small hut

Mixed Black African Girl (Cameroonian/French)

I’m a mixed black african girl who grew up and lived most of her life in Cameroon, in Central Africa. My dad is half-white (french) and half-black (cameroonian), and my mom is 100% cameroonian. There’s little to no black african characters in popular fiction, which has always bothered me, and it would be so nice to read about someone like me for once.

  • Culture and food

Cameroon is a country created during colonization, with borders defined by europeans. Because of that, Cameroon is actually made of 200 ethnic groups, each of them having their own language and culture. So the culture and daily habits vary a lot depending on which region of Cameroon you are in. In the big cities, though, everyone is mingled no matter where they’re from. However, so many different ethnic groups cohabiting together often causes tension. There are also a lot of stereotypes about every ethnic group.

I grew up in the central and coastal areas of the country, and I’m Bassa. The Bassa are one of the main ethnic groups in Cameroon. If your parents are from two different ethnic groups, it is decided that you officially belong to your father’s ethnic group. My mother is Bakoko but my father is Bassa, so I’m the latter. When I meet another Cameroonian, two of the first questions we usually ask each other are : What are you (meaning, what’s your ethnic group) ? and Where is you village ?

Villages are very important in the Cameroonian culture. Your village is where your father’s ancestors were born. Even if you’re not born there, you usually have grandparents or great-uncles or family friends living there, and if you have enough money to do so you must regularly visit your village. And usually, when people earn enough money, they send money to their village so that people living there can have a better life, build more houses and schools etc.

Cameroonian food is very diverse, and varies depending on the region. The national dish is Ndolé, a dish made with ndolé leaves, stewed nuts, and meat (fish, beef or shrimps). Other common foods are bobolo and miondo (food made out of fermented manioc), soya (spicy grilled meat on skewers), and plantain. My dad is half-french though, so at home we eat almost as much french food as cameroonian food (crème brûlée, shepherd’s pie, beef bourguignon, A LOT of bread and cheese).

  • Language

There are hundreds of different languages, but the official languages are French and English. Cameroon was colonized by France and England so Northern Cameroon mainly speaks english and central/southern Cameroon mainly speaks french. Most people also speak their ethnic group’s language. I don’t know how to speak Bassa, though, because neither do my parents. When me and my siblings were kids, our dad asked our baby-sitter to teach us, but she could only do so much and I only remember a few words.

  • Beauty Standards

Like most countries, there is a lot of colorism in Cameroon based on European beauty standards. When you’re a woman, the lighter you are, the prettier and more desirable you are considered. Dark skinned women are often mocked and considered not as pretty. A lot of people, mainly women but also men, use dangerous products to lighten their skin. Internalized racism and white beauty standards are very insidious, and a lot of people want to look like white people, including me when I was younger. As a kid I remember wishing i was a pretty blonde-haired blue-eyed white girl like the heroines of the books i was reading. Growing up I stopped wishing that, but I relaxed and straightened my hair a lot, wanting to have long straight hair without realizing that it was still an attempt to look like the ideal version of a white girl. I’m sure that if I had more black female characters to relate to when I was growing up, I wouldn’t have spend so many years hating myself without even realizing I was doing it.

Also, Cameroonians usually consider thick, curvy women to be the ideal beauty standard. But being thin is still an ideal broadcast by the media (especially that american and european media are heavily broadcast and consumed in Cameroon) so most women still diet a lot and go to the gym to lose weight.

  • Clothing

Women wear a lot of skirts and dresses, be it casual or for work. Most cameroonian schools have uniforms and mandatory hairstyles (either cornrows or short shaved hair).

Elderly people often wear more traditional clothes and outfits. The most prominent traditional item of clothing is the Kaba. The Kaba is a long dress made of wax fabric and other materials and is owned by pretty much every woman. The dress looks different depending on the situation : the Kaba you wear when you stay at home is usually very long and very loose, the Kaba you wear during official/formal events is more tight-fitting and stylized, etc.

