I did a thing on Notion. It is like an index with all the playlists, ambiences and subliminals that I found on YouTube or other websites.
I called it the Ultimate collection for shifting. (Yes, you can click, this is the link)
Since I like things to be sorted, this is how I proceeded: It is sorted by DR and Methods.
Under the DR, there is each DR that I'm shifting to or just came to my mind. If you want a specific DR, I can take requests, obviously. There is a lot of links, all sorted being more or less than an hour.
Under the methods, there is guided meditations and subliminals related to each method. I'm also taking requests.
Hope this can be useful to you as for me.
Stay motivated 💗
111
(Everytime a new category/folder is made, imma try to repost this page)
(And please, open it on the app, it'll be smoother and the cover images will be in good quality)
Bones (TV show) had been added under the DR folder ! Unfortunately, I only found ambiences on Ambient Mixer, so there's no subliminals nor ambiences on Youtube.
I did a thing on Notion. It is like an index with all the playlists, ambiences and subliminals that I found on YouTube or other websites.
I called it the Ultimate collection for shifting. (Yes, you can click, this is the link)
Since I like things to be sorted, this is how I proceeded: It is sorted by DR and Methods.
Under the DR, there is each DR that I'm shifting to or just came to my mind. If you want a specific DR, I can take requests, obviously. There is a lot of links, all sorted being more or less than an hour.
Under the methods, there is guided meditations and subliminals related to each method. I'm also taking requests.
Hope this can be useful to you as for me.
Stay motivated 💗
111
(Everytime a new category/folder is made, imma try to repost this page)
(And please, open it on the app, it'll be smoother and the cover images will be in good quality)
Bones (TV show) had been added under the DR folder ! Unfortunately, I only found ambiences on Ambient Mixer, so there's no subliminals nor ambiences on Youtube.
It’s been 5 years since the invasion started. One day, you’re peacefully studying in your little studio, the next day, it’s the apocalypse all around the world. The exact reason of this invasion was never communicated, but they still gave it a name: HZV-3, which stands for Human Zombification Virus – Type 3. Rumor has it that it’s from animals. A virus stored in an old laboratory that got demolished years ago, and every animal around got infected. For the 1st human infected, however, it simply arrived because they tried to pet an infected fox, got bitten, and then everything went downhill from this point. The virus rapidly spread, especially for those unprepared – meaning half the population, thank God it happened on the other side of America. By the time it came to New Jersey, we were more prepared. Just like every zombie movie on Netflix, its propagation comes from bites, and direct contact with infected blood (make sure to have all your wounds protected). The hard part, however, is how it works inside an infected individual. Last time I checked, they can’t really talk, and let’s just say we rather kill them than capture them for experiences… I was 19 when it arrived. I am now 24, surviving in my childhood house with no other than my thoughts and my raccoon plush for company. During the 1st year of the infection, I had contact with my parents, but when I decided to go with Aisha, my best friend, they were gone. Not a single clue of where they could have gone. So, we stayed, three whole years. At least we were two of us. But less than a year ago, Aisha got taken by a group of zombies when she was out for provisions. Never see her again. I miss her… Since then, I learnt to defend myself, defend the house, defend my territory, and, since I’m still alive, I would consider myself a pretty good survivor. Call me weird, but it makes me feel heroic and proud, despite the horrendous circumstances and the surrounding loneliness. Little did I know, this routine will soon change…
Just like every other day, I wake up, don’t even bother to eat breakfast – to keep provisions – and turns the radio on, on the frequency me and my dad used to communicate through when I was a child, with hope that one day, I’ll hear his voice through the white noise. But today, I heard a voice. Not his, but a voice nonetheless, which was a rarity. I changed the frequency to make the static disappear and this is when I heard it:
“… For every survivor hearing us right now, stay and listen. There’s a camp in Pennsylvania, full of people like you: survivors, who lost too much and want to rebuild our population. There are scientists in this camp, ready to study and fight against the virus. No matter who you are, what you used to be and what you used to do before the invasion, you could help us and make a change. Here’s how to find us…”
I’ve never moved this fast. I took my notebook and wrote the instructions on it. When I closed it, I realized I took my old notebook from school.
“Maya Jay Merrick…” I whispered in a low breath.
I’ve been alone for so long that I forgot how my name sounded like. Seeing it written on the cover wasn’t less weird either. I think it’s time for some change. That’s it. I made my choice: I’m leaving for Pennsylvania tomorrow morning. It gives me some time to pack everything.
My day was a bit more punctuated than usual. I found the biggest backpack I could find in the house and packed it with essentials: every food I had left, the most comfortable clothes I had in my closet, weapons, or at least everything that could be used as, books to keep me busy during raining days, a map, and, of course, how could I forget my raccoon plush.
“Rambley, you’re coming with me, you have no choice.” I whispered to purple raccoon.
Yeah. Hard times indeed. When the sun went down, I decided to go to sleep. I need to be fully rested before my journey begins. For the first time in years, I fell asleep with hopes and dreams filling my brain.
