’s desk. Loki rushes over and picks up the letter with the utmost care, gently putting it back in a drawer that he locks right away. ‘Who is Y/n?’ Loki sighs and leans against his desk. He looks tired when Thor looks at him again. It’s like a pain has been buried deep within him and has been eating at him for ages. ‘A hundred years or so ago, I went to Midgard to do some business for father. He send me to visit a pagan family that worshiped us to bless them. On the next farm over lived a young woman and when I went to the pagan family, they kept insulting her. I felt I could not justify giving our blessing if this maiden wasn’t the terrible person they said she was,’ Loki explains, ‘so I went over to her house to see for myself.’

Confidently, Loki strides over to the maiden’s house. Her garden is filled with flowers and herbs. From what Loki can tell, there are animals behind the house. This woman is sustaining herself but why? Why would a young maiden live so far removed from the fuss of the city? Especially since the family says she’s not married. Loki knocks on her door and hears fuss inside. It sounds like a dog barking at the door and a big one at that. He watches as a small latch in the door opens and a woman looks outside. He can only see her eyes but the eyes are the gates to the soul and her eyes are beautiful. They sparkle like the gems his mother wears, the reflection of water, or dewdrops on roses. ‘What is your business?’ ‘Forgive me for barging in miss. I have traveled long and far and need a place to rest my head. Would you allow me to sleep in your haystack or shed? Anywhere that’s dry.’ He hears the door unlock and out runs a big, black dog. He looks like he crawled from the debts of hell but his demeanor is friendly when his owner shows kindness. Loki doubts he acts the same if she is in trouble. ‘You make me sound cruel. Please come inside. I’ve got food to spare,’ she tells him with a friendly smile. Her door is wide open but Loki hesitates to step inside. He takes a good look at the maiden. As beautiful as she is, how is she capable of being this friendly. He can not imagine she has not been taken advantage of at least once. ‘You do not know me. Are you certain you want to show me kindness?’ ‘Why would I not? I have Bella to protect me if I need it and if I am frank, you look withered and weak. I doubt you’d be able to lay your hands on me,’ she tells him, ‘come inside. There’s a storm coming.’ Loki steps inside and follows her into the house. She offers him a chair at the table and gets him a plate as well as a drink. If this is a wicked woman, what is the family next door like? They show no kindness. Bella, the big dog, lays itself down under the table by her feet. She seems at ease as the maiden pets her a few times over the head. ‘So tell me, traveler, where are you going?’ ‘You don’t want to know where I’m from?’ ‘I doubt you’d want to talk about it if you’ve been traveling for long,’ she says, offering him a gentle smile, ‘besides, where you’re going tells more about you than where you’ve been.’ ‘I like your ideology miss. May I ask your name before I tell you?’ ‘Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?’ ‘I fear you may want me out if I tell you.’ She nods, not pushing it any further. Loki feels like she wouldn’t mind who he is as she does not seem like a judgemental person but he wouldn’t want to run the risk. ‘My name is Y/n.’

Early in the morning, Loki awakes on the comfortable couch in Y/n’s living room with more blankets covering him than he went to sleep with. He is awoken by the wet, warm sensation of Bella licking his face. ‘Good morning Bella.’ He pets the dog a few times and gets up from his resting place. He hears Y/n call for Bella, who runs out excitedly. She must be outside, taking care of her animals. He dresses quickly and walks outside to see what she’s up to. He finds her sitting in the field, one of her cows laying beside her resting it’s head on her lap. She calls out commands to Bella to herd her sheep together and back to the pen. After the raging storm last night, she probably wants to see if they’re all alright. Loki walks towards her and sits down next to her in the grass. She nods to him, too busy to greet him. It’s only when all the sheep are in the pen that she fully acknowledges him. ‘Did you sleep well?’ ‘Yes, but the strangest thing happened,’ he tells her with a slight smirk on his lips, ‘I woke with three blankets while I’m sure I had only one when I went to sleep.’ ‘You looked cold.’ ‘You are a very kind host, miss Y/n.’ She smiles and looks out over the field. Bella comes running their way and sits down next to Loki. ‘She has taken a liking to you,’ Y/n notices, ‘she doesn’t like many people.’ ‘I feel honored.’ Loki pets the dog as he looks at Y/n. She looks beautiful in the morning light. Almost as beautiful as she had looked in the candlelight last night. ‘I feel like I have been untrue to you, miss,’ Loki tells her. ‘Why would that be? You are a traveler, are you not?’ ‘I am but not of the kind you know,’ he tells her, ‘you have been a wonderful host and I feel you deserve the truth.’ She chuckles. ‘You speak like this will change everything.’ ‘It might,’ he lets his head hang, ‘my name is Loki, god of mischief. I originally came here to bless the family next door for their devotion to us but they spoke ill of you. I felt I had to be certain you were a bad person if they were to deserve our blessing.’ ‘And what might your conclusion be, Loki god of Mischief?’ ‘They should deserve our blessing for their faithfulness and devotion to us but not for their treatment of others.’ She smiles. ‘I see.’ ‘May I ask why they talk of you this way?’ ‘I am an unmarried woman living alone on a farm. If I’m not being called a spinster, I’m being called a witch. It changes with the season. I’m used to it by now.’ She shrugs it off like it’s nothing but Loki feels a pit of rage in his stomach. A woman as lovely as her should be worshiped. He rips a piece of his golden armor off and puts it between his hands, forging a golden bracelet from it. ‘If you’ll allow me, I’d like to protect you,’ he says and shows her the simple, golden band. She looks hesitant and Loki understands. He’s the god of mischief. ‘Forgive my hesitation but I have been fending for myself for what feels like forever. It’s a kind gesture but I do not need it.’ He nods but gently takes her hand and puts it on. ‘Wear it,’ he tells her, ‘I will not protect you but I will watch over you. If you need company, just call out to me.’ She smiles again, putting her hand over his. ‘That is very kind, Loki.’

As summer progressed into fall, Y/n harvested her crops and made sure they’d survive winter. Her harvest wasn’t great but over time she noticed her supplies would not lessen, even if she took something. It would just reappear when she returned. Loki had visited her a few times during summer but when fall got colder, he stayed away. She feared she might’ve read his actions all wrong as she felt her feelings grow towards him. She thought he felt the same. When Winter thawed and the ground got softer, she called out to Loki in hopes to ask him about it. He did not appear and she feared he had forgotten about her. That is until- ‘Did you miss me?’ She couldn’t stop the smile appearing on her face if she tried. It’s like her feet work on their own as she runs over to him and throws her arms around him. ‘It’s so good to see you again. I feared you had forgotten me.’ ‘Forget the fairest maiden I have ever met? I could never,’ he tells her with a smile. His eyes linger on her lips for a second. ‘I stayed away in hopes your feeling would lessen.’ ‘My feelings? How did you know?’ ‘Darling, I am a god.’ ‘That’s fair, I should’ve known,’ she says with a grin, taking his hands, ‘but why?’ ‘I am not the best suitor and a maiden like you surely deserves better.’ ‘I do not want better.’ He frowns and looks down at her darling eyes. They still shine like gems and are filled with love. ‘My darling, I cannot marry you,’ he tells her, ‘I am prince, heir to the throne. They expect me to marry a goddess.’ ‘I understand.’ She smiles but he can tell she feels terrible. Her heart dropped and her smile faltered. It wasn’t hard to tell that his words hurt her. ‘I wish I could. I truly do,’ he promises her. ‘Then, don’t marry me but stay with me until you have to give yourself to another.’ ‘My darling, my mischief seems to have rubbed off on you,’ he speaks proudly, ‘yes. I will stay loyal to you until I must love another.’

‘But the villagers started a witch hunt and as a single, unmarried woman she was the first target,’ Loki tells his brother, ‘I could not protect her. Father would not let me.’ ‘You loved her, didn’t you?’ ‘I did but it’s in the past now. There’s no bringing her back.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Don’t be. I was young and stupid. I fell in love with someone I couldn’t have.’ Thor nods and takes a deep breath. ‘Believe me or don’t but you deserve love, Loki. I hope you’ll find a woman like her.’ Loki lets out a breathy laugh. ‘There is no woman like her.’ Thor leaves Loki’s room. It takes Loki a second to come back to reality. His hand reaches for the drawer and unlocks it once again, taking out the golden band she had worn. He deserves love, yes, but he has already met the person he was supposed to be with and no one else will ever compare.

#loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n

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shanastoryteller · 3 years

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Underworld Dreams

i feel the need to clarify that this isn’t fiction writing, that these are about real dreams and real events that happened to me, and i was just thinking of them and thought - i should write these down

i don’t remember my dreams, generally, and i don’t tend to put much stock in the meanings of dreams, generally

but sometimes i have dreams that are stickysharp, that are very vivid, and that feel very real to me for the first few seconds after i wake up, and then i’m always filled with an embarrassing amount of relief that no matter what’s going on in my life currently, those problems aren’t my problems

my friends call them my underworld dreams

the first one i had was one i was very young, less than six years old, and i don’t remember much from my actual life from that age with clarity that i remember this dream. i was alone on the street, searching for someone, but everything was empty. i wasn’t scared. then i come across two dogs, fancy poodles, but they’re not right. they see me and immediately begin arguing. “what’s she doing here? she’s not supposed to be here.” “get rid of her” “she’s here now, she might as well stay” “she’s not supposed to be here!” and i try and interrupt, but then they’re looking at me, looming, so much bigger than me when they hadn’t been before, until they’re all teeth, and i’m running. all i hear is barking, and i’m not nor have i ever been afraid of dogs, but i run and my chest hurts but no matter where i look i’m alone. the dogs aren’t there, aren’t chasing me, but i don’t know where to go. i look around and i realize that everything’s in black and white. that the only things that hadn’t been a shade of grey had been the those two dogs. life isn’t shades of grey, i remember suddenly, and i bend over to pick up one of the grey bricks lining the sidewalk. i hold it in both hands and break it in half and liquid cement pools from the broken brick onto the ground. “oh,” i say, with relief, “it’s not real. this is a dream. i can leave now.”

then i wake up.

my mother dies a week before my tenth birthday and i have a dream that i do not forget. i am in the front yard, looking down at the highway from the large sloping hill of our home, leaning against a birch tree.

there’s a car slowly rolling down our long driveway. once, when i was younger, i was left to play in the front seat of the car as it was parked on top of the long driveway. it was an old car. i moved something i shouldn’t have and the car started rolling and i screamed and screamed, knowing something bad had happened but not how to stop it, and then my mother’s boyfriend, who i hated, ran and jumped into the rolling car and slammed on the breaks.

i am not in this car. it is getting faster, no one to slam on the breaks, and then my mother is standing next to me. “i’m in there,” she says. “you could save me.”

i understand that this isn’t real. that my mother is dead and so she can’t be standing next to me. everything else seems so real and normal, but my mother is here like she hasn’t been for weeks, and that means this is a dream. i look at the car rolling down the hill and remember her casket getting lowered into the ground and i say, “no. you’re already dead. you have to stay dead, that’s how this works.”

she’s disappointed, but not angry, she stands next to me, silent, as we watch the car roll into the highway, watch it crumple, watch it roll into a ditch. when i turn to look at her, she’s gone.

then i wake up.

i’m not relieved. i feel guilty for not saving her, even in a dream, even when she was already dead.

i do not dream of my mother again.

my grandmother raised me after my mother died. my grandmother dies when i’m twelve and i do not dream of her when it happens.

i will, years later, but not then.

i’m in high school and i have another dream. i am in something between victorian england and modern day. everything is gray. i live in a small apartment.

children keep appearing at my door. i let them in, i feed them, i cloth them. i go to food banks and schools, searching for who these children belong to, but no one claims them, so i keep them. it’s so hard to keep them, but i can’t leave them.

some of the children get sick. i do my best, but some of them die.

i put the bodies in the closet and lock the door. i tell the other, living children not to go near the closet.

i go searching. dead children don’t belong in closets. i go to the hospital, but they say they will not take random dead children. i go to the police and they laugh at me, saying no one will take them, that i’ll have to get rid of them on my own.

i am angry and desperate but there is a part of me that is not surprised.

i go home. i will have to keep the dead children in the closet. the living children ask questions, reach for the closet, and i stand in front of it, standing between my dead children in the closet and the living children in front of me, knowing that they can’t open it, that i have to keep it closed, because if i open it then my living children will walk into the closet with my dead children and they will not come out.

then i wake up.

i do not have any dead children in my closet. the relief is sharp, but not sweet.

i have a loft bed in college because the tiny room i’m sharing in this small apartment is not big enough for us to fit two bed side by side.

i dream that i wake up in this bed, in a place that’s not my own. there are children there, that i know but do not recognize. they cry out when they see me and yell for me to climb down. i do and they grasp my hands, pulling me outside.

my grandmother is there. other people that i do not recognize but that i know are there. the children are my cousins. these people are my family. we are outside and it is beautiful and bright. the grass is green and soft.

i sit and talk with my grandmother as the children play. the children run off somewhere else.

“i’m so glad you’re staying,” someone who i thinks might be an aunt says, patting my hand.

the first curl of unease is easy to mistake for confusion. “no, i can’t stay, i’m just visiting.”

“visiting?” she says, pitying. “there’s no visiting. the dead have to stay dead. you know that.”

i am cold. the grass is still soft. it’s still beautiful. i do not want to stay.

my grandmother is sad, not pitying, when she says, “it’s too late. they’re burning the bed.”

i am running. i do not stop to say goodbye.

the house is burning. the children are tugging at the long legs of my loft bed, trying to to pull it to the ground, and all around me are flames. i run through them, ignoring the cries of my cousins as i climb into the loft bed, laying down and burying my face into my pillow that smells of smoke and heat just as the legs crash and i’m tumbling to the ground.

then i wake up.

my pillow does not smell of smoke.

it’s finals week and i dream that i’m in a cave. there are bars on the entrance, even though it just leads to even more cave, and guards and a warm yellow light coming from somewhere.

i am with people i do not know. they are not concerned about leaving. i am. i get the gate open, the guards aren’t around. “come on,” i say to everyone. “let’s go. we have to go.”

“it’s just a waste of time,” one of them tells me. “we can’t leave. where would we go?”

i don’t understand.

someone else puts a water bottle and a several packets of saltine crackers into my hands. “you’ll need this,” he says, not unkindly. “don’t lose them. it’s important.”

i can’t force anyone to come with me. the guards will be back soon. they should be here now. leaving seems too easy, suddenly, but it’s not like i’m going to stay, so i go.

the caves are confusing. it takes a long time to find my way out, and i drink most of the water and eat the saltine crackers. when i step out of the labyrinth of caves it’s too bright, brighter than it’s ever been.

i walk for a long time. i come across a field that is a mix of golden corn and golden wheat growing side by side in a confusing, impractical mixture.

i see a man, dark skin and greying beard, in grey overalls and a grimy henley that maybe didn’t used to be grey but is now. he has a scythe in his hands, leaning back and swinging it through the mix of corn and wheat.

the wheat falls to the side and the scythe passes through the corn, leaving it unharmed.