  • Dating and Relationships

I’ve never dated anyone, but when I was in high school none of my friends ever told their parents they were seeing someone. Having your parents know about and meet the person you’re dating after only a few weeks or months is something that just doesn’t happen (unless someone gets pregnant). It’s when things get serious that you introduce them to your family. Also, a lot of parents would prefer their children to marry someone from the same ethnic group.

Homosexuality is still illegal there, and you can go to jail for being gay.

  • Home/Family life

My parents are still happily married, and I have 3 siblings. My parents are both close to their siblings, and I’m close to mine. Me and my siblings grew up with our cousins, we were always at each other’s houses. I pretty much consider most of my cousins as extra siblings. We have a very big extended family and every day I discover new distant cousins, aunts, great-uncles etc. My dad being half-french, when I was growing up we sometimes went to France during summer to visit his relatives living there.

In Cameroon, most people who have enough money to do so send their children to study abroad once they’ve graduated high school. I’m currently living in France for my studies, and most of my high school friends are also going to college in France, England, Canada, Brussels, South Africa etc.

  • Identity issues

Despite being only ¼ white, I’m very light-skinned. My siblings being much darker skinned, when I was a kid I thought I was adopted (i’m not, it’s just genetics). Cameroon being a black country, when someone is visibly mixed and light-skinned as i am, most people just label them “white”. A lot of people would refer to me as “the white” and it always really hurt me. My family wouldn’t understand why i was so angry and hurt, they’d say “they don’t mean anything by it, it’s just that you’re light” but the fact is it made me feel like i don’t belong. I’m cameroonian, i’ve lived in Cameroon almost my entire life, i’m black, and still some people see me as “other”, they see me as white. And so for a long time, I didn’t dare to call myself black, I’d say “I’m biracial” or “I’m mixed” instead because I somehow felt like a fraud. But I’m black and not white-passing at all, and I still experience racism abroad (but I’m aware I have a lot more privilege than dark skinned people).

  • Daily struggles

So I’m currently living in France. On one hand, sometimes white people are racist toward me, or just totally obnoxious and ignorant, trying to touch my natural hair and thinking that people in Cameroon don’t have computers or whatever. On the other hand, when I randomly meet other cameroonians and we start talking, they always assume that because i’m mixed i’ve lived my entire life in France and i don’t know anything about Cameroon. And there’s nothing wrong with being a child of immigrants and not knowing the country your parents or grandparents came from, but i know that if i wasn’t visibly mixed they wouldn’t question the fact that i know Cameroon and lived there my entire life.

  • Misconceptions

Because of how the media depict African countries, a lot of people think that everyone in Africa is extremely poor and starving, that we don’t have electricity and internet and that everyone lives in huts. Which is so false. We have rich people and poor people, we have huge modern cities and regular cities and small villages with huts, almost everyone has access to a tv and internet, etc.

  • Things I’d like to see less of

Cameroon and other african countries being depicted as poor unfortunate countries where everyone is starving and illiterate and waiting for the generous white people to save us. What we need is for people to see us as the humans we are, and to allow us to grow in peace.

  • Things I’d like to see more of

Black african characters being written as the complex human beings we are. Shy black african characters. Nerdy and hella smart black african characters. Mixed black african characters who struggle with their identity. LGBTQ black african characters.

  • Tropes/Stereotypes I’m tired of seeing.

The “savage”, “uncivilized” african. African characters who are aggressive, dumb and shout all the time. The poor africans in need of saving by white people.