Morning came. I woke up a little later than I would’ve liked, but I decided not to panic or stress it: nobody’s waiting for me. After making sure I had everything – twice – I zipped my bag up. I took one last look around me. It’s the last time I see this house. But it’s for the better. For a new beginning. Before taking the door, my eyes fell on the gun resting on the kitchen counter. Aisha stole it from a zombie cop before killing him. It was her weapon of choice. I refused to touch it since her death. She was a fighter, a good one. And the day she forgot to take it was the day her life got taken away. I shook my head, not letting those thoughts fogging my brain. Without thinking twice, I took the gun and wore it on my belt. This is what she would’ve liked. I opened the door, took a deep breath, and finally put a foot outside. The beginning of an adventure… But the peace was short-lived as I could hear the well-known noises of zombies behind the house, in the garden. I don’t have time to take care of them, and they’re not attacking me so…
“The house’s all yours…” I murmured to myself to not get their attention.
And I started walking, determinately.
August 22nd, 2067 – 9:47am
I wasn’t walking for long when I had my first encounter. On the other side of the road I was on, I saw a solitary zombie, a woman with decomposed skin and a missing cheek, going straight in my direction, muttering incomprehensible words. She didn’t seem to see me, but it’s just a matter of time. I froze in my steps. Me or her…
“Don’t feel guilty, it’s just for safety measures…” I murmured to give myself some strength, as I was picking the gun at my belt, removing the security and checking the number of bullets.
It was full. And she wasn’t far. One bullet will be enough. I placed myself, focusing on her head, locking my wrists and, once she was only at some meters from me, I rapidly shot before I could change my mind and regret it. I muttered a “sorry” when she fell on the ground like a rag doll. However, something bothered me.
“Did they all become non-aggressive?” I asked myself as I watched the body at my feet.
No, she had her hands rose up, she was about to attack me, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how long I stood here, probably for a good twenty minutes, staring at the cadaver, before gaining enough courage to look away. I resumed my walking, taking out my map from my bag to make sure I was on the right path.
5:21pm
The sun was still high in the sky when I started to smell something burnt. I could see smoke not far from where I was. As I approached, a saw a group of people like me leaving a farm left abandoned God knows how long. Obviously, they saw me. They were survivors, every one of them looking as tired as I was.
“Pennsylvania?” simply asked one of them, a man, probably the elder of the group.
I just nodded.
“You?” I also asked, pointing them with my chin.
“No.” slowly answered the man, shaking his head. “We’re just looking for a shelter. Not far from here. My boss’s loft.
Do you mind if I join you for a bit?”
The man shook his head, and, as they started walking towards me, I could clearly see the group: they were seven, the man I just talked to, two other men, three women and a teenager. Poor boy, he looked miserable. We then walked in silence. Despite that, it felt good to match my steps with someone else than the wind.
9:35pm
We reached the loft, and I did understand why they wanted to go: big, well decorated, not too dusty and, most importantly, not a victim of the ruins we saw everywhere around us for the past 4 hours. I could always ask to stay with them, but it might be a group of friends, people who survived things together. Maybe they won’t be fond of a stranger embedding herself in their intimacy. No, I already have a goal. They silently gave me a glass of water from the sink, not polluted – a miracle – and, after a quiet and mutual understanding, they agreed to let me sleep here for the night…
August 23rd, 2067 – 9:55am
I didn’t sleep well. I woke up around 1am, turned in my bed repeatedly, thoughts fogging my brain, heart beating faster than I would’ve liked. What if I was making the wrong choice? Maybe I should’ve stayed home? What if there’s nothing in Pennsylvania? What if it was a bad joke? What if- what if- what if-
I don’t remember when I fell back asleep, but the sunlight woke me up. Not a bird to wake me up like every summer morning when I was younger. They’re all gone too because of the virus. The rest of the group was already awake, finally relaxing after everything they went through. Good for them. They deserve it. Like I do. This is why I should keep going. I wasn’t hungry, so I didn’t eat breakfast, the worries of the night still weighing on my stomach. After a few handshakes, a hug from the teen and one of the women wishing me good luck and praying for me, I parted ways, alone again, but happier and more hopeful than ever. I will make it. I know it.
2:55pm
I didn’t stop to eat. I didn’t have a lot left, and I didn’t want to waste any time. So, I just ate my last protein bar while walking, looking at the poor landscape around me, wrecked, until my eyes fell on a gas station. From the look of it, it was surely abandoned. It’s not like gas was refiled and cars were working, so they became kind of useless with time. A vicious cycle. I didn’t even notice that my feet were leading me towards the station, until I was pushing the doors. The place was visited recently, if I consider the mess presented in front of me.
“Thank God they didn’t take everything…” I said with relief when my eyes fell on the shelves full of food.
I strolled in the aisles, looking for everything that wasn’t spoiled yet, which doesn’t mean a lot. I put some candies in my bags, some crackers and nuts, and a few cereal bars. Likewise, I didn’t resist the temptation of eating one right away – blueberries, my favorites, who could blame me? As I was still walking, scrolling through the magazines left – and outdated – I suddenly heard growls that I could recognize everywhere.
“I should leave, and fast.” I said to myself as I was fleeing, the growls growing louder and louder.