“can you help me?” i ask. “i need to go home.”

the man startles, looking at me. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“i know,” i say, “can you help me? i can’t figure out how to get home.”

he stares at me for a long moment, then nods, digging a small hole in the ground with the toe of his boot. “here. you kept them, didn’t you?”

he doesn’t specify, but i know what he means. i take out the mostly empty water bottle and the torn plastic packets of the saltine crackers. i shouldn’t have eaten them. but it was the only way to get out the cave.

the man sighs, as if i’m tiresome, and takes them from my hands. he empties the saltine crumbs into the dirt, then pours the last of the water on top. he directs me to stand on top of the hole, and i do, and he kicks the dirt in around my feet. “they didn’t have to help you. you’re lucky they gave those to you.”

i am. i would not have gotten out of the cave without them. i would not be going home without them.

the man takes a step backwards, leans back, and swings the scythe through me.

then i wake up.

my bed is soft and warm. i wonder if i was the corn or the wheat.

my cousin has been two years younger then me our whole lives and she is two years younger than me when she dies. it is strange to think that for the rest of my life my cousin will not age and i will. i live on the other side of the country to her. the last time i was home, i had a bus to catch and she was busy talking to her boyfriend, so instead of waiting to hug her goodbye, i left and said, “i’ll hug you extra hard next time,” and the pain is too familiar to be sharp.

i dream we are in a beach house like we visited once as children, but we are adults. i am delighted to be here, with my family, warm and content and safe. my cousin is there and we’re floating in the pool and i look at her and my easy contentment falters. something is wrong. i put my arms under her shoulders and knees, like i’m supporting a child who’s just learning how to float, and she looks very still and peaceful until she cracks open an eye to grin at me. “oh no,” i say say, looking at her, remembering, “you’re dead.” disappointment flashes over her face. i wasn’t supposed to say anything. i wasn’t supposed to remember.

then i wake up.

i dream we at a garden we’ve never been to. it is bright and easy and the moment i see her, i know that she is dead, but she does not. i don’t tell her, i let her drag me to look at roses bloom, and try to feel for coldness in her skin, but it’s warm. i make myself smile and she doesn’t make me let go of her hand and it’s so very warm here. for the first time i want to stay, but it’s not even a choice. she looks down at our clasped hands and when she looks up, her lips are tinged blue. “oh no,” she says, and i’m reaching for her, to pull her in to hug her extra hard, but i’m not quick enough, “i’m dead.”

then i wake up.

can you forget you’re dead? i wonder. can you forget you’re alive?

the last stickysharp dream i had was over a year ago, and it was this:

i am at the beach with all my friends. i love them so much. it’s hot and and the sand burns my feet so we are sitting on the shoreline, damp and hot and laughing.

there is a bright flash of light. it’s a bomb going off. i don’t know how i know, but i do, and i run.

you can’t outrun a bomb, but i try, my first instinct to flee and the hot sand is burning my feet. it takes me too long to realize that no one else is running, that they’re all standing perfectly still, watching their death coming for them.

my friends are still at the shoreline. the first shockwave is coming. i don’t have enough time to run back to them, even though i want to.

i die alone

then i wake up.

i do not remember my dreams, generally, and i don’t put much meaning into dreams, generally

generally

#this is your grandma talking #yes these are real dreams yes they happened exactly as describes #even my subconcious is dramatic

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

Text

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 11

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I am not from the US and I've only been in New York once when I was a kid (I don't remember much lol I was six, I think), so I apologize if some of the places are inaccurate but I tried my very best to do my own research. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters I've written and I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first whisper of the Monday air, brushed among the streets of the Upper West Side as you and Bucky decided to grab your running shoes and spend this day outside in the open air, hoping to burn all the calories you consumed last night. With a bottle of water in both your hands, you reached Central Park, catching your breaths. With sweat dripping down your forehead to your eyes, you saw a vacant bench and took the liberty to sit on it with Bucky behind you.

"Do you," Bucky sat beside you, panting and squinting his eyes and shaking off the sweat on his face, "do you run everyday?"

"Not everyday." You chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Four times a week."

"Why do you even like running? I feel like I'm in hell." He sighed, resting his neck on the brace. His breathing was restless and uneven but soon calmed down after a few moments.

"It takes my mind off things. I got a lot going on up here, y'know." You replied with much honesty. "Other people do it to keep in shape but I do it because I need it."

"I've never considered running. I just go to the gym and lift weights. Well, I have my own gym but if I'm being honest with you, I've been slacking off since the day I got here in New York."

You smiled and lifted your eyes to look at him. His face was glistening under the bright morning sun.

"Maybe it's a good thing we ran today." You nudged his shoulder with yours, his sweat-drenched skin rubbing up against your own. "You should run more. The more you do, the less you'll hate it. Trust me."

"You know what, as long as I'm with you, I will." He chuckled. "Ain't running with anybody else but you, doll."

There was a warm sensation moving up towards your cheeks. You didn't know if it was the heat of the sun or the warm blood rushing in but either way, you just knew that a pink flourish was becoming visible on your cheeks.

During that moment all you could muster was: "S-sure."

You hid your face by facing the opposite of Bucky and looked at the crowd that Central Park held. There, across the field lay a dozen picnic blankets on the bright green grass where a bunch of families and couples were reading, eating and talking audibly. Some were sitting underneath the tree for some shade. Some were walking their dogs on a leash and a poop bag ready on hand. Some were tourists with heavy backpacks just walking around. The chirping birds soaring in the air grabbed my attention, making you look up at the sky in which the bright sun hurt your eyes. You closed your eyes after that, trying to regain most of your vision. Once you did, you opened your phone and checked if Peter had left any messages. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

Peter was very vague about where his corporate retreat was, sticking to his notion that in order for him to take his mind off things, he also needed to be away from his real world, whatever that meant.

You sighed, texting Peter anyway, telling him everything was fine and that Bucky had been with you ever since he went away. You asked him how he was and hoped that everything was fine and well, and that he was enjoying his corporate retreat.

"Hey, let me take you somewhere nice today." Bucky said while tapping your sweaty shoulder, making you look up from your phone.

"Why? Where are we going?"

Bucky stood up, typing on his phone and looking around the park. "Wherever my car takes us. I figured since the bar doesn't open on Monday, you and I could do something fun that'll help you relax. Come on, you can go shower in my penthouse. I already have clothes sorted out for you in the guest room."

Your mind was still processing the part where he said that you could go shower in his penthouse.

Confused, you asked. "Wait, now?"

"Yes. Now, get up on your feet. My car's waiting on the road."

He didn't give you much time to comprehend his words, and respond, as he grabbed your hand, pulled you up from the bench. And as you ran, hand in hand, amidst the crowd, there it was again, that after feeling of spontaneity, fleeting; that same feeling you couldn't seem to explain really well — that same feeling you were wishing to avoid.

You and Bucky jogged towards the streets where a black and white Maserati with fully tinted windows was waiting on the side of the street. You thanked Bucky as he opened the door for you. He gave you a cheeky smile in response then hopped in beside you, introducing you to the driver named Howard. Howard nodded his head and smiled at you through the rearview mirror.

Once the car revved forward, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, weary that your sweat was getting all over the expensive leathered seats of Bucky's car. You moved a bit forward in an oh-so-subtle movement, pushing your body against the strap of the seatbelt across your chest and did your best as you could to avoid sweating all over the seats. With one strong swift move, Bucky pulled your arm back, throwing your back against the seat and told you to relax.

You greeted Leonard with a smile and a wave once you arrived in White Wolf. You and Bucky exchanged some small conversation in the elevator which led right into the penthouse, something about the last time you were here. You both laughed at the memory as you teased him about it.

The penthouse didn't change as much the last time you were here; the only difference was there was no woman with little to no clothing waiting for Bucky to arrive. You looked towards the huge glass windows, your lips curved downward as you were hoping to get a good view of New York that was hiding behind the draped curtains. Bucky led the way towards the guest room in a well-lit hallway on the second floor. You walked under little chandeliers hanging from above. On the walls were duplicate Van Gogh paintings, and framed photographs of nature that blended well with the color scheme of the paintings, as well as the penthouse.

"I picked out some clothes for you that I thought you might like and had my assistant bring them over here." Bucky said, opening the door.

Feeling a bit guilty, you said: "Bucky, you didn't have to."

"I insist. Besides, I'm in charge of you for the whole week." He smiled, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"I'm older than you so you do what I tell you." He just dismissed your remark, and added: "Now go shower. I'll meet you downstairs for some brunch."

With that, Bucky closed the door behind him, leaving you in a state of awe as you looked around the guest room which was twice as big as your room. It was like a duplicate of the living room but smaller, and with a king-sized bed in the middle on the far back with clothes and some towels draped along the edge. A telescope stands near the glass walls. Beside it sits two dainty cushioned chairs, and a miniature coffee table. There was a flat screen 32-inch television facing the bed.

You walked near the curtains, slithered your finger between the noticeable gap and took a small peek outside.

