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shadowdarlings · 6 months ago

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Rain & Redemption II

Tamlin x Reader

Synopsis : The Lord of Spring has returned, with his nightingale in tow. While readapting to civilized life you and Tamlin face reality together.

part one

Pairings : TamlinxReader

a/n : so i am really digging the first part of this story and decided that i want to continue writing at 12:07am so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did <3

Warnings : slight angst (with comfort), mentions of trauma, suggestiveness, as always possessive tamlin (in a good way)

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Dinner with Tamlin was a drawn out affair. The deer he hunted down, no doubt in his beast form, had to be prepped and cooked. While he began dressing the fallen creature you took it upon yourself to begin sifting through the discarded and destroyed artifacts that littered the dining area. Although the manor had been shredded and abandoned, you couldn’t help but marvel at its refreshing beauty. Here there was light. Massive glass windows looked out to a rose garden that was surely once well manicured. The sun had already started its descent past the horizon but light still streamed in from every corner. The manor was everything that your home under that gods forsaken mountain wasn’t. The Hewn City was all darkness and stale air. You began sorting things into two piles. Items that were fairly unharmed were deemed “to keep”, others that had been completely torn apart were tossed into a discard pile. The two of you worked diligently in silence until he looked up from the deer and said, “You never told me your name.” You tore your gaze from the chipped vase in your hands and met his stare. “You never asked,” you began with a playful smugness, “but it’s Y/N.” Something unreadable flickered in his green eyes before a slight smirk cracked on his face. “Well, Y/N,” he said with a dramatic pause, “our dinner is ready to be cooked. How do you like your venison?”

You both agreed that without a working kitchen that a fire would be the best way to roast the deer. While he built a fire you toyed with an idea. “What if we preserved some of this beautiful bounty into something that will last beyond a night?” you asked him. Tamlin threw another piece of wood onto the makeshift fire and answered your question with his own. “As in a jerky? How do you mean?” That was exactly what you had meant. The future of your time in this manor and when you would next have a full meal was entirely uncertain. The topic had hardly been broached. “Unless you intend to spend the rest of your days hunting and building fires, it might be a prudent idea.” He looked you over before replying, “Smart, little bird. We’ll make two steaks for tonight and dry out the rest. It should preserve overnight and we can feast on jerky for weeks.” Satisfied with your quick thinking you helped him prepare the meat for roasting.

“What did you mean when you said you are not fit to be a ruler?” you asked after another bout of silence. Tamlin stilled his spinning of your dinner over the fire and his gaze shot to the flames between you. “I’m sorry,” you quickly said, “If I’m prying too much.” He did not look up from the inferno but said quietly, “I have abandoned my people and my post. Those who reside in the Spring Court put their faith in me. I have failed them again and again, in so many ways.” You blinked once at his brutal honesty before prodding further. “Will they not look to you once more? Surely there is a way to regain their trust.” His eyes moved from the fire to your own. They were filled with such sadness, such regret. “I would not know where to start, little nightingale.” You scoffed lightly as his response. “Well,” you began, “I think leaving those woods and coming home is already a start, wouldn’t you say? If you’re willing to return just to ensure the safety of a lone Night Court citizen, I can’t imagine what you might be willing to do for your people.” The sadness in his eyes faded ever so slightly as he said, “Since you’re so full of wisdom tonight, pray tell how might I continue this path of redemption?” You smiled at that.

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Tamlin was restless. Every time he started to fade away, sleep evaded him and he was jolted awake by poisoned memories. He had declared that he wanted to sleep outside the manor to stay alert for any looters or more dangerous creatures. He’d shifted into his beast form and taken post directly in front of the entrance just as night had overtaken the Spring Court. Truly, he was not sure if he was ready to sleep under this roof again. The two of you had talked for hours, discussing your histories and what the future of the Spring Court might look like. He’d escorted you to your room and bid you a gentlemanly goodnight, but your conversation replayed in his mind endlessly. A loose plan had been set in place to begin repairing his relations with those that depended on him. You had been so eager and determined while you both brainstormed ideas for making amends. He admired your tenacity yet was not fully convinced that this plan would work effectively. The thought made him queasy. His heart began a pace that tightened his chest and he was sure that if he’d been in his fae form that his palms would be sweaty. Tamlin shoved his anxieties down and recalled what you had told him about Rhysand, about how he’d condemned the entire Hewn City to a life of cruelty and rot. Although the idea of tomorrow sent him into an unending panic, he did not wish for you or any of his people to endure the same neglect for another moment.

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The morning light creeped in through the open window in your bedroom. It took a moment to recall everything that had happened, where you now were. The bedding had been dusty but a few shakes had it cleaner than before. You didn’t mind dirt, you’d spent a year lying on the forest floor. Waking up in a soft bed had become unfamiliar, but you relished the softness of the pillows and blankets before sitting to stretch your limbs. Moving to the armoire, you sifted through the clothing to find a pale green dress and a set of cream slippers. The outfit was plain but you didn’t particularly mind. Your mission for today did not require glittering attire. You fixed your hair into a loose braid and pulled two strands from the front to frame your face. After giving yourself a once over in the looking glass you deemed your appearance fit for the task at hand.

Tamlin was already dressed in a tunic and pants that were similar in style to the night before. You only gave yourself a moment to admire his wide shoulders before clearing your throat. He turned from his work on the piles you had created the night before and said “Good morning,” before he faltered. His eyes widened slightly and dragged up and down your figure. Meeting your gaze once more he choked out, “Well don’t we look the picture of Spring today?” You rolled your eyes at him and moved to take the picture frame from his hands. “We have a job to do, remember?” Tamlin huffed out a weak laugh before replying, “How could I ever forget?” He looked tired. You wondered if he slept as marvelously as you did. Considering that he spent the night on a set of marble stones you didn’t know how he possibly could.

The two of you moved outside to where the deer had been smoking overnight. Indeed it had preserved itself into a jerky that would remain edible for weeks. He started packing the strips into the wooden bin you had found in the kitchens when you said, “I have another idea.” He did not pause his movement or even look at you as he said, “Of course you do.” You pulled a basket from behind your back and waved it in front of his face to draw his attention. “I was thinking,” you began, “we should gather some flowers to take as well. These gardens are completely overrun. There are flowers and berries that need culling anyhow.” He straightened and assessed the gardens before the manor. “As you wish,” was all he said. Tamlin had been quieter than he was last night. You thought it best not to pry further and with his permission granted made your way into the thick of the garden and began collecting the fruits of spring.

When your basket was full and Tamlin had stored all of the dried meat you both began your trek to the nearest village. On horseback, he had told you, it would only take a half hour to reach your destination. After the fall of Spring his array of horses had all been stolen or set free by anonymous citizens. After two hours of walking the two of you were tired and parched. A nearby stream trickled with fresh water and you both drank deeply from its supply. “It’s just over that hill,” he said. The hike had been mostly silent. You were learning to enjoy quiet moments with the High Lord. It was almost as if you had a mutual understanding that the silence was not rude, but instead a peaceful reprieve. “No turning back now,” you said, standing from the stream and straightening your lightweight gown. He grunted in acknowledgment as you both continued your parade to the village.

The sight of the meager town was heartbreaking. Several houses and shops had fallen into rubble and the village center had looked as equally abandoned as the manor. Tamlin halted immediately, his breath quickening. Sensing his discomfort you moved to lace your fingers between his, squeezing tightly. The High Lord did not balk from your touch but instead gave a light squeeze back and continued his approach. The two of you reached a small home that had a plume of smoke rising from a stone chimney. A sign of life. Unlocking your hands you raised a fist and gave two sharp knocks to the wooden door. A few moments of shuffling and then the door swung open to reveal a gruff looking fae male. His eyes first landed on you, then travelled upwards to the towering Lord behind you. The male’s eyes widened with shock and reproach. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he spat at you both. You calmed the annoyance that flowed through you and made your voice gentle as you said, “I- We come to offer a favor to you and your home.” The male looked down at your basket and the dried jerky Tamlin held in his hand. “We don’t need your charity,” the male responded, “we’ve been fairing well enough on our own, girl.” A sweet voice sounded from further into the house, “Mikah? Who is it?” A pretty looking female stepped into the light of the entrance and put her hand on Mikah’s arm. When she turned her gaze to the two of you her expression almost mirrored the males’. “Our High Lord and his… this girl have brought favors.” She looked down to the goods you had presented and back to Mikah. “I told them we were just fine,” he said with a hint of finality in his tone. The female scoffed at him and observed the two of you once more. “We are most certainly not,” she started. “Invite him and the girl inside.” With that she turned and strode back into the house. Mikah gave Tamlin an incredulous look but opened the door further for you to enter.