Once out, I didn’t look back and didn’t even slightly decrease my pace. I heard they had an incredible sense of smell, so the farther I get, the more secured I am. This theory was never confirmed, but I have nothing to lose. I might have kept the same speed for about 10 minutes before finally deciding to slow down, as I had a painful stitch on my side. Either way, I didn’t really have a choice, as the road in front of me was literally closed. Nothing too big, just a turned-over bus… Notice the irony. I started to round the bus, and I realized that it’s quite imposing when you’re seeing it up-close like that… I really need to think about more interesting things. As I was arguing with myself and my thoughts, literally, I was stopped by what was right in front of me: a group of zombies huddled on one side of the bus. I had no choice but to pass in front of them. I tried to be as discreet as possible, walking on my toes like a cartoon villain. If mum was here, she would’ve compared me to Doom in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, her favorite movie of all time… But despite all my discretion, three pairs of white eyes locked onto me, and I froze by fear. A family, a simple family with a mother, a father, and a child. My hand slowly reached the gun: maybe if I moved slowly, it wouldn’t trigger anything in them, and I would be able to leave without even using it. As I slowly pointed the barrel towards the father, the three of them suddenly started running, literally, to me.
“Son of a… I didn’t know they could run!” I exclaimed with panic as I started running the opposite way.
Fortunately, I was still faster, as my limbs weren’t genuinely falling apart, unlike them. Once the distance between them and me was increased, I rose the gun once again, taking a deep breath and shooting at the father. One, headshot. Then, the mother was a bit trickier as she was badly limping from a leg twisted the wrong way. I aimed at her head, but I touched the shoulder instead – not enough to stop her. On the second shot, the bullet grazed the side of her skull, creating a deep gash that exposed a part of a dull brain. She fell a few meters from my own feet. One remaining. I raised the gun once again at the third one but stopped in my tracks. It was a child, probably 14-15. The little girl was also frozen in place before letting out a loud, throaty howl. I couldn’t kill her. That was too much, and she wouldn’t stop howling, louder and louder. I covered my ears and ran as fast as I could. I wasn’t paying attention to where my steps were leading me, I just went straightforward, tears refusing to fall and blurring my vision. Once the reversed bus far behind, and slowly stopped running, throat burning, legs wobbling, feet hurting. I fell on my knees, finally letting the tears stream down my cheeks. I might’ve stayed 20 minutes, between 30, like this, wiping the tears off repeatedly, but they wouldn’t stop. I don’t know how long I took to calm down, but all I know is that the sunset woke me up from my trance. I should leave and find a place to sleep before someone – or something – catches me. I stood up, my knees slightly bruised from kneeling on the pavement, as I wiped the little rocks stuck on them. I sniffled one last time, took a deep breath, and started walking again, slower this time. The weather wasn’t too hot for August, but the nightly little wind wasn’t unpleasant either.
10:58pm
Of course, as if things weren’t chaotic enough, it suddenly started to rain. Not the nice little summer rain, no. It was a full-on shower that fell on me in the span of 5 minutes. But my legs were still aching from the run, so I didn’t go faster. I didn’t really care, to be honest. It’s just water. I put my hand above my eyes to see more clearly, and I saw a big building a few feet away. As I approached, I realized it was an abandoned hospital. Perfect! Once close enough to be shielded from the rain, I put my hand on the big and dirty door handle, but things started to move in my peripheral vision. With a gasp, I turned around, ready to pull out the gun. But the blurred figures kept appearing out of my central vision. I rubbed my eyes and they slowly disappeared. Today was not a good day, and I must be so exhausted that I start to see things that aren’t there… I turned to the door once again and realized that the doorknob was broken. People must have already looted the place. Understandable behavior. I entered the building and coughed at the sudden wave of dust. I took the flashlight from my bag and, with my sleeve on my nose, I wandered in the dark hallways. It was creepy and perfect for those paranormal investigations that flooded the internet once. As I was going upstairs, I heard scrambled voices behind me. I made a sharp 90° turn but saw nothing. Cliché.
“Is someone there?” I asked with a loud and shaky voice. “I know you’re here. I heard you. You can come out now, whatever you are… Zombie, human, animal, ghost… I’m not too picky about that...”
Since I was met with pure silence, I just ended up talking to myself. You really need to rest, girl… On the second floor, I finally found a “clean” room. By “clean”, I mean with not a lot of dust, and I could breathe with my nose without it feeling spicy. The room’s window was broken, which explains why there’s less dust than the rest of the building. But it also means that I’ll have to sleep in a slightly colder and humid environment. I looked around me and moved the hospital bed as far as possible from the window. I didn’t really want to be rained on during my sleep. I prepared my bed, shaking off as much dust as I could from the sheets and covering the pillow with my jacket. While doing so, my eyes fell upon the puddle at my feet. I could clearly see my reflection.
“You look like shit…” I murmured to myself.
