#but i remember feeling so awful not even knowing if the pain i put myself through did anything so idk if its worth that

[xoln04f1xo]

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm + relapsing, mental health, depression, and recovery.

A/N: This is really a really heavy fic, please read the warnings above first. This fic contains journal entries and text messages. Please talk to someone you trust if you are struggling with anything. My DMs are also ALWAYS open so just text me whenever! 🧡

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

WC: 1.3k

Divider Credit: @enchanthings

💐 Journal Entry: Apr 3rd

I don’t feel like myself. Or maybe I do, and that’s the scary part.

I didn’t answer Lando’s texts today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. I can’t tell him. He’d leave if he knew. I’m already too much. I hate that I broke the promise again. Worse - I feel numb. Like I’m watching myself through a screen.

What if I just... disappeared for a while?

💬 Text Messages

Lando [3:12 PM]: Hey, haven’t heard from you. Just checking in. Everything okay?

Lando [5:48 PM]: You don’t need to reply. Just let me know you’re safe, yeah?

Lando [8:06 PM]: I’ll come by tomorrow. I’m worried. Please don’t shut me out.

You didn’t mean to leave your sleeves pulled up, but you were tired. You forgot.

When Lando showed up the next day, hoodie slung over one shoulder and soft panic in his eyes, he didn’t greet you with loud cheer or nervous energy. Just a quiet, "Hi." And then, after seeing the faint marks, even quieter:

"Can I sit?"

You nodded. You were trembling.

The silence sat between you like an old friend. You tried to speak but choked on the words. So instead, he leaned forward and gently placed a small box on the coffee table: Your favourite biscuits. A note tucked beneath them.

You opened it later that night. His handwriting was slightly messy, but clear:

“You are not a burden. You are not broken. I don’t need you to be okay - I just need you to let me stand beside you when you’re not.” – L

You cried. But for once, it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt like relief.

💐 Journal Entry: Apr 11th

I told Lando. All of it.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t tell me to “snap out of it.” He didn’t try to fix me with false hope.

He just held my hand. He asked questions. He listened.

He listened.

A few weeks later, you were sitting outside together on a bench near the track during one of Lando’s breaks. He was fiddling with a bottle cap, eyes flicking between you and the ground.

“Would it help to talk to someone?” he asked. “Like... someone professional?”

You hesitated. “I don’t want to be put on meds and locked away.”

He shook his head. “Therapy isn’t about that. It’s just... space. With someone who knows how to help you sort through the noise. You deserve that.”

You looked at him for a long time. “You think I can get better?”

His answer was immediate. “I know you can. And I’ll be right here. Every awful day. Every win. Every backstep.”

You squeezed his hand. You didn’t say it, but in that moment, you believed him.

💬 Text Messages: A Month Into Therapy

You [10:31 PM]: Hard day. But I didn’t hurt myself. Even though I wanted to.

Lando [10:33 PM]: That’s huge. I’m proud of you. Every time you choose to stay, even when it’s hard - you’re fighting. And you’re winning.

You [10:36 PM]: I don’t feel like I’m winning.

Lando [10:37 PM]: Then let me remind you until you do. One breath at a time.

💐 Journal Entry: May 7th

Today, for the first time in months, I laughed. Like, really laughed. The ugly kind.

Lando spilled orange juice on his sim setup and panicked like he’d crashed at Monaco.

I didn’t think about pain. Or failure. Or whether I was worth loving. I just laughed.

Maybe that’s what healing feels like. Quiet, strange moments that remind you:

You’re still here.

Weeks later, on a rooftop in Monaco, the sun setting over the harbor, Lando turned to you.

“Do you remember that night you said you didn’t want to wake up?”

You nodded, throat tight.

“I didn’t tell you then, but... that night, I didn’t sleep. I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t be here. I’ve never prayed harder.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny silver bracelet.

Inside, etched in small letters: "One more day."

You blinked back tears. “What’s this for?”

“Every time you want to disappear,” he said, clasping it on your wrist, “look at this. And promise me just one more day.”

You nodded. Voice breaking, but solid:

“I promise.”

Late May

You’d been doing better. That was the hardest part.

When the crash came, it felt like betrayal. You were supposed to be okay now. That’s what everyone thought. But depression doesn’t care about progress—it drags you back under without warning.

Lando was away in Spain for the race. You didn’t want to ruin his focus. You hadn’t texted in two days.

That night, you relapsed.

Not deeply. Not like before. But enough to feel the sting of failure.

Enough to hate yourself all over again.

💬 Text Messages

You [2:43 AM]: I messed up. I’m sorry.

Lando [2:44 AM]: Hey. I’m here. I’m awake. Talk to me.

You [2:45 AM]: I don’t want to be a disappointment. I was doing so well.

Lando [2:47 AM]: You are doing well. A slip isn’t a failure. It means you’re human. It’s part of healing - not the end of it.

Lando [2:48 AM]: I’m proud of you for telling me. That takes guts. More than most people ever show.

He FaceTimed you between media rounds the next morning. You were curled up in bed, eyes red and puffy. He was still in his race gear, hair flattened from the helmet.

“Can I say something?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

“I’ve crashed more cars than I can count,” he said, gently. “But I get back in. Because I love it. Because I know it’s worth it.

You’re not broken. You’re just learning. Like all of us.”

“I just... I hate how weak I feel.”

“You’re not weak,” he said firmly. “You’re tired. And tired people need rest. Not punishment.”

Early June

There were better days, too.

Days where Lando came over with takeout and made you sit through bad Netflix romcoms. Days where he handed you a coloring book and sat beside you in silence for hours.

One day, he showed up with a box.

Inside: a custom hoodie that said “One More Day” on the sleeve.

You smiled. Small, but real.

💬 Text Messages

You [7:03 PM]: Had therapy today. Talked about the relapse. Cried a lot. But I didn’t lie or minimize.

Lando [7:04 PM]: That’s amazing. You’re facing it head-on. That’s real strength.

Lando [7:05 PM]: Proud of you always. But especially today. 💛

Late June

You were at Silverstone, for the first time in months.

Lando invited you to the paddock, cautiously, not pushing. You were nervous about the crowds, the cameras. But being near him grounded you.

After the race, he ran to the fence, helmet off, hair wild, beaming.

You were crying again. But not from sadness.

“I didn’t think I’d make it to this moment,” you whispered when he finally pulled you aside.

He held your face in both hands, eyes burning with emotion. “You made it here. You believed for one more day. And now you’ve got this one.”

💬 Text Message

You [11:16 PM]: I thought about hurting tonight. But I called my therapist instead. Then I read your note. I’m okay.

Lando [11:17 PM]: That’s massive. I’m in awe of you. I really am.

Lando [11:18 PM]: You’re rewriting your story, one hard night at a time.

One night in July, during a thunderstorm, you curled up beside Lando on the couch, fingers laced with his.

“I’m scared it’ll always be like this,” you whispered.

He kissed your forehead. “Maybe it won’t always be easy. But it’ll be different. Lighter. And I’ll be here. We’ll carry it together.”

“Even if I break again?”

“You won’t break alone.”

A/N: I'm thinking about writing different areas of mental health. Lmk what you think.

requests are open!

Click here to read more!

[tornoleander]

Finally Ironed out some ninja designs! I Usually don’t share references but with the behind the scenes stuff I’m doing on my Skybound project I don’t have much else I can share yet.

There is a few headcanon/ Fic stuff in references and powers and the all ninja shot is for first part of Skybound project.

I can share Skybound project Updates! I’m making lots of progress! Trying to focus on p1 stuff so I can put full force into the p2 stuff!

|

V

P1 may be ready Summer? 2025

My Skybound talk Video:

* God I have so much to ramble about just when I think I covered something a new angle gets me

* How TF am I supposed to sanely transition from the wholesome reasons I love this season into the horribly problem stuff. Sigh*

* Actually studying videos covering serious topics to navigate how to word things.

* I have to stop drawing so much art for everything or no one will ever see this video.

* The desire to animate my character lipsinking to me is an evolutionary disadvantage I will resist.

Cannon compliant Animatic:

* Song is Ironed out fought a while adding voice lines and I’m way more excited than I thought I’d be for this animatic because I thought it would be overshadowed by how strongly I feel about the other 2. But damn.

* I’m storyboarding after like my life depends on it rn

* Really trying to capture Nya’s character Ark which sent me right back to the video script because I remembered that one reddit post calling her a bitch and rage wrote for 2 hours.

* I am determined to make people see how good her character arc actually is.

* Throwing Jay shade in this one lol he was kinda awful even with being manipulated.

* Trying to convey clear Ideas and story through art is pain but also addicting.

* This is meant as a leading to both part two animatics, but bbnb Kai is shorter than wytyaa Kai. The difference is significant everything else pre dinner with Nadakhan is the same. The other head cannons are almost aligned as far as I know. It’s JUST Kai. What do I do with him?!? Lmao Might just distance him from the other ninja so you can’t tell how tall he is. Thank goodness he is the most gullible and first to wish it all away

P2 out like December if I’M lucky TT

Even though I should focus on first things first, I can’t help myself. these fics have lived rent free in my brain for like 2 years and despite plans shifting the excitement of drawing the story I read and put to music in my head is a force of nature. Thanks Adhd

Wytyaa:

* I storyboarded about half the scenes I want to. Songs are decided but a few parts I’m waiting for the rest of the story for.

* I think I’m going to mess with color palette. I really want to capture the emotion and intensity. I’m learning the full potential of my art and

* I need Final ch released for maping out the second half.

* BUT I AM NOT READY TO READ IT @mondothebombo And from what you told me I don’t think I’ll be able to finish P1 by then. cries*

* I wanna capture the feeling reading wytyaa.

* May make my wytyaa specific refs so I can make animatic art I can post early.

Bbnb

* It’s all storyboarded and half animated

* Thinking about redoing most the earlier stuff, consistency has been a problem

* Also was to mess with colors, dark backgrounds and intense colors.

* I fought with my ref forever to find good enough lightning scar colors cause figuring out the right amount of contrast is pain.

* So now I want to redraw my bbnb scar references a third time.

* May draw other bbnb specific refs so I can make some art for the animatic I can post here early or on on my old A03 book

If you have Any questions feel free to leave an ask! I answer all eventually sometimes I do save em up though so if I didn’t answer something yet, Sorry I will get to you.

[amateurhourfanfics]

Give em' Hell ⟢ ⟢ ⟢

… a series (pt 2)

au!Daredevil x fem!reader - a three part series in which you get to know who Daredevil really is behind the mask - by putting him in front of your camera...

Summary: After saving your life, Daredevil brings you into your apartment to help clean you up. (hurt/comfort, fluff)

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: 18+ for following series, cuts/blood, fluff, spice to come ;)

READ PART 1 HERE!

_____________________

Part 2 | The Devil's Inside My Apartment

Daredevil sets me down gently on the only couch in my apartment, propping my ankle on a pillow. I am highly aware of how disheveled the room looks, with the tattered arm chair in the corner and the table I found on the side of the road. 

“Sorry about the mess,” I say, still in awe that Daredevil is in my apartment. 

He lets out a low laugh. “Don’t be. It looks really nice.” He smirks about something I don’t understand. “Do you have bandages?”

“There’s a first-aid kit in the cabinet above the fridge.”

Daredevil walks across the room and I take him in for the first time. He’s tall. Really tall. Even under his red and black suit it’s clear that this man is absolutely ripped. 

He finds the kit and brings it over to the couch, towering over where I’m laying down. I go to sit up to make room, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and lightly pushes me back down.

“Stay still,” he says quietly. Then Daredevil kneels before the couch. I touch my split lip and feel blood on my fingers. 

He finds a disinfecting wipe. “Here,” he breathes as he wipes the blood off my chin and dabs my throbbing lip. It only stings a little, but he’s doing it so carefully that I get the impression he’s terrified to hurt me. 

Daredevil moves on to another cut above my eyebrow. “I know you.” 

I blink. “You do?”

“I’ve seen you before. You’re always running around Hell's Kitchen with a camera.” He remembers me. “What’s your name?” he asks as he brushes my bangs aside to look at a bruise on my forehead.

I consider telling him, but instead say “What’s yours?” He stops for a moment, then silently puts a bandage above my brow.

“Worth a shot,” I breathe as I close my eyes against his light touches. With him so close, I can smell the sweat lingering from the fight, along with something else that I can’t quite place. What the fuck am I doing? 

I open my eyes and turn to look right at him. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding.” There’s a long slash across his chest. Blood is starting to seep through the rip in his suit. 

“I’m fine. Let me get some ice for that ankle.”

I sit up and make room on the couch. “Sit down.”

“Really, I’m fine. I’ve had much worse.” I take the kit from his hands and repeat myself. “Sit down.”

He can tell by the tone of my voice that I’m not taking no for an answer. “Seems easier to just do what you say,” he sighs as he sits next to me. 

“Smart man,” I smirk. 

The couch is so small that our thighs and shoulders are touching. I try not to think about that as I take a look at the gash, but some of it is still covered by tattered material. Without thinking, I take both hands and grab him by the front of his suit. I rip open a bigger hole, revealing a broad, toned chest. 

“Well that’s new,” Daredevil says, sounding genuinely surprised. 

“Sorry, it was either that or the whole suit was coming off.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he laughs. “It’s just… When a woman rips my clothing off, it’s usually under different circumstances.” His mouth curves in a cocky little smirk. I pretend my heart didn’t just skip a beat and open a new disinfectant wipe. 

The cut looks painful but isn’t that deep, so I start to clean it out. Daredevil takes a sharp inhale of breath.

“Sorry,” I grimace. 

“Stop apologizing,” he says in a low voice.

“Okay.” I can feel his soft breathing on my cheek. I clear my throat and continue to wipe the blood away. 

Daredevil is first to break the comfortable silence. “So, I’m assuming you work for a news outlet?”

“NBC. I lead an on-the-ground camera team.”

“What kinds of things do you film with that camera?”

“You, actually.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t seem surprised. 

I take a few bandages out of the kit. “Every news station in the city has been trying to get pictures and footage of you for months. I’m the only one who’s ever gotten anything.”

“You must be an amazing camera woman–”

“Are you letting me catch you on camera on purpose?”

Daredevil is silent for a moment, but then cracks a little smile.

“Maybe.”

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. I don’t really know what to say, so what comes to mind first tumbles out of my mouth. “I don’t agree with the newspapers. The ones that say you’re a menace or a killer.”

“You’re in the minority.”

“I can see the patterns. In who you’re fighting. You’re picking off Fisk’s associates one by one. That’s something that even the police have been too scared to do. He’s been the cause of so many deaths.” A pang of grief goes through me, but I push it down. “I think a lot of people in Hell’s Kitchen are going to live because of you.”

He doesn’t respond right away. I really hope I didn’t say something wrong.

I continue my ranting. “This town runs on crime and chaos and that monster Wilson Fisk is to blame. But most people don’t get that because he controls the media. Any footage we get that paints you as the hero and Fisk’s criminals as villains is impossible to get to broadcast. He’s paid all of the networks off, or is threatening them somehow. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

My heart is racing from the adrenaline and rage I get when talking about Fisk. I wait for Daredevil to say something. 

Finally, he asks, “Are you willing to stake your career on that opinion?”

“Yes. As it is I’m thinking of quitting and just posting my footage all over the internet. I have nothing to lose, now that–” I take a deep breath. “I just have nothing to lose.” I’m not talking about that with him.

He seems to be thinking over something. “Be at the steps of the Met at noon tomorrow. With your camera. I think there’s something you’re going to want to get footage of. Something that will undeniably connect Fisk.”

Can I trust a man I just met? I don't know what he looks like under that mask. I don’t even know his real identity. Yet, something in me wanted to trust him. 

I took a deep breath. “I’ll be there.”

Daredevil nods, seeming relieved. “Now that I know you’re such a big fan, I’ll make sure to pose for you.”

“Seems like you already were.” I smooth out a large bandage over the slash. 

“Maybe I just like attention from beautiful women.”

My hands still on his chest. It’s rising and falling faster than before. Mine is too. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then sirens sound in the distance. 

We both return to reality and lean slightly away from each other. 

Daredevil stands. “I should–”

“Definitely,” I nod. We both just stand there for a few seconds. “Thank you,” I say softly. 

He comes close and wipes a remnant of blood off my chin with his thumb. “Thank you,” Daredevil echos.

He goes to the large window leading to the fire escape. 

“You could just use the door,” I laugh.

He opens the window. “Not my style.” A gust of cool air blows my hair away from my face as Daredevil climbs out into the night.

_____________________

PART 3 COMING SOON!!!

[ofmdrecaps]

01/21-23/2025 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Happy Birthday Ewen Bremner!; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Con O'Neill; Vico Ortiz; Gypsy Taylor; Andrew DeYoung / Andy Rydzewski; Damien Gerard; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Nes & The Tiny Co-Captains; Never Left Podcast; Love Notes;

== Happy Birthday Ewen Bremner! ==

First and foremost, Happy Belated Birthday to our one and only Mr. Buttons -- Ewen Bremner! His birthday was on Jan 23! Hope it was wonderful sir!

= David Jenkins =

David sending us some love in these trying times. Remember to keep you humor, luvs.

Source David's Bsky

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys has been VERY active the last few days with SF Sketchfest going on amongst other things! In continuing with sharing his stand ups, we got more from the wallet in the skinny jeans bit!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rhys Darby (@rhysiedarby)

Source: Rhys' Instagram

= SF Sketch Fest =

In addition, some pretty cool stuff came out of the SF Sketch Fest! Rhys did stand up, but he also participated in the 45th Anniversary Live Read of Airplane! We also got some pictures that broke the fandom for a few days.

Sources: Cobbs Comedy Club

A clip from the Airplane read! (thank you to @wastingyourgum for find it on facebook!)

Source: Matlock Zumsteg's Facebook

Rhys found D (for Darbs) while out at the show! You can check out the SF Sketchfest BTS he has on his paid substack here!

Source: Rhys' Paid Substack

While Rhys wasn't actually present, him and his early career came up on The Dom Harvey show! Thanks Moosh for sharing!

Source: The Godfather of NZ Comedy

= Con O'Neill =

Jan 22nd was the 10th anniversary of the show Cucumber - starring Con O'Neill!

Source: RusselTDavie's IG

= Vico Ortiz =

Vico shared some heartfelt messages on their current journey/transitions going on in their life on their instagram.

"Grief is such a painfully fascinating, terrifying, devastatingly beautiful and powerful experience. I am in constant awe of its transformative prowess. I must confess I am in the thick of it. Discovering the times I am paralyzed by it as well as times where I surrender to it and witness how it ebbs and flows within me. Transforming me. There are some things I was already expecting. But other things out of my control (the LA fires/Presidential transition being some big ones) one took me completely took me by surprise, the other I have been bracing myself for and I recognize that I am in swimming in the trenches. Im experiencing pain, joy, anger, celebration, sadness, frustration, gratitude…. All of it coming at me in chaotic order, showing up in the most random of places, and in ways I never imagined my heart and nervous system could experience. Im learning how to let myself be human each an everyday in a system that is determined to separate me from myself, from my/our humanity. It’s messy. It’s beautiful. It’s chaotic. It’s expansive. While the fires have devastated me and have left me undone in ways I wasn’t expecting, one thing I am abundantly certain of: no matter what anyone says, regardless of their political “power”… I will always exist. Who I am and who/how I love is a non-negotiable. And I will fight tooth and fuckin nail for my/our right to exist visibly and I will be louder each and everyday because I deserve to be here in this world and you deserve to be here in it with me, celebrating who we are every goddamn day. While I know IG is the only Meta app I’m currently using, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for ways in which we can engage in community that feels safe and affirming. Im enjoying the substack space with @todayingaypod as well Patreon and BlueSky! While TikTok was a good place, I’m currently putting it under observation after the whole shutdown/brought back debacle. I love yall… I genuinely am so grateful that we have each other even if the systems put in place are whack af. Squeezing everyone tenderly 🫂 Enjoy a glimpse of many transitions, moments of levity and honoring ancestry through these photos 🫶🏽✨"

Vico also posted More OFMD BTS on their Patreon!!