You stepped into the insides of the bathroom which was near the size of your room. Everything felt so unfamiliar to you but you bathed everything in and relaxed as soon as the small prickle of the cold shower water hit the soft spots of your body.

You got out of the guest room, feeling fresh from the cold shower. You wore some cropped halter top, heathered trousers and slipped on some fuzzy slippers that were quite big for your size, even though your feet were already big. You quickly assumed it was Bucky's.

"Did you, by any chance, get me some shoes too?" You joked as you approached the kitchen, eyeing the bagels on a big plate on the rectangular island in the center. You hopped on one of the high stools, grabbed one and smeared cream cheese on it. "Just kidding, I love these fuzzy slippers."

Bucky's back was facing you, busy flipping some pancakes on the stove. "You're not wearing that outside. And yes, I do have some but they're mostly Peter's. Don't worry he hasn't used them yet."

"That's alright. We're the same size."

Bucky turned around, a big pan on his right hand. He approached you and flipped a pancake on top of a tower of pancakes on a plate.

"You like the clothes I picked out for you?" He asked and sat down on the high stool.

"Yes, thank you. But seriously, you didn't have to."

"Okay, so let me get this straight... You let me pay for food and alcohol but not clothes?"

You laughed. "It's a different thing! Those were cheap, these," you touched the fabric of your shirt and trousers, "are obviously expensive. They don't have that thrift smell my clothes have. And besides, I need food but not clothes so you paying for my food was a big win for me."

Now, it was his turn to laugh, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Okay from now on, all I should hear from you when I give you stuff is thank you."

"But... why?"

"Because social convention dictates us to."

"I know, but, why are you giving me stuff?"

"How else am I going to keep you around?" He winked as he continued to chew.

"Bucky." You warned.

"Okay, okay." He chuckled. "The thing to know about me is I love spoiling people — people that I trust and I'm obviously comfortable around you."

Not knowing any other way to answer, you just said: "Oh, well... Thank you."

"And of course, the thing I said before too." He laughed and you threw a bagel at him in response.

You and Bucky enjoyed your little brunch while planning the day ahead of you: go around Fifth Street, and perhaps Broadway, maybe go to the Chelsea market and as Bucky said: "Just go wherever our feet take us!"

Once both of you were done, you headed down White Wolf, with Bucky's Maserati waiting in front. You greeted Howard as you climbed in.

"You know what would be nice?" You started once the car moved forward. "Capturing people's moments in a crowded street." You said, picturing Fifth Street in your head.

"Oh, that's right." Bucky replied. "Here." With his large hand, he handed you a camera. But it wasn't just any camera. It was yours.

"Wait, is this my camera?" You asked, taking it from him. He nodded in response. "Bucky, what the hell, you went through my stuff?"

"Not me. Howard."

"Howard?!"

"Don't worry, miss," Howard spoke, glancing through the rearview mirror where you saw your own reflection, "I didn't take anything else and put everything back in place. I just did what Mr. Barnes told me to do."

"James." You scolded.

"What are you James-ing me for?" He said, leaning against the seat, clearly stifling a laugh. "He's the one who went through your stuff!"

"You are such a child." You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who told him to."

"You heard him, he didn't take anything else."

"Next time you pull something like this, you ought to let me know okay?"

He lifted his eyes to look at you, teeth biting his inner cheek, a smile wanting to reveal itself. "Okay."

You sighed but you also couldn't help but smile at your camera. It had been a long time since you've operated it as you have been so busy in the bar and hadn't had clients for a while now. You closed it immediately, seeing as the battery was just at fifty percent.

You and Bucky got out of the vehicle as soon as Howard reached Fifth street and entered the Lacoste building with no rush. You held your camera close to your chest, the strap feeling a bit heavier on the back of your neck as the hours passed but the weight of pleasure of taking photos of the street from the inside of the glass windows overwhelmed that.

All the stores looked so unfamiliar to you. The stores you usually go to had dimly-lit rooms with low ceilings, and instead of tiled floors and walls, they had chipped to almost rotten wood walls. The smell of new clothes in these designer stores filled your lungs, the bright incandescent lights nearly caused blindness to your eyes, the amount of men and women dressed in suits, stockings, and skirts were nothing you had ever seen before, designer clothes were hanging on racks color-codedly, or by season, or by new and old collection, the eyes of the security guards in each entrance lurked from miles away until you get inside the store, and today, you have seen Bucky's sleek, black credit card get swiped into the little machines a hundred times. He bought some clothes for himself, and Peter, whom he actually promised to.

Bucky even handed you some clothes, told you to put them on and when they did fit you, he immediately went towards the counter.

Feeling as if everything was too much, you refused but all he said was:

"From now on, when I buy you things all you have to say is thank you."

Overpowered, you just nodded and said exactly what he wanted you to say: "Thank you." And as hours passed more shopping bags were in my bags (yes, you insisted to carry what he had bought you, and when he refused, you gave him back his words, a little taste of his own medicine: "From now on, when you buy me things all you have to do is let me carry them.")

"Ah, throwing my words back to me. I see."

As you walked around a whole lot more, side by side, exposed elbows and lonely fingers constantly brushing against each other, you talked about things you both loved. Nothing about Bucky's hotel business, nothing about the bar, just the things in life which made you both happy — photographs, paintings, and everything about art. He saw the world through yours. You were just beginning to see his but the details weren't enough for you. You craved more of what was in his mind and in his life — no, not the business, parties, booze and all that.

But the things that separate him from that world, and the things he grew up with before that.

A lot of questions swarmed in your head, trying to think of ways to ask them but Bucky merely insisted on knowing you. All of you. But just like him, you too had your guards up, especially around your family issues.

Then you reached Chelsea market. You didn't know how but you did. You spotted Bucky's car parked on one street and told you to leave all the things he had bought inside. After saying your goodbye to Howard who, afterwards, drove towards the bumper-to-bumper traffic in Manhattan, you and Bucky headed to wherever your feet you. You were feeling a ton lighter without the shopping bags dragging your hands and you could now freely touch and open your camera.

Bucky, with a Grande Starbucks cup in one hand, looked around with a big smile planted on his face. You walked around, seeing the art district of New York through your lenses. You grabbed Bucky's attention by calling his name and when he turned around, you snapped a shot of him. Eyes wide. Brows furrowed together. Lips in a state of bafflement.

"Hey, delete that!" He protested.

You laughed, turning your body in the opposite direction. "No way! It's a good picture!"

"No, it's not!"

You kept on laughing, mumbling a bunch of "sorry"s and "excuse me"s along the way, the camera still shoved in your face.

Your lens caught a familiar name from afar, printed in neon red: Wanda. You stood there in the middle of the crowd, leaving Bucky to wonder what had happened.

"Let's go there." You said, making your way across the street where it was.

"Where?"

"Just follow me."

Bucky held no questions no more as your feet treaded towards the building of Wanda's studio. Once you reached it, you merely stood meters away from it, looking at the sign.

"Wandavision." You mumbled under your breath then bit your inner cheek afterwards, contemplating if you should go in and say hi but that didn't matter anymore because standing behind the tall glass windows was Wanda herself.

Again, she gave you that oh-so-sweet smile of hers, long red locks cascading down her shoulder as she walked towards the door. You gestured to Bucky to come with you, no questions asked.

"Y/n!" Wanda exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you as you and Bucky entered the building. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

"You too, Wanda."

"And who's this dapper man of yours?"

Beside you, Bucky's body vibrated, a chuckle coming out of his mouth as he offered his hand. "I'm Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you."

Wanda shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too." She gave you a knowing smile, taunting you, but you dismissed her assumptions by shaking your head no, and then she pouted.

Wanda led you further down her large, wide studio, giving us a tour.

"I'm quite surprised you came by, Y/n."

"We were just walking around the market and saw your studio." You replied. "Wanda, what you have here is... so beautiful."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that. I've wanted this since I was a little girl. It's always been the dream."