Indeed, my hair was sticking out like straw, probably full of knots, I had dark eye bags, dirt on my cheeks still stained with earlier tears, and I looked terribly pale and hollowed. At least I was still human. I stayed like this, contemplating my state for a few minutes before blinking, the remaining dust attacking my eyes. When I opened them again, I let out a scream and violently stepped back, almost falling back if the bed didn’t hold me back in its own way. For a split second, I saw myself like them, with grass-green skin, white and empty eyes, dried and bloody lips and pieces of my face missing. My breathing was fast, by heartbeat faster, and I tried to calm down with a hand on my chest, forcing myself to breathe in and out, eyes closed, until I couldn’t feel my heart in my throat anymore. I opened my eyes once again and slowly stepped back towards the puddle. I was normal again. I think it’s my body screaming at me, begging for some rest…
August 24th, 2067 – 11:35am
I slept a bit better than last night, probably because I finally accepted my situation, and because I’ve made peace with the fact that it’s the best thing I could do for myself. Instead, I started to look forward to Pennsylvania. I must have been extremely exhausted physically and mentally for sleeping this much. After fully waking up, I took my time to get up and get ready, despite the lack of water in the building, and I ate one of the bags of candies I stole from the station yesterday while looking thoroughly at the map. I’ll have to cross a bridge, not far from here. I’ve already walked more than half of New Jersey’s territory. I rapidly gathered my stuff and took off for another day of walk in silence. Today’s goal was to cross this famous bridge and find another place to sleep to avoid any of those hallucinations like last night.
7:46pm
I underestimated the distance on the map. I thought the bridge wasn’t far from the abandoned hospital, but I’ve only reached it at the end of the day. Today felt longer than any other day, as my brain was still foggy from the sudden amount of sleep, as if I wasn’t fully awoken the whole day. And the fact that this damned bridge was further than I thought tired me even more. When I heard the flowing river, a sudden wave of relief flooded in me, and I finally saw the metallic bridge. I stopped before crossing, checking everything around me: the trees, the river, the lawn way too high. Nothing. No one. I should be safe today. They’re calm. I then started to cross this bridge, my feet making a lot more noise on the metallic structure. I was halfway when I made a sharp stop on my tracks. Zombies. I approached the handrail and leant over the metal, looking under the bridge: the only place I didn’t check. This is when my eyes locked on white and glassy ones, slightly glowing in the shadow and the sunset. Unmoving, frozen. There was probably a dozen. What bugged me was that they were not moving. I was literally above them; they could easily grab me if the taller ones extended their arms, but no. Nothing. They were just looking at me. The closest to me started to growl, not menacingly, or at least it didn’t feel menacing. Since my head was almost upside down, all this started to give me a headache, so I straightened and rapidly walked away.
“They’re starting to get clever… I don’t like this.” I murmured to myself.
Maybe it was a new strategy, staring at you until you get closer and then grabbing you to eat you alive. This thought and the fact that this could have happened to me sent a chill down my spine. I crossed the bridge and kept walking, never taking the time to look behind me. What if they were still watching me? Guess I’ll never know. For now, I just need to find a place to rest to avoid any of last night’s events. Fortunately, I saw on the map earlier that a village was nearby. If luck is on my side, I should find a house in good condition to spend the night.
8:41pm
Not even an hour later, I found the said village. Empty, just as I hoped. Some houses were in literal ruins, some had been destroyed by zombies, some by humans. Easy to recognize, humans tend to destroy everything, and for no reason whatsoever. I did visit some of them, looking for food, water, and most of all, a working sink or shower. I tried every sink in every house, ignored every family picture, rummaged through all fridges and cupboards I could find, and I did manage to fill my almost empty bag. I crossed my fingers when I entered the last house, praying internally for a working shower. Even cold, I don’t care anymore. I went into the kitchen, tested the couch, and finally entered the bathroom on the first floor.
“Please work, please work, please work…” I prayed as my hand touched the sink’s metallic handle.
I turned it on, and… YES. Water! I let out a scream of joy; I jumped into the air and everything. Finally, a shower, after 3 days! I didn’t wait any longer: I ran upstairs, gathered a few clean towels that I could find, and checked the remaining soaps. Once everything was in place, I took one of the most awaited showers of my life. Lucky me, it wasn’t cold. Could’ve been warmer, but I’m not complaining, at least I’m not freezing, naked in a stranger’s house probably dead or living-dead or something… I might’ve stayed a good 30 minutes before heading out, a clean towel around my body. I stepped out, squeezing the remaining water out of my hair and looked at myself in the mirror. I’m still looking half-dead (pun-intended) but at least I’m feeling cleaner. I turned around to get my clothes and froze. On the wall, written in bright red (paint, probably), a message:
“THEY THINK THEY’RE LIKE US”
That explains so much. Why they were staring at me under the bridge, why they wait before attacking… Zombies are trying to mimic humans. I’ll have to be more careful during the remaining days of my journey. Not falling into their traps, not feeling guilty, not hesitating anymore. I rapidly got dressed and used the master bedroom for the night, more determined than ever. I’m close to my goal, I can feel it.