2

Teen in Nepal dies of suffocation while isolated in “menstruation hut”

  • A 15-year-old girl named Roshani Tiruwa died sometime between the night of Dec. 17 and the morning of Dec. 18 in Accham, Nepal. 
  • Tiruwa was inside a “menstrual hut,” a small structure meant to isolate women and girls on their periods.
  • Authorities believe Tiruwa died of suffocation, since she had lit a fire inside the hut —  known as a chhaupadi goth — to keep warm through the night.
  • “There was lack of oxygen as she lit fire in the very narrow shed that had no ventilation,” Badri Prasad Dhakal, the Achham district superintendent of police, told the outlet.
  • Tiruwa’s father said he last saw his daughter around 6 p.m. when she came to retrieve her dinner and bring it back to the hut. 
  • Tiruwa’s death is only the latest in a line of women who have died while isolated in menstruation sheds. Read more

NO WAIT I’M SORRY!

Context: So here’s the lay down. We’re playing a sea fairing campaign and we’re trying to obtain a ship. Our party includes a Minotaur fighter, a Psionic; who is keeping her identity a secret from the rest of the group, two dragonborn brothers a cleric (me), and a sorcerer.  The sorcerer is a sharp tongued noble, the psionic has no patients for jokes and won’t hesitate to melt someone’s brain just for being obnoxious, i.e. the sorcerer.

DM: Okay so you form you party and are on your way to find the cause of disappearance of the town’s livestock. You arrive at the farm in question. There is a run down barn, a few small huts, and what appears to be a tool shed. What do you do?

Me: “I say we search the barn for clues.:

Sorcerer: “Okay let’s split up gang, you and the bovine go check the barn while our robed friend and I shack up in on of these huts!:

Psionic: "It is unwise to trust a robed stranger is it not?”

Fighter: “It’s also unwise to refer to me as a bovine, you ignorant lizard.”

Sorcerer: “It’s fiiiine i’m just joking around; however, hooded maiden the offer still stands.”

Me: “So to the barn then.”

We eventually figure out that their is a nest of giant rats who have been attacking the town’s livestock and stealing food and what not. The entire time the sorcerer continues badgering the Psionic, fast forwarding to the cave full of giant rats. Just got done with a fight everyone’s low on health and we’re about to rest.

Sorcerer: “This cave is a drag, why not head back to town and shack up in the inn? You can bunk with me love! (referring to the psionic)

Me: "For the love of Poseidon would you give it a rest! We have a job to do!”

Psionic IRL:  Sorcerer, make a intelligence check.

Sorcerer, IRL: What? Why?!

Psionic IRL: I’m using Mind thrust, make a intelligence check.

Sorcerer: “No! Wait i’m sorry!”

DM: Roll, she already said it.

Sorcerer: *rolls* …. 1

DM: oh……

Psionic: *rolls d10* I got a 10, how much health do you have?

Sorcerer: “…2”

Table looses it

DM: So yeah the sorcerer kinda grabs his head in agony and just slumps to the floor motionless. He’s dead.

Needless to say this is going to be a interesting campaign. I ended up using revivify on the sorcerer and continue our quest. All the while the sorcerer has been quite behaved since then.

Okay but

Musty forest witch Roadhog, living in a small wooden hut in the deep woods. 

He goes out to gather ingredients for his brews and spells and gets followed by a pack of wild hogs everywhere. They lurk around his cabin too, serving as protectors if unfriendlies are approaching. 

The locals are dead scared of him but all he really wants is peace and quiet, so he chases any visitors off quickly by making the approach to his hut as scary as possible. (Mounted skulls, swampy mists and sinkholes litter the path) 

One night, he notices movement in the mist, a faint orange glow approaching. He thinks it’s villagers with torches come to burn him and his hut so he prepares a warding spell, but he’s surprised when he’s faced with a friendly fire spirit instead. 

The fire spirit is mischieveous, but Mako knows it’s not out to harm him. he hears it giggle in the middle of the night sometimes and knows his ingredients will have swapped places again. He doesn’t mind. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be pranked. Mako never really knew what it was like to have a friend, but he thinks he likes it.

At night, the orange glow of the spirit is a welcome companion. Mako often stays up late, brewing or writing recipes and the spirit is kind enough to provide him with the light to do so. It sometimes even points out flaws in his writing. Most of the time though, it’s curled up in Mako’s fur mantle, warm and cosy against his cheek. It’s fire burns bright, but it never hurts Mako. The little sighs of content are endearing to say the least. 

