The kids of the Sanctuary tiptoed down the corridor. Randy, one of the children who claimed to be big and bad teased the smaller kids, daring them to see if they could find Negan and the woman with the cane.
“Chicken’s! Every last one of ya!” he taunted.
The small group was huddled together, shaking like leaves.
There were rumors of a woman that Negan kept hidden. Simon wouldn’t even mutter a word.
Some said she was deformed, some say, a witch. It didn’t matter though, Randy still painted a horrid picture of the woman to the children.
The children jumped, hearing a loud thud and growling. Another thud followed, making the kids shake with fear.
“Goddamnit!” the female voice cursed.
One child gasped, “She said a bad word!”
Randy leaned over the kid’s shoulder, “That’s cause she’s a bad woman.”
“I want my Mommy!”
“I want to go home!”
“What the fuck do you little pukes think you’re doing!?” Negan’s voice boomed, making the kids scream.
“Mother fucker!” he yelled, covering his ears.
“Who’s wonderful fucking idea was this, huh!?” Negan demanded, looking at all the kids.
Immediately they pointed to Randy who looked ready to cry.
“Why?” Negan’s voice was low as he bent at the waist to stare at Randy.
“Spit it out boy!”
Randy jumped and started to cry. Some of the other kids snickered, but otherwise kept quiet.
“Someone better start talking before I drag you back to your parents!”
The smallest of the bunch went to Negan and tugged on his pant leg.
“What half pint?”
“Randy said there’s a mean ol’ lady who looks like a monster up here,”
Negan rocked back on his heels, “Is that so?”
“Yes sir,” the child responded.
Snapping his fingers, Negan smiled. “I have an idea! Let’s go visit this woman… this monster!”
The kids were wide eyed.
Grabbing the neck of his shirt, Negan led Randy to the front, the boy crying and flailing his arms.
“No, no! Please don’t feed me to her, please!”
“You’re in for it now boy!”
Negan opened the heavy wooden door, revealing a small library.
“Y/N! Get out here, baby!! Negan yelled out.
The children listened to the thumps, seeing the bottom of a cane and the monster’s feet.
Randy tried to jerk away, but Negan held him by his scruff.
A long, black dress swayed as she came down even further. A cloak covered her hair and face as she came to the last step.
She limped as she came closer, the cane used to help her balance.
“Negan?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Found these sheep roaming the halls. Figured I’d at least feed this one to the wolf,” Negan smiled, pushing Randy forward while holding his neck.
The boy was pale and sweating.
Y/N clicked her tongue, “Come now, Negan. Stop scaring the kids,”
She reached up and removed her hood. The kids gasped again, then looked to Randy.
“She’s not a monster!”
“What a pretty lady!”
“You should take them back to the fountain where they play, Negan.”
One of the older kids spoke up, “I know who you are!”
Negan watched as Y/N closed her eyes.
“Who is she, Laura?”
“My Momma use to take me to the theater. She was the Princess in one of the plays!”
“Enough,” Y/N said, softly. “That was a long time ago. I don’t dance and sing anymore,”
The girl, Laura, looked sad, “I’m sorry Ma’am,”
Smiling, Y/N went over to a basket and grabbed an apple for each child, “Go back to your games and families.”
She paused when she got to Randy. Bending at the waist, she looked him square in the eye, “I know what is said about me. Rest assured, nothing will happen to you as of right now, but there are others who have monsters within them and some won’t be so lenient with nosy people.”
He sniffled and nodded, taking the apple that was given to him.
“Now apologize,” Negan said.
A round of I’m sorries were said as each child turned to leave.
Y/N palmed a small card and called out to the girl who recognized her, “Laura?”
“Ma’am?” she approached Y/N.
Slipping the card from her cloak pocket, she gave it to the girl.
“You can have this… to remind you of better times,”
Laura’s face lit up as she looked at Y/N, “Thank you so much!”
Negan saw the first genuine smile form on her lips in the longest time since her accident.
“You’re welcome, but this stays our little secret, okay?”
Laura nodded and whispered, “Yes Ma'am,”
Y/N watched as the girl skipped from the library.