Source: Vico's Paid Patreon

= Gypsy Taylor =

Some of Gypsy's works being highlighted from The Newsreader Season 3!

Source: Gypsy's IG Stories

= Andrew DeYoung / Andy Rydzewski =

One of our Directors, Andrew, and our cinematographers, Andy are on their way to SXSW (South By South West) Film and TV Festival for their film 'Friendship'! It's an official selection! Congrats you two!

Source: Andy's IG Stories

= Damien Gerard =

Our Father Teach, Damien, is blessing us with more and more cat content, Athena is such a work of art <3

Source: Damien's Bsky

== Articles ==

Thank you so much to @adoptourcrew for keeping us up to date in all things OFMD Article related!!

GeekSpin Article

source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Nes & The Tiny Co-captains =

So I will spread this out over a couple of recaps because the massive Rhys section above took most of my picture allotment! But I wanted to take a moment to highlight the adorable artwork of Nes. Their Tiny Co-Captains are such a break in my day every time I stumble upon them. Whether they're spending time together, eating cherries, going on silly adventures, Nes brings such joy and life to them that I just wanted to take a moment and appreciate the perfect chibi co-captains and their fabulous creator. I especially adore Archie and look at this super adorable snake for the Year of the Snake! If you aren't already following Nes, please check out their work below! It'll bring a smile to your face even on the roughest days!

Bsky / IG / Tumblr

Nes' Linktr.ee

Source: Nes' Bsky

= Never Left Podcast =

A new episode is back, and this time they're talking about the story in Stede's spank book! 👀 Check it out on your favorite podcast platform!

Source: Never Left Instagram

== Love Notes ==

I know you're tired lovelies. I am too. Been a hell of a year so far.

Please remember to rest, and take care of yourself. Drink your water, eat some food, and laugh if you can. The world feels dark, but you are the light within it. You make it beautiful, and keep it kind. You will shine brighter when you can recuperate and rest-- so please take care of you for a while. Sending Love your way <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Nanea Hoffman (@sweatpantsandcoffee)

Source: SweatPantsAndCoffee Instagram

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: love letters

pairing: grayson x (first person) reader

synopsis: you and grayson used to but ended on really bad terms. you never thought you’d meet his eyes again, let alone have a conversation… and that conversation changes everything

warning:

a/n: it’s a bit rubbish… sorry… but thanks for reading :)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle @mrs-venus-beaufort @emelia07 @f4iry-bell

I slowly make my way up the grand staircase to the main hall. Fancy dinner parties had never been my scene but as required by my employer I begrudgingly accepted. In a dress I didn’t own, or even intend to own I walk to meet my host.

“So glad you could make it,” she smiles a bit too warmly for my liking.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I reply, with the sort of smile you use when you have to be polite, “where am I?”

“Just between those two ladies there,” she explains, gesturing over the the seat between one young black-haired woman dressed in silks and another older woman in a deep blue.

“Thanks,” I nod at her, giving on last polite smile before my jaw got too tired to do so.

I walk over to my seat and go to sit down when something catches my eye or rather someone. I freezes mid movement, my eyes not being able to detach from the sight in front of me. I’ve never felt such a mix of shock and horror and awe in the entirety of my short life. It can’t be… oh but it is. I’d recognise that blonde hair and tailored suit anywhere.

Grayson Hawthorne.

Never again did I think I’d lock eyes with that piercing grey and never did I think it would feel so cold. I sit down and promise myself this will be the last dinner party I ever attend. I never should have step foot out of the house. I never should have agreed to this. Too little, too late now. There’s an odd sort of comfort when he too looks just as stunned, his eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. The lips I used to kiss.

He opens his mouth to talk but I immediately look downs, avoiding any more eye contact. Conversation between us tonight would not happen. I wouldn’t let it. Nobody has to know I know him, he doesn’t have to talk to me, we can just pretend we’re strangers.

Strangers… the word repeats in my brain around and around. isn’t that what we are now? People who don’t talk or interact or really know anything about each other. Not anymore.

***

I force my eyes not to look at him throughout the whole dinner. I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want to be lured in again because I know my rational brain will go out of the window when my heart takes over. That stupid organ has too much control.

I seek to leave as soon as I can. Immediately after the three courses are done and there’s a window of opportunity to get away I do. I didn’t want to risk bumping into a certain Hawthorne on the way out. I rush out of the doors and towards my ride home. I’m half way down the staircase when…

“Y/N.”

His voice sent a tingle town my spine still. I stop and stand. Just when I thought I could escape him. I let out a breath and turn him around, letting myself take him in properly this time. He was different than I’d remembered him… something felt off. I tilt my head to the side and take in the man before me, the man who left me, the man who broke me.

“Grayson,” I say. My voice is strong and harsh and hard. He will never know how he hurt me.

He stares. I stare. It’s like a stupid competition and yet neither of us seem to give in. I can’t read what he’s thinking or feeling in this moment, but then again I don’t want to know. I’m done with the pain and I can’t put myself through it again.

“What’s the matter with you?” Grayson asks, his tone somewhere between concern and curiosity and judgment.

“What’s the matter with me?” I scoff, my eyebrows flying to my forehead.

How dare he? How much pride do you have to have to ask a question like that? It’s a joke, some kind of stupid joke the world is playing on me. What did I do to deserve this? Why now, why tonight? Just when my life is running smoothly, things like this seem to come along.

“Why are you being so cold,” he says, his brows furrowed, as if I should be dancing around and shitting rainbows around him.

“I’m not,” I snap quickly.

“You’ve barely looked me in the eye,” he expresses, his voice too full of emotion, too unlike his usual tone.

And suddenly I’m furious, I’m blinded by a sudden surge of anger. He wants me to look him in the eye after all he’s put me through? What so he can shoot me a smile and rub salt deeper into the wound he made?

“And you expect me to?” I yell, letting my rage take hold, “After everything we went through?”

“Well I wasn’t afraid of looking into yours,” Grayson snaps back.

“Oh so now you’ve finally overcome your cowardice,” I say with a smile laced with passive aggression, shaking my head, “too little, too late.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so infuriated by my presence, if anything I should be,” he replies.

“You should be?” I scoff, “well of course you would think that, you were always so self-centred.”

“I gave up everything for you,” he yells, his eyes filled with fire.

Grayson Hawthorne has never yelled at me. Grayson Hawthorne doesn’t yell. But I don’t flinch or back down. I ignore this new version of Grayson and bury it under the version I’d forgotten.

“No you didn’t,” I scream, “you say you did but you didn’t. You loved me and loved me and then-“

I trail off, I forget what I’m going to say and fumble to find the next set of right words.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then you left,” I laugh bitterly, “and oh you left and never said anything again. So what gives you any right to show up here now.”

I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m angry and anger is all I can see.

“I didn’t just leave,” he spits, a venomous anger on this tongue, “I sent you letter every single day for a year and you didn’t answer a single one.”

“Letters?”

My heart nearly stops. I think it actually skips a beat. My brain stops functioning for a moment and everything is blank. If he sent me letters that means everything changes, that means everything is wrong. What I think of him, how I feel towards him, my whole perception of that relationship and what happened and what didn’t.

But he couldn’t have… he wouldn’t, he didn’t want to, he shouldn’t have wanted to. I refuse to believe it. Because then that means all of those sleepless nights of sobbing, all of those times I thought I meant nothing to him, every single day I looked in the mirror and hated everything about me was for nothing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, “don’t do that, it’s too cruel.”

“No Grayson,” I say, trying to not let my voice waver, staring at him intently, “what letters are you talking about?”

He’s too in shock to reply. My eyes try to find his, darting around like a mad woman’s. I find myself gripping onto his arms and clinging to them. He finally meets my eyes. The grey that was once my world of precious rare metals, then dead like the wilted flowers I wept over and now… now they’re grey like the every changing storm cloud that can’t decide whether it should rain or not.

“What letters!?” I cry, my tone still thick with desperation.

a/n: tell me why this took me like three days to write?? my motivation was nowhere… but oh well. It’s a bit short and sweet, but I hope you guys enjoyed anyway :) requests are always welcome and let me know if you want to be on the tag list 🤍🤍

credit to @cafekitsune for the divided

TIG masterlist

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Chapter 11

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- talk of previous forced marriage, mention of death, description of blood and gore, description of prostitution, mention or beating, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst.

Slightly prof read sorry for any errors

Read previous chapter here

You sit your back against Sandors chest as  he steers the horse you both sit on. You're wrapped in his cloak keeping you warm, the sun peeking up over the mountains, the first light of day breaking as you see the smoke from the burning ships in Kings landing behind you. 

Sandor keeps a firm arm around your waist holding the horse's reins with the other. 

“I know where we can go.” you say. 

“Mm.” he grunts. 

“Home..my home.” you say 

“Volantis? You want to go east.” he says. You nod. 

“Hm” he responds lightly, turning the horse. 

“Where are you going?” you ask. 

“South…There's a merchant ship yard where you'll be able to get on a boat and then take a carriage. The next merchant ship yard is miles off so we'll be riding for a while but we should get there before dark.” he says.

“You're coming with me sandor.” you speak it as more of a demand than a request. 

“I'm not.” he replies. 

“You are.” you fight back. 

“Not.” 

“Yes.” “No.”

“Sandor clegane as your wife, mother of your child, and princess of the very place WE are headed for, I'm ordering you to join me.” you snap. He stops the horse and looks down to you. Before looking back up and continuing the horse forward. A small victorious smile hits your face. 

“Volantis it is.. I guess.” he says you rest your head against his chest in peace, his arm around your waist tightens a bit pulling you closer to him. 

“What do you think will happen to king's landing?” You ask. He scoffs at your question giving no fucks to whats to happen to the place. 

“If Stannis has taken it he’ll be putting a bounty on everyone who flead, me, you servant, commoners. And if not there will still be bounty and the lannisters will still be a bag of cunts.” he says gruffly. 

“When they killed my brother…they sent his head to my family with a note that I was to be married to you or the fate my brother withstood would soon be mine…” you trial off. Sandor can feel a slight pain in his heart as you speak about the forced marriage you two had shared how much he felt like he didn't want you, how he thought you were another stuck up useless little princess how badly he treated you and yet you still stood at that alter and kissed him and even invited him into your bed…but it was out of fear..isn't it?” 

“Do you remember when we wed?” you ask placing your hand over his that rests on your stomach. 

“Yes.” he says coldly, mostly afraid of the awful things you are going to say about it. 

“I remember how nice you looked. That the armory had made you the golden armor and seamstress had sewn a new cloak, were you comfortable?” you ask. Sandor knits his eyebrows together in confusion. 

“No.” he answers anyway. 

“Me either the dress cersi chose for me was corseted to hell, and itchy but…looking back on it i don't think i was scared…I want to tell myself that only married you so my head wouldn't be sent to my mother and father but i can't. I know now that I married you because the gods willed me to love you, I was never afraid of you like everyone else and  becoming yours was the best thing that has happened to me in a while.” you say looking up at him.

He leans down to you pressing a kiss to your lips before you sit back against him and continue the ride twords the merchant shipyard. You hum the song your mother would always sing to you to help you sleep and eventually you find yourself drifting to sleep as the swaying of the horse and the steady sound of Sandors beating heart lulls you to drift, it helps that you'd been awake all night fearing for you life. 

—-----

You wake up to hear the same humming you fell asleep to, too sandors humming the song now having got it stuck in his head after hearing it three times before you fell under the sandman's curse. 

The sun is high in the sky now most likely around 1 pm but it's slightly cast out but the snowing clouds. 

“How far are we?” you ask, looking around tiredly rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“We'll be passing the harvest hall in a moment.” he says as the forest path opens to a clearing, seeing the small town full of people and sellers. 

“We have to pass through prince’s pass and get on the ships at sun spear if we want to arrive in volantis by the day after tomorrow.” he says 

“Sun spear? Dornish country.” you say. Sandor nods. 

A crowd of people passing to the square of the town stops the horse. They all yell about some foreign scum throwing someone into the frozen mud. 

“What's going on?” you ask.

“Does Not concern us.'' Sandor grunts as he heels the horse to move but it doesn't as there's too many people blocking the way out. 

“A SQUIRE FROM KINGS LANDING WAS FOUND IN MY BARN!” a man yells at you frowning in confusion. A break in the crowd allows you to see the accused. Joss. 

“S-sandor, that's joss.” you speak out. 

“So..” he says. 

“Let me down," you say, pulling away from him. 

“y/n no. the villagers will have their way with him.” he speaks. 

“He’s just a boy!” you exclaim. Holding onto the horse as you try to get down off the large clydesdale. 

“Fuck me…wait.” he says and easily hops off the horse before holding onto you lifting you up and off steadying you on the ground. You pick up your dress before running through the crowd. 

“Damn! Y/N!” Sandor yells running after you shoving people out of the way to get to you. 

“S-Stop! Stop!” you yell out as a man kicks joss. 

“Oh looky here a little lady has come to play.” He says. 

“Please stop, that's my husband's squire.” you say. 

“This little shit was hiding in my barn bringing his shame with him when the Lannister found him here they’ll have all our heads!” the farmer yells. 

“Th-the lannisters?” you ask. 

“Yeah pretty girl they won, tywin took them out!” he yells and everyone cheers. 

“Please just.. Let him go. I have money and as long as he's safe.” you plead. 

“You a Lannister bitch?!” he asks. 

“No..i-” you're about to clarify. 

“Y/n!” Sandor calls you entering the middle clearing. 

The man turns to sandor giving you a chance to hurry to joss wrapping your cape around him keeping him as warm as you can. 

“You're sandor clegane.” the man speaks then turns his attention to you helping joss to his feet. 

“Give us the quire and we’ll be on our way.” Sandor speaks with his hand resting on the handle of his sword. 

“The queen wants your head clegane the money I’d get for that is worth more than a scrawny squire.” the man speaks. 

“What do they call you?” Sandor asks. 

“Byran.” the man answers. 

“You're not getting my head bryan but ill be getting yours if you don't step aside.” Sandor huffs. Bryan chuckles, putting his hands on his hips puffing out his chest. 

“You can have your squire, for a price.” he speaks again, glaring at your husband. Sandor grumbles in annoyance. 

“Her, your traveling wench. Just a night with that pretty little thing.” Bryan speaks pointing towards you.

Sandor looks at you as you stand with joss as he fetched the horse and is now holding onto the reins for you. 

“She’s not for sale.” Sandor speaks gruffly as he turns back to face the man who just chuckles and shakes his head.

“20 minutes then. I’ll easily go through you to get that tight little cunt wrapped around my cock.” Bryan asks stupidly speaking once more.

Sandor sighs and steps up closer to the man would just hold his ground standing straight regardless of your large intimidating husband towering over him.

“You touch her and I’ll hang you from that tavern overhang with a noose made out of your own guts.” Sandor speaks sternly. The man just laughs, turning his head away before he opens his mouth to speak again but is cut off by sandor.

“You think I’m joking?” Sandor replies but before he gives the man a chance to speak he punches him square in the jaw, his armored glove cutting into the man’s jaw slicing gashes into the man’s skin. The man falls into the mud gasping and coughing in pain as his broken, bloody jaw hangs loosely. Bryan writhes in pain on the ground. 

“Come on.” Sandor says to you as he walks twords you. 

“Get on I'll walk.” he speaks to joss who nods and lifts himself up onto the horse. Sandor  lifts you up and onto the horse before taking the reins to lead you both. 

“Sandor.” you speak looking down to him as you pass through the dissipating crowd. 

“Thank you.” you say. He only grunts compliance making you smile.

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

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[balkanradfem]

So I wrote about my fun with fall chores, but left out another important aspect of my life; losing my mind without laptop or internet. Even though I'm usually not online a lot, I would at least have all my nancy drew games, stardew valley, and a whole lot of podcasts and audiobooks to listen to at my disposal. Now, nothing.

I had a song stuck in my head and couldn't listen to it. It was devastating. Then I remembered, my ancient little phone actually could function as a radio, if I put headphones in. And the song I wanted, sometimes played on the radio. So off I went to listen to the radio!

Radio music is awful and horrible. I fail to understand how anyone can listen to so many aggressively heterosexual songs. I was dying by the time Chappell Roan came on. At one point, I kid you not, Blurred lines played! I yelled and shut down the radio and then continued yelling. In 2024???

It took me a day to realize that my phone actually had a record button. Which meant I could record music and then just have it permanently saved on it. I was both delighted and hit with nostalgia. I haven't pirated a song by recording it from the radio in 20 years. I remember doing it on my cassette player as a kid! And now my phone had the pre-installed ancient piracy tool. They used to make such good stuff.

I had to listen to radio for 2 days to get my two lesbian songs and to finally get the song stuck in my head (it was Too Sweet. I'm basic shut up). I made a playlist and called it gay and was finally free from the radio. Even though wanting to listen to a song and then waiting for 2 days for it to come on on the radio is such a pre-internet struggle, the joy when it finally came on was incredible. I was squealing jumping woooing laughing. It was almost like a quest in a video game; the more effort it takes, the stronger the satisfaction. 

I realized how isolated and small I felt without the internet, just listening to the radio. Every person I know here is heterosexual, and I found myself cut off from community, it became difficult to feel normal. Listening to a lesbian song on the radio was all I had; I knew other gay people were listening, it was a joint activity. I wasn't all alone.

I sometimes wonder if the straight people are hearing it and if they understand what its about. I remember when 'Take me to church' played in the car, I would scan everyone's faces carefully, to see if they understood, if they agreed, if they knew that was anti homophobia playing on the radio. But there was never a reaction. I would then remember that most people here don't speak english, and even if they understood a few words, they don't bother to understand a song from the radio. It's fully possible they're listening 'Hot to go' imagining its a heterosexual song, regardless of how funny that is. Imagine a woman writing a song to get a guy to sleep with her. In what world. 

Looking back, most of my internet endeavors were about finding gay stuff online, first it was gay anime, then fanfiction, and then I got drawn to tumblr in the era where gayness was celebrated and strongly encouraged. I felt safe here! And that was all before I even knew I was a lesbian. And now I wonder, is it endlessly painful and unsurvivable to be a lone gay person without any community? If I waited two days next to a radio to get a gay song, if I used any access to information just to find the writings and media made by gay people, it must be vital like the air to me. When I'm here I feel normal only because I'm exposed to the thoughts and feelings of other gay people, and I know you're reading mine. Without you I'd be lost.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE *  assorted (and slightly adapted to suit this meme format) dialogue from the book by casey mcquiston, adjust as necessary

on purpose. i love him on purpose.

i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden.

i'm going to have you offed. you'll never see it coming.

take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.

get in there.

you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state.

before you, i was all right letting everything happen to me.

i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.

sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again?

you've been warned.

he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person.

hey, have i told you lately that you're brave?

i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose.

we're gonna make it work. you and me and history, remember?

if you finish that sentence, i'm gonna spend tonight in jail.

but the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.

i actively wish for the sweet release of death.

yes, good, carry on.

i won't hear a word against it.

we're gonna do it together.

i said you look great, baby!

i meet you in every dream, and when i wake i cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

i'm so in love i could die.

you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse.

i wonder if it's too late to swan dive off the roof.

i'm learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.

you must invent an entirely new system.

a curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back on.

he's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is.

i've bloody well had it!

we can unpack the ironic symbolism later.

that's beyond our sense of decorum!

i'm not afraid of anything i feel. i'm afraid of saying it. i'm only afraid of what happens when i do.

aw, you do care.

if there's any legacy for me on this earth, i want it to be true.

straight people probably don't spend this much time convincing themselves that they're straight.

the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed.

you are the absolute worst idea i've ever had.

should i tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams?

can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?

what are we even defending here?

history will remember us.

when i sleep, i see you.

i hate this so much.

every person who bears a legacy makes the choice of a partner with whom they will share it with.

we're just gonna fucking fight.

he is my choice.

i can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault.

i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mom.

when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i've just been with you.

i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.

your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.

for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all.

the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing you have ever written me.

i promise you, one day we'll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

i want to set myself on fire, but i can't afford for anyone to see me burn.

you see, for me, memories are difficult.

never tell me the odds.

i wish there weren't a wall.

jesus christ, it's like they can see into your soul.

you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you.

i'm finished. i don't care.

god, i want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you.

the whole world watched, and history remembered.

are you quite finished?

just so we're clear. i'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family.

you insane, hopeless romantic little shit.