The female’s name was Cera, you had learned. She fussed over dishes and refreshments as she lamented about their struggles. The village had been ripe for naga attacks and most residents had decided to evacuate the area for fear of their families. “Mikah did not want to leave, of course. He spends most of his days hunting, although they are not always fruitful.” You and Tamlin listened carefully to her story. There were only a few families that had stayed after his disappearance. They all struggled. You glanced over at Tamlin and were met with a stern face. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark with despair. Underneath the modest wooden table you grasped his hand once more, turning your attention back to Cera. The four of you spoke for several hours. You and Tamlin expressed your willingness to help in any way you could with the naga and the rebuilding of the village. After exchanging the dried meats and gifts from your basket, the two of you made your way back to the front of their house. “Thank you for having us,” you said “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” Cera reached out to pick up your hands. She looked at you then at Tamlin, her eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you for coming back. We need you,” she said. He nodded his head towards her and straightened as he said, “I could not have done it alone. It will take all of us to rebuild. I am thankful for your time.”

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Tamlin let out a heavy sigh when the two of you began your walk back to the manor. The day had been filled with conversations like the first he’d had with Mikah and Cera. The two of you had made your way to most of the families remaining in the village and presented your gifts as well as your pledges to restore their homes and lives. He was exhausted. Once the two of you had crested the hill overlooking the town he paused. You looked at him in curiosity. He was overwhelmed with emotions… gratitude, despair, grief, hopefulness, apprehension. Without thinking he grabbed your waist and pulled you close against his chest. He could hear your smooth, calming heartbeat. He breathed in your scent and closed his eyes. Only two days ago he had been more beast than man. Now he was walking on two legs and meeting with the people who had once trusted him. He felt your hands wrap around his middle as you nuzzled into him further. He could have stayed like this forever, but you pulled back looking up at him with those bright gorgeous eyes. “You did well today,” you said to him still in his grasp, “I’m proud of you.” Tamlin hadn’t heard such perfect words in a very long time.

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Taglist : @lilah-asteria @booksnwriting @stained-glass-eyes0708 @anxious-cactus @thrumbolt @jesskidding3 @acotarxreader @nocasdatsgay @scorpioriesling

#acotar #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acosf #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #tamlin redemption arc #tamlin imagine #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin

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dubina-dawkins · 2 months ago

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PHONE-CALL

Sam Winchester x Reader

5,4k words

>Sam is feeling pretty bad. So, he's calling you, because he needs comfort, and seeks it in the sound of your voice through his Nokia's lousy speakers.

WARNING: hurt/comfort, angsty, beginning of season 3, mentions of canon deaths, oh god give sam some comfort, no usage of y/n, friendzone, gender neutral reader

It was getting harder and harder. Sam was having a hard time coping, to be honest. coping. With everything around him. Too much had happened in the last few years. Jessica had died; he still blamed himself for it. His father died, so many people died on hunts, all because of him. He was also the reason the gates of Hell had opened... Even Dean had sacrificed himself for him, selling his soul in exchange for Sam's life.

He felt too much guilt about it all, about everything.

And he needed... someone, to be honest. He was sitting on a decrepit motel bed, staring at the ceiling. Dean wasn't here, he was-- Basically enjoying the rest of his sold-out life. After a successful case, he decided not to care too much about the amount of drinking, eating, and women in bed. But so far, there were no women in the motel that night... And that was the moment he remembered about you.

You were...either a partner or an apprentice to one of Dean's exes, who was also a hunter. Only two years younger than Sam, and yet so adept at putting silver daggers into vampire necks-hell, you were as skilled a hunter as he was, as Dean was, and as your...partner? Mentor? It didn't matter now, it didn't matter at all.

All that mattered was how he opened up to you. Maybe for the first time since Jess died. No kissing, no nights in the same bed, not even in the same room. Just quiet embraces, with your fingers scratching his soft curls, running through them, tugging them back in a gentle manner. And his big hands pressed against your thighs, not intimate enough to ruin your exceptionally friendly relationship, but strong enough to express the way his thoughts went to bad places-not in a dirty way, but rather...in a sad way. When his thoughts became too self-indulgent, Sam needed your company, the feel of your body close by so he could draw lazy and uneven patterns with his fingers. God, he was a professional artist, if that's what we're talking about.

And now Sam felt impossibly anxious. Bad thoughts appeared in his wounded brain at an incredibly vivid rate. And you weren't around, not for a long time. You'd been keeping Jo company for some time now, leaving your mentor (partner??) to become the one to teach Jo more than what she already knew and could do. And as luck would have it, now that there was danger everywhere, demons...you were very, very far away from him.

His long fingers frantically pick up the phone from the nightstand, quickly scrolling down to find the contact with your name on it. He presses the contact, and for a couple seconds Sam just...stares at the screen. Maybe he shouldn't have called you. He didn't want to bother, didn't want anyone else to worry about him, but ... His fingers were functioning faster than the neurons in his brain.

"Hey...? Hey, hi, it's...it's Sam," he says quietly, almost fearfully, when the agonizing beeps end and you finally pick up the phone. But your voice is much more positive than his, louder, you're clearly glad to finally hear him!

"You didn't have to introduce yourself, handsome, do you really think I didn't put your number in my contacts?" Your voice is as teasing as ever, his favorite trait about you, one of his thousand favorites. And besides that tease-the chuckle after the answer, God, the feeling from that sound alone was bohemian. Sam felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and yet he continued. "Huh, just...just to make sure. I, uh...don't think, just wanted to hear from you, just-"

"Sam, don't languish. Spit it out, I can hear you're feeling awful" You grin, but your voice isn't so teasing anymore. Your tone is more gentle, more serious. Sam even thought-just thought-there were even such cooing, loving notes in your voice that his head was starting to spin from the fuzziness.

Sam stutters, his fingers trying to find some physical substitute for you, but the starched sheets are too rough against your skin. He speaks slowly, anxiously. That Sam was disturbed by the deaths around him, you knew perfectly well, and you knew that the hunters didn't really see Sam as someone they could trust - and that was another reason for his anxiety, that he could feel the stares in the crowd and expect that now he'd be tied to a chair again, and he and Dean would have no more guaranteed luck to get out. And yet, you listened, now and then, in the pauses of his story, whispering stupidly pleasant things into the tube. "Everything will be fine"; "everything will work out"; "I'll be there for you, if not physically, then mentally, that's for sure." The only thing missing from that boring line of reassurances (which, in those gentle whispers, still made Sam feel a little better) was the famous three words. But Sam stopped himself - you were friends. Friends, friends... Just friends.

"You're so good to me," his tone is soft, just above a whisper.

"Always welcome, love," and your playful use of the nickname squeezes the last of his strength out of him to keep from admitting his shameful feelings.

"You know, I...I think I might-" Sam's words are abruptly cut short as the key turns in the motel door with a loud click. The creak of the door swinging open,a woman's drunken laughter and the smug flirtation of that gravelly voice. Sam clearly should have taken a walk while Dean...did his investigating.

"You might what?"

"Later. See you later." Sam quickly drops the call with you, getting out of bed and tentatively walking past his brother, who barely noticed him. But before he walks out, he hesitantly squeezes the phone in his hands, squints and tosses it on the bed. To hell with it.

A/N: first oneshot there yay. love sammy wanna give him all the hugs indaworld

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fluff #sam x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam x you #jared padalecki #but your honor i love him

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florencetypemaniacs · 6 months ago

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What if someone is very actively flirting with RO, making heart eyes at them, complimenting, smiling sweetly, etc. The MC looks at them from afar. They don't like it, they are jealous and upset, but they can't say anything because they are too shy and not sure if RO likes such attention from this person or not. So, MC just sends sad glances in their direction.

What will the ROs do? (if it's a crush stage)

💛 Marcel

Marcel would smile politely at the person who is indeed flirting with him, but as soon as he sees you looking at him, he won't be able to keep the conversation going with them.