His hands resting on her waist, Negan kissed right below her ear, “You used to dance and sing, huh?”
It was bittersweet to remember those days before the outbreak, “Yeah…”
Negan carefully turned her around to face him, “Maybe sing for me one day?”
Negan’s felt honored as she gave him a shy smile, “Maybe one day.”
She brought his head down for a soft kiss, enjoying the closeness of the man that saved her life.
A Picture and a Story about a DnD/Pathfinder character of mine.
So the following is a sweet commission done by @winters-shade. After the picture is a random short story about the two characters and how they first met. To clarify, Dionaea is a summoner who was a fetchling (in the story she’s referred to as a darkling). She lived with her Shae father in the Shadow Plane rather than the material world for a great portion of her life. This story takes place when she’s about 7 or 8.
Woebringer lay unmoving, as he did most days. The moonlit sky barely illuminated the foremost passage of his massive cavern dwelling, but it was the darkness he prefered. Most creatures of the Nightveil prefered the dark. Came with living in a plane where things like suns were a legend brought from across the veil in Terra. In either case, even the pale moonlight that shone down over the lands was too bright to bother with.
He stared lazily out into the meadow before his lair. Water trickled down from a nearby cliffside until cascading in a full waterfall. The white-barked trees with purples leaves swayed in the midnight breeze. It was always midnight here. Always quiet. Few creatures of the Nightveil dared venture into his lands. It was well known that he hunted the other nightmares that thrived in the dark.
The noise of a stone skipping across water caught his attention. It was out of place in his placid world. He glided forward, swimming on the air itself and peered into his meadow with thirteen shimmering red eyes.
He blinked. Surely his ancient mind was playing tricks on him. Another stone splashed into the waters of the small lake his waterfall poured into. No, she was certainly there.
Standing next to the water was a young girl as pale as the moonlight that washed over the Nightveil. Her hair shone metallic silver, and when she turned to face him, her deep violet eyes stood stark against the rest of her. She was a darkling, one of the humanoid beings that lived in the small cloister to the south of his lair. He did not know a single thing about the ages of darklings, but she must have been very young to be so small. Not even a worthy snack.
He slid out from his cavern into the clearing while she watched him. In some worlds, he might have been called a shark, a fierce ocean hunter. During his perishingly short visits to worlds beyond his own, he had seen such creatures. They were predators. The rulers of their lands. He found the comparison apt enough.
Unlike the sharks that inhabited the seas of the world beyond, he bore thirteen eyes and no gills. His hide was black as the void and wisps of shadow rolled off him in waves as he glided through the air. He coiled around her, bending his fins down to lightly touch the ground. He must have seemed a massive monster to the youngling. She was barely over a meter in height and he more than a hundred times that in length. His tail flicked at the night air as he pulled free of the cave, his bulk taking up most of the meadow.
The girl-child did not flinch, she merely stared into his eyes as if she had been waiting for his arrival.
“Why have you come into my domain?” he asked, surprised to find himself genuinely curious. He rarely bothered hunting or eating the darklings from the south for they were small and bony, but he thought their legends of his presence more than enough to keep them away.
“I was bored,” she said. The rock she held in her hand tumbled to the ground. She walked over to his head until was a mere meter from his jaws.
“It seems an ill reason to wander to your death.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You aren’t going to kill me. If you were, you’d have eaten me already.”
“Perhaps I enjoy playing with my prey,” he growled.
The ends of her mouth pulled up, an expression unknown to him. She was taunting him, standing so close to his maw.
“What are you called?” she asked.
Faster than naturally possible, his jaws were around her. His teeth brushed her skin and shadows from his throat curled surrounded her. Again, she did not move.
He withdrew, thoughtful. “Woebringer is what I have been named by the creatures I hunt and the Night Lords that call for my assistance.”
“That’s a rather dour name, don’t you think?”
He blinked his thirteen eyes once again. What was it about this girl-child that enthralled him. Her fearlessness?
“You do not fear me,” he said.
“Of course I do. You’re the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.” She was sincere in the way that children often are.
“You hide it well.”
“Fear is important, but superfluous. That’s what my daddy says, so I ignore it.”