[wings-of-ink]

Anon Ask response below! Very slight chapter 5 "spoiler" info too.

I thought I'd respond this way since I've rather liked being able to respond in chunks throughout the ask! ^_^

I saw the ask about bear related nicknames for Oswin, and I imagined my own MC (Winfred, I had mentioned him before) trying to call him any of that. But it doesn't work for him. Mostly because Winfred is taller and broader than Oswin, so if anything, Winfred resembles a bear more. A teddy bear, perhaps, given how sweet and kind he is, but a bear nonetheless.

I remember your Winfred! I love that, lol. So Oswin can be the honey to Winfred's bear?

Also, on a similar line of thought, I always think it's hilarious but very cute how protective the group is of my MC. Because, sure, Winfred is in a terrible unfair situation. But they don't know that at the beginning (except for Oswin), and my MC surely doesn't look weak nor frail. So it's funny to read how they all want to protect him so much. Yet, it's also so endearing. Winfred is such a sunny kind of character, I do imagine he is hard not to love.

That is adorable. They are all convinced that no matter how someone appears, they deserve a hand up when faced with troubles. Zahn is like an angry kitten putting on a brave face for Winfred, lol.

Speaking of love (I know I'm rambling at this point, sorry), I am heartbroken for Winfred. Because he used the chance to confess his feelings, and Oswin stopped him. And I don't know how Winfred would process that. Not entirely at least.

I've seen that theme in a few asks. I completely feel that, it's valid for MC's to feel heartbroken or rejected. It'll play out though and on the way home, Winfred will get to figure out how he feels about that.

For one, I know he won't force the topic again. He is understanding that Oswin needs time to tell him everything, so he'll understand he doesn't have to speak about love with Oswin just yet. However, I do imagine he could end up feeling resigned. In the sense he would interpret Oswin refusal not as Oswin feeling guilty about being loved by him, but rather as a declaration of an obvious fact: Oswin doesn't love him (which we know it isn't true, but Winfred doesn't know that). And since my Winfred's heart is wholly devoted, entirely and irrevocably owned by Oswin... It means Winfred probably would accept he'll never experience romantic love.

Awe, he's really going to go through it then. That is sweet, and it sounds to me like they sort of love in the same deep way.

Now, this is tragic and all, but I do imagine a funny scenario where Winfred —convinced Oswin doesn't, can't and will not ever love him— will try to find a partner that could make Oswin happy. Assuming Winfred survives, of course. Mostly because Winfred loves Oswin so much, that he prefers to see him happy with someone else than miserable. And maybe, if Oswin finds someone to love, then if Winfred died he would not feel as much pain, or at least would have someone to support him... I realize this stopped being funny to turn sad, guess I'm too fond of angst to stop myself.

LOL It's a sweet notion even if there is an underlying sadness to it! Oswin would be so torn up about that too.

In any case, I know you released chapter 5 recently. But I feel I need more and want to read chapter 6 as soon as possible. Especially so because the conclusion of chapter 5 shattered my expectations of how the story was going to go. I expected the journey to last until MC found a cure, not that they would return home. And that's not taking about the magic stuff that's going on. There is so much to learn about this world, and I'm hooked.

I miiiight have an outline going already.... :D I am really excited to write it too! I need to make some corrections to chapter 5 of course still, but I can't help but outline 6 to satisfy the "itch." The trip home is just to re-group though, so never fear, Winfred will be off to find answers again after a plan is made. I'm glad you love learning more about the world too, because there's some really fun info coming up! ^_^

Of course, don't pressure yourself. And remember to drink water too.

No worries! I'm making sure to take pretty good breaks before I really get into writing like normal. Winter is a very sleepy time for me and I know my limits. When I feel the spark, I poke around in my documents though. And I always have my water thermos at the ready!

Have a nice day!

You too my dear! Thank you for stopping by and sharing your thoughts! ^_^

[twistedmafiaau]

Break 'em in slowly, she had to remember that. Slowly. Unlike her boss who came in hot she wasn't all bark and no bite. Her blog was a testament to that. Carefully knitted ideas and research along with some of her feelings and skills to add a dash of spicy attitude.

So, she made her way back to the press conference feeling a bit more of her dignity slide away as she sat down and observed the others there along with the family's that loomed nearby. Each group lined up like this was them watch a tournament over the reporters asking questions. Why were they even doing this? Why talk with the public at all? What was the angle? Better yet what were they distracting everyone from...

Her turn rolls around and she stands, eyes once more fixed on the three Kingscholar family members. A slice of her pride burned away under the stares of those in the room but she persisted. Gaze focused and determined.

"Afternoon gentlemen, this is for all three of you: The King, The Hitman and The Lone Wolf, a follow up to the week before, what's a personality trait that ticks you off?" She gives a pleasant more relaxed smile now knowing what to expect from them. Her stance more relaxed with her pen poised on her note book page. Easy question after last week's surely. More agreeable and less sharp. She'd taken care this week and ignored her bosses promptings. Apart of her wanted to address the controversy, the nerve The King had to assume so much about her, but she figured pulling his tail wasn't the best option. Nor would be publicly embaressing the Mafia.

Unlike the previous meeting, the three men seemed more comfortable with the question posed — almost as if they were expecting it. Ruggie allowed himself large, theatrical hand gestures, Jack tilted his head while thinking of an appropriate answer and Leona...his face didn't betray a single emotion.

The silence was short lived as Jack huffed loudly, almost like the conclusion he reached irritated him greatly.

“I highly despise a bad communicator. I know it sounds hypocritical, considering the kind of work I do, but I have my reasons.” he stated, letting himself take the word first. “I can understand that there are people whose past is painful or shameful to relive, especially if you are not ready to reveal it to your partner. If they do not feel like it, it is not honorable on my part to go and stick my nose where it is none of my business. However, if there is a problem with a specific situation or gesture or phrase, they cannot think that I can read their mind and do something about it.”

An unusual murmur arose from the rows behind you — some of the female interviewers seemed almost shocked by the response.

Jack sighed, raising his hands in surrender. “I'll explain myself a bit better. A fundamental part of a stable relationship is to communicate what is a problem for an otherwise peaceful life as a couple and resolve it with compromises, right? — he asked rhetorically — Well, if they can't bother to put into words what is the problem with said situation, they can't expect me to figure out on my own what the problem is or how to work it out. Especially if they're gonna be pissy and pouty and sulking for a thing only they know about. If that's the case the best thing I can do is walk out that door and bid my goodbye.”

Ruggie whistled, feigning impressed. “You sure are quite demanding with a partner candidate.” he said while rolling his azure eyes, “But they do say that wolves mate for life so I guess you have to be highly picky with a potential lover.”

“As if you don't do the same.” replied Jack, “I know you're not enough of a doormat to let awful behavior go down smoothly.”

Ruggie shrugged. “Can't deny that. I am flexible with that kind of thing 'cause I know I have bad traits too, so I try not to let those weigh much. But if there's one trait in a partner that I stay away from like the plague is one and one only: being indecisive.”

The blond released a long, frustrated sigh. 

“Like, I get it, when you are a teenager or a young adult and you feel lost because you have not yet figured out what to do with your future. It is understandable, even adorable for some people. But when they're in their mid twenties or approaching thirties and they're still incapable of keeping one goddamn job, that is not adorable, that's annoying as hell. You're an adult for Christ's sake, get your shit together.”

He then leaned forward, blondish brows arched down with an irritated expression. “Also, minus points if they have a licence and drive around like a psycho clown with ADHD. I speak from personal experience.”

“I suppose that is the reason why you don't let anyone drive the limo. That trauma must have stuck with you.” said Leona with a mocking smile, earning an hiss from his subordinate. “When you see that a seatbelt is not enough safety measure then you'll understand my paranoia about it.”

Leona raised his eyes to the ceiling, ignoring the complaints and ramblings of his trusty subordinate.

“You did well to specify in a partner, since the list of traits I found annoying is...unsurprisingly long.” he said while looking directly into your eyes.

“But you, my dear, curious reporter, are not here to listen to a monologue about how annoyed I am by the rest of the human race. — and gave you an eloquent smile — Without too many turns of phrase I can state that the trait I dislike most is...excessive naivety.”

Silence echoed loudly in the room.

“Don't get me wrong, a person so innocent that they can't understand ulterior motives, or even better flirting, is entertaining.” Leona's smile fell immediately, emerald eyes turning dark and chilling. “But while it is a quality of some sort, it is also a flaw of no small importance. The kind of naivety that makes you open the door to any stranger who comes knocking, without caring who is on the other side…it'll eventually get you killed. The world is not all sparkles and rainbows, in fact, it is very dangerous for those who do not have a modicum of survival instinct.”

Leona smiled again, a tad amused that he got to make everyone in the room shiver. Including you.

“But you're nowhere near that kind of person, so I suppose you can get to walk your own path in this world.” his smile widened — teasing, amused, mocking perhaps.

“Anything else you wish to know?”

✠ Back to Bullettin Board

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[marigoldbaker]

it's just like ... i feel so out of orbit lately. like there's a different person in my own body. i am accustomed to the feeling now and i know it means i am probably going thru one of those moments of processing something but it's still weird and sad. i feel like i still can't wrap my head around the fact that people were listening when i was talking about all of the things that mattered to me. i think i used to be very sad that it wasn't the Right People listening, but now i'm not, and i sort of miss that sadness.

i feel like i am in this weird liminal space where i can recognize that something really fucked up happened to me, was happening for a very long time, and that the general response to even half a spoonful of details about it isn't going to be "god, this is so insufferable to have to hear about," it's going to be "are you actually doing okay." but i can't quite reach a place where i know what i need, or how to ask for help about it, and therapy WOULD probably help ground me at least a little but while i'm on my mom's health insurance the concept is still a little bit up in the air.

and this news is....took me a minute to process and come down from the buzzy high of seeing my dad for the first time in a year but i am so numbly tired! at this point i really don't expect my dad or my brother to be there for me when i need someone unless i explicitly ask them to be there, provide an annotated list of reasons why i need them there, and brace myself for some sort of baffling noncommittal answer from my dad where he's like "actually it sounds like you're doing fine on your own and you don't even really need any help about it." like i don't want to ask for help directly and have someone go "well, what do you need?" and then realize that i don't have an itemized list of answers, or i DO have a list of answers that are wrong, or inconvenient, or burdensome.

i just want to know what i need so i can ask for it! i know i need to ask for it and it is my responsibility to ask for it. i have been sooooo semi-present on this blog because for such a long time i would just throw every thought up here with only the vaguest dimmest understanding that people cared to read them. now i am suddenly so acutely aware of how many people in my life would listen if i said something. if i knew what to say, and what would help. and i feel so awful every time i try to talk to someone i love and have known for years, because i know what they would do for me, and i know i have only sometimes sort of taken them up on that, and i don't know what i need, and i don't at all know how to figure it out.

i just keep thinking about all the hands that have been offered to me that i have refused to take because they aren't the specific hand i want or something. and i miss writing on here like i used to, or really just writing at all. i was always acutely aware of a hypothetical audience but i am learning lately that my actual audience is so much more loving and forgiving than i realized, and that is so painful, and i just want to know what to ask for.

i have been soooo heart on my sleeve on this blog so i am throwing this post up as some sort of exercise in....i don't know! i make a lot of posts on this blog and then delete them because i hate the thought of my feelings existing permanently anywhere where people can see them. i say a lot of things very fast so that people won't notice that they're all true. i say a lot of things very fast so that people can't keep track of what i say -- so that i can't keep track of what i say -- and then i trip over my own feet when people do keep track, and remember. in the last handful of months i've gotten more than one gift from people in my life that are meaningful and silly and show that they've been paying attention.

i guess i would just like to ....... put my feelings somewhere in far too many paragraphs and very intentionally. as most of the time i make posts like this and change my mind. one of my dear friends keeps texting me when i do because she has post notifications on for my posts and i delete them too fast for her to read them. i think that is probably a good metaphor for something.

also this is a very long post so if you have read to the end: thank you very much :') i do not really have like a Followership per se but there are a lot of people who have been here for long enough to know at least fractions of the lore -- i dole it out in quickly-deleted pieces -- and i am trying to figure out which feelings i want to share where and this is my very weird way of practicing. so. thanks for keeping me company

[rk-ceres]

Pretty Girl- George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader (Season of love event) Fred Weasley x Reader(platonic)

Timeline: 6 months after the battle of Hogwarts

Summary: Reader gets injured in the war saving Fred's life, after the war she wakes up six months later and falls in love with George who has been taking care of her loooooooooooonggggggg ass fic. had an idea and ran with it mutual pining (strangers to)/friends to lovers I just thought this idea was cute

Warnings: no use. of y/n or y/h/n its just ____, written in first person, crass language, some dirty jokes here and there, nothing physical, slow burn, !FRED LIVES!, reader is a flirt, mentions of death in the war, reader looses a leg in the war, George takes on care taker role for Fred after he gets injured after he was saved by reader, and any others i missed

A/N: decided to take a stab at the season of love event that one of my favorite writers are hosting right now and half way through i really wished i made this a series but i guess this works better as a long one shot with room for more parts. Theres just so much you can do with this imho but it is what it is sorry for the long ass read it was just too much fun to write this ended to where i could add on parts if i really wanted too so if it seemed unfinished i dunno 🤷‍♀️

My eyes fluttered open and hissed at the light in the room everything hurt groaning out in pain as i sat up “oh good.. youre awake. I was getting pretty lonely being in here the only one conscious” Fred called out to me as i rubbed the eye that wasn't covered in gauze “not to be rude or anything but where am i?” i asked moving my hand to rub the back of my neck feeling the popping groaning in some relief throwing a leg over the bed “whats the last thing you remember?” He asked looking at me i rolled my eyes yawning out “I was fighting back to back with one of Percy’s twin brothers… i found him after…. After Penny died…im not sure which twin i was fighting with… i didnt have the time to pick out the differences. Or ask… we were outnumbered ten to three… the minister of magic came in Percy made a god awful joke…. Which we all shared there was an explosion that flew me and the twin i was with against eachother before the wall could come down on us i put up a shield…. And then everything went black” he shifted on to his side “it was me, you saved me.” He smiled “youre Fred?” i asked finally looking at him taking in his broadening smile obviously thrilled that he had someone to talk too “yeah. Im Fred. And to answer your question, youre in George’s bed. We’re at my flat in the shop” he explained “what am i doing in George’s bed in your flat in your shop?" i made a confused face "i know i didn't fall asleep after an intense love making session after a night in the pub so forgive me i am a little confused" i huffed "no. you didn't sleep with my brother. not yet anyway" he rolled his eyes speaking in an amused voice “youre in his bed because after you saved me. The ground gave way under you. And you fell through three floors of the castle, you scratched your face on the rebar on your way down. It missed your eye by a centimeter. I carried you to Pomfrey, You were in a coma for about five months almost six. I insisted that id be the one to help you recover and with your physical therapy after you saved my life. My Fiancėe Angelina would’ve taken care of your injuries for me since you know… im a guy and youre a chick. Then i went and got myself blown up by Bellatrix trying to save my sister… I failed her and now? we’re in the same boat. George turned his room into our recovery room since its the biggest of the two. Angel even agreed to it. Shes really grateful to you. She and mums been taking care of your chest wound seeing as how youre a woman, George handles your eye and… and your leg.” he smiled filling in the details. “What do you mean my leg? physical therapy?” i asked confused furrowing my eyebrows pulling the blanket off of my waist i looked down at my legs to see my right leg had been amputated above the knee “Madame Pomfrey had to take it before you succumbed. Part of the wall fell on it and it was irreparable. I killed the death eater that did that to you” my eyes started to water breathing heavily because it looked like it was so close to killing me i was relieved that i was still alive "love... hey… calm down its okay” he tries to stand but winces falling back to his bed when a loud sob wracks through my lips “shit… GEORGE! GET IN HERE GEORGE NOW!” He yelled suddenly bursted through the door “she just woke up” he told his twin she started to dry heave he wordlessly pulled me into his chest “shhhhh youre okay love its okay.. youre safe.. youre safe.. Pretty girl youre safe.. Percy sat in here with you for two months straight” he cooed they stayed like that as he comforted me when i finally composed myself enough i pulled back slightly  “thank you” i whispered to him “sorry for ruining your nice shirt… i didnt.. i didnt mean to George” i said louder scooting back to leab my back against his headboard “dont worry about that beautiful, its just tears. im sorry you found out that way” he said softly kneeling by the edge of the bed

“Fred was supposed to WAIT to tell you.” He glared at his twin he smiled sheepishly “I didnt expect her to pull her blanket off!” Fred defended himself “that’s enough out of you Fred” he hissed “im George” he smiled at her gently "______ Barebone, I was a ______…" thinking back to my house in school "in your year. Friends with your brother he dated my best friend” “Penny” we said together and i smiled “youre sitting up on your own. Thats a good thing.” He smiled gently at me “is it alright if i checked your eye?” i bit my lip and nodded at him gently. “Can i borrow your owl to write Percy? I want to make sure he’s alright, we both lost Penny" i said barely audible “of course Pretty Girl let me just finish up here i'll get you parchment and a quill when mum and Ange get here” he chuckled He unwrapped the bandage on her face i hissed at the dull pain in my left eye “good… good love, dilation is good. Can you follow my finger for me?” He asked softly “you're tracking well with your left eye sweetheart.” He mumbled he softly covered my right eye with his palm “can you see anything lovely?” He asked “I see your nose… but its blurry” clearly unaffected by his testing of pet names and terms of endearment  he smiled “it looks like the cuts on your face will scar but Fred and I developed a cream that’ll make it go away in a month if you want to use it. I dont have to put the bandage back on… Is it okay if I check your leg?” He asked being extra aware with me being awake and aware of everything he got consent before making physical contact and i nodded not minding the physical contact he slowly cut away the bandages “any pain?” he looked up at me with his green eyes  “just my side” i whispered “yeah, Fred and Percy said you hit a lot of rebar going down after the wall. I’ll let mom and Ange know to up your healing regimen on your side" he sighed looking back at my leg "so wanna tell me why im in your bed and not in St Mungo's right now?" i asked "y'know men usually take girls out to dinner before having their way them in their bed... with their brother watching... never been one for exhibitionistm you know" i teased he snorted "that'd be the voyeur's fault" George winked pointing back to Fred teasingly "thanks for saving him by the way. don't worry Madame Pomfrey stops by every two weeks and she trained both me and Mum to take care of your daily needs. You're in good hands Angel" He added “incision looks good, you can start using the wheel chair youre a little ways away from getting a prosthetic” he smiled “George dear its time to change her….” “Shes up mum” George smiled “I’ll come back in a few minutes with lunch and your potions. I’ll send a quick Owl to Percy as well” He stood up after wrapping her leg then leaving the room giving the women privacy

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“Afternoon love. You look stunning today” Fred smiled when Angelina gave him a lingering kiss "get a room Voyeur" i stuck my tongue out at Fred he let out a fake offended gasp at me "excuse me ma'am, YOU'RE the one watching ME doesn't that make you the voyeur" he protested "well look at the kettle calling the cauldron black" i retorted "ooh you're just as annoying as..." Molly quickly cut him off before he could mention Ginny pulling the divider so he couldn't see her disrobing “heavens Angelina you're fine shes awake” Molly smiled “Molly Weasley love, ive been taking care of your side. Angies been helping while you were under” she smiles at me "_____, but George has been calling me Love, Pretty girl, Beautiful, Sweetheart, Angel... basically any pet name he can think of. quite endearing" i said with a small smile taking off the hospital gown they put me in “im Angelina, I wanted to thank you for saving my Fiancé” she gently taking off the bandages on my chest “it wasnt an issue I think he returned the favor and then some seeing as how he got blown up just seconds after i saved his behind” i chuckled glaring through the divider "I HEARD THAT BRATT! its not my fault that Bellatrix was a crazy witch out for blood" Fred protested "i fell through three floors for you. i get to have this!" i protested back “he didnt have to do much convincing. George was going to ask you to Yule ball, and any one who keeps that dingleberry alive is a friend in my book” Angie smiled breaking up the sibling squabble we were having “lift your arms for us?” Molly asked when Angelina finally got the bandage off “he was going to ask me to the ball?” I asked wincing when my arms came up armpit height dropping them slightly “ive got you girl” Angelina caught my arms and lifted so Molly could repair the split skin “yeah, he was. George wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks then McClaggen beat him to it. Sulked for weeks on end” Angie shook her head in amusement "he wouldnt stop moaning about it either" Fred chimed in "he was worse than moaning Myrtle" you could hear the disgust and teasing in his voice “thats sweet. He probably would’ve been a better choice. McClaggen was an arse” i smiled “your cut seems to be healing well, looks like you still have that infection. I’ll add the antibiotics back into your medicine” Molly smiled as she wrapped the bandage back around my chest taking down the divider again Fred promptly flipped me off where i just stuck my tongue out at him again