The moment your eyes met his, he felt the need to go over to you and tell you that it wasn't what it looked like, but it wasn't. And you weren't his anymore than he was yours, but he wanted to be. Gods, he wanted to be.

With a quick smile, he politely left the person and walked over to you.

"Mind if I sit down?" And he glanced at the chair next to you, hoping you understood he wasn't just talking about a seat.

🧡 Margaret

Margaret blushed at the boldness of the person coming on to them, fanning her face as she felt her nerves jitter. It was nice to be complimented, but it was all too much.

The moment Margaret's eyes met your own, they widened in understanding because Margaret had been where you sat. Looking at people who she was smitten with flirting with other people, she felt a wave of guilt hit her.

What was she supposed to do? Did you truly like her, or was it a trick of the mind? She wouldn't be able to breathe as she gave the person an almost wild look before excusing herself and going to a present she knew she would find comfort in. You. Margaret went and stood by you and gave a wary smile with a tinted blush.

❤️ Owen

Owen had to hold in a laugh at this person, usually, he would just let the jokes and flirting remarks about his figure roll off his back like a duck, and sure, it sometimes gave him a little pride.

Then his eyes caught yours from across the room, and he felt his breath catch as he held your sad gaze. He didn't understand why you were sad, but he wanted to be there for you. He wanted to hunt down the bastard who made your lips pout like that.

Not even answering the person beside him, he sat beside you, holding your surprised gaze.

"You want to get out of here, lass/duck/lad?"

💙 Rosemary

Rosemary purred in the person's ear and whispered back a flirty remark. It came as naturally as breathing. It didn't matter that it made her skin crawl to feel the person's body so close to hers because she was in control of the situation.

But the moment her eyes met yours, she had the urge to shove the person off of her. She knew jealously. Rosemary felt it herself. She even made others jealous. But the pure sadness that radiated off of you stopped her in her tracks.

You were upset because she was with someone, and that made Rosemary upset. This growing affection for you made Rosemary dizzy as she, with a flirty grin, excused herself from the person.

She needed to breathe.

Rosemary needed to feel like she was in control and not overcome by your ever-growing thoughts.

🩵 Tai

Tai just stared at the person blankly, his face uninterested in what this person was saying because his eyes were on you.

It was a habit every since he got to Lockwood to keep an eye on you. To make sure that you were safe. It became a habit that he started to enjoy—the relief that would flood him when he saw you.

Now Tai started to notice that the feeling he had when he saw you was something bubbling within him. Something almost unnatural. Pure.

His eyes met yours, and he saw the sadness, and before he knew it, he was walking towards you. The pull was too strong for him to ignore as he examined you.

"What's wrong?"

💚 Zane

Zane usually loved the attention. He knew he looked good. He knew humans valued outer beauty, but Zane couldn't find it in himself to care what this person was whispering in his ear. It was all too boring. The pleased feeling he would feel at being wanted wasn't there.

Then he sees the sadness in your eyes when you look at him and he frowns. He didn't understand, not really. Why were you upset looking at him and this person?

It all stopped when you came into his life, not the fluttering feeling. No, that seemed to only triple but only when you were near. Hell, the things he wanted to do to you...

It plagued his thoughts like nothing else, and he wondered if this was some sort of plot of your own accord.

Zane would get angry.

Zane would just leave the person without so much as a word of goodbye before sitting next to you.

"What's wrong, little lion? Do I need to kill someone?"

#my inner sins #interactive fiction #twine interactive fiction #ask #answered ask #MIS-Ask #MIS-Answered Ask #rosemary #tai #marcel #owen #zane #Margaret #MIS-RO:Rosemary #MIS-RO:Tai #MIS-RO:Marcel #MIS-RO:Owen #MIS-RO:Zane #MIS-RO:Margaret

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another-kiraidesunosekai · 1 month ago

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Personal Impression: Fangs of Fortune.

After watching the first episode, I already knew how this story would end.

It would end with tears like a river.

I knew many will die, even the lead character. I knew. Even so, I keep on watching it, every single episode, not even skipped any scene nor fast forward it.

Because of one reason ....

HIM.

Neo Hou is so gorgeous as the great demon!! >.<

I really like his make up and styling in this series. He really look like a 34.000 years old demon. His aura, demeanor, and his voice, really really resembles an old and presumptuous and flippant demon. Neo really did a great job for this role! BRAVO!

The story pace was quite slow though. Not only the story, but the dialogue, the movement, were also slow. I really have to hold out the urge to press the FF button. XD

And, although it came from the same director as My Journey to You, but the action scene movement isn't as thrilling as the previous one. Also, somehow they work too hard to give the heart warming feeling and the slightly comedy at the early episodes. Everyone always shed tears, even from the first episode. It feels like a rehearsal for the sad ending. XD

Everyone is trying too hard to ease each other pain that it looked unnatural for me.

BUT!!!

I do love this family.

A family consist of demons, a goddess, an human, a young mountain god, and an half human-half god.

I wish they would be together till the end and on. Doing adventure and demon hunting together.

Then again, it's Chinese drama land. We often get different kind of ending than we wanted, even if it was adapted from a novel and has an happy ending. I really don't understand with this kind of "satisfaction" to have a sad end, rather than an happy ending where everyone would smile and be happy. XD

Zhao Yuanzhao (Neo Hou) was actually a pitiful character. He was responsible of killing Zhou Yichen's brother and father, he has also killed Wen Xiao's mentor, the previous baizu goddess, and he was the reason for the death of Ying Lei's grandfather, the previous mountain god. All that because he was the vassal of malicious energy, and he can't control it (also can't control his own conscious). He also break up his friendship with Li Lun, the tree demon, which he accidentally hurt in a fight to protect the human. I could say, Zhao Yuanzhou's entire life is fill with misunderstanding.

I remember reading a comment saying, "In the first episode, Zhao Yuanzhou wanted to die because of what he has done, and in the final episode, he died when he wanted to live."

Damn. That hurts. Especially with the scene when Zhao Yuanzhou had to slapped himself before he sacrifice himself. He wanted to live with his loved ones, with his friends, but he has to make the biggest sacrifice. The death he has been wishing for. :((

Someone also said that Zhao Yuanzhou was like a sun for Li Lun as the sunflower. Li Lun only look at his sun, Zhao Yuanzhou, but the sun is actually owned by the people. That's touching, and it makes sense. But I still think Li Lun is like a brat which his favorite person was taken away by some other interest. XD

The sadness kind of traumatized me, even though I still able to made jokes when I watched it till the last episode, like "One down." XD

The characters were kind of pitiful, and it's always the demon side who suffers the most.

I'm quite happy that this series still have "connections" with real world, like the love between Miss Qi and Ran Yi was touching. They only wanted to be together, but their differences got in the way. "Whether you are a human or a demon, you are both my path and destination." It's like saying "I love you" in Fangs of Fortune's way. X3

When A Heng fights to protect his unconscious sister, Zhen Mei said he can't save his sister, and A Heng said, "I can't ... but I must." He know he won't stand a chance against Zhen Mei, but he still has to fight to protect his sister. That's a real power.

When Wen Xiao was poisoned and likely dying, she said that she doesn't want to die, and she still has lot of things she wanted to do. This is a natural reactions when we know that we only have little time left to live. Wen Xiao doesn't pretend to be strong by saying kind words like it's a sacrifice that she gladly will do as the baize goddess. The same thing with Ying Lei when he's dying, he said that he's scared and he doesn't want to leave ... my heart really broken for him. Ying Lei is my second favorite because of his cheerful nature. :((

I really like they still put that natural reactions and emotions as a common human would felt. (Note, Ying Lei's words were an adlib by the actor. Superb!)

There were several unforgettable moments in this series, including the death scenes. But, there's one that engraved in my mind. That one moment when Li Lun confronted Zhao Yichen who was about to turned into a demon. At first Li Lun was being all above Yichen, then it was the opposite. Yichen succeed to put some conscious into the stunned Li Lun. Li Lun wanted Yichen to be depressed and become a demon like him, yet Yichen stay righteous just like Zhao Yuanzhou had said about him. Yichen even said he becomes to understand Zhao Yuanzhou, rather than to Li Lun. That's like a totally defeat for Li Lun.

And lastly, Zhao Yuanzhou words to Wen Xiao, that when he died, he will become the rain and comes down to stay by her side.