Mako often wanders out in the woods to gather shrooms for his next recipe. He thought he left the spirit safely back home today, but when he’s beset by a bear, the spirit jumps out and forms a protective circle of flames around him, the power chasing away the rabid bear. The spirit, exhausted from the display, is taken back home by Mako, where it can recharge in peace. Mako finds himself worried, lectures the spirit that it should have been more careful. 

“Had to protect you.”

It insists. Mako just sighs and thanks it for saving his life. He realizes he cares for this little troublemaker. 

Curious, Mako attempts to summon the entity behind the spirit one night and is surprised to find it is a young man, who tells him his name used to be Jamie. A forgotten beggar that died in the city streets of starvation, but who’s flame refuses to be extinguished. Jamie’s looking for his final resting place, a grave with no name. Nobody cared to know him then.

Moved by Jamie’s plight, Mako helps him find the grave, but Jamie is reluctant to move on even then. 

“I want to stay with you.”

He claims, and Mako nods. A witch and a fire spirit? There have been worse ideas.

THE BEAST // MASTERLIST // REQUESTS CLOSED


Requests: could you do an imagine where the reader is in a beauty and the beast kind of situation and he won’t let them go until they heard that her family was in danger (cause of the Resistance) and he gives her the choice to leave, but they don’t really want to leave? thanks, i love your writing! + I don’t know how to do requests, but I feel like it’d be cool to have a sort of beauty & the beast au if that isn’t too cliche lol???? + Hey so I had this idea after watching the new Beauty & the Beast movie the other day. Ben is cursed by witch lady or Snoke or something and becomes Kylo Ren, essentially UNTIL reader shows up and he goes back to the Light side. Idk. I might sound stupid…

A/N: First things first, this took me like two weeks to do bc I had others to write and this was really long. Second of all, it follows both the animated and live action versions; the characters don’t turn into things, rather, force ghosts (you’ll see), also this is based on Alderaan and you can easily tell which character is who. Anyway, thank you for the requests to those anons! Enjoy!

Warning: Mention of death

Word Count: 10K+ (oops)


The castle that sat atop of a snow covered mountain in the planet of Alderaan was long forgotten–and unheard of. No one dared to enter the land of the cold, seeing as no one was truly aware of its existence with their lack of need to travel the mountains. But, the castle was not abandoned nor was it vacant. Inside lived many souls that had been cursed, one in particular being the most brooding of them all.

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The Right Thing

Imagine saving Gaston after he nearly died and nursing him back to health

A/N: Again, this had to be done… I saw the movie for a second time… There will more then likely have a part 2

Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock

You had found him, most would have believed he was dead but you weren’t so easy to give up on someone. You had brought him to your small hut in the woods, you nursed his wounds and made sure nothing was seriously hurt. You could easily be thought to be a witch, your amazing relationship with nature scared and confused most people. This was why the village just wasn’t for you.

You were doing a bit of cleaning around the house, you could hear the saw patter of your pet wolfs paws on the ground

Originally posted by wolveswolves

has he trotted over and nudged your leg, 

“What is it Happy?” you questioned as you followed the wolf. You named the light wolf Happy for obvious reasons, he always wanted to hop around and play. When you walked into the room, you noticed the man was beginning to stir. You quickly rushed to grab supplies encase he was hungry or thirsty or even in pain. You walked back in the room and noticed him looking around, 

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.” you say as you walk over; his eyes snapped to you, 

“Where am I? Who are you?” he groaned in pain as he tried to move, 

“Please settle down, you are hurt very badly. My name is (Y/N), you are in my home.” you say as you set a tray on the nightstand, 

“Why am I here?” he questioned; you smiled softly, 

“You were injured, I thought it be best if I tried to save your life.” you say and sit beside him, “What is your name?” you question; he seemed a bit shocked that you didn’t know him, 

“Gaston.” he said, 

“Well Gaston, are you hungry? Thirsty?” you question; he shook his head, 

“You should rest then. You sustained some bad injuries, you will be bed ridden for at least a few weeks.” you say; Happy slowly trotted over and joined the two of you, Gaston seemed shocked to see a wolf not trying to kill him. 