“Alright George, Fred, we’ll be off” Molly smiled “see you later love, have a good day at work. mum” Fred kissed Angie “call if you need anything George” Angelina smiled he nodded “Take these” George handed her the potions he sat on his bed next to her as he held the empty ones and handed me the full potion phials “how you feeling Pretty girl?” “Like i fell three floors out of a castle” i gagged drinking the potions that tasted exactly like feet "ugh you think that theyd be kind to people who almost die" i choked out  he chuckled “i would’ve said yes by the way” he cocked an eyebrow a me “Ange told her that you were going to ask her to Yule ball” Fred filled in “i wouldve said yes, McClaggen was a dick” i handed him the empty phials as he handed me the full bottles “we can go dancing later if you wanted too, i enjoy dancing i usually go to the muggle clubs on 5th. They have salsa nights, or ball room dancing. You know. to make up for the ball” i smiled his blush grew “i might just take you up on that when youre ready and comfortable enough on your new leg” he fell into a playful flirtation “even with one leg sir, i can out dance you” gaining a laugh from Fred “if youre already joking about having only one leg what was all that crying about?” “FRED!” George tried to scold “Honestly?” i cut him off looking to Fred “i was just glad it was my right leg. I had a bad tattoo that i had to get removed. Someone shouldve told that eater he didnt need to go THAT extreme” i jested “tattoo?” George asked “it was a swallow. It used to match my mom. honestly it really was a bad tattoo” i smiled “you think the healers would let me get a peg leg? OOH! I could even get an eye patch!” They both erupted into laughter “nah im just pulling your right legs since you know i dont have one” “alright alright stop!! It hurts to laugh dick head!” “HEY! Its peg leg to you! I dont have a dick. Or a dick head for that matter. But i will have a fake leg.” i yelled at Fred playfully he just laughed harder at that “ARG MATEY!”  The three share a laugh George catches his breath “who wouldve known you were so funny” he gave her a toothy grin that turned into a closed mouth smile “i make light of bad situations. My brother, ____. He used to call me sunshine and sing this stupid muggle song ‘ive got sunshine… on a cloudy day… when its cold out side, ive got the month of May….’” i laughed “my girl. From the temptations. He used to call me sunshine” “who knew you could sing” Fred Jested “i cant. But he could” i smiled at Fred “you have a brother?” George asked “Had” i smiled “took a curse for me told me to go find mum and dad, Dad died outside the room of requirement, protecting firsties. And my mom… she was tortured near the beginning.” i smiled sadly “Ginny ended up passing too” he smiled sadly she gave him a sympathetic smile squeezing his hand “i was crying because it looked like it came this close to crushing me entirely and for some reason im still alive. Something from the grace of Merlin im alive, i was happy that im Alive” i looked at George who was looking at me with a guilty expression

“come on handsome… wheres that pretty smile you had on for me i worked hard for that you know. Im not a good flirt. I was hoping youd lead, and hopefully ask me to dinner or coffee if i played my cards right. Its not every day someone as pretty as you are is willing to take care of me to laugh with me or at me” i reached up to his face he leaned into my touch chuckling completely red in the face “im okay, we four knew what was going on and what was at risk im okay. Promise.” i smiled softly at him he smiled “Handsome huh?” “You called me beautiful when im obviously a mess.” i shrugged he started smiling again she noticed his dimples and the way his cheeks creased and my face heated up “theres my pretty smile… you have really really pretty eyes… and dimples…. Did i mention i have a thing for guys with dimples.” i smiled rubbing a thumb on his cheek he looked down and back up to my eyes trying to find the right words “youre pretty even if youre a mess” he smiled softly “yep thats it. Ive decided. Youre the handsome twin.” “HEY!” Fred protested “take that!” George smiled laughing at triumphantly like that was an argument theyve had multiple times Fred who was pouting crossing his arms over his chest “youre the nicest twin” She smiled at Fred “acceptable” he smiled at me “im going to get your lunches” he smiled to them “thank you. Can i use your owl again? I need to owl gringots. Get some money for rent and food and care” i muttered to myself “no need. All taken care of” Fred said “you saved me. You dont pay for shit when in our care” he shrugged ending the conversation “do you really want a peg leg?” Fred asked out of the blue “i’ll take what i get.” i shrugged. “At least let me help with groceries” i huffed annoyed “once a month” George bargains “Zero times and shes happy about it” Fred protests “Three times but i let you pay for my prosthetic” she countered “no times, we pay for the prosthetic and she gets what she wants at the shop” fred demanded “we pay for your prosthetic, twice a month, you transfigure your own room, personal care supplies fully yours” George offered “thats a deal i can live with… did you just ask me to move in with you without you asking me out on a date first? When can i expect a proposal? Or should i ask Percy to bring Kingsley and skip to ‘I do’” i smiled at George and he flushed 50 shades of red as Fred snickered “you say youre not good at flirting but this is the third time youve rendered Georgie here speechless” Fred laughed she looked at Fred as he looked back at her “i cant help it i almost died, and lifes too short for me to keep being shy. Theres a first for everything right? Who wouldve known the first man outside of Percy and you i try to actually talk too would flirt with me. He could be my first love, my first actual relationship maybe. He could be my husband one day. Quit butting in youre ruining my shot i dont know how many of these i have you know. Mangled face and peg leg. I wanna get it right the first time! Who knows. Maybe if i flirt enough i’ll get him to fall completely head over heels in love with half of a girl i used to be Perc always told me to put myself out there. What a better time then now?” i shrugged Fred laughed “im not butting out Maam we share a room! Theres no possible way for me to butt out your business IS my business! And with the way youre going Love" Fred called out the way George would say it "he’ll be in love with you by the end of the week” Fred snickered George just shrugged “i had a crush on you in 5th year.” He looked at me it was my turn to be rendered speechless “you wont have to work too hard to make me fall for you Pretty Girl we're already half way there” he shrugged leaving the room leaving me speechless

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A month had passed Fred was able to start his Physical therapy and Molly wasnt coming by daily anymore “FUCK!” Fred screamed “come on Freddie you can do it!” i cheered him on from my seated position on the bed  “it feels like my insides are going to spill out” He whimpered clinging to Georges shoulder “two more steps Freddie. Just have to make it to the chair” George encouraged “FUCK FUCK” he groaned “almost there Freddie youve got this!” He slowly took another step as i cheered him on "come on Freddie boy make that chair your bitch" i teased  he looked at her and smiled “thanks love.” He smiled taking another step reaching the chair “alright good good sit rest. We’ll go back to bed in 5” he smiles at his twin George looked at me with a smile “time to check my stump handsome?” i looked up to George “yes pretty girl. Time to check your leg, and your eye” he smiled i removed the blanket hissing as she moved further up the bed and turning to throw my leg off the side he sits in the stool next to the bed “any pain?” He asked as he looked at my eye with the flash light “just my side. I think your mom said it was an infection again. Apparently my core isnt strong enough to battle muggle infections.” i shrugged “follow my finger” i watched his finger as he moved it “sometimes it feels like my leg is still there and and its like a sharp pain. But its not there and its weird” i talk as he covers my right eye “i can see your face” i smile at him “she woke up screaming last night” Fred said to the air “she said she was fine her leg just hurt” “why didnt i hear the scream?” He asked as he unwrapped the leg “she casted a muffelito on the room before she fell asleep” Fred ratted her out “tattle tail” i stuck my tongue out at him “brat” he hissed back “Baby!” She teased “toddler!” He yelled back “you have crappy hair!” i crossed my arms over my chest “TAKE THAT BACK!” Fred yelled “MAKE ME YOU CRIPPLE!” George laughed at the banter "PEGLEG!" he stuck his tongue out at me "you two are toddlers" George rolled his eyes  “i… have nightmares. I didnt think it was an issue” i said as he looked at the leg “youre healing fast. Should be able to take the staples out soon, we’ll call madame Pomfrey to come fit you for a prosthetic. Tell me if this hurts” he said as he gently massaged my thigh above the stump i gasped as he gently squeezed “feels great” i said breathily “teach me” i whispered to him he smiled as i placed my hands over his he looked back down putting his hands over mine as he moved my fingers showing me how to ease the pain of the lost leg “it wont hurt forever…” he said softer i smiled at him “thank you George for doing this for me” i looked down “hey. Its handsome to you, Pretty girl, you saved Fred. Its the least I can do.” He kissed the top of my head “youre the kindest person I have ever met… and id get myself crushed over and over again if it meant I got to meet you all over again George. You’re making me fall for you. Is this one sided? Dont make me out to be a fool” i whispered in his ear gently kissing his cheek, his eyes widened in shock at the forwardness and tenderness this girl had for him they’ve only known each-other for about three months at this point he cleared his throat taking his hands off her leg “he's blushing like an idiot again! what did you say to him!” Fred who was watching intently with a bag of crisps “did you accio a bag of crisps?" i furrowed my eyebrows “its not every day i have a front row seat to my brothers love life. There i answered yours now answer mine” Fred rolled his eyes “I told him I thought he has pretty eyes” i fibbed they both know i did he raised an eye brow at me George still staring with red on his cheeks i shrugged

“i didnt lie. He’s…." i blushed looking down “nevermind” i turned over in bed facing the wall he leans over placing a hand on my hip gently and kisses my cheek “youd never be the fool when im with you. Its not one sided. Im the fool love made a whole career out of it. But im also a fool falling in love with the sweetest most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I’m the lucky one to get to take care of her” he whispered into my ear he pushes off the bed “WAIT WHAT DID HE SAY!!!” Fred groaned eating another crisp “thats for her to know. And you to find out NEVER” George said walking toward him “Come on Fred, lets get back to bed” George hoisted him up after putting the crips off to the side “i was eating those!” He pouted “sod the crisps you need to do this pt!” George yelled gaining a laugh from _____. A month had passed since then, “Afternoon Pretty girl, I need to check your stump” he smiled setting my plate of food on the dresser “we can get Pomfrey in here to measure you for your leg soon. And your physical therapy with Fred and I” i smiled back “can you massage my leg handsome? Its starting to hurt again….” i whispered “alright love, just for a little” he smiled she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror i frowned as Fred met my eyes mood immediately dropping “I gotta get down to the shop before Lee bites my head off.” He smiled at me and i returned it “have a good day at work Handsome” “thank you pretty girl” he smiled when the door closed my smile faded as i stared into the mirror tears formed in my eyes Fred looked at her concerned “you okay Love?" Fred whispered “I miss my brother” i sniffled “he always knew what to say” “well im not your brother but im in need for a sister… if youre in need of a brother… i think we both qualify to fill each others open positions yeah?” He asked i turned to him looking at him with tears in my eyes “teach me what to say, let me be your brother love" He looked at me with gentile eyes

“tell me im deserving pf love even if im broken and ugly” i mumbled he was taken aback he took in a breath and smiled “love, you’re gorgeous, George sees how pretty you are and youve got him whipped. You deserve him and the love he wants to give you trust me” hours passed when George walked in with our dinners light sniffles could be heard from the other side of the room my back was turned to him he looked to Fred who just gave him a tight lipped smile and walked to the other side of the room after handing him his plate he set mine down next to my un-touched lunch plate on the bed side table “hey pretty girl…. What’s wrong… you in pain?” i shook my head no “what’s wrong beautiful, tell me what’s the matter how can I make you smile again?” He cooed softly “Dont lie to me” my voice hoarse like i had been crying for hours he reached to wipe away a tear ”what do you mean I’ve never lied to you Beautiful” hurt hit me square in the chest “you just did. You always do.. mangled face, missing leg. I stare at the girl ive become all day that mirror haunts me my own reflection is a reminder that im alone. And im no longer beautiful and its sickening you dont have to keep flirting with me because you feel obligated to. No one wants someone like me. Not anymore im not pretty and im definitely not beautiful. I have no one. No ones here” i sobbed more closing my eyes sniffling “I miss my brother. He would be in this bed with me. Holding me. Telling me to cheer up sunshine the worlds cloudy and gray without you please sunshine smile for me? combing through my hair like he always did holding me together while I fall apart but hes gone. My mums gone. My dads gone. I havent slept in four months the nightmares keep coming back and I just want to cry I cant be the girl that flirts twenty four seven with a guy thats too polite to tell me that it makes him uncomfortable when this is all over im going to be alone again just let mw grieve the loss of my leg, my family, and my face. I have no where to go. All I have is an empty house my best friend died, my leg hurts twenty four seven and I just need to be sad for a few hours can you leave me alone for a few hours I’ll be normal again in the morning I dont need your pity” he continued to wipe the tears off my face as he processed what i said “im not going to stop calling you pretty, and beautiful because thats what I see when I look at you Angel, I mean look at you love…” he said softer “just look at you….. i cant take my eyes off of you… youre just too good to be true the sight of you leaves me weak there are no words left to describe how pretty you are sweetie”  lifting my face in his cupped hands “youre stunning you leave me breathless, all those things you just mentioned are fixable, love, half of what you said isnt true, you really think that Fred and Angelina is going to leave you alone after youre all healed up and better? Youve got another thing coming. Theyre never going to stop you have friends. Percy’s been here every day since we owled. Fred and Angie made it clear youre their person” he smiled softly “im not letting you go either im afraid youre stuck with me you still owe me a date, and a dance” he whispered standing up and draping a blanket over the mirror i cried more as she felt the bed dip behind me he pulled me into his side one arm under my head one on my torso pulling me on my back fingers immediately going to y hair “if you needed someone to hold you. You could’ve just said so I would’ve done this ages ago if you needed it” he brushed his fingers through my hair humming softly

“and you dont have to say anything to me at all. I flirt with you because I enjoy flirting with you. You make me happy and light, you render me speechless and no one. And I mean no one can do that. But you can, thats why I do what I do you dont make me uncomfortable love. I miss Ginny too. She was a spitfire and its hard not having her around anymore, and if its alright, I want to hold you while we cry about our siblings yeah?” He asked i turned on my side draping an arm over his torso “im sorry about Ginny… her and Luna were really nice to me” i sniffled “I need you to eat for me… I’ll eat with you.” He pulled the roll off of my plate, ripping it in half handing it to me “im sorry about your brother Pretty girl" he whispered as he ate making sure i ate some of the food as well

ଘ(∩^o^)⊃━☆:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:

A few hours later i let out a yawn d he started to get up out of bed my arm tightened around him feeling safe for the first time since ive woken up seven months ago “stay…” i said softly his shirt balling in my curled hand “please stay tonight” i whispered he let himself fall back into the bed “Darling wha… what do you mean?” He asked softly “Sleep here… in your bed…. I…. I need sleep…. And im scared to….. theyll come back and haunt me” i whispered “mate she hasnt slept in months i stay up with her as long as i can but i always pass put.” Fred piped up blush spread across my cheeks and i let him go flipping over to my other side embarrassed that i needed someone to make me feel safe enough to sleep “nevermind its stupid forget i said anything” i sniffled he simply reached over and turned out the light “i’ll stay for as long as you need me to stay Pretty girl" he kissed the top of my head again pulling me back into his chest his arm under my head curling back to put his hand in my hair other hand engulfing mine “i’ve got sunshine…. On a cloudy day….” He sung softly twirling my hair in his fingers “when its cold outside, ive got the month of may.. well i guess you say what can make me feel this way” she fell asleep holding onto his hand tightly

“George dear” Molly called out “SHHHH!” Fred said getting out of his bed hissing in pain “let them sleep for a little while longer this is the first shes sleeping since she woke up” he looked back to the girl who hid her face in his twins chest “lets go talk outside” Fred smiled one last time at them sleeping before throwing his arm over his mom and leaning on her for support as they walked out of the room shutting the door lightly

three hours later my eyes fluttered open looking at his sleeping face our lips were so close i bit my lip as his breath fanned over my face a surge of confidence emerged heart hammering against my chest i leaned up and gently pressed my lips to his, his brows furrowed as he stretched slightly pulling me impossibly close to him eyes fluttering open “i….. im sorry,. I didnt know what came over me i shouldve asked fir…” i was cut off by his lips on mine the kiss was soft and slow “goodmorning pretty girl, thank you for the amazing wake up” he murmured against my lips kissing her again “dont be sorry beautiful, ive been waiting for that” he cupped my face with his hand my face contorted in pain “thanks for staying” “i told you already baby… im here for as long as you need me to be” i let out a tear “whats the matter pretty girl? Nervous about your new leg?” He asked softly “im actually really excited for that really. Its just that my leg hurts… and its not even there anymore” i cried softly  “it wont hurt forever…” he said softer “i barely have pain in my ear anymore” he smiled showing me his missing ear she reached up and stroked the hair that fell onto the hole on the side of his head “i still think youre gorgeous Georgeous if you will.. ear, or no ear youre perfect to me… so perfect and kind and caring…” i whispered as i kissed the side of his head where his ear wouldve been his eyes widened in shock at the tenderness of this moment, just for him. He chuckles “only you would make that play on words huh? so cheesy Baby" he rubs my cheek with the pad of his thumb “baby youre so beautiful, and i want you..” he whispered moving his face closer to mine “leg or no leg i think youre amazing, smart, funny, and kind. Unbelievably beautiful and i dont think you should use the cream on your scars, it shows just how strong you are they dont define you or subtract from how i see you. And i would love it, if you’d accompany me to dinner when youre able to, i’ll ask again later when you get your leg and i help you learn how to walk again i want you” he whispered softly massaging my stump as he talked my eyes widened “i guess what im saying is i need you here with me… in the flat.. with me.. everyday youre the first thing i ever want to see and talk too when i get home from the shop youre the first thing i cant wait to see when i wake up… and i need you to stay here with me? Please? I promise you i wont hurt you.. just stay with me and i’ll take care of you.. whatever you need. Angel, please  ive never felt this way about anyone im in love with you Angel please... stay" he breathed out looking at me his arm snaking back up and around my waist tightening around me “im in love with you too George, and... and i want to stay with you.. you and Freddie...” i whispered he kissed me deeply it was a hungry and needy heated kiss the hand around the stump tightened as he pulled me even cliser to him putting the stump over his hip “baby i love you” looking into my eyes kissing me again

@george-weasleys-girl

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force• ch 2

Chapter 2- DARK ENIGMA

Jake x reader (we'll get there... I promise)

Words: 12.4k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

Warnings: Dystopian Horror Cursing, Smoking, Mention of Drugs, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Hunting, Violence (mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Burials, Lying, Deceit, Sadness, Panic Attacks, Use of Restraints, Mentions of Sex

Cheatham County, Tennessee

Five days later

Y/N

The old wood of the rocking chair squeaks beneath me as I gently move my body back and forth, snuggling into my thick afghan wrapped around my body. There is a light dusting of snow on the ground, and I’d spent the majority of the evening out here on the porch, taking in the scene of my grandparents’ farmland before me. The lead in the pencil I’ve been writing with all evening is starting to dull, but I press a little harder to get the last few sentences written down into my journal. 

December 29, 2030

Day five back at Pap and Gran’s farm. We didn’t do much today except peel some potatoes and boil chicken for broth. Gran’s state has deteriorated since we made it back here. Paps and I truly thought that maybe bringing her back to her home would make her feel better, but she’s only gotten worse. Part of me thinks that she might have just wanted to find her peace here, in her own home, in her own surroundings before she decides it’s okay to let go. Awful of me to think that, isn’t it?