Zhao Yuanzhou, do you know, because of that words, every time the rain came down now, I always said, "Da Yao, it's raining." TwT

Oh, well ... for me, it's quite good series. Although I still dislike the end, and even the special episode didn't do any good ....

Just remember, that it's a dream, and when you wake up, everyone actually living a happy life together, just like in the ending scene dance. XD

youtube

Neo Hou really did a great job in portraying a thousand years old demon. X3

#Fangs of Fortune #Hou Minghao #Neo Hou #Zhao Yuanzhou #Zhu Yan #Youtube

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ell-vellan · 1 month ago

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A random collection of Veilguard Thoughts after completing the game, because I need to vent some feelings. spoilers below!

Firstly: I was going to love this game regardless. I came into it with the fewest amount of spoilers possible. I do love this game. I won't argue with anyone - if we have different opinions, that's fine! I won't tolerate hate, though.

This is my messy stream of consciousness, but let's start with the good stuff!

The Good:

-Gameplay was fun! Combat was fun and inventive, for someone who plays on Storyteller mode and tries to get through combat as fast as possible so I can get back to the story, it rarely aggravated me.

-The maps/puzzles are fun. They were usually easy enough to figure out on my own without looking it up, but just complex enough I felt smart when I got it. I like that the game almost always rewards you for looking around and exploring off the beaten path a bit.

-It felt like a spiritual successor to Mass Effect 2 in the way that you have to build your team up in order to save the world. I loved that.

-The griffons coming back is one of the best things in the Dragon Age universe ever, and I love that we could decide what to do with them. (But I'm kind of concerned that there's only 12, and they're...related? I feel like that's not enough individuals to grow the species back...)

-Letting us pet and hug Assan (with different animations!) over and over was one of the best things they ever did. Also, photo mode was a great idea.

-The little hints about Those Beyond The Sea we keep getting?! Dear God, I hope we get another game and get more lore. I'm dying to know. They've teased this for so long, I really, really wanna know what's up with this part of the world.

-i loved being able to choose our body proportions.

-I'm so thankful we got to make our Inquisitor and keep the same vallaslin and voice actor. I hate the outfit they gave them and how we had no choice in it, and I would have also preferred to have a choice in their prosthetic, but I'm grateful for what we did get. The missives from them were also a nice touch, and seeing the letter from the Inquisitor's love interest was SO HEALING. Tbh, in reality, I think the Inquisitor would have been involved WAY more, especially since the crossroads would have made travel basically instant across Thedas. But I get why Rook needed to stand on their own two feet.

-Morrigan/Mythal was a great touch. It made sense logically, there was character growth, and I'm glad Mythal wasn't gone entirely, but I wish we could know what's become of Kieran.

-All the VAs are so good. the world felt lush, magical, twisted, and fun, with just the right amount of tragedy and horror balanced with hope and love. Arlathan was gorgeous and tragic and horrific and I took SO MANY photos.

-we got more Dalish and more Qunlat words!!

-THE LORE. So many questions finally answered. I kind of thought we would learn that the Black City was actually the prison Solas made for the gods, but hey, maybe next time? I also still want to know if Andraste was real and more about the origins of elves as spirits, but alas...

-i loved the inventory system. I wish we could have sold equipment we didn't need instead of just the valuables, but it's a minor quibble. It was so much easier to manage, I didn't have to waste a bunch of time going through everything to find the best items for everyone

-ARCHON DORIAN PAVUS !! He was barely in the game which made me sad, but the fact that he was there at all and so glorious was wonderful. I wonder if people new to the game know or care about the significance of him being in charge of Tevinter, though, since we didn't even really get to have a conversation with him

About Solas:

I played thru DAI on release day. My first Inquisitor romanced him. When Everything Happened(tm) I was PISSED. I wanted revenge on Solas, I wanted to hunt him down. I've thought about him for 10 years, and now I am so wistful for more of him. I want to give him a hug. Moreover I want Lavellan to hug him.

Solas was INCREDIBLE in this. I loved, loved getting to see his memories firsthand - this was more than I'd hoped for - and the banter with Rook was one of the best parts of the game. Seeing him with hair - seeing him change into Fen'harel and fight a DRAGON? him helping us in the fade by baiting Elgar'nan and getting all bloody and beat up trying to help us, thinking he was going to trick us one final time? My wildest dreams came true. He was layered, he was complex, he was incredibly heroic and sympathetic and tortured and clever and absolutely ruthless. He was at turns heartbreakingly sincere and infuriatingly traitorous.

He showed a wide range of emotion; we got to see the real Solas, not the polite pretender of Inquisition. He was the shining star of the game for me. And he was sorely lacking.

We hardly got to speak to him!! It drove me nuts that we couldn't talk to him as much as our other companions. He literally knows the most about our enemies and how to defeat them. And we know he's probably planning some trickery in his lil mind prison. Why are we not checking on Solas at every chance we get?

Learning more about and speaking with Mythal? Chef's kiss. But I so, so wish that a romanced Inquisitor, along with Mythal's release of Solas, was what prompted Solas to realize there could be more to his life than rebellion and penance. He's betrayed everyone he's ever loved, and killed his closest friends, but he didn't kill her. Mythal represents his past, she's the origin of where it all went wrong - I wanted Solas to see a Lavellan that understands and forgives, even after everything, and that universal acceptance is the thing he needs to finally let go of trying to make up for what he's done. (It's fine, I'll just write a fanfic about it, whatever)

My Complaints:

-That we only can choose 3 possible variables for worldbuilding to keep from Inquisition. I think this the biggest, most egregious and disrespectful thing they did in the game, and I'm sure it's been talked about to death, but I'll just add that I hate it. I'll live with it - I'd rather they be vague than ret-con or kill off beloved characters off-screen - but still, what's the point of all of our previous choices if we don't get to see how they shape this world?

-The relationships felt SHALLOW. For a game that revolves around your companions, everything felt surface level. While I loved that almost every time you went to the Lighthouse, people were somewhere different and talking to each other, I HATED that Rook couldn't participate in their conversations. We only listened. I hate that we couldn't really ever initiate any long, deep conversations where we got to ask our companions strings of questions about themselves and their histories. I feel like I barely know Neve or Lucanis. I did like getting a bit more in depth with characters during their missions, but still...I feel like I barely know them, not the deep closeness I've felt with Dragon Age companions in the past. Nobody ever argues or disagrees with you, not really, just a couple times and it doesn't truly matter. I loved the companions. Their designs are so cool. I wanted to know everything about them and talk to them more. Why can't we ask Davrin about his vallaslin (it's obviously Ghilan'nain) and how he feels about it now that we are fighting her, especially if we're also an elf? And Bellara, why can't we ask about her tattoo and where her clan is and how she joined the Veil Jumpers? Why can't we ask Neve about her prosthetic? I loved the references to Inquisition in Harding's design, but since we couldn't import more than 3 things, she couldn't even talk about the Inquisition beyond the most vague things. Taash barely speaks at all. Emmrich has no life beyond the dead.

-The companions are so...one-note. Taash brings up being non-binary at every. single. quest, even though their adaari-ness and crossroads between being Qun and being Rivani was super interesting to me. (more on Taash in a minute.) Lucanis likes coffee. Davrin's personal quests mention "torlum" ad nauseum and the fact that Assan eats a lot. Bellara at least talks about other interests, but everyone else is so predictable. Even their banter doesn't seem to give them a lot of individual personality.

-the body models for female elves felt..a bit odd? My Rook always looked bow-legged. And do bras not exist in Thedas anymore? Lol

-The choice of who dies? HEART-WRENCHING. why was it between those two?! Why isn't the romance scene until AFTER this choice? Why doesn't the thing that happens with Harding and The Stone protect her (I thought it would!) and why don't we get any resolution to that if we lose her? I understand that Davrin was prepared to sacrifice himself as a Grey Warden, but making us lose Assan too...? Cruelty. That's what it is.

-I don't like that there are permanent deaths that happen regardless of our choices. That sucks. I know it's realistic, but this is a game, and I want my happily ever after for everyone, DAMN IT! The twist truly shook me, and I didn't see it coming. I didn't think I'd be caught by surprise and I was.