The inside was bright, with fair white walls, floor and ceiling, and smelled of fresh lavender. On one corner, it smelled of fabrics, make-up, and hairspray. Framed photos of Wanda hung on the walls. There was a dressing area on a corner, and a comfortable couch, perhaps, for visitors as well as the models. A mini kitchen stood in the far back. On top of the cute marbled island was a coffee maker, and a mini fridge. There was one room solely for the post-production process, her main office. A giant paper backdrop had taken a huge space on the floor. Around it were different kinds of large lights, tripods, chairs and other expensive equipment for photography.

She had it all. Everything you've pictured yourself having.

Wanda had it all.

"You've come at the right time. There's not much going on today but I have tons of clients coming for the next few days but really, feel free to come by anytime you want."

"I will, thank you."

Howard picked you right up outside Wandavision. The whole ride was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"Your friend's really nice." Bucky said, trying to clear the atmosphere. "She's a bit too chatty for me but she's nice."

"Yeah." You answered, your head pressed against the window. "Really nice."

"Are you okay, doll?"

You hummed. "I am. Just a bit tired s'all."

"Listen, I just have to head to the White Wolf but Howard will drop you by the apartment, okay? The shopping bags are already there but you don't have to worry about them, I'll take care of them as soon as I get back. Just take a rest, okay? Maybe a short nap. I'll grab you dinner on the way. How does that sound?"

Tired to even tell him you didn't need to babied, you just said: "Okay. Thank you, Bucky."

You did as Bucky told you to. You ignored the bags sitting on the couch, placed your camera on your nightstand and took a damn nap. When you woke up, instead of feeling better, you felt sick to your stomach. Your phone lit up, a message from Bucky displayed on the screen:

"Sorry for the delay. I'm currently stuck in traffic. I'll see you in 20."

You sighed and with an empty stomach, and an occupied mind, you put on your jacket, anticipating a cold rush, grabbed your keys to the bar and headed down. You went straight behind the counter, jumped over it and found an unopened vodka.

You drank the vodka, drank all your troubles away and as you sat there on the floor, weeping, the place you worked at felt too much familiar to you. So much so that you began to hate it and to hate the kind of life you had been living. Who were you fucking kidding? No, you didn't like juggling two jobs. It sucked. Even though it had been giving you the ability to pay half of the rent, it still sucked.

This wasn't what you wanted.

A few moments have passed. You were already on your second bottle. There was a sound coming from the back which began to startle you. A certain Steve emerged from his office, a look of concern evident on his face.

"Stevieeee!" You stood up, well, tried to anyway. "You're here!"

"Y/n, what the hell." He took you in his big muscular arms, his one hand carefully yanking the bottle of vodka on your hand and placing it on the counter. "You're drunk. You should go home. Where's Peter?"

"He's away. He left. Wait, why are you here?"

"I just had to take care of some things."

"Is Nat back there with you? It's okay, shh, shh, I know about you too."

"Oh, God. Did she tell you?"

"Puh-lease! You imprinted your scent on her like a werewolf."

He just sighed. "Let's get you to your apartment."

"Don't worry, Stevie, I won't tell. Hey, call Bucky. Grab my phone. It's on my ass." You giggled and then hiccuped. He carefully grabbed your phone from your back pocket, let you enter my password which took forever, and then called Bucky.

"He'll be here in a minute or two." Steve said, sliding your phone back in your pocket. "Let's get you seated, alright?"

He sat you in one of the booths. "I'll get you some water, okay?"

You didn't respond. Your eyes were fixated on the photos on the wall. With your breath rapidly increasing, you stood by your knees, and grabbed as many photos as you could. Steve slid in the booth with you, handing you a glass of water. You took a small sip, avoiding his eyes.

"What happened, y/n?"

You didn't give him an answer to his question and just downed the water. But you did ask him something. "Why'd you buy my photos, Steve? Is it because you pitied me that day?"

"What? No, I truly believe you have amazing photos."

"But what?"

"What?"

"There's always a but. What is it, Steve?"

"But nothing, y/n."

"Liar." You muttered. "You're a liar."

"Look, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I don't need help. I'm not a child!"

"You clearly are, especially when you're behaving like one. You come in here, drink an expensive bottle of whiskey, cry on the floor and ask me a bunch of ridiculous things. It's okay to ask for help sometimes."

"I'll pay for the bottle if that's what you're asking."

"No, I don't care about that. I care about what's going on with you right now because this isn't you, y/n."

"Oh please, you don't. You just pity me! That's why you bought those two photos, that's why you let me put my photos up here in the bar. I'm no good, Steve! I'm no good."

"Y/n — "

Then, a door slammed, a running Bucky coming inside. "Hey, doll. I'm here. Hey, hey, what happened?"

"Let's just go, Bucky." You stood up beside Bucky who held your waist for balance.

"Thank you for calling me." Bucky told Steve.

"Just take her home safely."

"I live right upstairs." You groaned.

"And make sure she doesn't drink anymore or do anything stupid." Steve scolded, his eyes locked on yours.

Bucky held you all the way towards the outside of the bar, and guided you towards the steps that led to the sidewalk. A black limo was on the street. With the windows rolled down, Howard asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?"

"Everything's okay, Howie. You can go back now."

"Wait!" You exclaimed, slipping away from Bucky's arms and headed towards the limo. "Howard, take us somewhere."

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You didn't give him time to wait for an answer as you opened the door and climbed inside the spacious limo. Bucky climbed in, confused.

"Y/n, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

You gave no answer, instead, you gave Howard the address. "450 West 15th Street."

The ride was more silent and shorter. He tried offering you food he had bought but you kindly refused, dreading to get out of the limo. You held on to your photos so tight that marks, scratches and folds were visible even in the dark.

When you reached your destination, you quickly hopped out, with Bucky following you.

"What are we doing back here?"

You were standing in front of Wanda's studio, the red neon lights illuminating on the concrete street, giving a bit of life on this side of New York.

You sat down on the floor, against a big pot of plant, your eyes never leaving the sign. Bucky, still confused, followed suit anyway.

"You know, my parents told me I'd never make it here. The day I left my home to live here, they told me, 'you'll never amount to anything. You'll never have a good life in New York. You'll never make it as a photographer. That's not a real job.' And I told them I will make it that I'll work my ass off, blood, sweat, tears, I'll do anything to prove them wrong. But don't you just hate it when they're right? I left my family, lost my communication to my siblings for this ridiculous dream I've been chasing for years. Everything I've done here feels like nothing."

At this point, you didn't want to hear anything or anyone besides yourself. So you were more than glad to hear nothing from Bucky, and to feel his fingers interlaced with yours.

"Wanda and I met in college; a year younger than me. We shared a love for photography and arts. Then we kind of just lost touch after I graduated. And then I saw her a week ago. She looked so happy and so content and I could feel her pity on me, her eyes, her touch. It was the first time I felt so small and I didn't think I could feel smaller but then we went here. Everything I wanted for myself, the things I pictured myself having and doing... She's living it. She's out there and I'm not. And I really hoped that by now, I've proved my parents wrong but turns out they're right. They were right all along. I don't amount to anything. I'm nothing."

"Wandavision." You laughed bitterly. "Wanda's vision. That right there. That's fucking clever."

"Let's get you home, doll. Please?"

"I want to stay, Bucky."

"We'll talk when we get back. Please, y/n."

You didn't agree to anything but he lifted you up anyway, guiding you towards the limo which was still on the street.

The partition was up. Even though Howard was inside the limo as well, at that moment it was just you and Bucky.

So, you cried, like how the skies cried, in Bucky's arms. You wept for all the unpaid rent and debts, for the menial job that you ended up in, for your failed career as a photographer, for your selfish parents, for your isolation from your college friends, for your insecurities, for your dog that died when you left for college, for your former lover that abused you, for the books you left unread, for all the wrong choices, for all the money you wasted during your college days, for all the toxic people you've ever met, for all the alcohol stains you had to wipe for years, for all the food intake during your peak of stress in school, for the only cherries you tasted, for the drunk sex you've always regretted, for the drunk kiss with Peter you've always regretted, and for the incoming mistake you were about to do.

"Kiss me." You whispered, lifting your head from his chest. "Kiss me, Bucky."

He shook his head no. Your noses touched. "Why not?" Your breaths moved together.

"Because right now, you're a mess." He whispered. "You're very vulnerable and drunk. I can't."