I miss my Mom. And I miss my dad, and I really, really miss my brother. Having nearly no time to mourn them has truly put me in a weird headspace, I don’t know how I’m making it day to day. Sometimes I think back to that fear I felt when I first realized I had to get the hell out of my house when I found the faultline in my foundation, that feeling that it could all come crashing down on me at any second, burying me in walls and furniture and drywall to the point I can’t breathe… That’s what this feels like. Like I’m standing in my basement again, just waiting for the whole thing to crush me. 

The only thing that is keeping me going is Paps and Gran. And the fact that if I stop, then they stop. And Gran is already slowing to a crawl. 

I pull out my pocket knife from my pants, opening the blade and sharpening the graphite in my pencil a bit before licking the tip, and getting back to work. 

I’ve lost nearly 16 pounds, and my hair feels so thin. I can feel my muscles starting to wear out, and the joints of my bones are beginning to ache. Lack of nourishment, I guess. But I don’t let it stop me, and neither does Paps. We are still getting up at the crack of dawn every single morning to look for roaming wildlife to catch. Thankfully we were able to get our hands on six chickens, a rooster, a goat, and the neighbor’s old Blue Heeler, Hank. Hank sits by my Gran’s side day in and day out… I think he remembers that she used to throw him scraps out into the front yard.

The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, and I feel embarrassed to even admit it in this stupid journal. 

For the first time in months, I got the overwhelming urge to want to fuck. 

I wish I could write that in invisible ink like we used to do in text messages, yikes. But, I guess I have to realize that I am still a living, breathing woman who still goes through her monthly cycles, and still possesses the urges associated with it all. God, I  fucking laughed out loud at myself. I haven’t seen another man close to my own age since we left Nashville and I saw a group of young people throwing a cinder block through the front glass of a coffee shop. For fucks sake I’m so embarrassed. 

But I actually even dreamed about it last night. Real, true, romping sex in some strange place… it was so real that I woke up in a cold sweat with my heartbeat between my legs. Shit. I don’t even know who it was with, but that part didn’t matter. I used to love those pointless, carnal dreams that made you blush in your sleep. But damn, now? That’s as close as I’m probably ever gonna get. 

I had to spend the rest of the day fighting the flashbacks while spending time with my literal grandparents. Ignoring the fact that I used to daydream about it, then make a phone call to whoever, and make it happen. It used to be so easy. Shit, I miss random hookups. Fucking hell. 

Now I’m spending my days collecting freshly laid eggs before a pack of wild dogs come and kill my chickens. Goddamnit.

ANYWAYS. 

Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday. And I don’t even care. It feels silly to even think that even though the world is pushing me off the literal land I stand on, I still have to age. I still have to deal with being a human. And mourn the loss of my family. What the fuck. Just lost the last of my immediate kin, I’m digging up last season’s potatoes from the ground and nursing my sweet Gran as she lies in her bed in pain, and I’m having sex dreams. Really, really fucking good sex dreams. If I could roll my eyes with paper and pencil, I’d be doing it right now. The human experience is so fuc

My thought process is stopped when I hear the sound of something I haven’t heard in literal days. Weeks? I don’t know… But I hear it, the faint sound of a tune and a melody coming through an old, staticy speaker. I close my pencil into my journal and stand, realizing I’d been sitting outside for a while now as the stars had become bright and the moon sat high in the sky. 

My brow furrows as I listen harder. It’s Billie Holiday. I push the front door open and enter the warm house, firstly noticing the crackling fire that Paps had kept burning all day. I then saw him standing in the dimly lit corner, fiddling around with his old vinyl records and adjusting the volume of the music. The wall behind him is stuffed full of records, floor to ceiling and two shelves wide… all full of the music he filled mine and James’ lives with since the time we could walk. He’d been collecting his entire life.  Truly, I owe my love of music to him. 

“Paps…” I say softly as I enter the living room. 

“Hey youngin’, sorry if I disturbed ya…” he said, puffing some pipe tobacco smoke up into the air. I used to tell him he needed to quit, but now… what’s the use?

“You didn’t, Paps.”

“I sorta… forgot that music exists,” he chuckled, opening the cover of a Bill Monroe album and inspecting the inside.

I place my hand on his back, giving him a few pats as I lay my head against his shoulder, watching the record spin on his antique hand-crank phonograph. “I kinda did too, actually,” I reply, admitting it to myself. “What made you pick Lady Day?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Always loved her voice, hated it when she passed. She left one hell of a legacy, though, huh? Your Gran sure loved her, that’s for sure,” he mumbles on, looking back to the daybed we had set up for Gran in the living room so she could be closer to the heat of the fireplace. 

“Love her, Don. Not loved. I ain’t dead yet,” we both hear Gran stir from under her blankets. The both of us erupted in a fit of laughter at her unbridled and filterless sense of humor. 

“Hell’s fire, Jane. Didn’t think you’d be able to hear us,” my Paps laughs as he places the cover back down on the table and goes to join her at her side. I follow behind. “Did we wake you?”

“You did, but that’s okay. No better way to be woken up from a dreamless sleep than by some pretty music,” she says, propping herself up on her pillows. She still has so much strength, and though she’s weakening by the day, I’m still astounded by her ability to get up and even walk herself to the restroom. “And!” she boasts with her crooked finger in the air. “No way I wanted to miss my favorite granddaughter’s birthday when the clock strikes twelve,” she adds with a reassuring nod. 

“Gran, you don’t need to stay up this late! It’s almost midnight now, go back to sleep,” I push her, not wanting to miss one second of any rest she can get, while also wishing that she and Paps could sit up and reminisce with me until the sun comes up. I’d give anything to have just one more hour with my parents and James.

“Oh, child, I’m fine!” she pushes my hands away, pulling herself back up. “You’ve gained another year. This day and age, that means something, you know?” Her voice is weak, but she still sounds like herself, her southern drawl coming out to play as she tries to fluff the pillows behind her. 

I nod in understanding. “If you say you want to stay up, we’ll stay up!” 

There really isn’t such a thing as a true bedtime, anymore. I’m up at strange hours of the night, take many naps throughout the day… time doesn’t matter, aside from the rooster reminding us of when the sun is about to come up every morning. 

But we still set the clock, and we’ll change the batteries. The Grandfather clock against the back wall reminds us of each hour, every day. And how lucky we still are to have each and every one, no matter how long they drag us on. 

Gran taps her fingers along to ‘Love Me or Leave Me’ as Paps sings quietly along, and I place a few new logs onto the fire to keep it burning. The smell of this house has always stuck out to me– matured wood, the scent of the barn wafting through the cracked windows, the Murphy’s Oil Soap that Paps was always obsessed with cleaning the floors with… it’s all still stuck here, unmoving in time. Just like the photos on the walls, the dinnerware filling the shelves, and the wall that’s covered in pencil markings and dates, marking mine, James’, and my father’s height growth over the years. 

It’s all still here, exactly where they left it. Exactly where they carved things into the load-bearing beam that runs the span of the house. The wearing in the wood of the floor where Gran stood for fifty some odd years in front of the stove cooking meals. The screen door that hangs haphazardly on the front door, the screen ripped and aging as it served its purpose keeping the flies out of the house for however many summers.

A time capsule. And by god, were the three of us overjoyed when we pulled up and found it not sitting at the bottom of a sinkhole.

“Have you got any Sinatra?” my Gran asks, pulling me from my deep-thought trance as the Billie record spins now, without any sound. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Paps agrees as he stands to replace the record, knowing that he’d give my Gran anything she could ever ask for, just like he always had. 

He makes his way back over to his setup and finds exactly what he’s looking for, switching the vinyl out and putting the needle back down. Gran tilts her head back onto her pillows as she hears Frank’s voice come over the crackly violin sounds. 

“Ol’ Blue Eyes,” she mutters before sitting back up and grabbing at my hands. “You know, Y/N, I didn’t always love music, it was your grandfather’s doin’ that got me to fall in love with it.” Much like he did for me, actually. “Of course I’d go to the dances at the school and I knew a few songs here and there, but it was when I met him that I truly found my love and appreciation for it.”

“He’s had that effect on us both, then, hasn’t he!” I jest, smiling and squeezing at her frail hands. We both glance at him still standing by his collection, eyeing the spines of the covers and pulling them out to look over. I truly did owe a lot to him, he taught me more about artists than I could have ever taught myself. Older ones, especially. He knew the stories that were never recorded in interviews and tabloids. He knew, because he kept them all in the back of his mind as if they were his own family stories.

“That man got me to follow the Dead around for nearly six months before I told him he’d better get me back to Tennessee so I could have me a garden,” she went on, making my face warm with a grin. I’d heard the story a hundred times before, but I’d sit and listen to it a hundred times more, if time would let me.

“Oh, shoot, Jane. We had a good time,” Paps interrupted, scowling at her as he puffed his pipe. 

“Didn’t say we didn’t, Don!” she pokes back, and I can tell they’re about to get into one of their little playful spats. “Your grandfather and I tried LSD for the very first time while we sat in a drum circle after a Dead show in Kansas City,” she said, her eyes wide as she still held my hands. 

Now that, they’ve never shared before. 

“Gran!” I exclaim, truly surprised.

“Now Jane!” Paps barks from his place.

“What?!” she replies, shrugging her bony shoulders. “It was a damned good time and I can honestly say I came back a changed woman. Nothing wrong with that, now is there? I’ve lived one hell of a life…” she trails off, earning a scoff from Paps as he waves her off. “There should be nothing stopping you from still living your life, Y/N. Do you hear me? The Earth might swallow us up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep running, keep on living, you understand, child?” she asks, moving her cold hands to cup my cheeks.

“‘Course I do, Gran. I promise,” I relent, and I envy her ability to speak to me with this regard, knowing that the end of her life is near.

“Good,” she pats the side of my face. “Don, how about a little acoustic for a dying old woman?”

Paps drops his shoulders. “Now Jane, do ya have to keep talkin’ that mess, or am I gonna have to make you?” he teases.

I laugh and stand to go into the kitchen as Paps makes his way over to the corner, plucking his old acoustic from its place. I re-wet Gran’s cloth in the icy water, wringing out the dripping water and returning to place it back over her chest. 

Paps sits beside us on the daybed, the smoke rising from his pipe as he plucks at his strings, his feeble but strong hands re-tuning them to where it sounds best. My grandfather is, and was, a very handsome man. Strong and built like an ox. I can see why Gran followed him around chasing after the Dead for six months.

Finally he strums a perfect chord, raising his eyebrows at Gran as she smiles back at him. “Guess it’s a good thing I never got my hands on an electric, hm?” he says as he bites the end of his pipe. 

Neither Paps or I have shown any signs of the rash, at all. No where. And neither of us could fathom why.

The two of us sit and listen to Paps play a plethora of familiar tunes, his fingers still agile enough to float over the strings and play little snippets of all of Gran’s favorites. I can feel Gran’s body relax as she listens to him, her mind probably floating through a million memories of watching him play over the years. He hums along a little as his eyes close on their own, listening to himself play. I swear I could sit here for days. 

After a few minutes, his fingers contort and play a little more harshly, strumming out a tune that hits a nerve buried so deep within me, I almost cry right there on the spot. His very own rendition of one of my favorite songs in the world, You’re the One. 

“Paps…” I murmur, almost whining.

“Hush, child, let me see if I can still pull through these chords,” he shushes me. And he does. I want to scorn him for bringing up the music that was made by my favorite band in the entire world. But then again, in later months, Greta had become one of his favorite bands, too. 

“Babe, ain’t no denyin’, that I got you in my head…” he sings to Gran, making her cover her face with her hands. He plays through about half of the song before he stumbles over a note or two, and decides his hands have gotten too tired. 

“How dare you, Paps. You know that struck a nerve…” I say, scowling at him. 

“Oh, quiet, now. You used to walk around the house singing their songs for days on end. Watch those silly videos of them, hell. How many shows did you go to?” he asks, truly schooling me on my own obsession with that band.

“Twenty-three,” I mutter under my breath. 

“How many?”

“Twenty-three! Okay?” I play along with him, the both of us knowing that he attended the last five of them with me. 

We’d traveled over to Kentucky for his first time seeing them live after I’d shown him a few of their songs. He was hooked after his first play of From the Fires, ripping the album cover from my hands to read along with the lyrics. After that we moved on to Anthem of the Peaceful Army, Garden’s Gate and so on, each play enrapturing my grandfather even more than the last. 

“These kids have some damned promise, that’s for sure. This is a sound I haven’t heard in ages… and their talent? Boy…” he’d said. I still remember the day I surprised him with tickets to his first show, watching him fall in just as much love with them as I was. Swaying along to their classics, singing along with the lyrics he’d learned to love. He learned their names, he learned their personalities a little. He even met a few of the friends I’d made along the way, flirting with them as we’d all stand in line before a show. 

It was Paps and Gran’s travels with the Grateful Dead that inspired me to follow Greta Van Fleet around on their tours. Not for six months straight, as I had to hold down my job, but nonetheless. Twenty-three shows I went to over the course of nine years. Strange Horizons all the way up to their last tour before the world shut down. I had tickets and plans to meet up with my group of friends for a show after Greta had gotten back from Greece, but, of course that never happened. 

Paps grew to love them just as much as I loved them. Love them. For so many years, they were my escape. My solid rock to land on as the headaches of daily life surrounded me. I made lifelong friends through them. Traveled to other countries to see them, with my friends by my side. I watched them grow into men, as I had grown into a woman right alongside them. Watched them evolve, grow, and retreat into silence before exploding back onto the scene with something brand new and fresh, roping me right back into their world. Obsessing over every little detail they fed us. Digging deeply into the meanings of songs, and discussing all the lore with my cohorts on social media. I can account many of my life’s milestones to at least one song of theirs. 

Now, when I find the world more quiet than it ever has been in my lifetime, I find myself reminiscing on those times, some of the best times of my life with that band, and my friends that felt more like family. I catch myself humming their songs, just trying to keep myself centered and rooted to the earth as it literally is falling apart beneath my feet. Greta was always my solid foundation, and even during the End of Days, they hold true to that assignment.

The grandfather clock finally decides to strike midnight, signaling my 33rd birthday.

“I’m sorry we can’t celebrate like we normally would, sweetheart,” Paps says as he continues lightly strumming.

“It’s okay, Paps. Just having the two of you still here with me is celebration, enough.” And I truly mean that. I watch as Gran’s sullen eyes fill with tears as she watches the two of us, and I know I’d give anything to keep the two of them alive as long as I possibly could. But her rash is worsening by the day, and Paps and I can tell that though she puts on a tough exterior, she’s suffering inside.

Gran had fallen back asleep peacefully to the sound of Paps’ acoustic, and we covered her up and threw another few logs onto the fire to last us a few more hours, at least. Paps kisses my forehead after he places his guitar back on its stand in the corner, wishing me a happy birthday as we both retreat to our beds.

+++

The next morning, I wake to myself shivering; Paps and I both must have slept through the night without waking up to tend to the fire. I stretch my muscles and rub my eyes, but I’m instantly startled  by the sound of someone coughing. I throw on my robe and slippers and rush to the living room, finding Gran sitting up in her bed, coughing terribly. Paps and I are by her side in seconds, asking her what she might need to get through the fit, but she just shakes her head. 

Her skin is cold and gray, and it looks as though her muscles are shaking uncontrollably. She’s almost completely covered in the rash, now.

“Do you want to get in the tub, Jane? Do you need to get in the water?” Paps begs of her, kneeling by the bedside. 

She shakes her head more. “No,” she chokes out. Her throat sounds scratchy and dry and we offer her water, but that, too, she rejects. Finally her coughing subsides and she relaxes back, and Paps and I share a knowing look. A look that we’ve both shared three times, when everyone else finally succumbed to the rash. 

This is so fucking unfair. Why don’t I have the rash?! Why can’t I take this pain away from her? Why am I not suffering, too?!

“I’m ok Don. I’m ok,” she mutters, her voice barely her own. 

We both sit there with her for hours, until the sun is noting midday. We hold her hands, caress her face, talk to her, tell her stories… anything to get her to pass with as much comfort as we can. She coughs, still, but each time she begs us to carry on with talking to her. I watch as my grandfather finally sheds a tear, wiping it free from his face as he sniffles through it. 

“Don’t you dare cry for me, Don,” Gran says. “We’ve had a beautiful life together. Beautiful… family,” she struggles to breathe. My chest feels heavy, too, with the overwhelming amount of sorrow it’s holding. I want to throw my fist into the wall, curse everything that has ever lived. I feel a rage building up in my stomach, one that is beginning to burn with so much fury that when it finally awakens, I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain it.

“I love you, I love you both…”

And with one small exhale, she ceases to breathe any more. 

We both allow ourselves time to weep at her bedside for a minute or two before I finally stand and open the windows, uncaring of how it will chill the house. I wanted to let her soul be free. 

+++

It took me about three hours to dig my grandmother’s grave, as the ground was hard from the cold and one shovel can only dig so fast. Hank the heeler was by my side the whole time, sitting and watching guard as I threw the shovels of dirt into a neat pile. I insisted Paps let me do it alone, and he spend a little bit of time with her to say his goodbyes.

 It was cathartic, really, putting my body through physical grunt work as I let the tears fall freely. I wept for her, for the rest of my family, for the heartbreak of my grandfather. But mostly, I cried for myself. I shouldn’t have, it felt selfish to, but I had hardly allowed myself any time to feel sorry for me. Fuck, a person can only take so much. My heart was already broken into a thousand pieces, but the numbness of the past few months had shielded my ability to listen to myself. My body somehow must have felt the need to get it out, so that I could put a brave face on for Paps. He’d need me to. So, as a rare bit of bright sunlight came down and scorched my arms, breaking through the freezing cold wind, I allowed myself to cry again.

It’s almost sunset, now, and Paps had wrapped Gran up in a few white sheets, topped with a pretty lace tablecloth that she had woven many years ago. It used to cover the dining room table, but it did seem fitting for it to be with her, now. 

I give Paps a sweet smile as I make my way into their bedroom, sitting on her old chest as I open the top drawer of her armoire. There, arranged still so neatly, was all of her expensive jewelry that she hardly ever wore. Gold bracelets, diamond rings, emerald-encrusted pieces… all if it is so precious, so valuable, and so completely worthless. 

I take a second to collect it all up and slip it into a canvas drawstring bag, making sure first to keep just one piece out for myself. She’d have wanted me to, I’m positive of it. 

A sterling silver ring topped with the prettiest piece of deep blue turquoise. Her grandmother had given it to her many years ago, and she only ever wore it to special occasions, but it fits perfectly on my middle finger. And if I wanted something to remember my grandmother by, it would most definitely be this. 

I go back into the living room and gently grab my grandmother’s cold, bruised hands, replacing each piece of precious jewelry onto her fingers and wrists wherever I can fit them, stacking them one on top of the other. 

“Should we add her books, Paps?” I manage to ask. 

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, might be best to keep things like that above ground…” 

Paps and I make our way out to the barn as dusk falls, and I light the few candles he has placed around on the shelves and tables. It’s dilapidated but in a good way; the walls and ceiling showing wear of many, many years of hard work. I watch as Paps grabs up one of the candles and walks to a swing door I’d never really noticed before, using some force to pull it open and propping it with a cut of a two-by-four. My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness as he walks further inside the room, illuminating the space. There in the center of the small room is a pine box casket.

“Paps, what in the world? When did you…?” I breathe, walking closer to it. I notice that it has my grandmother’s name carved right in the top, the letters painted in black.

“About fifteen years ago, I’d say. Jane and I always said we wanted to be buried right here on the farm, when our times came. Guess we never told you kids about that. Your parents knew, a’course, but we never dreamed they’d go before us…” 

Paps pulls his blue handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his nose, his eyes still dripping with remnant tears. 

“It looks really good, Paps. You did a great job,” I commend him, but he pays no mind. Instead he blows across it, relieving some of the old sawdust from its home on the lid. He pulls the top open and inspects it again, pulling a few pieces of straw from the inside. 

“Help me get it over to the site?” he asks, and I realize I’d never even asked him where he wanted me to dig the grave. I just picked the prettiest place that I could. Something tells me he would have picked the same place, too. “Under the willow?” he asks. 