“This is Happy, Happy this is Gaston.” Happy sniffed the mans hand and gave it a gentle lick, 

“He says hello. He will watch over you while I do other things but if you do need anything just send him my way.” you say with a smile. There was silence. 

“Thank you.” he says lowly; you nod, 

“Please don’t thank me. I was just doing the right thing.”


Part 2

5

Baby Gilbert:

Masterlist


New Orleans was exactly like Tyler described. At least the view you got as he drove you through the Quarter was. He found an apartment for rent near someone called Marcel, claiming that it would help keep the two of you safe.

“I’ll find us more to eat later but for now stick with this.” He muttered, putting a small cooler of blood bags on the kitchen counter.

“You still haven’t told me what your business with your friends is.” You mumbled, going to find which bedroom you’d like.

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Lust & Errors 02 (AU)

Rated: M

Warnings: Dom themes, marijuana usage, inappropriate step-siblings stuff, very light dubcon.

SummaryStep brother, fuck buddy… They were one and the same now. But what started out as some mindless fucking game, quickly turns into something much more difficult and complex.

Note: If you read all this, you deserve a kookie, forreal. The other BTS members feature in this (briefly) and SHOUTS OUT TO TOP FOR MAKING AN APPEARANCE. Also, to clear things up, I switched the ages around and Jungkook is a year older than the OC, Taehyung and Jimin. The three of them are seniors in high school and Jungkook graduated last year so he don’t go to school with them anymore. OH AND THE FIRST SCENE IS INSPIRED BY BLACK SWAN THE MOVIE. LOL BYE.

Words10,036

01 | 02 | 03 | 04.


Four days later.

It was a Monday. 

Humiliation washed over you like a fucking Tsunami. Your chest was heavy, palms sweaty, heart pounding, eyes stinging with tears, bottom lip quivering and a lump in your throat that was disabling you from speaking. 

Choi Seunghyun was an esteemed dance director - known all over the country and the day you auditioned and were accepted into his Studio, to say you were thrilled was a complete understatement. He was every bit professional, focused and dedicated to the art of making well-rounded ballerinas like yourself. Yes, he was tough and ruthless and sometimes even cruel when it came to instructing, never really even cracking a smile, just one hundred percent intent on working hard with his students - but that kind of behavior was what crafted good, professional dancers.

However… With your entire year of knowing him and being his student, you never knew he could be this cruel. After all your hard work, endless hours practicing in the studio, basically living, breathing and eating ballet all for the sake of the lead position in the upcoming show - he had the nerve to take it away from you

You were utterly shocked and mortified by the words that had come out of his mouth.

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Cold Hearted (Prince AU) Part 4

Originally posted by sugaglos

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Summary: After a poor introduction to Jaebum, the tension between you two only seems to grow.

Word Count: 4992

Warning: Blood, violence and smut in later parts.

“When soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.” -Prometheus Unbound

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anonymous asked:

Hello! I love your Gaston stories. I was wondering if you'd do one where Gaston ends up getting cursed like the Beast did (or instead of the Beast) and the reader is his Belle? :)

Pairing: Gaston x Reader
Fandom: Disney ; Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Warnings: /

A/N: I’m so glad you enjoy my Gaston stories, darling! I hope you enjoy your request as well <33

                                                          *****

You were on your way to the neighbor village, trying to get some special fabric for your mother’s birthday next week. The journey with the horse was supposed to only take you an hour or so, but you had to ride through the woods and got lost about thirty minutes ago, still trying to find your way back to the path that would lead your way.

Or any path for that matter.