"I'm giving you all the consent I need. Kiss me."

"Not like this, doll."

Instead of going for your dry lips, he placed his lips on your forehead, his mouth and breath lingering. "Not like this."

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 5

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 5

CW: blood

This chapter has 2 versions: a T-rated one here on Tumblr and an E-rated one on Ao3. The plot is the same, but there’s smut on the Ao3 version.

1999 (Two years later)

The second inhuman creature Liam met was named Bennett, and Liam liked him about as much as he liked sand in his socks. Bennett was tall and thin, with a pretty face and a predatory look in his eyes that completely spoiled it.

Liam was walking across campus on an unseasonably cold night (for Florida) and now that he’d come upon a vampire, he was glad for the light scarf he’d wound around his neck. Bennett fell into step with Liam as if they were old friends. “Looking for Kurt,” he said. “Heard around town that you know him.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

Bennett peered at him more intensely, and when Liam recoiled a little, Bennett grinned. “Guess you’ve spent enough time with him to know what I am. So, uh— how good of friends are you? Cause I should tell you I really picked you out by the fact that I can smell him on you.”

Liam decided he was not going to think too hard about that one. “Was there something you needed?”

“Just want to catch up with him. Been a while.”

“Well, I’m sure he knows you’re here.”

Bennett looked confused. “How would he know that?”

“I have no idea how he does it. In any case, if he wants to see you—”

Kurt’s voice cut in, startling Bennett. “I don’t, particularly. But neither do I wish Liam to have to deal with this.”

Kurt was ahead of them on the sidewalk, a shadowed shape sitting on a half-wall by the library. Liam recognized him easily by the fact that it was difficult to decide exactly how large of a person was sitting there in the dark, as the outline of him seemed to shift restlessly. Kurt’s voice fell low, and almost seemed to ripple the air around them. “Get away from him.”

Bennett took several steps back, and Liam wasn’t sure whether Kurt had used his mental powers to compel him into moving, or if he’d just scared the man badly enough. Kurt stood up off of the wall and stepped in between Liam and Bennett. “What do you want?” he asked.

Bennett was cringing. “Look, man— if you can just give me a drop. I’m in trouble, pissed off some guys. I’ll pay you. Anything. I can get you whatever you—” Bennett’s voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide, terror growing on his face. Abruptly he turned and ran, disappearing into the dark.

When Kurt turned back to Liam, he looked completely normal. For Kurt, anyway. So only a tiny bit terrifying, if you looked closely enough around the eyes.

“A drop of what?” Liam asked. He started heading for home again, and Kurt joined him, watching Liam intently, assessing him. Liam didn’t comment on it. He’d learned that protests of his well-being were useless when Kurt was worried about him, that Kurt would perform his own examination and be satisfied only with that.

“My blood,” Kurt said finally, when his analysis had apparently ended. “A drop of it can heal humans’ wounds, and although I’ve never tried it on a vampire, I imagine it would make them stronger. They sometimes come asking for it. I’ve just never found one who wanted it for a good reason.”

Liam was not in the habit of asking Kurt a lot of questions, largely because it was more comfortable sometimes not to know an answer, and Kurt seemed to make a practice of telling Liam the truth. Liam decided to ask anyway. “So, how did you know I’d met your, ah, friend there?”

“I know what happens to you,” Kurt said.

Liam watched him for a second, doing his own assessment. “You know I’m going to accuse you of mind reading.”

Kurt turned and met his eyes, an odd expression on his face that looked a little like bewilderment and a little like a reluctant confession. “I don’t need to. I just know. Listen, Liam, are you busy tonight?”

“You don’t have plans with Jonah?”

“No, he’s out with friends.”

“Ah. Did you get a chance to—”

“I’ll eat when he gets home, if he’s up for it.” Kurt was looking at him curiously, probably because Liam didn’t usually call attention to the fact that Kurt’s lovers provided him with blood. “Do you want to head to Tollense?” Kurt asked. “It’s midnight in Germany. Site should be deserted.”

“Are you remembering something about your origins?” Liam asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Liam nodded and Kurt slipped a hand under his elbow. Their next step brought them down into a darkened river valley. The grass would be green in the sunlight, but under the stars it ran gray and then faded to black in the distance. The Tollense River was more of a sound than a sight right now, the pleasant noises of gently moving water emerging from a dark void.

It was actually warmer in Germany that night than Florida, and Liam unwound his scarf. He sat on the grass and looked up at the clear night sky.

“I think there was a bridge,” Kurt said.

“Makes sense,” Liam told him. “A bridge is a natural place for a battle. People would want to be in control of movement through a strategic point.” Liam tried to imagine the valley as it had looked three thousand years earlier, during a large-scale Bronze Age battle that historians had once thought impossible in this sparsely populated area. Kurt had been here then, young and vulnerable and a great many other things that he would never again be.

“I’m pretty sure I was on a boat under the bridge,” Kurt said. “I remember people falling, and some of them landed in it.” Kurt dropped onto the grass beside Liam. “And I was still looking for that same person that I can’t remember.”

“That’s not bad for three thousand years ago,” Liam said.

“I don’t remember dying,” Kurt said. “You’d think that would be a memorable event.”

“Are you sure you did?” Liam asked.

Kurt looked pensive, and Liam wanted to tell him that he could let go of all of it, the human mask that he tried so hard to keep on, that it wouldn’t frighten Liam to see him as he really was. But Liam wasn’t entirely sure that was true, and he was certain that it would break Kurt’s heart to think Liam was afraid of him.

“You still think I’m not a vampire,” Kurt said.

“Maybe. I mean, yes, you drink blood, but your powers are different, your blood is different, and if you never died—”

“I have the scars from the arrows in my chest. At some point, I must have been vulnerable to weapons.”

“Well, you were human. And now you’ve— changed.”

“There’s something else,” Kurt said. “It’s happened on our last three trips here.” He pointed, and Liam looked, but all he could see was the occasional glint of starlight reflected in the river. “There’s a dog,” Kurt said.

That was not what Liam had been expecting. “A dog.”

“Yeah. A large white dog. I thought he was real until I realized you don’t see him. And also, he’s got six eyes. I couldn’t see him well enough at first to notice that, but he comes closer now.”

Liam fought a little shiver. Surely with Kurt by his side he was in no danger from a spectral dog. And anyway, if Kurt thought there was danger, he’d have Liam nowhere near it.

“Six eyes,” Liam mused. “You know, in Proto-Indo-European mythology, there was sometimes said to be a three-headed dog guarding the underworld.”

“He’s just got the one head.”

“Yes, but he’s got enough eyes for three.”

“I suppose so.” Kurt sounded amused. “But why would a dog from the Underworld be appearing to me?”

“I’ll do some research.” Liam lay back on the grass, alone in a field at night with the first inhuman creature he’d met, and this one was not pathetic and frightened but incredibly dangerous and also quite sweet. Liam decided he’d like to ask another question. “Does it hurt? When you drink blood from someone?”

“No. Well, yes, but I convince them it doesn’t.” Kurt lay down too, but on his side, looking at Liam. “Actually— I usually make it feel nice.”

“Nice.”

“Very nice.”

Liam turned to look at him. Kurt’s eyes were glowing faintly in the dark. “Oh. You mean— nice.”

“Listen, Liam— you and I—” Kurt frowned, almost seeming nervous, which was not a common look for him. “When I drink blood from someone, we form a connection. Something that ties them to me, lets me know if they’re all right or in trouble. I’ve wanted that with you, for a long time. Because we’re— we’re close. But the thing is, it’s been happening anyway.”

Kurt was losing his human disguise a bit. His shape in the darkness was shifting about again. “I know where you are, and what’s happening to you. I know if you’re sick, if you’re hungry. I know when you get those damned threatening letters because they scare you.”

“Why?” Liam whispered.

“I don’t know.” Kurt looked honestly confused. “But you and I already share a greater intimacy than I’ve shared with anyone in a very long time. If I drank from you— we’d be even closer. Is that something that you would want?”

“Yes.”

Kurt was assessing him again. “You’re scared.”