4:23am
I was deeply asleep when I heard movement around me. A lot of footsteps, uneven. I woke up, but didn’t change position, faking a state of deep slumber. When the footsteps slowed down, I slowly turned in the bed and opened my eyes. I then let out one of the loudest screams of my life. I was circled like one prey. I didn’t know how many they were, I didn’t have time to count them. I took the gun – that I left on the bedside before going to sleep – and started to shoot at the closest ones. When I saw a gap in the organized group, I slid off the bed and crawled out of the ambush, but not without being attacked. I felt a sharp pain in my back, and I might’ve been scratched multiple times on both of my arms when I ran past them, protecting my neck to avoid being bitten. I grabbed my backpack with one hand and my shoes with the other while running, balancing with the gun that I refused to release. I ran barefoot, arms and hands full of my stuff, not looking back, until I left the village. I finally looked behind me and saw nothing, and nobody. I then sat on the grass and took the time to catch my breath and put back my shoes on. My feet hurt and were dirty, little rocks stuck on them. My throat was still burning when I laid down on the grass and closed my eyes. I probably fell back asleep because when I opened my eyes again, the sun was high in the sky, warming my face. It felt nice. When I sat back, I looked at my skin under the sunlight. I inspected each injury and tried to clean around them with my saliva. Not hygienic, but there was no water around and ain’t no way I’m using my drinking water. It was too precious. To be honest, I couldn't put into words how lucky I’ve been after this event. Not a single bite, just deep scratches everywhere. If I believe what has been said at the beginning of the invasion – when TV and news were still on live – they assured us that claws weren’t a source of infection and contamination. This thought calmed my worries. After a little while, I decided to get up and resume my walking, looking around me, with a map in hand to decide which way to go next. My eyes stopped on a sign. I approached, and a big smile appeared on my face.
WELCOME TO PENNSYLVANIA
Let Freedom Ring
A wave of hope surged inside of me.
“I’m getting closer... I’ll make you proud, Aisha. Wherever you are.”
12:15pm
I didn’t walk too long before encountering my first “Pennsylvanian” obstacle. At least the landscape wasn’t unfamiliar: everything was in ruins, no matter what state you’re in. On my path, I was met with a house currently on fire on the side of the main road. I squinted my eyes to see what was happening through the thick black smoke, and I couldn’t believe what my eyes landed upon. A group of zombies, voluntarily burning a human at the stake, just like a witch.
“What the hell is going on?” I whispered to myself, half-panicked, as if I was trapped in a nightmare whose main goal was to show me the most horrendous, terrifying and unbelievable things that I couldn’t even imagine if I wanted to.
Anyway, I couldn’t do anything: the woman was already in ashes, and confronting the group would be a suicide mission, especially since I don’t have a lot of bullets left. So, I rapidly fled, unknown. They didn’t even notice me, mesmerized by the flames. As if the weather wasn’t hot enough, I thought while sweat started to drip off my forehead.
8:47pm
As the sun was slowly setting down, I took out my map and quickly looked at it. I knew this moment would’ve happened. Here, I had two choices: whether I keep following the road, crossing the whole city and taking a lot more time, or I go through the forest like a shortcut and maybe earn a day or two of walking. I looked at the forest in front of me, then at the map, then at the forest again, and the map one last time. It shouldn’t be hard, just a straight line between the trees, if I don’t move away from my path…
“Straight forward… Got it.” I said to myself to make my brain believe it won’t be that hard, like subliminal, or self-bullying, depending on how you see it.
I stepped into the dark green environment, big trees and thick leaves covering the sunset. It smelled like nature. Better than the smell of burnt or gasoline or decomposing skin… But it’s not uncommon either. Since almost all wildlife perished because of the virus, and half of humanity with it, flora regained its rightful place. Not that I’m complaining. As I was sinking deeper in mother nature miracle, I heard sniffles. Not mine, that’s for sure, but human. I approached from the source of the noise and my eyes widened. A child, not older than eight years old, was sitting behind a tree, knees to his chest, arms around his skinny legs, shoulders shaking as he was trying to catch his breath back. I tried to be careful, but a branch under my feet snapped in two, alerting my presence, and he raised his head up. He looked terrified, eyes red and bloodshot from the crying. He tried to move back but was stopped by the trunk his back was against. I raised both of my empty hands, showing him that I meant no harm, without saying anything. He looked straight in my eyes as I slowly approached before crouching in front of him, close enough to brush his hair back with my hand to clearly see his face. I silently inspected his body. He had patches of dirt, but no blood and no bite marks. Good.
“How did you end up here, sweetie?” I said with a low soft voice, not to rush him or anything.
He didn’t answer, just kept his eyes on me. He wasn’t running away or looking afraid by me, so that’s a good thing… I think.
“Do you have a name?
Evan…” he said with a quiet voice.
“Okay, Evan… Do you know where your parents are?”
He shook his head and avoided my eyes, his tearing up again. Wrong move.
“That’s okay. You can stay with me.” I started slowly, making sure he understood every single one of my words. “I’m going to a place where a lot of people like you and me live. Do you want to come? It’ll be like summer camp. You like summer camps?”
He nodded, and I smiled, standing back up and holding my hand.
“We’re not far. Can you walk?”
Still no answer, but he took my hand and bounced back. His knees buckled a bit, probably from the time spent in the same position God knows how long, but he rapidly recovered, walking beside me, hand in mine, eyes fixed on where his feet laid.