Great minds.

“Under the willow.”

We lower the casket onto the wheelbarrow and roll it across the back yard and along the fenceline, right beside the weeping willow tree. It was Gran’s favorite place to come and lie in the grass with a book. Hank walks alongside us, his snout on guard for any wild packs that may be a threat to us. 

Together, we lower the pine box into the hole I’d dug, making sure it was level at the bottom. “Want me to go get her?” I ask. 

“I’ll get her,” he responds as he takes off back toward the house. The wind is whipping my hair across my face, now, as the stars are beginning to show themselves, and I can’t stop myself from crying again. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be standing beside a grave I just dug, with a casket my grandfather built, watching his back walk across the tall grass to retrieve the body of the love of his life. This shouldn’t. Fucking. Be. Happening. 

In the moonlight, I finally see the figure of him coming back through the shadows with her in his arms. I silently thank the heavens above that he is a strong man, still yet, with more brute strength than any man his age should have. Just like James.

I help him lower her inside, but not before the both of us place kisses on either of her cheeks. I work to cover her back up with dirt as he stands behind, Hank begging his hand for a pet.

“You wanna say a few words?” I ask him as I throw the last shovelful of dirt on top, wiping a hand across my cold-sweat forehead. 

He takes a quick, chopped breath. “Sixty-two years wasn’t nearly enough with you, sweetheart. Won’t ever be enough. Thank you for every single laugh, every single tear, every single argument and happy moment. Thank you for our beautiful children, and grandchildren, and thank you for filling my heart with more joy than any man should have the privilege of havin’. You sure made my life worth livin’. Give ‘em hell up there in heaven, Janie. I know ya will. I love ya to the moon.” He sniffles again as he gives in to Hank’s requests, finally leaning down and wrapping a strong arm around the dog. I sidestep and wrap my arm around him, too, and we stand there in the wind until we can’t stand any more.

JAKE

“RRRUHHHHH!” I growl loudly as I wake up from unconsciousness in a full-on panic. My eyes are shifty and dry as I work to sit myself up quickly, my hands still bound at my back. The tape is gone from my mouth now, though. 

It’s dark, and it's cold, but I’m indoors. I just can’t fucking see a god damned thing. 

“Hey! Help!! Can anyone hear me?!” I yell, my voice echoing hard off the walls that surround me. My voice feels dry and knotted in my throat as I try to swallow what little moisture I have in my mouth. When I get no response, I crack my neck sideways as pain sets in over my body, and not just from my arms being bound. I feel as though my legs have been hit with something hard, and my back feels like it’s bruised and sore. What the fuck? What the fuck!

“Heyyyyy! Somebody come and fucking talk to me! What do you want?!” I yell again, my heart rate flying as reality sets in that I’ve been kidnapped from the cabin. Alone. 

The last thing I remember is being alone in the back of that truck, rolling around as whoever was driving had little care for it’s cargo in the back. Maybe that’s why I feel bruised and beaten. Or maybe it’s not. 

Yes, alone. In the truck… six intruders… weapons… it’s all coming back now, in little spurts of memory. Where is everyone else? Where is my family? When was I brought in here? I feel bile rising in my throat as I feel a panic attack setting in, and I grind my hands against one another so as to try and free them from their ties. But it’s no use, of course. It only digs them into my skin more. 

I sit in silence listening to only the sounds of my uneven breathing, trying to calm myself and make a plan of action. No time to fall into fear, Jake. 

I maneuver my body around to get to the walls, standing on my sore legs to turn and let my hands run along them. There’s nothing there– no windows, no chairs or furniture. Just a box. I diligently run my hands along every one. Four walls. With nothing. Nothing but– 

A door. 

I turn my body to try and find a doorknob or whatever to open it, and when my hand finally grasps the spherical knob, I realize that the mother fucker is locked. Of course. I turn and slam my shoulder into it a few times to see if I can pry it, but it’s no use. “Hey! You son of a bitch! Let me out of here!” I yell again, getting mad, now. 

“Quiet, Jacob,” a voice I do not recognize suddenly fills the room. My stomach drops. 

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing really comes to mind. The voice is male, but distorted. Quiet? QUIET? 

“Who the fuck are you? Open this door and come and talk to me!” I yell again, my body suddenly feeling like my blood is going to pulse from every orifice of my body. 

There is a long pause. 

“I said quiet, Jacob,” it repeats. 

I grit my teeth. This voice is really pissing me off. 

“I’ll be quiet when you come in here and fucking show your face!” I yell even louder this time.

There is another long pause, and finally, I hear the metallic screeching of the heavy door opening. I waste no time in trying to push through it, relying on only my hearing to know what is going on, just as I had back at the cabin. Everything is so fucking dark.

But I get nowhere. I’m stopped by my body running into two stern and sturdy men again, pushing back further into the echoey room. I nearly lose my footing, but I press forward again, determined to get through that fucking door. But they stop me again, thrashing my body back so hard I hit one of the walls. It nearly knocks the breath from me, but I catch it. “Who are you? What do you want? I want to see my fam–”

“It’d really do you good to stay fucking quiet, like we told you to.” Suddenly I feel a gloved hand cupping across my mouth, stopping me from speaking. The man’s face is close to mine, whispering in my ear as he pins me back against the wall with his other arm. “Do you understand? Can you keep your voice down?” It asks, a little more lax. 

After a few seconds, I nod, but my mind doesn’t have the time to process another plan. Maybe if I cooperate, they’ll let me the fuck go. His hand slowly falls from my mouth, and I stay quiet, nothing filling the room now but my haggard and nervous breathing, again. “Who are you,” I whisper, my tone demanding. 

I notice that the second man must be standing behind the one still holding me to the wall, hearing him huff a laugh under his breath. How can they fucking see me? 

“Let’s just say that if you play your cards right, we’ll be your new best friends,” the man says as he releases my chest, allowing me to breathe. I hear the tear of velcro twice, realizing he must be taking his gloves off. 

“I don’t need any more fucking friends. I have plenty back at home,” I bark, still gritting my teeth as I stay at a quieter level. 

They laugh again. “Home? You mean the cabin you were holed up in? Barely surviving?” the man behind the first asks sarcastically. 

“Home is where my family is, actually,” I bite.

“Aww, isn’t that cute,” they laugh at me again as I hear that they’re both standing, now. I should try and run again, right? But it might get me knocked unconscious again. Maybe not. Not yet. 

“Little Jake Kiszka, maybe you really do have the heart of gold everyone says you have,” the first one says. “Maybe being rich and famous didn’t get to you, after all.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you? How do you know my name?” I ask. 

They both scoff again. “You’re fairly fucking famous, my guy. Lots of people know your name,” the second one blurts. My guy? Who–

“Well it’s pretty convenient that I don’t know yours, seeing as how you have me fucking tied up in a pitch black room. Can we cut the shit? Or am I gonna have to try and run again?” I ask, completely over this game. Suddenly, I don’t feel very threatened. 

“You won’t get very far if you do, Jake,” the first one whispers, and I hear his boots step closer to me again, and his breath hot on my face. “Listen to me, and listen closely, okay? Are you listening?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m listening,” I say.

“We told you to stay quiet for a reason. You’ve been captured by an outfit that’s been around for a long, long time. But you weren’t caught for just any reason,” he goes on, barely audible. 

“What does that mean? What reason?” I ask. 

“They’ve got reason to believe that you know.”

“Know what?” I ask, confused. 

“Why the fucking world ended. Or actually, how. Your brothers, you all wrote about this, didn’t you? In your music?” he goes on, and if I wasn’t confused before, I sure as shit am now. 

“What?!” I squeal, almost laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Hmm-mm. They aren’t kidding. Does it feel like they’re kidding right now? No.”

“Why do you keep saying they? You are the one that’s got me locked up, right now,” I retort. 

“Because we’re pretending,” suddenly the other one is in my ear. “They think we work for them. The brunt work. The dirty jobs…. Like kidnapping you,” he says. 

“Listen Jake,” the other interrupts. “We know you, we know who you are. We were… we were fans of your band, back then. But these people, the ones who hired us, they trust us. And they have worse plans for you than holding you in a dark metal box with your hands tied…”

“Why me? Why did they take me?” I ask. 

“Your music, your songs… you fucking predicted more about all this than you think you did,” the other explains. 

Josh’s dreams. 

“We didn’t predict shit, we were just writing fucking songs, we didn’t–”

“All of it is real, Jake,” the first whispers, his lips brushing my hair. “The stories you told, the worlds you built… all of it exists, and has existed for a long time.”

“I don’t get it,” I say, blinking my eyes in the darkness. 

“The lyrics you wrote about, the Garden you all dreamt up… It exists. In a complete other realm.”

I damn near laugh in their faces. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? This is a joke?”

They stay quiet for a beat. “No jokes here, Jake. Just know that more is happening than you could ever even fathom. It’s not just the end of the world here. It’s the end of the world there, too. Well, it’s about to be, if the battle is lost,” the second says. 

“You’re both insane, and I’m in on some kind of prank. This is all a joke!” I argue. “We didn’t create that world...”

“No, you didn’t. But you knew about it. You wrote songs about it, didn’t you? You told tales of a Battle, wrote songs about war and peace, lyrics about the water rising, and the air so thin…”

My head is spinning. I’m getting a headache. And I could really use a fucking cigarette.

“Yeah, global fucking warming, who didn’t know about that?” I defend. 

They both laugh under their breath. “Let’s just say you guys literally wrote the time and space of another world as if you’d read their history books. And, lived there alongside them.” 

There’s no fucking way. This is absolutely ridiculous. 

“What do you mean if the battle is lost?” I ask, the question coming from my mere curiosity. 

The second crouches down in front of me again, from what I can tell. “Our world here has already begun to end, right? Technology itself is murdering us by the boatloads. The thing we created. It’s omnipresence became too much for earth to handle, started to suck away at her resources and poison her. Poison her natural way of ebb and flow. So she said fuck you humans, I don’t need you. You shall all suffer my wrath, and I’ll use the poison that you created to kill you,” his voice had gotten a little dramatic, as if he was reading a romantic tragedy. 

“Okay Shakespeare, we get it,” the first says, and I can’t help but laugh a little. “Here’s the thing… the other realm is suffering, too. What happens on earth is mirrored in that realm, but the mirror isn’t a clear reflection. It’s more of a…”

“Cloudy and messy shadow of what happens in our realm,” the other says. 

“Yeah, actually,” the first agrees. “It happens here, it happens there, just not the exact same way. So their world is suffering, too. But they’re going to try and stop it.”

“How are they going to do that?” I ask.

“...Have you not figured that out yet, man? Don’t you think that uh— capturing a few guys who have predicted it all to a tee so far and using them for information on what’s to come next wouldn’t be a nice and easy route for them?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” I say blankly. “You kidnapped me because they think I know what’s going to happen next after the world ends?”

“Mm, kind of. You’ve gotten it all right, so far.”

No, Josh has. Apparently.

“That and… a pretty good other reason,” the first mumbles. 

“What other reason?”

“You don’t have any signs of the rash yet, do you?” the second inquires, throwing me off. How would he know that?

“No… but what’s that have to do with all of this?” I say, my mind spinning. 

“You’re an immune. Just like us,” the second says with a bit of pride in his voice. 

“An immune? How the fuck do we know that we just haven’t gotten it yet?” I press. 

“You’ve seen how fast that shit kills people,” the first scoffs. “Don’t you think you would have at least shown a little bit of a sign of it, by now?” 

He’s right. It’s been months since the first sign of the rash, killed more people than I’d like to discuss. And quickly, too. But my whole family… none of us have shown signs…how are we all so lucky?

“Maybe the earth decided that she’d keep a few of us, the ones who aren’t fucking assholes,” the second barks, earning what sounds like a slap to the chest from the first. 

“I don’t think that’s how it worked, idiot,” he says. “Anyways, we’ve already spent too much time in here with you, Jake. But listen. Remember we’re all pretending. They’re going to push you, they’re going to make us push you. But we want you to know we’re on your team, even if we act like we’re not. They’re out collecting immunes as we speak, trying to put everyone into some type of commune to protect the longevity of mankind. But you’re special, because they think you know. They’re special because they’re immune. You following me?”

“When they kidnap more immunes they’ll group me with them, but treat me differently because they think I can help them, got it,” I say, catching on fairly easily, for some reason. 

“Bingo,” the second clicks his tongue. 

“Do the people who hired you live in the other realm, too? Like, why do they care?” I ask, feeling like I just read the plot of a fantasy novel.

“Think of it like a family intertwined between both worlds. They’re able to bounce back and forth, but they all take up space in both places. One realm can’t live without the other. That’s why they’re trying to stop the end of their world there, so they have somewhere to be if our’s ceases to exist,” the first explains. 

“That’s fucking confusing,” I whisper. “If ours ceases to exist, one can’t exist without the other. Isn’t Earth already too far gone?” 

“Maybe her inhabitants are almost wiped, but as a planet, she’s still got a long way to go before rejoining the cosmos. If the other realm is saved, it could power Earth enough to stop her eradication. Plus we have immunes. Earth won’t completely die, she’s just trying to do a hard restart, if that makes sense,” the second one adds. “She’s sick, and she’s trying to make herself healthy again.”

I let out a huff as I try and wrap my head around the dystopian film I’m apparently a part of now. Half of me thinks these guys are lying to me. Playing games to distract me. But then again, why would they be wasting their time?

“Play dumb, Jake. Pretend you don’t know a goddamn thing. Especially when they start to question you about what you guys wrote in this last album,” the first says, standing to his feet and putting his gloves back on, from what I can tell. “This isn’t gonna last forever, we’re going to put a stop to this.”

“You are? How?” I ask, pulling hard on the ties around my wrists. 

“We are. With your help,” the second whispers. “There’s a whole group of us who plan on breaking free of this shit, we’ve just got to trust each other that we can run. Gather up the other immunes once they’re captured and create our own destinies.”

“But, if we don’t go along with them, won’t Earth completely shit out on us? If their realm dies too?” I ask. 

“Catching on quickly, Jake. I’m impressed,” the first whispers. “If we recreate our own line of mankind from the immunes, everything will be okay. We just want to do it out from underneath the thumb of these selfish motherfuckers. We can do it on our own.”

The two of them turn on their heels and start to walk toward the door again, leaving me sitting in the floor. “Hey, where is my family?” I ask. 

“They were assigned elsewhere. Separated all of you, we don’t know where they ended up. Sorry, man,” the second says. And within seconds they’re both gone, and I’m alone, yet again.

Y/N

I trudge back inside the house now under the cover of darkness, after having spent a few minutes outside trying to breathe and calm myself. Paps has lit a few candles inside, and I can see the warm glow of them through the windows making the house look like a jack-o-lantern. I smile a little at the thought. As I push the door open and lock it behind me, I turn and notice he’s stood by the kitchen table, a few more candles lit across it. There in front of him are two bowls of potato soup. 

“Paps, this is so nice of you,” I mumble as I hang my afghan on the back of a chair. “I thought you said you weren’t up for eating tonight?” 

“Your Gran would have been ticked if she knew we were too upset to feed ourselves, you know that’s a fact,” he says, pulling my chair out for me. I take a seat and I can smell the herbs he’s put into the soup.

“You’re right…” I agree. “She wouldn’t have been happy with us at all.”

“Plus, figure you could pretend one of these candles is on a birthday cake, and blow it out. Since we didn’t get to celebrate you the right way,” he adds as he takes his own seat. 

“I think I could do that,” I say, picking up my spoon to dig in. “Thank you Paps, you’re really too good to me.”

“We’re all we’ve got, sweetheart.”

As we eat, I watch as Paps’ hands seem weaker now, and how they shake a little as he brings his spoon to his mouth. He’s done an excellent job on the soup, but we both know we’re choking it down, both of our stomachs too wrought with nerves and heartbreak to enjoy it like we should. 

As we clean our bowls, he pushes one of the candles toward me, holding his hand out to motion for me to blow. The candle is old and burned through almost all the wax, but it still smells of pumpkin and apple pie. “Don’t forget to make a wish, sweetheart. And make it a good one,” he says, giving me a sweet wink from behind his glasses. 

I take a deep breath and wrack my brain, feeling like making a wish right now is selfish. Normally, I’d wish for a happy next year, health and fortune for my family, or even for the next man that walks into my life to be the right one. 

But all of that feels stupid now, pointless to request of the universe. 

Next year isn’t even promised. 

Over half of my family is gone. 

And no man is destined to walk into my life to better it in the least, let alone offer me kinship of any kind. 

So instead I wish for Paps to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible, and that the universe bestows good things upon us both. Because like he said, we’re all we’ve got. 

+++

After I’ve cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks from the same sound I heard coming through the walls last night– the sound of quiet, staticy music. 

I find Paps with his record player again, cranking the handle on the side as the sound begins to spill from the horn. For a second, I’m happy that he’d kept this old thing, knowing that without it, we wouldn’t be able to hear music at all, probably ever again. 

I step up beside him and watch it spin, listening to “Lovin’ You More Every Day” by Etta James drift into the air. I know that Gran loved this one, too. It was one of the songs they danced to at their wedding. 

So I take his hand in mine, pulling him to stand with me on the old oriental rug in the middle of the room. I begin to sway around as he gently places his hand on my back, swaying right along with me. We’re dancing a little too slowly for the speed of the song, but neither of us care. We’re just enjoying our time, wishing that Gran was here to clap for us after the song ends. But as it comes to a close, we’re met again with static, waiting silently for the first note of the next song. 

“You’re a bit too big now to stand on my feet,” he says through a stiff smile. 

“Maybe so,” I giggle. “But it was your training that got rid of my two left feet…gave me a sense of some rhythm…” I grin. 

He smiles again as he sniffles through some more tears. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to dance with you at your own wedding, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he pulls me close, and my heart shatters into a million pieces. 

“Now Paps, don’t talk like that…” I argue. “Lord knows I’m not gonna find a man who can dance better than you, anyway.”

I hear a chuckle run through his chest. “May be, sweetheart. May be.”

We sway along to a few more songs before we’re both yawning. “Believe I’m gonna hit the hay,” he says solemnly, patting me on the head a few times before making his way to throw a few more logs onto the fire. 

“Me too, I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask, realizing that this will be the first night in over sixty years that he is going to sleep knowing he won’t wake up to the love of his life. 

“When the rooster crows, my sweet. Love you.”

“I love you, Paps,” I say as we part ways, drifting off to our respective rooms. 

I’m thankful the weather isn’t too horrendous tonight as I snuggle into my bed, pulling the covers onto my chest. I relax, but leave my candle lit, staring up at the ceiling and recounting the day. The look on Gran’s face as she finally met peace, no longer feeling the wrenching burn of the rash that had enveloped her body. Poor Paps. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling, right now. 

I grab my journal back up and flip to the page I’d left off on, realizing I’d stopped in the middle of a thought. Instead of finishing it, I start a new one. 

I write about Gran’s passing, how and where we buried her, how I adorned her hands and wrists with all her old jewelry, and how Paps had made me a special birthday supper. I try to be as detailed as possible, leaving nothing out as I let my hand flow from print to cursive. My eyes begin to get heavy as the candle light flickers, and I realize just how exhausted I am. How mentally and physically drained I’ve become, simply from trying my best to stay alive. 

My eyes close a little, drifting down onto my forearm that’s covered in tattoos. My dad hated them, but Paps and Gran always told me they were an expression of my life at the time, like a roadmap of all of the things I loved, when I loved them. Keepsakes I’ll never part with. I always thought it strange, that coming from grandparents from an era of humans who normally found tattoos distasteful, but. 

But they were right. I have over twenty tattoos, but my forearm is dedicated to the band that I knew and loved so much, and who brought me some of the happiest times of my life.

The first one sits right in the crook of my elbow, a simple sun and crescent moon that I got right after I fell in love with From the Fires. Then words, right below that, reading ‘In an age of darkness, light appears’ in small font, wrapping all the way around my arm. Under that, a swirling symbol that resembles a radar, 13 lines that make an almost complete circle to commemorate the song that reminds me to step back into the natural world. Beneath that, a sword and an arrow, parallel with one another. And lastly, a symbol that truly represented their fifth album, lines shaped into what looks like a bird in flight. 