-The characterization of Rook is all over the place. I played an elven Rook with non-traditional vallaslin (figuring that the newer generation of Dalish Veil Jumpers might blend tradition with their new focus of exploring the Veil.) At various times, my Rook has said these things: "I didn't grow up with the Dalish." "I'm Dalish where it counts. "As a fellow Dalish--" WHICH IS IT? I'm in the most elfy faction, it's not even that I picked something unlikely for an elf with a face tattoo. I don't know what you have to do, what flags you have to trigger in the code, but the game still seems so confused about who our characters are. Pick a lane, Rook!

-While I'm on this subject: it would have been so nice to be able to know from the character creator what every kind of tattoo, body paint, and scar pattern went with what faction. And for the Dalish, which god matched to which vallaslin. It would have blown my mind in a good way if our choice of vallaslin came up in any way shape or form

-I would have loved if our race and faction actually like..mattered more. Walking around the Veil Jumper camp at the beginning and nobody talking to me except Strife and Irelin, that was so boring! Nobody recognizes you or asks how you've been. Just silence. Like everyone around you is a cardboard cutout. I expected more from Bioware.

-We got so much amazing lore in this game, and I'm really happy about it! But why did Bioware have to take the most marginalized group of people in Thedas, who were barely clinging to their own language and culture and freedom to begin with, and make everything bad that ever happened THEIR FAULT? What was the thought process there? That they used to have power but their leaders were in fact so terrible that they tore themselves apart and now live on the fringes of society? It makes it feel like the elves deserved their present fate, which is...pretty sucky. I'm glad they did not massacre the elves in this game as they have in the past, and that the elves didn't become even MORE the enemy by joining with the gods, but it really feels like the humans are only going to kill more elves in retribution for their gods almost ending the whole world. Also, related: nobody ever gives us sass about being an elf, not even in Minrathous, where elves are almost entirely slaves?!

-i know everything's changing with the lore stuff we typically know, but why did it seem that existing physically in the Fade is just no big deal anymore?

-at no point does Harding mention Varric dying? They don't have a funeral, a memorial? The Inquisitor says nothing, Morrigan says nothing? I know Solas messed with rook's mind, but even after...?

-the fact that the romance scenes don't happen until after the deaths. So it's possible for your love interest to die before that? Cruelty. Also, weird places to hook up, right after I just found out someone I thought has been alive this whole time DIED AT THE BEGINNING, and another dear friend sacrificed themselves, and we aren't sad at all during this? I understand sex after loss is perfectly normal and I understand that. But at least for the scene I saw, there was no "celebration of being alive" feel, it felt...more lustful than loving? Just an abrupt tonal shift.

-it just...ends. there's the typical little wrap up slides, but they're, again, shallow. A few lines here and there. Apparently the whole of Thedas was nearly destroyed, and not a single country went unscathed, but it's all gonna be ok! The bit of hope was nice, but...I don't feel settled at all. And it seems like we won't get DLC? which...ugh. and they fired the writers, which, again, cruel. If they make another Dragon Age, I can't see it being truly Dragon Age without them.

-i decided to make Taash's whole deal and the Qun a separate post lol

All in all - so thankful we got this game, so thankful we got what we did, I'm still processing a lot of it, and the past 3 weeks of my life I have done little else but live inside this story, but I just really need to scream into the void now!!

#datv #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #Veilguard spoilers #da4

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akookminsupporter · 4 months ago

Note

Hi Rosie,

Coming to your blog with thoughts...

(I feel like your blog is a safe space for healthy discussions with more understanding that judgments)

I've been aware of Suga's situation since it happened because of Tumblr, Twitter, or Instagram.

I found out about Jimin and I keep up with his stuff, and since he is in BTS, I have been aware of the group as well, I like a few songs and the guys are cool and very talented. But because of the way I interact with their content vs. Jimin, I know I am not Army. I don't want to call myself PJM either, I just like Jimin, but for some people, I know that's what they would classify me as.

The reason I explained that is because I feel like the people who are solo followers and don't interact with BTS as a whole are judged in general instead as individuals. Since I like Jimin, I follow a lot of Jimin focus accounts. But I don't know it it's because I am following very good people or if it's because this is happening with all solo followers. But I feel like Suga is getting support even from solos.

Many criticize solos because they don't support BTS as a group, but I think everyone is entitled to their interest without being judged because that's what they enjoy. As long as they are respectful and not attacking the other members, then it should be fine.

I, as a Jimin focus person, for example, I've been feeling very concerned, angry, and sad about the situation with Suga.

Concerned about him because I know that he has experienced depression, and depression is tricky because some people live with it for life, they just learn how to live with it, and when bad things happen, it triggers the depression, and someone on a depressive state can do things that unfortunately they don't have control over. And God forbid the worst thing that can happen, does happen. There was an actor that the witch hunt that the Kmedia provoke ended up with him making a sad choice.

So, that concerns me very much.

Angry with Kmedia, like what in the actual F*ck!

I, like many international people that follow things from Korea, we get to know about stuff that are happening there. So, since I follow people from Korea, I get a lot of content from there. So there has been waaaaaaaay worse things than riding a scooter while having a few drinks before. Even I with not alcohol in my system could have fallen doing that turn, I am clumsy. But Kmedia, don't hunt down those that have done way worse things like they have been hunting down Suga. So that shows their true colors. And I hope that they face the consequences of that in the future with BTS and their media participation in Korea, once they all get out of the Military. I hope they get very picky and petty.

And ultimately, Sad. When I read the second apology today, I legit felt my heart shrink. Like that feeling you feel in your heart, literally when you get bad news. This whole situation is sad and frustrating. All I can think about is that I hope Suga starts to feel the support from his fans, his members, and family more than the hate he is getting. I hope he starts to feel better and understand that this was a mistake that he owned up to and that what is happening is not his fault, that is just an over reaction of the people that want to see him fall.

It is tough to come to those terms because the negative pressure right now is tremendous, and there is no way to escape that mentally. So I understand his feelings. Plus, for all BTS, the opinion in their country has more weight to them, that the international opinions. That's their country, their home, and their people. Anything internationally comes second to them. And anyone who says otherwise is just fooling themselves.

In conclusion, the whole point of this post was to say that solos are not the devil many paint them to be. There are bad solo people, but there are bad Army as well. And I wish more people understood that.

Hey, anon. How’ve you been? First off, sorry for taking a few days to post your ASK.

Now, I want to start by saying that I really appreciate you considering my blog as a place where you can share your opinions freely, even if they might not align with mine. That’s one of the biggest compliments anyone can give me here.

So, about your ASK.

I think it’s important to distinguish between a Solo Stan and a (Solo) fan. Even though some might not see the difference, it’s not the same thing, at least not to me. There are plenty of things that set them apart, and those differences matter.

A Solo Stan is toxic. Full stop. There’s nothing more to it. A Solo Stan is selfish, almost obsessive. They believe their fav is the only one who deserves to win, the only one who can do X or Y. These are the ones who, in order to make their fav the sole “winner” in everything, throw hate at others, including the bandmates of their fav – this is especially true in BTS’s case. Basically, a Solo Stan is a toxic person.

A (Solo) fan, on the other hand, is just that – a fan. Someone who likes an artist’s music vibes more with that person, and that’s it. Since BTS started the second chapter of their careers, this type of fan makes sense. Each member has been able to release their own music that identifies them as solo artists, attracting new fans who only know them individually. Some of these fans transition to listening to more of the group’s music, while others don’t, and that’s understandable. I’ve always said that art is subjective, and music is art. So, we all have different tastes and opinions.

One thing that sets a fan apart from a Stan is the respect for the other members, even if that respect comes in the form of indifference. I’d say that’s the biggest difference. And this is where you come in.

You’re a fan of Jimin, sure, but you’re empathetic enough to understand what Yoongi is going through. You’re empathetic and mature enough to feel pain, frustration, and maybe even anger about how the Korean press has handled the situation, and at no point have you taken pleasure in what he’s going through. You don’t blame him or wish him ill. You’re not toxic. That’s the difference.

I can’t speak for everyone, but when I say I hate Solo Stans, I’m talking about the first group I mentioned. The selfish ones, the ones with hero and villain complexes, the ones who project a victim complex onto their favs, the ones who ignore what their own favs say and disrespect their wishes.