4:14am
We didn’t stop to eat, sleep or rest. It was our final stretch. And neither of them really needed it either. So, when we emerged from the dark forest, big bright projectors focused on us. We met with what looked like a human fortress, created with everything they could find. It looked armed to the teeth. A good thing. As I approached, one hand holding the child’s, the other covering my eyes from the bright light, I saw two zombies roaming beside the big doors. When they both noticed us, they started to growl. The hand that was covering my view dropped to the kid’s eyes. I didn’t want him to panic as I went straight forward. We could easily go past them if we were fast enough. I was exhausted, but hope kept me going, and the thought that I’m finally a few steps from joining allies… When we reached the huge doors, I pushed them open and… My arms fell flat on my sides. In front of us, there is a horde of zombies. A big one. Nothing that we could escape from. I knew it already. I pushed the kid behind me, protecting him, yelling at him to run. I felt sorry, guilty, desperate, disappointed. All those feelings were building up in my stomach and my throat, making me nauseous. We arrived too late. Zombies have already taken over the camp.
We’re doomed…
Hold up a second. You really thought it would be the end? I mean, it is the end, but not the one you think… See, there is one thing you don’t know about the virus, that nobody knows. Maya did arrive in the survivor camp, and she was indeed greeted by humans. I think you’re starting to get it now, but I’m sorry, I must remove the band-aid, and quick. From the beginning, Maya was infected with the virus. This Human Zombification Virus not only messes with their state, but also their brain. Contrary to what you see on Netflix, the HZV doesn’t liquify the brain, but keeps it alive. Zombies don’t register that they are zombies. They see themselves, and the others of their species, as humans. On the other hand, the virus makes their brain believe that humans are zombies. See the misunderstanding? Everything was illusions. Now, let’s rewind a bit, maybe you’ll understand a bit better if I tell you the real side of the story…
Maya was already infected with the virus at the beginning of our story, just like her friend, Aisha. Maya firmly believed Aisha was taken by zombies. However, she was killed by humans, eliminating the threat.
When Maya left to start her journey, she claimed she took weapons. Wrong. This was all illusion. She took nothing. It’s obvious, zombies don’t use weapons. They use their teeth and their hands and their claws. If you re-read the story, keep in mind that everything is reversed. The “zombies” that Maya saw; that she was convinced were using their own body to attack her, were using weapons against her. Do you get it, now? Let’s continue. The zombie noises she heard in the garden when she left her house. Zombies? No, humans, neighbors, terrified and hiding from her. Zombies use the sense of smell to get their prey. Maya smelled humans, but her brain registered it as zombies and made her overhear zombies. Tricky, isn’t it?
Her first encounter who was muttering nonsense… It wasn’t a zombie like she thought, but a woman calling for help.
The group of allies she met on the same days and with whom she spent a few hours with… Do you really think they were humans? Wrong again, they were zombies, just like her, that she saw as exhausted humans. Their communication, that Maya saw as words, were movements and low growls. That would explain why they didn’t talk much…
What about the gas station? Maya thought it was visited recently before her. And she wasn’t wrong. Humans were indeed here before she appeared, but they rapidly left when they saw her arriving. All the food she thought she took? It was nothing. A piece of her imagination that her sick brain made her believe. Oh, and the cereal bar? This one’s funny. She took a bite from a body she hasn’t perceived. All an illusion. Yummy! And the growls she heard and made her ran away? A human, watching her eating, and trying to keep his cool.
The group of zombies huddled around the turned-over bus… Ouch, this one hurt. It wasn’t a group of zombies, but a family. Just like Maya saw: a mother, a father, and a child. But do you know what happened when she thought they were about to attack her? They saw her, panicked, and started to run. When Maya shot both parents, the loud throaty howl that the teen-zombie let out was the human-teen yelling at her to stop… But with or without this knowledge, it was obvious Maya was feeling guilty.
The zombies under the bridge were actual humans, hiding and trying to stay silent. Until she heard menacing growls: one of them tried to call after her, not understanding how a zombie can look down and stare at them, just like Maya thought, but in reversed. Maybe the human thought she was still human inside. Well, he wasn’t wrong…
The fearsome ambush Maya had been a victim of, when she was sleeping, was a group of humans, armed, trying to neutralize her, to remove the menace from the bed she was peacefully in. She wasn’t really sleeping, except if sleeping meant keeping her white and empty eyes open, then yes, she was indeed sleeping. But this revelation might explain why she survived. It wasn’t really luck, more like a superhuman strength granted from the zombie virus. Of course, when she escaped, fighting and defending herself, she didn’t hesitate to bite. Of course, she’ll never know, her brain made her believe in something totally different.
A thing that you’ll never be able to guess without me was the human observing Maya when she stopped at the sign. She didn’t see him, didn’t smell him, but he saw her: questioning her, indeed, weird behavior. I mean, why would a zombie stop a state sign and growl? Maybe it was curiosity? Was it a piece of humanity inside this empty carcass?
The “witch burning”… Yeah, Maya thought she saw a zombie burning a human like her, but none of this was real. There were just simple humans, burning nothing but a farm to keep the “infected” away. And it worked! I mean, Maya did leave them alone…
You guessed it, the child she found was a child zombie. I’m not even sure if his name’s really Evan, to be honest…
When they finally arrived at the camp, the two zombies “guarding” the door and growling were actual human guards, yelling at them to stop: which they didn’t listen to.