I never got to get a tattoo from this last album. And honestly, the darkness of the theme of it made choosing what I would have gotten a little difficult, anyway. 

I run my hand over the dark black ink and my mind begins to sleepily drift. I wonder what my friends are doing right now…are they alive? Are they sad, too? Are they still clinging to the good times we shared to keep their minds from falling into the deep depths of solitude?

My fingers stop over the Age of Machine tattoo, the little ridges of the skinny lines still rigid on my skin. I think about how much this tattoo reminded me to unplug and drown myself in nature every chance I got. How that song truly motivated me to do the exact opposite of letting myself be pulled into the false world of social media, and spend my time in my garden, or swept up in a book. Strange, now… thinking about how it made me feel when I listened. Haunted, dizzy, and uneasy. Scared, almost, but cautious. Ominous and anxious, but in the most peaceful way. Now I’m glad of the inspiration it gave me. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten the rash. It’s almost like that song was warning us of what was to come…

What are the men who wrote this music doing right now? Are they okay, too? My heart wrenches in a different way than it has, yet. Yearning to know of the state of people I had never met, yet worried about the wellbeing of for so many years of my life. “Silly,” I whisper to myself. But, it’s not silly. It’s just the heart they helped me find within myself to care about other people so deeply.

I close my pencil into my book again as I blow out my candle, thinking of all the nights I went to sleep excited to wake up before the sun and double check the luggage I’d packed, grabbing a quick coffee before I hit the road to travel to god knows where to see my friends and my favorite band again. Carefree, and careless. Living my life the way I wanted to, choosing the road ahead to achieve that happiness I’d always chased when it came to hearing their music live. Life unchained, the way Gran lived hers. 

+++

Just as my body is relaxing into a well-deserved sleep, I’m awoken by a loud rumble, a deafening sound so deep that I feel it in my bones. I shoot up in bed, realizing that the bed below me is shaking, vibrating. I pull the covers back quickly, rushing down the hall to find Paps already coming toward me with his candle in hand. 

“What’s going on?!” I yell above the loud rumbles. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” he yells back, and we both make our way to the large picture window in the living room. The moonlight illuminates the hillside of the farm, revealing a giant faultline that reaches from one side of the field all the way to the next. 

“Shit,” Paps mutters as I feel panic setting into my gut. “Faultline.”

“What’s that mean?! Paps, what is it?” I ask in succession, watching as the crack as wide as a river is eating up the ground.

“Probably another sink hole. Or one is going to happen nearby, I’d say,” he barks as he turns and rushes back to his room. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to run,” he hollers. 

What?! Run?? We can’t run! 

“Paps, but the house! We’re alread–”

“Get your backpack. Get dressed, hurry! We’ve got to get away from it!” he commands, his voice booming. The house begins shaking again as I run to my room, throwing on my pants, jacket, and boots, and tossing my heavy emergency backpack over my shoulders. I make sure to secure my toboggan onto my head before stuffing my journal into the free pocket of my backpack, rushing back out into the living room to find Paps ready and waiting. 

I hear plates and dishes falling from the shelves of the kitchen, and books falling off the shelves of the living room. It’s just like an earthquake, except I had watched a crevice form in the ground, right before my eyes. My hands are shaking, and I am already broken out in a cold, panicked sweat.  We rush to the truck, throwing our things into the bed as we climb inside. 

“Hank! Where’s Hank?!” I yell, looking around for him. 

“Leave him, we’ve got to go,” Paps says as he turns the key in the ignition, hearing the engine purr to life for just a second, before shutting right back off. He tries again, pumping the fuel pedal to get the block to heat and the glow plugs to light. “Fuck, fuck!! Come on, baby! Don’t do this!” he yells, trying to coax the machine. But it’s to no avail. The battery has died.

We open the doors and clamber to grab our bags again, realizing that on foot is our only means of escaping the growing faultline. We take off rushing down the dirt road, still hearing the deep rumble of the ground separating behind us. I wish I could describe the sound, a noise unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. The cracking and snapping of deep roots, the crashing of trees, a low bellowing sound so deep that it sounds like it came from hell, itself. Unreal. And utterly fucking terrifying. 

My legs carry me, and luckily so do Paps’, straight down the long driveway and back onto the main road. I hear the wood of the house start to creak, and more wooden-sounding bangs. Fuck. Please, not the house… 

“Should we go to the woods?” I pant, knowing that Paps is just as out of breath as I am. 

“No, to the knoll,” he points, panting too as he motions toward the top of a high hill. When we finally make it there, we stop, taking a breather as now it feels as though we’re far enough from the field to get a better view of everything that lies beneath. And there, right in the center of the field is another sinkhole, giant and deep and dark with half the farm swallowed up in it. 

Luckily, the house is untouched.

“How on God’s green Earth…” Paps breathes as he lets his hands fall to his knees, trying to catch his breath as the two of us look down on the scene in front of us. Like it was straight from a horror film. 

“Had to of been Gran. She wouldn’t let the devil himself take her home, if it was the last thing she did,” I say, earning a breathy laugh from Paps. 

“You’re goddamn right, sweetheart. You’re goddamn right,” he says, finally catching his breath. “We need to run, we’re pretty close to this thing, still.” We take off again, rushing back down the road as we still hear the ground shaking below us. We hear trees falling in the distance, and we begin running again. I’m truly thankful for Paps’ stamina and heart right now, his legs getting him to safety even at his age. 

“Keep going, Paps, not much further,” I encourage him, just in case he needs it. “We’re okay, we’re okay…”

Suddenly, I see a set of headlights in the distance, barreling down the road towards us in a cloud of dust. When it finally approaches, I flag it down until it stops beside us. An old man is sitting in the driver’s seat, his face just as panicked as ours. “Hop in! Hop in!” he says, and we listen. Paps and I rush to the passenger side and slide into the cab, the man already hitting the gas before Paps can even shut the door all the way. 

“You’ve got to turn around!” I say, “There are sinkholes this way!”

He turns the wheel harshly, and I’m glad he listens to me. We rush back the opposite way, zooming down the road so fast I can hardly fathom what’s happening. Pure panic. 

“We’re alright, Paps, we made it out,” I try and calm him, reaching for my canteen of fresh water and offering it to him as he catches his breath. 

Suddenly we’re being thrust forward as the man steps on the brake, and I’m close to cursing him before I notice he’s stopped before another faultline in the road. “My god…” the man says, opening his truck door and climbing out. 

“No, no… what are you doing?!” I yell, wondering why in the hell this man is getting out of our escape vehicle and walking towards the crack in the ground. I watch as he steps closer to it, inching his steps as he peers down over the edge. “Is he insane?! Are you insane? Please, come back!!” I scream, but he doesn’t listen. The ground shakes again, throwing the man off balance as it makes him stumble, swallowing him right up into it. 

“Oh my god!!” I yell as Paps lets out a guttural scream. My hand covers my mouth as I yell in disbelief, watching as the man is there one second, and gone the next. 

“Drive, Y/N, drive!” Paps urges me, pushing my arms to scoot to the driver’s seat. I throw the truck in reverse, pulling the door closed as I rush to get us away from it all, pushing the pedal to the floor as my eyes scan for more faultlines. It feels as though we’re surrounded by them. My heart is pounding, now, as my body does the necessary work on auto pilot. 

“Keep going! Keep going!” Paps says as we get closer to town, and away from the vibrating ground. After a few minutes of shaking panic, it feels like the buzzing of the ground has subsided, and I can finally take a deep breath. A shaky one, but a breath nonetheless. 

As I finally allow my eyes to adjust and my hands to stretch, I’m finally feeling in control of my body again. Okay, okay, I’ve got this. Just keep driving. “Paps, you okay?”

“I’m okay sweetheart, you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” I breathe, taking another deep breath in to calm my shaking body. “God, why the fuck did he do that?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, dumb and curious, I guess,” he says, taking another drink from the canteen before offering it to me. “Head toward the city, we’ll need to find a place to hunker down, tonight.”

And though my heart is still pounding as his words hit me, I take the right turn off the state route to head to the interstate, both of us in high hopes that the city will offer us more than it did when we left it. But honestly, I’m losing faith. 

I’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes on the empty road before I take a cutoff exit, determined to cut our drive time down and conserve fuel. The exit leads to a sideroad that is heavily wooded, but I know it will get us to the city more quickly. As the headlights shine down the two-lane road, I notice some kind of dark, shadowed figures standing down in the distance. I blink a few times, trying to see what is there. 

“Is that deer?” I ask Paps. 

“Can’t tell, it’s too dark,” he says, so I slow my pace. My headlights do little to light them up, but the closer we get, the more human they look. Tall, dark… just standing there?

And they aren’t moving. I bring the truck to a stop, my headlights almost no help at all as the figures begin to close in on us, instead of moving out of the road. 

“The hell is this, what’s happening?” Paps yells as the figures have us completely blocked from continuing down the road, now. My panic returns. I hear Paps cock his shotgun. “Drive, drive!!!”

My foot smashes the pedal to the floor, but the truck doesn’t move. The tires screech as I continue pushing it, willing the truck to keep going. But it won’t. It’s like I’m running it into a brick wall. “What’s happening!! Why won’t it go?!” I scream, my hands gripping the wheel as the truck begins to fishtail from the force of the tires on the ground. The lights from the truck are completely gone, now. We’re in total darkness. “Paps!”

“I’m here, I’m here, honey!” and I feel him grab my hand. Suddenly the truck doors slam open, and my body is being grabbed and pulled from the seat. I thrash and kick at whatever has grabbed me, but nothing works. It’s too strong. I feel a painful hit to my head, and my ears scream as I start to lose consciousness. I feel a dark cover be put over my head and secured, completely blocking my vision altogether. “Paps!!!!” I try and yell, but I’m slipping quickly into unconsciousness as my voice is barely a squeal. My hands are being tied in front of me, and all I feel is cold. 

+++

I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands still bound as I sit with my back against a metal wall. My breathing is ragged as I try and take in my surroundings, and I realize I still have the covering over my head. I wince in pain from the impact of whatever hit my head earlier. I hear others beside me, many crying, panicked voices whimpering in the same room. I try and make a sound, but my voice is hoarse from screaming. I try and speak, but there is tape over my mouth. What is happening, where is Paps?!

My heart is pounding in my chest as I try to raise my bound hands and remove the covering, but it’s secured tightly. I’m in pitch black darkness, and I can’t see a fucking thing. I try to stand, but my muscles are weak and sore, and I can hardly will them to move, let alone stand. It’s unclear how long I was knocked out, and how long I have been sitting in this cold, metal room, but it feels like only a few minutes have passed. I feel tears begin running down my face, I feel so helpless, so exhausted. So blind.  

Suddenly I hear a loud noise, like a heavy metal door being thrust open. I see a light through the covering over my face, and I try and yell again. But nothing comes out. Just like in those nightmares where you are unable to make a sound. I hear footsteps come into the room, heavy boots pounding against the concrete floor. My covering is forcefully removed, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the bright light. 

Finally, I’m able to see eight or ten others with me, all of us sitting with our hands bound, lined up against the walls of this room. Some beside me, some directly across from me. I watch as two tall, masked men work their way around the room, removing each and every face covering. A woman, a man, a teenaged boy, an elderly lady… and then, Paps. I make excited eye contact with him as I feel a squeal leave my taped lips. He’s safe. He’s here. 

I watch as the rest of the covers are removed one by one, the person seated directly across from me being saved for last. They leave him sitting for a few seconds as they exchange what looks to be laughs with one another before one of them gently kicks his legs a little before undoing his head covering. 

The man’s face is beaten and bruised, his brown hair tangled and long and falling in front of his face as he winces in pain. They throw his face covering back down to the floor beside him, laughing again as they turn and leave the room without a word, locking the door behind them. 

I peer to the hair-covered face again to get a better look, and I swear if my mouth wasn’t taped shut, I would have screamed out in disbelief. 

That’s Jake fucking Kiszka.

He feels my eyes on him as he finally looks up to me, noticing my awkward stare. Neither of us can speak. I feel myself smiling under the tape, what are the fucking odds? What is happening?! Where the fuck are we?

His eyes grow wide as he realizes I know him, and he stares back at me in utter confusion. Do I tell him I recognize him? Shit, he can probably tell I do, by now. For some odd reason unbeknownst to me, I maneuver my tied hands to slowly pull up the sleeve of my shirt, showing him the splattering of tattoos that line my forearm. I know you. I watch his eyes see them as I straighten my arm out, willing him to see them, recognize them.

I watch his chest rise and fall as he begins shaking his head slowly side to side, his breathing picking up significantly as he looks at me with red, swollen eyes. 

No? Is he telling me no?

Just as I hear the sound of the heavy footsteps coming back down the hall, I watch as Jake slowly lifts his bound hands to his face, his pointer finger sticking up in front of his taped mouth. 

My stomach falls as I realize he’s serious. Not only is he telling me no, he’s telling me to stay quiet.

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka @jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter

[oomox-oclock]

There Was A Time:

previous chapters/warnings

6. You Ain’t The First

Second person POV:

That Friday the band had a gig. You did the usual; help the boys tease their hair, this was the only time you could be near Izzy or touch him, you helped Slash with his eyeliner and Axl's eyeshadow. They went on stage you watched them from a secret balcony opposite the stage, where all the lights and other technical controls were. You watched Steven's hair bounce as he played the drums, and it was even more hypnotising with his teased hair. You watched him for the beginning of the gig, it soon trailed over to Axl. You knew it was bad that you had feelings for him, even worse that you kissed him. You're his manager, you couldn't be with him, just like nothing could happen between you and Duff. But my god he is so addictive to look at. His teased hair made him look like a lion, and the way he moved his hips when he sang made all the girls, the boys and yourself go absolutely wild. You did however look away from him when it was Slash's solo. Duff and Izzy were looking at you while he shredded, you didn't notice of course as you were in awe at his talent and his man boobs. Duff was jealous, but he wasn't hateful, he knew Slash was amazing at going nuts on the guitar, he stared too sometimes. Izzy however, no one knew what he was thinking. Murder? Maybe. Toe hair? I don't know. Unicorns shitting glitter? Sure! He was so hard to read, he was a complete mystery.

The rest of the show went well. Axl didn't jump on anyone or even shout at them. When they ended you waited for them in the changing room. All the guys were first in, but Axl was slightly delayed, but soon he stepped over the dressing rooms threshold. "Guys, I have someone that I want you to meet." Axl said with a smile. It was quite unusual to see him this chirpy after a show, he would normally be ranting with the small nit-picky stuff of the not-so-good quality equipment. A stunning girl with long curly hair and the most beautiful blue eyes walked in behind him and then stood next to him. "This is Erin." He spoke. "My girlfriend". Those words hit you like a freight train, your ears started ringing. You felt so betrayed. You felt your heart break under the sheer amount of pain it just felt in that moment. You hated them. No not her. Him. Axl Rose. He played with your heart just like that. Did he think of you like you were some groupie? He couldn't have, your kiss and everything but lust behind it. You had to put. Brave face on to not like you wanted to kill yourself in that moment because, they rest of the band were introducing themselves and you were up next after Izzy. "This is our manager." Axl said as he motioned to you. "Ah! Oh my god you're so pretty! I've heard so much about you!" She said. 'Oh thank god she's a girls girl' You thought in relief.

You guys sat at the booth like normal, this time with Steven and Erin on your sides instead of Axl. Erin was absolutely lovely, you contemplated taking her for yourself and getting back at Axl. Or just taking her for yourself. You we're still heart sore and annoyed at Axl, with every word he spoke your malicious thoughts of getting back at him got worse and worse. Would he even care? He better. "If you weren't in the music business, what would you do?"  Erin asked. You were about to speak but Axl spoke over you. "Some Rocket Science things. That's why we call her our Rocket Queen." He spoke. You coughed a little nearly choking as you remembered one of the stories behind the song Rocket Queen that they haven't even made yet. "That's so cool!" She responded. You smiled at her. "I can speak for myself Axl." You said with malice. "Geez, what's got you so riled up?" he asked as he laughed. You didn't know if he knew what he was doing was getting on your nerves, but he loved doing it. You rolled your eyes. "Stop listening in to our convos babe." She said as she playfully hit him. The pet name hurt you even more, but at least he was getting smacked. "Steven can you sit next to Axl so he can't eavesdrop?" You asked Steven, and he agreed and moved to the other side. You and Erin chatted more, as the guys were talking in their own world, it felt good to have another girl to talk to, you realised just how much more immature boys were. "So... Which one is your favourite?" She asked as she nudged you. "Oh, no no I can't choose," You giggled "Steven definitely. Oh, and maybe Duff as second" You whispered to her. "And the others?" She giggled "Izzy hates me for I don't know what reason. Slash doesn't warn anyone when he's bringing someone over, so I always get to hear the noises he makes." You giggled as you rolled your eyes. "And Axl just getting on my nerves sometimes." You added. "I don't know, I think Izzy has thing for you." She spoke. You stared at her with wide eyes and a 'what the fuck' expression on your face. You nearly burst out laughing. "Seriously! Look, every time he takes a sip of his drink, he looks at you." She whispered. You scoffed lightly at her in disbelief. "Look!" She whisper shouted. Both of you looked at Izzy who sat at the other side of the table. He took his glass, lifted it to his mouth and took a sip, his eyes then glanced to your end of the table. He saw the two of you looking back at him, and he quickly glanced back at the other guys while coughing slightly as he nearly choked on his drink. Your mouth was slightly a gape as you looked back at Erin, and she had the most shit eating grin ever and was about to giggle her ass off just like you were. She snorted then you did, it didn't take long till the two of you were laughing uncontrollably, not being able to breathe soon after. Izzy quickly made his way out of the booth seeing this scene unravel and he went to the bathroom. The rest of the band were looking at you two going mental.

You soon calmed down, but you didn't explain to the rest what happened. Axl looked a little irritated, but you didn't notice as you were having too much fun with Erin. Izzy soon came back also looking irritated but much more than Axl. You two didn't giggle more at him just encase he might go off on you. "But who do you like?" She asked. "Didn't you already ask me this?" You raised an eyebrow. "I mean like. Like, like you know?" She explained. Shit. You couldn't say it. "I can't date any of them. I'm their manager." You told her. "Yeah, but you can still like one of them. It's not illegal." She responded. "Nah, I couldn't." you said. 'Wise words, should have listened to them sooner.' You thought. "Come on! What about the tall one? He's been taking peeks at you too." She said. You blushed a bit, you had an initial crush on him, but you still couldn't pursue it. You looked at Duff who was talking amongst the group, then glanced at Axl who sat next to him. If Axl didn't care about you, then he wouldn't mind you getting closer with Duff. Right?

You all drank some more and talked some more. Izzy starred daggers at you the whole time. You didn't realise as you were talking to Erin and Duff over the table. It was soon time to leave, and you were innocently flirting with Duff as you were walking to the exit. Axl noticed and his intoxicated rage filled eyes glared at the sight of you two, and his anger burned brighter as Duff laid his hand on your shoulder as he sweet talked you and you giggled in response. Erin left to her own apartment as you were halfway home, Axl didn't even seem to acknowledge that. Or even get the slightest bit of excitement when offered going to her place to do some unspeakable business. He just grunted a 'bye' and continued to hang his head with distain as he continued walking. He gets like this when he's off his head drunk, but not when naked women are involved. You got home and everyone went to their respective rooms. You took Duffs hand and leaded him to your shared room, you were drunk and wanted to have fun, and especially get on Axl's nerves. Duff was more than happy to endorse what you were about to do. "Wait. I need to talk to you." Axl said. You rolled your eyes and sighed. You nudged your head at Duff to go to the room. You rested your back on the nearest wall and crossed your arms, as you gave a tired look at Axl. "Mhm?" You started. "What do you think you're getting at?" He accused. "I don't understand." You responded in a sarcastic annoyed tone back at him. "Why are you so angry? You have a girlfriend now. You should be ecstatic!" You waved your hand as you spoke. He huffed slightly, being at a loss for words. "Go on...?" You urged. Nothing. You got up off the wall about to walk to the room. "Just, don't hurt her." You said to him in a lighter serious tone. "Don't go kissing her and then leaving her for another girl the next week." You said as began walking. He did not like that. He started to speak up. "You ain't the fucking first. Just remember that." He shouted down at you. You knew you weren't, but you really wanted to be.