#anon #ask #solo fans #bts solo careers #YG #preg 721

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gretavanmoon · 4 months ago

Text

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

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jqmalikhsgib · 5 months ago

Text

too sweet

five

when yn and eddie made it to texas yn didn’t waste time heading to her grandmothers house. she needed to know that she was okay.

yn didn’t know what she would do if something happened to her grandma. this woman went out of her way to raise her when no one else would.

yn loved her grandma more than anything. when she arrived she sees her uncles car outside. she excitedly rushes to the front door to greet her family.

eddie stayed close to her. he was a little nervous meeting her family. but he was also really excited. he was prepared for anything that’s thrown his way.

“granny!” yn yelled as she walked into her childhood home.

“darling?! what are you doing here?”

yn grandmother hugs her tightly.

“i was worried. you said you couldn’t make it and didn’t tell me why. i wanted to see what was going on? if you were ok.”

yn grandmother chuckles. “baby, we wanted to come but the kids got sick. nothing to worry your pretty little head over. im glad you came though. i miss my grand baby.” yn grandmother kissed her on the cheek.

eddie stands there holding yn hand gently before she turns around. she grabs eddies hand tightly. “granny, this is eddie, my boyfriend. eddie, this is lauretta, my granny.”

eddie shyly puts his hand in front of her. lauretta shakes her head before grabbing him and hugging him tightly.

“don’t insult me, boy!”

eddie laughs as he hugs her back.

“how long are you two staying?”

yn looks at eddie. they never really discussed anything. they cut their trip to indiana short. they didn’t expect to be here. yn knew her schedule was free for a little while. she didn’t know if eddie had an event coming up or not.

“im free for the next two weeks, baby. anything you want.”

yn smiles hugely.

“i guess we’ll stay however long you want us!”

“don’t be silly, baby. you know id keep you here forever if i could. have you two eaten? your uncle made some soup earlier for the kids.”

“that sounds good!” eddie states.

yn goes to help her grandmother with everything before she shakes her head and points to the table. yn hesitates before sitting down next to her boyfriend.

her grandmother makes two bowls for yn and eddie before microwaving them and handing them both a bowl.

eddie and yn thank her as they start to eat.

“where is uncle pete?”

“he’s next door. talking to westly. you know how those two get. probably talking about football. your aunt sara is at work currently. you know she’s really loving the new nursing home she’s working at.”

“yeah?”

“she goes on and on about one patient. i think her name is heather. very nice lady! sad story though. her daughter passed away a few months back. her sons the one who put her in the nursing home. apparently his wife asked him to so they can sell the house.” yn grandmother shakes her head.

“that’s awful. i couldn’t ever do that to my uncle wayne. i don’t care who im married to. that man raised me!” eddie shakes his head at the thought. yn smiles as she grabs his hand.

“that’s right!” yn grandmother nods her head.

the three of them chat more before they all hear the front door open.

“mamma!?”

“in here, baby.”

they hear footsteps as yn uncle comes into view with a smile.

“is that my niece!”

yn gets up and hugs her uncle tightly. “hi, uncle pete.”

“hi, baby! what are you doing here?!”

“came to visit. my boyfriend and i are staying for a little while.”

“boyfriend?! oh, god! please tell me he’s not one of the little boys you use to bring over?!”

yn giggles as she shakes her head. “no! not this time uncle pete. got myself a man! eddie, baby.”

eddie stands up as he walks over to his girlfriend. yn holds his hand gently, caressing it to keep him calm. she knows how nervous he get around new people.

“hi, im eddie, sir.”

yn uncle gives him a blank stare. eddie gets more nervous before pete laughs and hugs eddie.

“im just messing with you! listen, if you treat my niece right you’re good with this family. but trust, if you hurt her we will hunt you down. tell him about the boy who made you cry after prom?” pete asked as he looks at his niece.

“oh, god no! i try to forget that day.” yn shakes her head as she thinks about the night her high school boyfriend broke up with her at prom. it was one of the worst nights of her life.

“you never told me you went to prom?”

yn hums “all four years!”

“quite popular!”

yn shakes her head. “not really. i got to go because i helped set up the prom my freshman and sophomore year. i was a bit of a nerd. the first two years i just sat back and watched. i only went the last two because my boyfriends at the time. my junior year i was dating this cute guy,”

eddie cleans his throat.

yn shakes her head and giggles “not as cute as you. but he was a bit of a geek. he was a senior and asked me to the prom. we broke up before he moved away to college. i think he’s married with like two kids now!” yn turns to her grandmother. she knew if anyone knew it would be her.

“kevin?! oh yeah! he’s got a steady job up in seattle somewhere. his husband works in law.”

“husband?”

yn nods. “he came out like right after he moved. too afraid of what people would think of him here and what his parents would say. i had no clue either. my grandma was the one to tell me after i introduced them. i told her it’s no way.”

“oh, honey! everyone saw it.”

“to be fair i was oblivious and i really liked him. it wasn’t like he was like offensively stereotypical. he was just a guy, you know?”

“it’s okay. i get it! i didn’t know mike was gay either. in fact no one saw it coming. he loved el like no other. i think it’s a repression thing. trying to fight so hard because you’re afraid of what others may think.”

“i say be who you are! who cares what others might think! people are gonna judge you no matter what.” yn uncle comes into view as he hands eddie a beer.

“thank you.”

“i agree! look at your grandfather and i! no one thought we’d end up together because he came from money. he left his entire life behind to be with me. he couldn’t have cared any less about the money or what his family wanted. that’s real love.” yn grandmother hums.

once yn aunt sara comes home she greets yn and eddie before going to check on the kids. yn grandmother goes to the kitchen to start dinner.

eddie excused himself as he got a phone call. he heads outside and talks to whoever was on the phone.

yn aunt sits besides her right after.

“so, eddie huh? that’s different.”

yn blushes.

“yeah. figured it was time for me to switch things up. date a man this time.” yn shrugs.

“does he treat you right?” yn uncle asked.

“he does! he’s the type of guy to buy flowers instead of showering me in jewelry. i like that! he’s such a gentleman! i don’t understand how lucky i got with him.” yn shakes her head in disbelief.

“im glad. i can tell he makes you happy. you’re glowing! do you think he’s the one?”

yn turns to see eddie still chatting on the phone. he smiles at her from the window.

“i don’t wanna jinx anything. but i do, yeah! i really don’t see myself with anyone else.”

“im just concerned, baby. i mean he’s a rockstar, right?! they’re the type to have groupies. i don’t want you getting hurt.” pete explained.

yn uncle pete was more like her father if anything. he helped her grandmother raise her. even before her mother died and father was sent to prison, he was there. with her mom being sick and her father committing atrocious crimes, he was the the one to take care of her as much as he could. pete was just being a concerned parent. she loved that her family were involved in her life.

“i understand your concern. eddie has grown and matured over the last few months. he’s committed to this relationship. if i suspect even an ounce of something i wouldn’t give it a single thought. i would leave and hopefully never see him again. but he’s been the perfect boyfriend, uncle pete. so much better than any man ive ever dated before. he listens, he showers me in compliments, he talks about the future, he does the smallest gestures most men today don’t do. he still opens the car door for me! he’s the perfect man.” yn finished.

“as long as you’re happy, baby! he seems like an amazing guy. should i start planning the wedding?” yn aunt smirks.

eddie walks back in with a sigh. yn aunt scoots so he could sit next to her.

“what’s wrong?”

“that was my uncle. apparently my dads trying to get sympathy points from us. he got ‘injured’ in prison. now he wants us to visit him whenever he gets out of the hospital. this isn’t the first time this happened. he plays victim, ask my uncle to come by, and begs for a load some of money. he’s got himself in trouble again im sure and owes someone there some money.”

yn sighs as she rubs her boyfriends back.

“we know what that’s like!” pete scoffs as he thinks of his own brother that’s in prison.

“im sorry you have to go through that eddie. no one should have to deal with a family member who only cares about themselves.” sara shakes her head.

eddie shrugs his shoulders. “it is what it is. hopefully my uncle won’t go. knowing him though, he’d still try to help him. it’s his brother so i get it. i just wish he knew the man couldn’t give a single fuck about any of us.”

“dinners ready!”

the next two days yn and eddie spent with her family had been amazing. eddie noticed his girlfriend had been more cheerful around her loved ones.

he loved seeing her smile and laugh more. it’s been an amazing sight. eddie also enjoyed getting to know yn family more and more. the more he talked to them, the more he thought of his own family back in hawkins.

currently the family was outside for the cookout yn grandmother planned the night they arrived. yn grandmother invited everyone, including the entire neighborhood.

everyone gathered around, chatting, drinking, playing cards, dancing, you name it. yn was currently standing next to a group of women and laughing. eddie smiles as he watches his girlfriend catch up. he takes a sip of his beer before walking over to her.

eddie wraps his arms around yn and kisses her right below her ear. she shivers before she smiles, turns, and kisses him passionately.