But let’s go back to the present time. The least I can do is give you a proper ending. Maya, and so does the child, will never realize what’s happening to them. They’ll never learn the truth, nor understand it. It’s not like other people were aware of it – except me, of course. And Maya will never have the chance to see her parents back. On the contrary, she became closer to Aisha this night, killed by humans. And her brain made her hallucinate one last lie: she died, thinking she got eaten alive by zombies. Ironic, isn’t it? Don’t worry, the child is fine… Mostly. Concerned about his young age, the survivors decided to capture him, in case they find an antidote to cure him in the future. Motto: “Hope is what makes us live”.
I know what you’re asking yourself right now: “But, narrator, who are you? How do you know that?”. Well, this, my dear readers, is for another time. For now, I wish you all well, whoever you are and whatever you believe…
In an old antique shop – a shop that, if you look briefly, could look abandoned – a young woman was strolling in the alleys, uncertain, and the shop owner at the checkout didn’t miss it.
“You look lost.” said the man, probably as old as the shop itself.
“Just lookin’…” answered the woman, barely looking at her interlocutor.
“Maybe I can help make a choice between all those wonders.” continued the man, standing and leaving his former location to join the stranger. “I know every corner of this place. Are you looking for something specific?”
Furniture, not too expensive and can fit inside an apartment, that would be a good start.” she said.
“So, you’re the new resident in town?”
Excuse me?
You are the person who moved into the apartments, 10 minutes from here, aren’t you? Next to the bar in construction?
How do you know?” asked the woman, her attention now fully on the speaker.
“You know, Derry’s a small town, and the new generation tends to flee when they turn 21. Someone your age voluntarily moving to Maine, this is not usual. Don’t be surprised if we ask you a thousand questions about why you moved here.” laughed the man, and the woman noticed he lacked a few teeth.
After that, she brought her attention back to the cabinet she was attracted to in the first place. Simple, practical with all its little drawers, and still in good shape. It would fit in the living room, where she could store her crockery. One problem: its price.
“Do you have something like this, but cheaper?” she asked, putting a hand on the cabinet, a little embarrassed of how her sentence sounded.
“Follow me, I know where your happiness’ at.” smiled the man while passing in front of her to go towards the far right, probably the back shop considering the yellowed curtain drew to hide everything behind it.
Behind the curtain, the smell of old invaded her nose. It was undoubtedly the back shop, especially with all the furniture stacked on top of each other. The woman looked at the stack of furniture who looked like it was perfectly mimicking the Leaning Tower of Pisa, praying internally that they didn’t fall on her. The man, limping, stopped in front of a cabinet almost identical to the one before, maybe a little smaller and with a hit on the corner.
“Half the price. Is that okay?” asked the older.
“It’s perfect.” smiled the woman.
“Well then, it’s a done deal, you can push it towards the exit.”
The woman did what she was told, realizing the cabinet was a lot lighter than she thought. As she was going the opposite way, something attracted her gaze, making her a sharp stop. She was in front of her own reflection, but it wasn’t her dark eyebags who lured her, but what was around what she was seeing. A mirror like this, of this shape, of this material, of this color, you don’t see it every day. It was a mirror who looked ancient, oval, and black. No way to know if it was painted or if it was the material itself of this color, though. But what kept the woman’s mouth shut were the engraved symbols in this material. She never saw them, and they were all around the frame.
“It’s been here for a long time.” noted the man who got her out of her trance, but without drifting her gaze away from the object.
“It’s… Not bad.” started the woman, searching for her words. “Does it have a story?”
A story?” laughed the man. “Every object here has a story, and I remember each of them since I work here. However, this mirror was already here at the time of my grandfather. Unless you know a way to communicate with the dead, its story will always be hidden in the shadows.
And what do you know about the engraved symbols?” asked the woman, her curiosity now tickled.
As much as you.” answered the man, shrugging. “But if you are fond of occultism and want to challenge yourself, don’t hesitate. I’m giving it to you; it’s on the house, for your arrival.
Pardon me? Seriously?” asked the woman, eyes wide, now staring at the old man, who had a sympathetic smile on his face before heading to the cash register, his former place.
“I list everyone with whom I deal with, I’m going to need your first and surname for the register.” said the owner, sitting and picking a pen from a drawer.
“No worries.” started the woman while picking her wallet out of her bag to take the necessary cash. “Ramona Montoya.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ramona. There’s a lot of gossips here, so don’t be surprised if half the town know your name by the end of the week.”
The said Ramona checked out, and, after friendly “goodbyes”, she managed to fit the cabinet and the mirror in her car, towards her new apartment. The town was indeed small, and she easily found the street towards her building. Once arrived, she got the help of a neighbor to set her two purchases up and, like planned, the cabinet ended up in the living room. The mirror, however, found its place in the hall.