“Not of you.”

“If we do this— whatever you’re scared of might not remain your secret.”

Liam felt a little wetness in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s a secret now.”

Kurt lay there looking at him for another moment, and then he sat up. Liam started to sit up as well, but Kurt put a gentle hand on his shoulder and Liam lay back down. Kurt’s hand trailed down his arm to grasp his wrist, holding him loosely, as if Kurt wanted him to have a last chance to pull away.

Liam did not pull away, and Kurt raised Liam’s wrist to his mouth. The bite was painless. To Liam it felt like a kiss, the soft, warm press of Kurt’s lips against his skin, and there was only a sort of odd lightheadedness that made him realize he was losing blood.

After a moment, Kurt raised his head, and there was a touch of color to his lips, a sort of stain in the darkness. “Do you want the full show?” he asked.

“Seems a shame to miss out,” Liam answered.

*********

Read the E-rated ending on Ao3 or continue for the T-rated ending. The plot is the same, but there’s smut on the Ao3 version.

**********

Kurt lowered his head again, but this time instead of biting, he licked at what blood had welled up on Liam’s wrist. Liam found himself floating in a daze, where every movement of Kurt’s lips or tongue brought him further into bliss. He felt the bite this time, and it was the perfect sting of pain to make the pleasure seem even sweeter. Liam moaned, and he heard Kurt make some sort of light growling noise in return.

The night and the stars seemed to fade away and there was only Kurt. Liam felt dizzy and entranced, his body and mind not his own, as Kurt drank his blood and gave him this pleasure as reward.

While Kurt sat unaffected above him.

It ended before Liam could really understand what a bleak thought that was, that he was alone in this ecstasy, not wrapped in his lover’s arms. He felt Kurt’s mouth move away from his wrist. The bliss gently ebbed away, letting Liam settle back into himself as he lay there on the grass. And yet Kurt was not gone. Liam could feel him inside, close and warm. Not in a sexual way, not anymore. But there was the realization that Kurt had felt Liam’s moment of reluctance and responded to it, maybe not understanding why it was there, but accepting it nonetheless.

Kurt lay down again, so that he could look into Liam’s eyes. He still had hold of Liam’s hand, and he’d laced their fingers together.

“Wow,” Liam said.

Kurt smiled, looking both pleased and sad. Or maybe Liam could tell that Kurt was feeling both pleased and sad. Liam, for his part, felt dizzy and a little cold, and Kurt pulled him close, resting Liam’s head against his shoulder. Liam fell asleep that way, on a battlefield three thousand years old, in the arms of a man who might have died there or perhaps could never die at all.

*******************

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

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church-history · 3 years

Text

Our Lady’s Message At La Salette - Sep 19th 1846

Near this little fountain the two children layed down on the grass and fell asleep. How long their slumber lasted is not certain – half an hour perhaps, or three quarters of an hour or possibly more. In any case Melanie suddenly awoke and called Maximin: “Memin, Memin, let us go and find our cows, I cannot see them anywhere.” Of course, being at the bottom of the little ravine, they could not see the meadow where they had left them. Quickly they climbed the slope opposite Mount Gargas (hence they were standing on what is now the esplanade in front of the basilica). Turning around they could view the entire alpine pasture land and were greatly relieved to see that their cows had remained where they had been left, peaceably chewing the cud. Reassured, Melanie began to redescend towards the dried-up fountain to recover her little sack of provisions before once again watering the cows. Half-way down the grassy slope she paused immobilized, frozen with fear. “Memin”, she called out, “look at that great light over there”. “Where is it?”, the boy replied, as he ran and stood at her side. (At the place of the Apparition two statues represent the children on the slope of the ravine, in the first stage of the Event.) At the very spot where they had slept was a globe of fire, as if, in the children's words, “the sun had fallen there”.

The light swirled, then grew in size and, opening, disclosed within it a woman, seated, her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, in the attitude of one oppressed with grief. Melanie, in her fright, raised her hands and dropped her shepherd's staff. Maximin thought only of defending himself. “Keep your stick”, he said to her, “I will keep mine and will give it a good whack if it does anything to us” ...Even after she conversed with them, the children could not identify their heavenly Visitor. They would simply call her “the Beautiful Lady”.

The Beautiful Lady:

The beautiful Lady now stood up while the children remained transfixed where they were. She said to them in French: “Come near, my children, be not afraid. I am here to tell you great news”. Fully reassured by these words the children hurried to meet her. Her voice, they said, was like music. They approached so near her that, as they later expressed it, another person could not have passed between them and her. The Lady also took a few steps towards them. They looked at her and noticed that she did not cease weeping all the time she spoke to them. As Maximin put it, “She was like a mama whom her own children had beaten and who had escaped to the mountain to weep.” The beautiful Lady was tall and seemed to be made of light. She was dressed like women of the region with a long dress, an apron nearly as long as the dress, a shawl that crossed over her breast and was knotted in the back, and a cap or bonnet similar to the ones worn by peasant women. Roses crowned her head while another wreath of roses adorned the edges of her white shawl and a third garland surrounded her shoes. Over her brow shone a light in the form of a diadem. On her shoulders shone a heavy chain and from a smaller golden chain hung a resplendent crucifix with a hammer and pincers placed on each side of the Cross, a little beyond the nailed hands.

The Message:

The unknown Lady now spoke to the children. “We were drinking her words”, they would say later, adding, “she wept all the time she spoke to us”. “Come near, my children, be not afraid; I am here to tell you great news. “If my people will not submit, I shall be forced to let fall the arm of my Son. It is so strong, so heavy, that I can no longer withhold it. “For how long a time do I suffer for you! If I would not have my Son abandon you, I am compelled to pray to him without ceasing; and as to you, you take not heed of it. “However much you pray, however much you do, you will never recompense the pains I have taken for you. “Six days I have given you to labor, the seventh I have kept for myself; and they will not give it to me. It is this which makes the arm of my Son so heavy. “Those who drive the carts cannot swear without introducing the name of my Son. These are the two things which make the arm of my Son so heavy. “If the harvest is spoilt, it is all on your account. I gave you warning last year with the potatoes (‘pommes de terre’) but you did not heed it. On the contrary, when you found the potatoes spoilt, you swore, you took the name of my Son in vain. They will continue to decay, so that by Christmas there will be none left.” The French expression “pommes de terre” intrigued Melanie. In the local dialect the word for potatoes was “las truffas”, whereas “pommes” for Melanie meant the fruit of the apple tree. Hence she instinctively turned towards Maximin to ask for an explanation, but the Beautiful Lady forestalled her. “Ah, my children, you do not understand? Well, wait, I shall say it otherwise”.

And she continued her discourse in the local dialect of their region. “If you have wheat, it is no good to sow it; all you sow the insects will eat, and what comes up will fall into dust when you thresh it.” “There will come a great famine. Before the famine comes, the children under seven years of age will be seized with trembling and will die in the hands of those who hold them; the others will do penance by the famine. The walnuts will become bad, and the grapes will rot.” Here the Beautiful Lady addressed the children separately, confiding to each a secret. She spoke first to Maximin, and though the little shepherd did not perceive that her tone of voice had changed, Melanie at his side could not hear a word, though she still saw the Beautiful Lady's lips moving. Then came Melanie's turn to receive her secret under like conditions. Both secrets were given in French. Again addressing the two children in the idiom familiar to them, the Lady continued: “If they are converted, the stones and rocks will change into mounds of wheat, and the potatoes will be self-sown in the land. “Do you say your prayers well, my children?”, she asked the shepherds. Both answered with complete frankness: “Not very well, Madam”. “Ah, my children”, she exhorted them, “you must be sure to say them well morning and evening. When you cannot do better, say at least an Our Father and a Hail Mary; but when you have time, say more.” “There are none who go to Mass except a few aged women. The rest work on Sunday all summer; then in the winter, when they know not what to do, they go to Mass only to mock at religion. During Lent, they go to the meat-market like dogs.” “Have you never seen wheat that is spoilt, my children?”, the Beautiful Lady then asked them. “No, Madam”, they replied. “But you, my child”, she insisted, addressing the little boy in particular, “you must surely have seen some once when you were at the farm of Coin with your father. (Coin was a hamlet near the town of Corps). The owner of the field told your father to go and see his ruined wheat. You went together. You took two or three ears of wheat into your hands and rubbed them, and they fell into dust. Then you continued home. When you were still half an hour's distance from Corps, your father gave you a piece of bread and said to you: ‘Here, my child, eat some bread this year at least; I don't know who will eat any next year, if the wheat goes on like that’”. Confronted with such precise details, Maximin eagerly replied: “Oh yes, Madam, I remember now; just at this moment I did not remember”.