“hi.”

“hey, beautiful. missed you.” he whispers.

yn kisses him once more before they hear someone clear their throat. yn turns back around with a blush on her face. “sorry.”

“don’t be sorry! you gonna introduce us?”

“right! eddie, these are my best friends. tina, penny, and quinn. guys, this is my boyfriend, eddie!”

“hi, eddie.” quinn waves

“he’s hotter in person, yn!” tina smirks.

“don’t mind her. tina’s a bit flirt! it’s nice to meet you, eddie.” penny states.

“you too. yn talks about you all the time.”

“same here!”

“eddie! come meet your uncle andy.” yn grandmother grabs eddie. yn turns and smiles as he shrugs and waves his hand.

“he really is cuter in person, yn. never thought you’d date someone like him.”

yn knew what everyone meant when they said that. she wasn’t the type to date guys like eddie. eddie was the complete opposite of everyone yn dated in the past. she grew up in a black neighborhood. most of the guys she’s dated were people of color. she has dated guys outside her race, don’t be confused, but she’s never dated a white man who’s into heavy metal, a rockstar, and very nerdy all in one. in fact, if she was seen with someone like eddie back in high school, they’d make fun of her for dating the ‘cultist freak.’

people would still be cruel to eddie even in her neighborhood. but yn wouldn’t have cared. if he treats her right, why should she give a single fuck what others might think? she’s happy. that’s the most important thing that matters.

“he’s really great! the perfect gentleman.”

“hopefully not too perfect.” tina smirks.

yn blushes.

“stop!”

“come on! you use to give us deets all the time. at least tell us, is he good?” quinn asked,

yn turns to look at her boyfriend as her uncle andy talks his ear off. she turns back to her friends with a huge smile.

“best ive ever had!”

“better than dre?” tina asked.

“god, so much better! he’s actually a very good lover. he’s such a giver! fuck, i hit the jackpot with eddie.”

“holy, shit! where can we find someone like eddie?” penny asked.

yn bites her bottom lip. “he’s also such a romantic! he buys me flowers every single date we have. even if it’s just us watching movies at home. ive never been pampered in my life.”

“okay, million dollar question,” tina starts.

“don’t even ask!” quinn looks at her with an eyeroll.

“come on, you guys aren’t dying to know!”

“leave it alone, tee.”

“what?”

“does dre know?”

“tina!”

“i told you to leave it.”

yn sighs at the question. dre was the man she left when she decided to take her music career seriously. he was her best friend before they started dating. yn begged him to come with her. she loved him with her whole entire chest. he was really the first person she’d ever truly loved.

but dre couldn’t leave. he had responsibilities here. if he left he would be leaving his mom to take care of his little siblings. she’d already been through so much, he couldn’t leave her.

yn knew that would be the end of them. and every guy after dre wasn’t serious. she was just trying to mend her broken heart. that is until she met eddie.

yn couldn’t even compare dre to eddie. dre was her first love but eddie would be her last. she never felt this way before. eddie had her whole entire heart and soul. if her and eddie ever broke up, she knew she’d never recover.

“if he’s been on social media, keeping up with what ive been doing, i don’t see how he doesn’t.” yn shrugs.

“may i asked the hard questions then? since tee already brought it up.” quinn started.

yn nods. “if dre wanted to get back together? if he decided to pack his things and be with you? follow you everywhere. would you get back with him?”

“no.” yn didn’t need to think about it. dre was her past and she’d hope that maybe in the future they could remain friends.

“damn. don’t get me wrong girl, i love that you’re happy! i just thought you and dre were like, endgame. i never thought you’d love anyone ever again. the way you were with him was undeniable. it was always you and him. feels weird that it’s not like that anymore.” tina states.

yn turns to look at eddie once more as he excuses himself and walks over to her.

“your uncle andy is one character!”

“sorry. he just loves telling long stories about nothing. he’s hilarious though.” yn states.

“that he is! i see where you get your humor from, baby.” eddie smiles as he kisses her gently.

“so, eddie, where are you from?” tina asked.

“hawkins, indiana.”

“never heard of it.”

“it’s a small town. nothing but nosey people getting into your business.”

“we know what that’s like!”

“amen to that!” quinn states with an eyeroll.

“you got any siblings?” penny asked.

“kinda! biologically im the only child. but i got a few kids i consider being my siblings.”

“how many?”

“seven!”

“that’s a lot! sure you wanna claim that many?” quinn jokes

“meh. they’re quite annoying sometimes. i love ‘em though.”

yn friends continue to ask eddie questions. trying to get to know him a bit better. they all see why she’s attracted to him. he had a wicked personality and he was funny. he was also a little nerdy which they knew was something yn likes. he was perfect for her.

“yn?”

yn turns around. she gives the person a half smile. her friends all go silent.

“dre, hi.”

dre goes to hug her. yn gives him a small hug as he squeezes her.

“i heard you were back in town. didn’t know how true it was.”

“yeah. im here visiting my family for a few more days.”

“it’s so good to see you! how have you been? i heard you were nominated for a grammy.”

“yeah! pretty fucking amazing, actually! im excited to see what happens.” she states.

“congratulations! i knew you’d make it big.”

yn smiles.

it was silent for a few minutes before yn clears her throat with a smile. “dre, id like you to meet my boyfriend, eddie!”

dre heart sinks at the word ‘boyfriend’

“hi.”

“hi, man.” eddie shakes his hand.

dre clears his throat. “we should catch up before you go.” dre states.

“of course, yeah.”

“i should head back. i just got off work. need a bit of a shower.” dre states before he nods and walks away. eddie runs his hands up and down yn back. he knew who dre was already. the two of them talked about past relationships. he knew how hard it was for her to leave him behind.

eddie saw the hurt look on the guys face. he wouldn’t know what he would do if he was in dre’s position. his own heart broke for the guy.

“you okay?”

yn turns and wraps her arms behind her boyfriends neck. “perfect.” yn kisses him passionately.

“love you, sunshine.”

“and i love you, rockstar!”

the next morning yn hears eddie laughing in the kitchen. she gets out of bed and wraps her rope around her waist before heading to the familiar sound.

yn sees eddie sipping a cup of coffee while her family laughs along with eddie.

eddie smiles as he sees his girl. he gets up and pulls out a chair for her. yn smiles and kisses him gently. she sits down as her grandmother serves her a plate.

“what are you all laughing about?” yn asked as she takes a bite of her toast.

“just telling eddie about the time you use to run around the house with nothing but a diaper and that red cape you use to love.”

yn shakes her head. “i was saving the world uncle pete.”

“oh, yeah! you were definitely our little hero.”

“it’s okay, babe. im sure i was the same way as a kid.” eddie shrugs.

yn hums. truth be told she loved how her family was getting along with eddie. he was definitely making a huge impression on them. it made her heart swoon seeing it.

after yn finished up her breakfast, her and her aunt got ready to do a little bit of shopping. she made sure eddie would be alright with being alone with her uncle, cousins, and grandmother. when he assured her he would be fine, she kissed him goodbye and left with her aunt.

yn and her aunt sara are super close. she considered her more of a friend than anything. she shared things with her aunt sara that she couldn’t share with her grandmother. or well, at least things she felt more comfortable sharing with her aunt. when she first got her period she told her aunt, her first kiss, her first time, her first heartbreak. it was all shared with her aunt.

it’s why it wasn’t much of a surprise she asked the quiet question in private.

“so, how does eddie treat you? i want all the details!”

“i told you already! he’s the perfect gentleman.”

sara rolls her eyes. “that’s not what i mean and you know it? give me the raw details. are you two living together? talking about marriage? kids?”

“we do talk about the future, yeah! i think he’s gonna ask me to move in when we get back home.” yn giggles.

“yeah?! how do you know?”

“because he wanted us to meet each others family all of a sudden. it was random when he brought it up. i mean, he’s even made room in his closet for me and moved things around the house, he got me a key so i can come over any time i want even when he’s not home, he’s asked me about my lease to my apartment a million times, it’s just tiny clues.”

“what about an engagement? i know you two have only been dating for, what?”