You did get back to the room, tired from the mental drainage that's been this night. Duff was half-way undressed but he was passed out hard on the bed. You sighed in relief as you put the covers over him and tucked yourself into bed next to his.

[heluvschibi]

The Apocalypse: Part 2

🧟prev << >> next🧟

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⚠️blood, jump scare? Cussing, mini panic attack(s), throwing up, weapons

📄2/8 of the boys get introduced!!!

👤who's loving this series? (please tell me)

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des:Food ✔ water ✔ survivors… WAIT SURVIVORS?!

words:1.9k

Y/N's POV

I got out of the apartment alive and well I obviously had to kill a few zombies, but I was fine, I went through the back entrance of the apartments, where the dumpsters we're and snuck my way out, now I'm currently crouched down behind a car as a group of zombies stumble around, I can feel my heart in my throat...

"Shit... Shit..." I turned around to peek behind the car, there were about 7,9 zombies...I got so far away from the apartment... I can't just go back now...

I look around for any distractions...and-

"No fucking way..." I mumbled out, a toy store...no zombies in it, there's a few zombies I have to kill on the way but... I can do it.

I pulled out my knife and snuck behind the big potting plant for trees, the zombie had it's back facing me, "Lord please let me survive this and tell my children how cool I was..."

I grabbed the zombie dragging it down with me before stabbing it in the head, I tried not to barf, but the smell...I wiped my hand on my jacket and looked forward, the toy store.

I hurried and rushed in... the door is open!

The door is open?

I grabbed my golf putt and walked around cautiously, I felt someone... Or something grabs me, and I hurried and turned around pushing the zombie off of me, before hitting it blindly killing it.

"Oh my gosh..." I put my hand on my heart feeling it beating wildly, the zombies face was completely smashed in, not a sight for sore eyes or any eyes...I felt something come up and before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees throwing up my breakfast...

"Aw, come on..." I stood up my stomach hurting from hurling, and looked around for what I came in here for...

I walked through the aisles looking for- "Monkey!" I smiled, it was one of the monkey's holding cymbals, all you have to do is wind. it up and clash clash clash.

I remember having to buy one of these loud monkeys for a prank at my office for my senior.

I grabbed three of the monkeys and walked to the door winding one of the monkeys up and tossing it pretty far, the zombies in the area all growled and ran that way, I tossed another one out there for good luck.

And when I had my opening, I ran, I ran as fast as I could, the zombies being distracted by the monkeys to even pay me mind I rushed to the convenient store, opening the door and closing it when I'm in, because the door is glass and the windows are big I had to be quick, I hurried and took off my bag and started looting.

When my bag looked full, I turned around to get out, but a zombie was coming this way I hurried and looked around and decided on the employee room.

I rushed closing the door and banging was heard on the door, and like I did in my apartment I pushed all my weight the door to keep it shut.

Soon gun shots were heard, that was scary too, the growling stopped so did the pounding on the door.

"Hyung, we're the zombies acting weird..."

"Yeah, they were all gathered over here..."

The footsteps got closer; I don't know what came over me, but I held onto the doorknob, so the door won't open.

"Is there something in there?"

"Someone you mean..."

I heard one of the guys grunting, I'm trying hard to make sure the door doesn't fling open. Soon the doorknob stopped wriggling and the guys sighed.

I let go of the doorknob and let out a small sigh myself before the door flung open, I fell back landing on my butt, I let out a cry in pain.

I looked up to see two guys, one of them holding a gun to my face and the other one behind him holding a flashlight, I closed my eyes from him shining the light in my face.

"Oh..." One of the guys said, he lowered the flashlight, and I peeked open my eyes before opening them all the way.

"Are you bit?" The fox looking guy said.

I shook my head no.

And the guy holding the gun lowers it, tucking it away.

"Gosh, why didn't you open the door?" The guy spoke and he had an Australian accent, I was still on the ground in shock.

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After we calmed down, we all had a small snack and talked.

The fox looking guy who sat on the couch next to me that practicality blinded me with a flashlight earlier smiled at me, a very kind smile before speaking "I'm so sorry for earlier, you know. Have to be careful." I remember he told me that his name was Yang Jeongin.

And the guy who pointed a gun in my face from earlier name was Bahng Christopher Chan, but told me to just call him Chan was leaning on the table looking at us, with very attractive lips surprisingly "So... Gangnam...?" He raised one of his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I can understand your confusion, I was just rotting in my room until I ran out of food. I never expected to run into a living person who doesn't smell like rotting corpse..." I joke, earning a small smile from Chan and a quiet chuckle from Jeongin.

"We never expected to find anyone living in Gangnam. I'm actually kinda happy." Jeongin smiled at me his eyes crinkling into crescent moons, I blushed a little.

"So where have you been living?"

"Oh well, me and a couple of our friends decided to live at my family small cabin in the woods-"

"Chan hyung stop lying!" Jeongin looked at Chan then at me, "Chan hyungs family cabin is huge! There's like a million bedrooms, I don't even think it should be classified as a cabin... More like a whole dang mansion!" Jeongin spread his arms out waving them around, I laughed at his exaggeration.

"Sorry for him. He's just... Jeongin." Chan giggled, "But we live in my family's 'Mansion' in the woods, we somewhat fortified it so it's safe for me and the other seven guys."

"Seven guys?" I raised my eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter-" "oh my gosh Chan hyung I just had the best idea ever." Jeongin butted in again causing Chan to groan. "What if we take her home!? We can introduce her to some of the guys!" Jeongin smiled.

The way he said it made it seem like I was a little homeless puppy living on the street...

"Eh, I wouldn't want to invade your guy's privacy..." I shook my head no.

"No you wouldn't, you would have your own room and everything! So we won't invade your privacy and you won't invade ours!"

"Jeongin, I don't think she wants to come." Chan mumbled.

Jeongin looking at Chan and pouted, "But... Come on Y/n." Jeongin looked at me, "It's not safe here."

I looked at Jeongin then at Chan.

"He's right you know, what if you do somehow get back home, Gangnam is still very full of zombies, and by the looks of what you brought with you on a simple scavenge, you aren't prepared to just live on your own during an apocalypse, even if you were safe for this long. Who knows how long you will survive." Chan walked toward us dragging the swivel chair with him to sit down in front of us. "But let's say you don't make it home, you get attacked by zombies or worse... Strange people. What will happen to you? We're not pushing you but your currently stopped at a fork road right now."

I bit my bottom lip thinking about what he was saying, then, "Okay you've convinced me."

Chan nodded and leaned back in the swivel chair.

"But can we stop by the apartment...I need to get a few things."

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Chan's POV

I walked out of the employees' room and into the store, I pulled out the small black walkie talkie.

"Minho, it's Chan checking in..." I said over the walkie talky.

...

"Minho?" I said worriedly.

"Sorry, I was fighting with the kids again-" a scream was heard in the back, very whiny scream.

"What the hell is going on over there?!" I shouted, Jeongin peeking his head out from the employees' room from hearing the muffled commotion.

"Hyung what's going on...?" Jeongin mumbled confused by the scream and me yelling.

"I don't know-"

"Sorry, Jisung is crying because- what was it again?" A mumbled was heard over the speaker of the walkie talkie. "Because Seung min called him a baby..."

I sighed... "Jisung... Just.... I don't know just ignore him."

"I did hyung but he keeps calling me a baby!" Jisung yelled.

"This is stupid...okay whatever- Minho, we found a survivor here at Gangnam..." I mumbled.

Whining was heard in the background, but it soon faded out, Minho was probably moving away from the noise. "Gangnam? Isn't that part over run? Wait why are you even there?" Minho spoke sounding suspicious.

"Yeah, it is over run, but we found this girl huddled up here in the convenient store just down the road by the apartments."

"Check if she's okay, bites, sickness, bloody nose, ruthless attacking, anything, if she's fine bring her back. If not-"

"I know...we shoot her." I mumbled the last part.

"Come back safe, over." Silence was heard from over his line, I put my walkie talkie back in my back pocket and walked back into the employee room.

After checking her for any sign's that she may turn, she was clean. Surprisingly. Gangnam was hit pretty hard because how much people are here, I never expected someone to survive over here.

Seungmin was worried when the apocalypse started...

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Flashback....

"HYUNG!" Seungmin shouted, he ran to me tears filling his eyes, what did a zombie get in?

"What's happening? Are you okay are the guys okay—"

"Hyung, h-he won't answer..." Seungmin showed me his phone screen, he called his grandpa and grandma 20 times in total and not one of them answered, he pulled his phone away and immediately called his grandpa again...

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time please-" Seungmin hung up and looked up at me, desperation in his eyes.

"Hyung... W-we have to go to Gangnam..."

This is new... Seungmin usually kept his emotions in, he never came to me or any of the other guys, so none of us really knew how he felt but... This... This is a side I never wanted to see of him. His crying got worse as rambling of wanting—no needing to go to Gangnam spews from his mouth, I place my hand on his shoulder and that stops him, he looks up at me "P-please hyung, I-I don't want my grandparents to be- dead."

I sighed, there is nothing I can really do, the car ran out of gas just in time when we got here, and the start of the apocalypse just happened, only a fool, and idiot would run out there blindly.

"Seungmin, I'm sorry but as the eldest I have to protect you guys from danger. And I think if I say yes to you just running to Gangnam, and you die... I think I would blame myself if you never came back..."

Distraught, anger, sadness...it was written all over his face.

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Now

Maybe, just maybe Seungmin's Grandpa is still alive.

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BOOM I'M BACK!!!! I still have a small cough but i'll survive!

did you guys miss me? BECAUSE I DID! I missed writing and posting (I was writing while I was sick...it's like addicting to me or something...) sorry if it's bad hehe

I'll be updating both the normal masterlist and The Apocalypse masterlist. -Chibi

have a good day/afternoon/night!!

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@loumin908

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 5 - It's not as bad as it looks

Suguru feels sick to his stomach. He knows he should help Satoru, should help him get up, should get him to Shoko somehow, but his hands shake and the rest of his body feels as if it’s frozen in ice.

“Suguru, a little help here,” Satoru says, his voice tight with pain as he holds out his hand.

Suguru is supposed to take it, to haul him up and then help him walk but he can’t do anything.

Except stare at Satoru’s leg, at the angle it’s in and the only thing he can currently hear is the awful sound it made as it snapped.

It shouldn’t have.

Satoru is supposed to be invincible; he’s supposed to be untouchable.

He’s not supposed to break his leg.

“Suguru,” Satoru snaps now, clearly more annoyed than in pain and Suguru jerks. “Help me up, goddamit,” Satoru grumbles, waving his hand around and glaring at Suguru. “I’m not going to get up by myself, so please.”

“Satoru, I—” Suguru starts, unsure how he’s going to explain that he doesn’t feel stable enough to support himself, less alone Satoru.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Satoru grumbles, leaning forward to take Suguru’s hand in his own when he doesn’t move to help him and even that movement makes him hiss in pain.

Suguru’s heart misses a beat at that and he stumbles when Satoru tries to pull himself up with the grip he has on Suguru’s hand.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells and it makes Suguru blink. “I need to get to Shoko already. She’s going to fix me right back up, okay, so would you just—” He tugs on Suguru’s arm again but the only thing that does is make Suguru fall to his knees.

“You have RCT. Heal yourself,” he says, begs almost, because he cannot continue to stare at that leg of Satoru’s but Satoru only huffs.

“Well, it turns out that pain makes it really difficult to concentrate and apparently instinct doesn’t kick in if I’m not in a life or death situation.”

Suguru almost gags at that; he still remembers the pool of blood at the top of the stairs, still hears Satoru almost gleefully describe just what gruesome injuries he survived and it’s all going to make him sick again.

“Suguru?” Satoru asks, more careful this time and clears realising that something is going on, but still, Suguru has a hard time shaking himself out of those memories.

His own injuries were almost laughable in comparison, and he isn’t as hung up about them as he is about Satoru’s injuries.

“Hey, Suguru, come on now,” Satoru says, much softer now. “Let’s just go see Shoko okay?”

“Sure,” Suguru forces himself to say because Satoru is in pain, can’t heal himself because of it, because he’s hurt and Suguru has to do something about it. “Up you go,” he says, tries to make his voice light and cheerful in hopes to distract Satoru from his behaviour, and for now it works.

Probably only because Satoru has to concentrate on getting up without putting any weight on his injured leg but Suguru is going to take it.

“Alright, onward!” Satoru yells out, as if Suguru is his noble steed that has to be steered on and even though it makes Suguru roll his eyes, he does start to walk, mindful of the way Satoru has to awkwardly hop next to him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, you know,” Satoru says when they are maybe a quarter of the way to Shoko and Suguru presses his lips together.

It’s exactly as bad as it looks, Suguru thinks, because it looks like a broken leg and that is what it is. In the grand scheme of things it might not be much—especially compared to the injures they sustained before—but it’s an injury nonetheless.

It shouldn’t leave Suguru reeling like this, but that is a thought for another day.

“Whatever you say,” Suguru belatedly gives back and then stops when Satoru almost stumbles. “This would be faster if I could just pick you up,” he says, turning his gaze towards Satoru.

“Piggy-back? Sure, if you think you can carry me all the way,” Satoru glibly says, clearly not believing that at all and Suguru bites his tongue.

Satoru untangles his arm from Suguru, evidently expecting him to crouch down so Satoru can climb on his back, but Suguru simply bends down and picks him up in a bridal-carry.

“Suguru!” Satoru shouts out, flailing around in a way that almost makes Suguru drop him.

“Stop it,” he admonishes him as he starts to walk. “I’m going to drop you.”

“That’s why it should have been a piggy-back ride,” Satoru heatedly gives back and belatedly slings his arms around Suguru’s neck. “Don’t you dare drop me.”

“I won’t,” Suguru confidently says, because for all that Satoru is tall, he’s also lanky as hell. He’s actually not that heavy to carry.

They make it to Shoko in record time and with minimal grumbling from Satoru which Suguru takes as a win. He makes sure to keep his step light and even and to not jostle Satoru at all, so he doesn’t worsen his injury.

“What is this now?” Shoko asks when he walks into her work place and gently lowers Satoru on a chair.

“He broke his leg,” Suguru says, the sound of it now back to playing on loop in his mind and Shoko frowns.

“With Infinity?”

“Well, excuse me, but Infinity only protects me from outward forces.”

“So it’s useless against stupidity,” Shoko sums up and Satoru makes an outraged sound.

Their bickering is so painfully normal that it’s a balm to Suguru’s still shaken nerves and just like Satoru predicted Shoko has him healed up in less than a minute.

“There, all better now,” Shoko says and then taps a finger against her lips as she thinks. “You know, you really have to make healing yourself an instinct, even when your life is not in danger. That’s probably something you have to work on.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” Satoru asks and just going by the downright wicked grin on Shoko’s face Suguru knows that he’s not going to like what’s coming next.

“I could inflict some minor injuries and make you heal them over and over again,” she gleefully suggests and when Satoru doesn’t immediately protest it, Suguru has to turn away.

“I’m done, good night,” he decides, even though it’s the middle of the day still and before Shoko or Satoru can say anything he marches out on them, almost fleeing back to his room.

He’s still shaken up, more than he’d like to admit or would be able to explain, and he thinks being away from Shoko and Satoru might help in getting himself under control again.

Suguru saw that Satoru was fine after Shoko treated him, saw him stand and walk around, so there’s really no reason for him to still feel as panicked as he does.

He just needs to breathe. In and out, just like Shoko has taught him and then he’s sure things will be fine.

Eventually.

Suguru is still in the process of convincing himself of that when Satoru barges into his room.

He stands firmly on his two legs, clearly has no problems whatsoever walking around and it should put the last bit of worry in Suguru’s mind at ease but it’s not working.

It’s not working because Satoru got hurt and Suguru wasn’t able to prevent it. It’s not working because Satoru is supposed to be invincible, untouchable and yet he got hurt.

Suguru’s breath is becoming increasingly short and fast and Satoru is at his side a moment later.

“Breathe, Suguru,” he coaxes him, puts Suguru’s hands on his chest and takes exaggerated breaths himself.

It takes a long while for Suguru to calm down again and in all honesty it’s not even because of the rhythm Satoru has established. The one thing that really helps is feeling how Satoru breathes, knowing that he’s alive and safe and unharmed.

“Are you feeling better now?” Satoru asks once Suguru’s breathing has returned to normal and Suguru is beyond embarrassed that Satoru had to see him like this so he turns around.

“I’m fine. Just tired. Thanks.” He tries to make his voice as dismissive as he can but of course it has absolutely no effect on Satoru.

“Sure, I totally believe that. What’s going on? It’s not like you to be this shaken by a little injury,” he says and flops down on Suguru’s bed.

“Your leg was broken. That hardly counts as a little injury.”

“It wasn’t life-endangering, so I’d say it was,” Satoru carelessly gives back and even that little comment is almost enough to send Suguru spiralling again.

“Don’t talk like that,” he hisses out and Satoru is visibly taken aback by his vehemence.

“Suguru—”

“Don’t ever even joke about that,” Suguru goes on, not letting Satoru talk. “After Toji—after everything that happened you don’t get to talk like that!”

“I was fine after Toji,” Satoru gives back, sitting back up, clearly noticing that this is more than just a little friendly talk. “I’m fine, Suguru.”

“But you weren‘t,” Suguru presses out. “Gods, Satoru, do you even know how much blood you lost? How much blood I had to find? You were not fine. You died!

“Almost,” Satoru interjects but Suguru barely even hears him.

“And now you have RCT and permanent Infinity and you’re not supposed to get hurt, not anymore, not ever again, I can’t find that much blood ever again, I can’t,” Suguru gasps out, all his careful breathing exorcises from before for naught but Satoru is at his side again a second later.

“I’m fine, Suguru,” he whispers, taking Suguru’s hands and putting one to his chest and one to his throat so he can feel him breathe, so he can feel his pulse and then he stays quiet until Suguru breathes easier.

“But you weren’t,” Suguru repeats and Satoru presses his lips together as he nods.

“I wasn’t, that’s true. But I’m better, I’m good, I promise. Today was—unfortunate,” he says and it’s ridiculous enough to make Suguru huff out a little laugh.

“You could say that,” he mutters and drops his head to Satoru’s shoulder. “You scared me.”

“I know,” Satoru apologetically says and reaches up to undo Suguru’s bun so he can card his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Suguru gives back because he knows that much at least, no matter how irrational he is about everything else. “I just—I can’t have you hurt like that again. I can’t. I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

“Hey, you’re not losing me any time soon,” Satoru tells him and slings his arms around him. “And even if something were to try and take me away from you, I wouldn’t let it. I’m not leaving you behind, it’s you and me after all, right?”

“It is,” Suguru agrees, slinging his arms around Satoru in turn. “Satoru, I—”

He doesn’t know how to say it, how much this means to him, how much further his feelings go for Satoru, but when Satoru presses a kiss to his head he thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to know the words for it.

Maybe this is enough.

“I know, Suguru, me too,” Satoru softly says and it’s enough to almost make Suguru sob with relief. “That’s why I’m never leaving you, not ever. But the same has to go for you, you know.”

“I’m not the one who nearly died,” Suguru replies and Satoru chuckles.

“Fair,” he agrees and squeezes Suguru tight. “But I’m not going to do it again and you’re not going to leave me and things will be fine like that.”

Suguru has to admit that Satoru might be right; Satoru didn‘t die even though he should have and when Suguru was about to leave him, slaughtered village and abducted kids and all, Suguru didn’t do that either, because the thought of leaving Satoru pierced through whatever haze he had been in at that moment.

And if neither of those things could do the trick, then surely nothing can.

“Okay,” Suguru nods and brushes his lips over Satoru’s throat. “Okay.”

Satoru doesn’t verbally reply but Suguru can practically feel him beam down at him and with Satoru that close, it’s easy for him to breathe easy, to believe everything Satoru tells him.

Things will be okay. With them together, there is simply no other way after all.