Then the Lady, again speaking French as at the beginning of her discourse and when giving the secrets, said to them: “Well, my children, you will make this known to all my people.” Now she turned slightly to her left, passed in front of the children, crossed the brook Sezia, stepping on stones emerging from it, and when she was about ten feet from the opposite bank repeated her final request, without turning around or stopping: “Well, my children, you will make this well known to all my people.” These were her last words. Meanwhile the two witnesses were still standing motionless at the spot where the conversation had taken place, when suddenly they realized that the heavenly Visitor was already some steps away from them. In their eagerness to join her again, they ran across the brook and were with her in a moment. Thus, in the company of Maximin and Melanie, the Lady moved along, gliding over the tips of the grass without touching it, until she reached the top of the hillock where the children, after their sleep, had gone to look after their cows. Melanie preceded her by a few steps, and Maximin was at her right. On reaching the summit the Lady paused for a few seconds, then slowly rose up to a height of a meter and a half. She remained suspended in the air for a moment, raised her eyes to Heaven, then glanced in the direction of the southeast. At that moment, Melanie, who had been standing at the left of the Lady, came in front in order to see her better. Only then did she notice that the celestial Visitor had ceased weeping, although her features remained very sad. The radiant vision now began to disappear. “We saw her head no more, then the rest of the body no more; she seemed to melt away. There remained a great light”, related Maximin, “as well as the roses at her feet which I tried to catch with my hands; but there was nothing more”. “We looked for a long time”, added Melanie, “to see if we could not have another glimpse of her”, but the Beautiful Lady had disappeared forever. The little shepherdess then remarked to her companion: “Perhaps it was a great Saint”. “If we had known it was a great Saint”, said Maximin, “we would have asked her to take us with her”.

The Great News Spreads:

At dusk, a little earlier than usual, the children brought back their herds to the hamlet of Ablandins nestling on the mountainside below. Pierre Selme had been impatiently awaiting Maximin's return to the farm house. “Well, Memin”, he asked him, “why did you not come back to me in my field, as I told you?” “Oh”, Maximin replied, “You do not know what happened? We found by the spring a beautiful lady who entertained us a long time and talked with Melanie and myself. At first I was afraid and did not dare to go and fetch my bread which was near her, but she said to us: ‘Come near, my children, do not be afraid, I am here to tell you great news’”. The boy then related the story of the Apparition, hardly pausing for breath. He was very surprised that the people of the valley had not noticed the bright light in the ravine. He then scampered lightheartedly over to the home of Melanie's master, Baptiste Pra. The girl, busy in the stable, had as yet said nothing. Maximin, more communicative, spoke at once to the assembled Pra family about the Beautiful Lady. He was immediately surrounded and questioned. On hearing the story, the old mother of Baptiste Pra began to cry, and with the intuition her simple faith gave her exclaimed: “This beautiful Lady can be none other than the Blessed Virgin”. The others were not so sure and waited for Melanie. As she did not hurry, her mistress, old Mother Pra, ran to the cow barn to fetch her. “Come quickly and tell us what you saw with Maximin”. “I saw as he did,” the girl replied, “and since he has told you, you must know it by now.” But all insisted, so back in the kitchen of the humble cottage she stood before them and related, for the first time, the wonderful event. All were amazed to hear both children, while reciting the Lady's discourse, speaking French fluently, for that same morning neither of them knew anything or very little of that language. The pious old grandmother, more and more moved, repeated her conviction: “She is certainly the Blessed Virgin, for there is no other person in Heaven whose Son governs”. Then she turned reproachfully to her young son James: “You have heard what the Blessed Virgin said - go now and work again on Sunday!” “Bah”, came the retort, “you will make me believe that this little one has seen the Blessed Virgin, she who does not even say her prayers!” “But that night”, declared Melanie later, “I remained a long time on my knees although I hardly knew any prayers by heart”. It was eventually decided that this affair was something to be submitted to the Church. Hence, first thing in the morning, the two children descended to the village of La Salette to tell their story to the pastor, Father Jacques Perrin. A knock at the rectory door brought the priest’s housekeeper, a kind but inquisitive spinster. They said they must see the priest. Must they, indeed? And why? They had something of great importance to tell him. They could tell it to her, Francoise insisted; it was the same thing. Seeing that she was immovable, the children began their recital. Father Perrin, in the next room, heard them and as they continued, he lay down his pen (he was writing his sermon). For a while he sat motionless, then moved noiselessly toward the kitchen. When the account was complete, he stepped into the kitchen and with tears in his eyes said to the children: “How fortunate you are, my children, for it must have been the Blessed Virgin whom you saw!” It was time for Mass and when Father Perrin mounted the pulpit he began telling the people of the children’s strange experience on the mountain. But his voice was choked with emotion and his words were unintelligible save by someone who already knew the story. The people looked at each other, mystified. But there was one who understood him - Monsieur Peytard, the mayor of La Salette. In the afternoon Peytard was on his way to the hamlet of Ablandins. He did not advertise his real purpose but would casually drop in at the Pra’s house for a friendly visit. He spoke to Melanie and asked to hear again the story she had been telling (by this time Maximin was already back in Corps). When she was through, he said: “Be careful, my child, to add or suppress nothing.” “I have said everything the beautiful lady told me to say”, was her reply. Then he began to cross-examine her mercilessly, passing back and forth from threats to bribes. It was fruitless. He could not shake Melanie or get her to vary her account by a word or persuade her to say no more about it. The lengthy interview, however, did induce Pra to abandon his attitude of disbelief. There must be something to this affair. He must put the story down on paper, with the help of his friends Selme and Moussier. So, that evening Melanie was made to tell the story one more time, but now very slowly, so that Pra could get every word down on paper. How right was his instinct in giving documentary form, as quickly as possible, to what the unforgettable voice had said on the mountain just the day before! Monday morning M. Peytard descended to Corps to question Maximin. He returned to La Salette, won over by the amazing self-assurance, candor and tenacity of the boy. His account accorded perfectly, down to the last detail, with that of Melanie. Now the news spread rapidly. Pilgrims, unbelievers, skeptics, took turn in questioning the two young witnesses, trying in every way to cause them to contradict each other. Among them were journalists, delegates from the civil authorities, but most importantly ecclesiastics commissioned by Monseigneur de Bruillard, the bishop of Grenoble. For, according to Canon Law, the ultimate decision rested with the bishop in whose diocese a reported miracle or apparition had taken place.

The Judgment:

After five long years of diligent inquiries, Bishop Philibert de Bruillard of Grenoble, published his longawaited decision, on September 19, 1851: “We judge that the Apparition of the Blessed Virgin to the two cowherds on the 19th of September, 1846, on a mountain of the chain of Alps, situated in the parish of La Salette, in the archpresbytery of Corps, bears within itself all the characteristics of truth, and that the faithful have grounds for believing it indubitable and certain.” The mission assigned by Our Lady to Maximin and Melanie was now ended. On September 19, 1855, Monseigneur Ginoulhiac, the new bishop of Grenoble, thus assessed the situation: “The mission of the children is now ended, that of the Church begins.” Innumerable today are the men and women of all races and countries who have found in the message of La Salette the road to conversion, a deepening of their faith, the needed dynamism for their everyday lives, and the motives for their commitment with and in Christ to the service of all peoples.

Read more at: https://www.lasalette.org/about-la-salette/apparition/the-story/705-the-message-of-la-salette.html

#catholic #Catholic History #la salette #our lady of la salette #Christian #blessed virgin mary #mary the mother of god #france #september 19th

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