“seven amazing months!”

“do you see yourself married any time soon?”

“id marry eddie tomorrow if he asked.”

“really?!”

yn nods.

her aunt squeals.

“stop!” yn blushes.

“im just so happy for you! i love to see you smile. and you got this beautiful glow. it’s about time you found someone who treats you right. besides dre, i don’t think your uncle and i have liked the men in your life.”

“eddie and i are still very young though. he’s only twenty-eight. i don’t know exactly how he’d feel about marriage right now. i do know that he loves me though. every time he says im his forever, i feel it aunt sara. i know he means it with his whole entire existence.”

“im glad, honey. i know we don’t talk much about it, but your mom would be proud of the woman you are today. she’d also really love eddie. he’s funny, caring, charismatic, charming, and he’s beautiful might i add.”

“he really is!”

“come on, let’s get some food for the house and some snacks before your cousins lose their ever loving minds.”

when they get back to the house, yn sees her grandfathers truck. she knew he was out of town on business but she didn’t know if he’d be back in time to see her.

she runs to hug her grandfather and he kisses her cheek. “hey, baby! your granny told me you were in town. had to hurry up and finish my business trip to come see you.” he states.

“so glad you’re here, pops! have you met eddie.”

“i have! he’s a nice young man. a keeper if you ask me.” yn smiles.

she goes over to help get the groceries before eddie stops her.

“nuh uh! i get the groceries. you go relax, yeah?”

“exactly! in fact, all you ladies in the house! we got this.” yn uncle gently turns his wife around.

“that’s right son! never let the ladies carry the groceries.” yn grandfather states.

the men continue to get the groceries out of the car as yn, her grandmother, her aunt, and cousins sit in the living room.

“how was the store?”

“yn ran into a few fans actually.” sara smirks.

“yeah?”

“it was just a few teenagers.”

“they told her that her music inspires them. how empowering women are.”

“that’s a mouthful.” eddie made himself known as he sits beside his girlfriend. he kisses her gently.

“women are the strongest creatures.” pete states.

they talk a little about women empowerment before eddie clears his throat.

“i was thinking i could take you guys out tomorrow night. since yn and i only got two more nights left. i wanna treat her friends and family.”

“oh eddie, you don’t have to do that. you don’t need anymore points from us! we love you like family.” pete half jokes.

“yeah, baby. it’s okay.”

“well, as family i wanna treat you all out! any place you want! im paying.”

“in that case, im all for it.” yn uncle andy finally makes himself known. he’d been watching some old football game. not paying too much attention to what’s going on.

“oh, stop it!” yn grandmother hits andy with a towel gently.

“alright.”

“okay, great!

later that night yn hears eddie chuckling on the phone before spotting his girlfriend and hanging up.

“who was that?”

“just dustin. hey, have you invited your friends for tomorrow?”

yn wraps her arms behind eddies neck. “no. we really don’t have to invite everyone eds. my family is already pretty large. you know not everyone was able to come to our cookout right? most of the people there were just neighbors.”

eddie shakes his head. “i already booked the whole restaurant, baby. i want everyone there. i just wanna treat the family. they’ve done so much.”

yn hums. “okay, fine! but on our last night i want a hotel. missed you.” she whispers as she kisses him passionately.

“yeah?” eddie smirks.

“mhm. haven’t had you in forever. it’s been torture eds. and you won’t fuck me here. no matter how many times i beg.” she rolls her eyes.

eddie chuckles as he shakes his head. “baby, you don’t know how bad i want to fuck you until you’re begging me for mercy,”

“then why won’t you?” yn interrupted.

“because this is your families house. i won’t disrespect them in their home. plus what i plan to do to you, i know you won’t be able to keep quiet.” eddie smirks.

yn body shivers.

the couple heads back inside before heading to yn bedroom and falling asleep in one another’s arms.

the next night yn spots all her friends and family. she smiles as she greets everyone. when she turns she spots dre. she smiles and gives him a wave.

it didn’t feel right not inviting him. he was her friend before they dated and she hoped to get that back.

once yn sees everyone is here she ask for menus. that is until eddie stops her.

“wait, we’re missing some people.” yn frowns before she sees eddie’s friends and family. eddie waves for them to join them at the main table.

“yn, it’s good to see you again.” wayne hugs yn tightly.

“you too! when did you guys get here?”

“last night. eddie had got us a last minute flight. you know how he is.” steve shakes his head.

“alright, now that’s everyone! we’re ready for our menus.”

once the menus were past around and everyone got their food and drinks, they all chatted amongst one another. yn enjoyed having both hers and eddie’s family together. it was a beautiful sight.

with yn family being as large as they are and eddie having a big family of his own, the place was definitely packed. she was very glad eddie booked the whole restaurant. otherwise the whole restaurant would be filled with too many people or they’d have to dine somewhere else.

“this place is fancy! where did eddie find it?” quinn asked.

“yeah! and the lobster, it hit every single time.” tina states.

yn was going to answer until she heard someone ring their champagne glass.

“sorry, sorry, sorry! im just—i wanna say how happy i am to finally meet the boy, or should i say man, my granddaughter has told us about. he’s such a gentleman and im glad you found someone who treats you like a queen. you deserve all the love he gives you and more. it’s why i was very honored when he came to me and my son to ask us for something so beautiful and special. as you know, i have this ring that was passed down to me from my mother, her mother before that, her mother before that, and so on. and because i didn’t have a daughter of my own, i never got to pass it to my own daughter. but i now can pass it onto my granddaughter.”

yn was confused until she turned and sees eddie down on one knee. he was holding her grandmothers engagement ring. yn mentioned to eddie before that she’d want to be proposed to with her grandmother engagement ring. she said it was passed down from generation to generation. it meant a lot to her and a lot to her family. as she sees him down on one knee, the ring in his hand, and the sparkling look in his eyes, she started to cry.

“yn, i know we’ve only been together for seven months. but it’s been the best seven months of my life. i swear baby, none of this was planned. but when i saw how you were with your family and thought about how you were with mine, i just knew i didn’t wanna waste a single moment. i want to be with you for the rest of my life. it’s why i got your grandfather to come home early, why i got your aunt to ask you questions about marriage, why ive been sneaking on the phone with dustin, why i would do absolutely anything for you. you’re my forever, baby. ill say it to you for as long as i should live. i love you and that’s why im asking you to be my wife. will you marry me, yn?”

yn wipes the tears out of her eyes before nodding her head. eddie grins hugely as he puts the ring on her finger and everyone claps. eddie kisses his now fiancé on the lips.

“congratulations!”

everyone begins hugging one another as they celebrate yn and eddies engagement.

once everyone gets home yn and eddie begin to pack their bags. yn looks down at her ring and smiles. she couldn’t believe she was actually engaged to eddie. yn was super excited.

eddie kisses her gently. “why don’t you get in the car. i got the rest, baby.”

“you sure?”

eddie hums. yn kisses him once more. she says good night to her granny and promises to come by tomorrow morning for breakfast.

when she gets outside she sees dre. he was leaning against her car smoking a cigarette. yn slowly walks over.

“hi.”

“hey. congratulations.”

“thanks, dre.”

dre laughs. “i always thought that would be you and me, you know?”

yn hums in agreement.

awkward silence took over for a few. dre sighs before he steps closer and grabs her hand.

“i—what if i decided to go with you?”

“what?”

“leave this behind. you and i can go off and elope like we said we would. you can live your dream of being a rapper, i find a job or just go on the road with you. i just—what if we just took off now?” dre asked hopeful.

“dre—”

“come on, yn! you can’t say you still don’t love me. don’t you?”

“not like that, dre. i will always have love for you. before you were my boyfriend you were my best friend. you’ll always be the first guy i truly loved. but eddie, he’s my last and my only.”

dre lets go of yn hand.

eddie walks over to them as he unlocks the trunk. “everything okay, baby?”

yn smiles and nods. “i was just saying bye to dre.”

eddie looks between the two before nodding. he puts their suitcases in the trunk.

“ready?”

yn gives dre a sad smile. “ready.” she states before getting into the car.

i tried to finish this up and rushed the ending. but i hope you all still like it. i promise more drama will come in this story. but i just got an idea for another story writing this!

#jqhotchner #jqhotchner masterlist #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x black fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x black!reader #rockstar eddie munson #modern eddie munson #too sweet jqhotchner

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