“Oh, Marié, I think we’re utterly lost,” you petted the head of your horse.

It would still be quite some time till darkness would set in though, so at least you didn’t have to worry about that for now.

You got off your horse and tied her reins to a nearby tree.

“Alright. Let’s see where we are,” you looked up a tree that should’ve been high enough for you to see which way to go.

You started your climb, as careful as possible, which was a little hard with a long dress, but you somehow managed.

You found your way to the crown of the tree that was overlooking the entire forest. With that, you now knew where to go. A proud smile set on your lips that quickly disappeared when you heard Marié neighing. Loudly at that. She was your horse since she was a foal, so at this point, you knew what sounds she made when she felt certain things. Right now, she felt fear.

“Marié?” you began your climb back down, a little rushed maybe, which was a bad idea, since you missed a branch and fell down. Only a few feet, but enough to hurt yourself.

Your horse was still there, at least that was a relief.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked. A deep voice.

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Visions of a Wolf - The Seer (Luhan, pt. 1) [Chronicles of the Wolf series]

Welcome, handsome wolf~ ♥

[ Luhan | Visions of a Wolf ]
   \ the seer

-

The sharp rays of the setting sun made the glare red behind Luhan’s closed eyelids. “Shit…” he muttered, hand coming up to his temple for a quick massage.

Like it would somehow manage to stimulate a better response from his otherwise mute abilities. It was dragging on too long, and the dark made it that much harder to track. Meaning they would have to rely on Luhan a lot more. Too bad he was currently unsuccessful.

“Hyung!”

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Creepypasta #1058: I Always Work The Closing Shift At Pizza Hut By Myself. Last Night, Someone Found Out I Was Alone.

Length: Super long

For the past eleven months I have been the restaurant’s main closer, my shifts never change from 4-11, or 4-12 on Fridays and Saturdays. Since I live in such a small town, my Pizza Hut only deals with takeout and delivery orders. There’s no dine in area at all except a couple bar tables and stools by the main entrance for people to wait for their order. The front lobby is tiny and the kitchen is no exception. The entire back area is pretty much one big room, with a little area in the back that doubles as the prep area and office. There is no break room or employee bathroom. We do have one bathroom at the front for customers, right next to the pop cooler by the entrance to the kitchen.

Now that you know a little about how the restaurant looks and runs, I’ll move onto why it isn’t a good place to work at the best of times. 

First off, I’m one of the only five people that work there. My boss and two of my other employees are contract workers from India, so English isn’t their first language. They never talk in English when it’s just me and them, so I’m always a little out of the loop. My other coworker works only part time since she’s still in high school. So with her there only a few hours a week, I spend a majority of my time working without talking too much to my other coworkers. It can get pretty lonely.

Now a little about me. I just turned twenty, I’m a smaller female and I live about ten minutes away from work. That’s ten minutes walking one way; I don’t have my license or a car. This typically doesn’t bother me, but it does get kind of scary when I’m walking home in the dark after midnight. Thankfully the walk to my house is in a pretty good part of town - I’ve yet to run into any real issues.

Other than the language barrier between me and most of my coworkers, the only real problem comes from the night shifts. Since one person is fully capable of doing all the closing duties, I am left there by myself from 8pm onwards. The real problem with being alone on closing shifts explains it within this very sentence. I’m there all alone. It can be kind of spooky sometimes, if there’s someone weird that comes in. Anyone could rob me or hurt me and there would be no one there to help. I’ve talked to my boss about my concerns, but he always dismisses me saying “I’m a phone call away if you need help. We should not have to pay a second person to do your job.” Jerk.

Last night, I worked my usual close. Since it was Sunday I only had to stay until 11, but it felt like I was there for hours more. Last night my fears of what would happen when I was alone came true. My shift went normally for half the day. By the time 8:00 rolled around I had said goodbye to my morning crew and had already started on the closing checklist.