“I think your…daddy, would be upset to know that you’re here.”
“I told him I was bored and he said to go play. If he wanted me to stay around his castle he would have said so, right?”
He didn’t answer, though he believed she was asking him the question in truth.
“Can I call you something else?”
“A different name. I don’t like Woebringer.”
“It was merely a name given me.”
“Then I’ll call you Wobbe.”
“Wobbe…” his voice echoed through the meadow. “What does it mean?”
“No, silly, it doesn’t have a meaning. I made it up.”
“Like the murderous plants?”
Her lips pulled back revealing her teeth this time. Here was an expression he was familiar with. Part joy, part threat.
Wobbe’s laugh shook the cliffsides. “And you claimed my name to be dour.”
“Will you play with me, Wobbe?” Dionaea asked.
He glanced up at the ever-present moon hanging in the sky then back down at the crazy child. She had made him laugh. He hadn’t laughed in centuries, of that he was sure.
“Very well, but you will have to show me how.”
She showed her teeth once more and in return he showed her his, every gleaming row.
Please, do not use the Markiplier, JackSepticEye, or dan and phil tags on instagram if self harm is a trigger for you. Please remain away from the tags until the situation has been rectified.
And to the person posting these horrid pictures, if you happen to be here; who the hell do you think you are? Whatever you are doing, whether you think this is funny, or you have serious problems with this, this is neither the place nor the way to get help or go through with such a disgusting ignorance for other’s issues. We, as a community, ask you to stop.
Spread this as far and wide as you can. Everyone needs to know this, both the old and the new to the community.
Hey, block and report @tardlrs-finest-1 for their horrid transmisogyny. They reblog pictures of trans girls and photoshop them/make horrible comments about them. It happened to me, and I don’t want it to happen to anybody else. They’re also extremely racist and misogynistic, as well.
William Child, Major and Surgeon with the 5th Regiment New Hampshire Volunteers
September 22, 1862 (Battlefield Hospital near Sharpsburg)
My Dear Wife;
Day before yesterday I dressed the wounds of 64 different men – some having two or three each. Yesterday I was at work from daylight till dark – today I am completely exhausted – but stall soon be able to go at it again.
The days after the battle are a thousand times worse than the day of the battle – and the physical pain is not the greatest pain suffered. How awful it is – you have not can have until you see it any idea of affairs after a battle. The dead appear sickening but they suffer no pain. But the poor wounded mutilated soldiers that yet have life and sensation make a most horrid picture. I pray God may stop such infernal work – through perhaps he has sent it upon us for our sins. Great indeed must have been our sins if such is our punishment.
Our Reg. Started this morning for Harpers Ferry – 14 miles. I am detailed with others to remain here until the wounded are removed – then join the Reg. With my nurses. I expect there will be another great fight at Harpers Ferry.
Carrie I dreamed of home night before last. I love to dream of home it seems so much like really being there. I dreamed that I was passing Hibbards house and saw you and Lud. in the window. After then I saw you in some place I cannot really know where -you kissed me – and told me you loved me – though you did not the first time you saw me. Was not that quite a soldier dream? That night had been away to a hospital to see some wounded men – returned late. I fastened my horse to a peach tree – fed him with wheat and hay from a barn near by – then I slept and dreamed of my loved ones away in N.H.
Write soon as you can. Tell me all you can about my business affairs and prospects for the future in Bath. Will Dr. Boynton be likely to get a strong hold there. One thing sure Cad, I shall return to Bath – if I live – and spend my days there. I feel so in that way now. Give me all news you can. Tell Parker and John and the girls to write although I can not answer them all. Tell Parker I will answer his as soon as I can.
In this letter I send you a bit of gold lace such as the rebel officers have. This I cut from a rebel officers coat on the battlefield. He was a Lieut.
I have made the acquaintance of two rebel officers – prisoners in our hands. One is a physician – both are masons – both very intelligent, gentlemanly men. Each is wounded in the leg. They are great favorites with our officers. One of them was brought off the field in hottest of the fight by our 5th N.H. officers – he giving them evidence of his being a mason.
Now do write soon. Kisses to you Clint & Kate. Love to all.