Weird stuff started happening around 9:30. I was making dough in the back, taking my time with it since there was not much else to do. I heard the beep-beep of the doorbell, and automatically I spun around, looking up at the TV displaying real-time footage of the front lobby. I stared at it for a few seconds, confused. The front was empty, And I could not see anyone out the windows outside. 

Convinced I had imagined it, I carried on with my dough. I greased and oiled five more pans, finishing the stack. I stacked them on top of each other and picked them up, turning around to check the camera again before I carried the dough into the walk-in cooler. My heart leaped painfully in my chest and I fumbled with the stack, nearly dropping them all on the floor. A man was standing in the lobby, peering into the kitchen.

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Runaways // Carl Grimes

Summary: you accidentally get pregnant with your boyfriend, Carl’s baby and Rick doesn’t exactly take it the best…

Warnings: mentions of abortion -



Originally posted by lovely-riggs

You’d done a lot of things that had caused major anxiety over the last 5 years. Slaying zombies day after day, putting down your mother after she was bit, telling Carl you were in love with him for the first time. Yet one of the hardest things you’d have to do was tell your boyfriends father you were pregnant, telling Carl himself actually being the second hardest.

“We don’t have to do this you know? We could just get in the car right now and leave, we never have to come back” Carl joked with a laugh

“No, we have to do this. It’s now or never right?” You smiled lightly. One hand in Carls, the other rested on your growing bump which was actually a decent size for 3 months.

Rick walked in, looking oddly happy and took a seat on the one person chair ahead of you and Carl.

“You said you had to speak to me?” He said and got comfy in the seat Carl looked at you for a moment, taking a deep breathe before he began speaking.

“Y/N and i, we uhh, we’re having a baby” He began “It wasn’t planned but we’re prepared to look after and protect this baby. We can do this dad” It was completely silent for a moment, no one dared to move let alone talk. What happened next truly did shock you and you’re sure it shocked Carl just as much, maybe even more.

“Y-you’re what? Are you both stupid? We’re in the middle of a damn apocalypse and you go and get pregnant!” Rick yelled, his voice full of rage and unkept anger. You could swear you’d never seen a man’s face so red.

“You’re acting like we planned this, it wasn’t meant to happen but that’s my child and i’ll love it” Carl yelled back while you just sat in shock, your shaky hands still resting on your developing stomach.

“You need to think about yourselves here, the best thing to do and i hate to say this would be to get rid of the child” You gasped at Ricks words and tears weld in your eyes.

“How could you say that?” you said broken heartedly

“You’re disgusting” Carl spat “We’re leaving. We’re going to look after this baby, together” Carl grabbed your hand and you two headed for the day, with one last glance at a less angry Rick you were out the door.

“Where will we go? I can’t live out in the forest again Carl, it’s not safe” you spoke sadly realising that maybe the best thing to do would be to rid of the baby.

“I found a small hut a few miles away on a run a few months back. I stocked it up with some supplies, i had a feeling we may have needed it one day” Carl said as you two got in one of the smaller, ready to go cars.

“What if your dad’s right? I don’t want to bring a baby into this world, not with the dead ready to kill at every corner. Maybe its best if we-”

“Hey, don’t speak like that. We’re going to give this baby an amazing life, even with the way it is now” he cut in

“I just don’t want to lose the baby to one of them, i couldn’t live with it” You answered right as you drove past a walker who seemed to be feasting on a once living being. You groaned in distaste and even felt slightly nauseous.

Before you knew it you had arrived at the hut. Carl had successfully loaded it with enough supplies to last a few weeks including clothes, food, personal hygiene items etc. He’d truly outdone himself with this one.

Currently the two of you were cuddled up on the small sofa, your bodies pressed tightly against one another letting the heat from the fire warm you and the house up.

“It’s so cozy in here and i’d love to stay forever but you know we have to go home soon enough” You spoke sadly

“I know… but just for a little while it’ll just be you, me and the baby. Dad knows this hut is here, he’ll come looking when he realises what he’s done” Carl pulled you closer and planted a kiss on your forehead, one of his hands was rubbing circles on your growing bump.

“We love you ya know, we being me and the baby” You replied

“I love you both too, so much” He answered

The months that followed were full of preparing for the little one.

Maggie was beyond excited to be a godmother and helped decorate the nursery when she wasn’t looking after her son.

Rick soon realised his mistakes and came to apologise to you and Carl, you didn’t fully forgive him at first but couldn’t help it once you saw how truly sorry he was for what he’d said.

You gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl and Judith was beyond ecstatic to be a big sister! Daryl even nicknamed your child ‘Lil asskicker junior’ (the nickname suit her too)

Over all life was good. You had everything you could ever ask for and more, even in the middle of a zombie apocalypse you were content.

The Woodcarver’s Magic

The isolation of village life suited the woodcarver. Whirring in tune and whittling with intricate choreography, timber of the forest sang under the guidance of his enchanted hands. In a small hut just large enough to house his great works, he created arrivals and departures, gates and exoduses. Doors of all possibilities were fashioned in that sacred place.

His refusal to take on more than one order at a time was either genius marketing or eccentricity. He spoke with each customer personally and shook their hand, often holding it for longer than was socially polite. Some said he was a palm reader of sorts, and knew what style of door to make for each person based on the way their hand fit in his.

The cost was exorbitant. But workmanship this exquisite and rare was worth it for those of means. Which meant that for some, it was only a status symbol used to flaunt their wealth. For them, the woodcarver often created the simplest of doors. A hint, perhaps, but they generally didn’t comprehend. For others, the door they wanted was a way to close off—to hide. So the carver built them an escape route.  And for a rather small minority, the carver crafted a portal. Where it would lead, was up to them.

Which of those character types applied to the woodcarver’s latest customer was yet to be seen.

The aperture in the third corridor off the main hall was unique. Occasionally, the lord thought the builder of his home had deliberately made this particular opening off kilter just to toy with him. The dimensions were slightly off from the rest of the structures in this wing or any other and necessitated a custom closure. The lord spent many hours searching for the one who could satisfy the particulars of this opening until he heard of the artist in the forest.

The carver’s door fit the open space perfectly. Not a breath could pass between hinge and wood. It was smooth and silent, keeping the room beyond separate from the rest of the great house. Visitors to the lord’s home might think a great secret was beyond the solidity of wood. In truth, the lord just wanted an imposing entrance so as to dissuade the sometimes unruly staff and meddlesome guests from tinkering with his ivory instrument. His plan worked. Wary of enchantments, the staff walked on the other side of the hallway, as far from the door as they could get.

Except for the girl. His ward was often impertinent and did as she pleased.

When she thought no one was looking, she would trace the elaborate design with her fingers, over and over again, an expression of concentrated curiosity beautifying her ever-present grin into a wondrous smile.

The staff thought it strange. She was strange and they called her nosy. She preferred the term inquisitive. Nevertheless, the lord indulged and gave her free reign of his house. She explored unencumbered. But this room, she did not enter. This door, she did not pass through. She seemed content to search its secrets with her palms, as though she were blind.

Perhaps she had been. For a while. So now, she observed with her other senses. Weighed and measured her thoughts. And she felt with her mind as well as her heart. Perceiving more than was visible, her previous volatility was somewhat subdued and the staff couldn’t quite figure her out.

The lord had taken her with him when he met the woodcarver and the artisan shook her hand as well as the lord’s. While their fingers touched, he asked if she knew where the lord desired to put the door. A squeeze of his fingers was her response.

Her knowledge came from hearing. Beyond the door, the expansive room held only a piano. A grand one, to be sure, but that was all. And only the lord was allowed to play.

When the lord was at the keys, she would sometimes sit in the hall. Other times, she would lie down, dreaming. But, usually, she would dance, occasionally touching the design.

The lord on one side of the enchanted door, the girl on the other. Harmony.

~ LKT