The next morning wasn’t any morning. For the first time since she could remember, Ramona wore a button-up shirt, ironed at that. It was also the only one she had with her, and there is no way she misses an opportunity to find a job in this town by wearing her lucky sweatshirt. To maximize the chances, she decided to arrive a bit earlier than the planned time for the meeting. She grabbed her bag and her coat and stopped in front of the new mirror in her entrance, to make sure one last time she was presentable. She didn’t feel this kind of stress for years, and she didn’t miss it. But circumstances obliged… So, as she was staring at her reflection, expecting to see the same face that she saw a few minutes ago in the bathroom’s mirror, she was surprised to see… Nothing. Her reflection wasn’t here. Ramona stayed there for a moment, in silence, staring at the opaque grey in front of her. For a brief second, she thought she saw ripples, and she then put her hand on the surface. Solid. As she was removing her hand, an orangey glow started to appear, slowly but surely. Intrigued, Ramona didn’t dare to drift her gaze away from her new acquisition. The orange started to appear, increasingly, and its form started to reveal itself. It wasn’t long for the curious little one to understand there were flames appearing in front of her. She then blinked and squinted her eyes deliberately to make sure what she was seeing wasn’t just her brain playing a trick on her to wake her up. That was a mistake. When she opened her eyes again, she finally saw her reflection. But something was wrong. Her face wasn’t like she used to know. It was totally disfigured, and her neck was black, burnt. Smoke was coming out of her clothes, and her face started to melt. Ramona couldn’t look away, she was frozen, her breathing speeding up, her peripheral vision decreasing, leaving in her field of view only what the mirror was showing her. She felt like she was in a bubble, she wasn’t hearing anything, only a muffled sound that was taking up more space in her ears. She focused on determining this noise and she immediately regretted it. There were screams. Screams of pain, of fears, of despair. If there was a sound to describe Hell, Ramona would choose this one with no hesitation. Then, she thought of her interview. If she stayed like this, she wouldn’t know how long it’ll last, and she’ll miss her interview, and she’ll have nothing, and she’ll have to move again, and…
As ridiculous as it looked, this thought gave her like a boost of strength. She regained consciousness, closed her eyes as tightly as she could, covered her ears and looked away with as much strength as she could, forcing herself to face the mirror with her back. She stayed a few seconds like this, her breathing resuming to a normal pace. Once calmed down, she slowly removed her hand from her ears. Silence. She then opened her eyes and, without even looking at the mirror one last time, left the apartment, locking the door behind her. When she entered her car, she looked at her watch. At least, she’ll not be late for her interview. She’ll maybe be a little disturbed, but on time.
***
“I’ll be back; I’m going to print your shifts for next week. Once your email is saved in our database, you’ll receive them by mail.” Said the woman with whom Ramona had just spent a few endless minutes of questions and answers.
The knot in her stomach that didn’t disappear since her “little” incident finally started to undo itself. Finally, something stable other than her four-feet furniture since she arrived.
She received her working hours for the following week and decided to take the opportunity of a free afternoon to discover the city for a while. She ate in a small restaurant, the only one opened. It wasn’t much, but it was something, especially because her fridge was empty. This reflection motivated her to go grocery shopping, in, also, the only supermarket that she found. Diversity was Derry’s strong point, she thought to herself at this moment. Night fell way faster than she expected and, when she was taking the groceries out of her car, ready to go up to her new home, the streetlights turned on. Well, those who were still working. Even if this town looked bad, with an older generation than average, Ramona felt far from uncomfortable, on the contrary. It was perfect to start a new life. A calm town, where everyone knows each other and where a few strangers would come. For the first time in a long time, Ramona felt lighter, as if she was ready to fight every challenge life would crash in front of her. Until she opened her apartment door and her eyes locked in the mirror. At this moment, the memories of this morning punched her like flashbacks, and her confidence from five minutes ago evaporated. She passed, two big bags of groceries in arms, and she felt relieved when she saw her own gaze in the mirror. Maybe all this was in her head from the beginning, probably because of stress and tiredness. The rest of the evening went by, with a microwaved dinner in front of an old sitcom. What more could she want? Nothing, exactly. Then why did Ramona wake up in the middle of the night because of whispers and muffled screams who appeared to come from the hall? She sat in her bed, listening, in case those murmurs were from outside. But no, they kept going and didn’t seem to move nor become audible nor deciphered. Ramona then got up slowly, phone in hand with 911 ready to be dialed. She moved on her tiptoes, abreast of any movement, until she was a few centimeters from her hall. She took a deep breath and said loud enough, without screaming:
“I advise you to leave before I call the police!”
Silence. Ramona mustered the courage and put a foot in the hall. Nothing. Nobody. And neither the door nor the windows were opened. Her eyes then fell on the mirror. She slowly approached and the murmurs grew louder. Not clearer nor indecipherable, but she was now sure it was coming from the object in front of her. She placed herself in front of it and saw a black and blurred silhouette instead of her reflection.
“I really need to sleep…” she sighed while going back to her, not without checking first that her main door was closed with double turns.
But it wasn’t because of the lack of sleep, and Ramona rapidly understood when the next two nights happened the exact same way. On the third day, she decided to go back to the antique shop to give the mirror back. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her nights while she was about to start a new job soon. She parked in front of the shop, just like the first time. However, what was different from the first time were the planks barricading the main entrance. Ramona stayed there for a moment confused.
“He’s dead.” said a feminine voice behind her.
Ramona turned around and saw an old woman, but not as old as the shop owner.
“Oh. When did that happen?” she asked, frowning.
“Two days ago. The old age caught him in his sleep.
I see. My condolences.” said Ramona, a little embarrassed when she saw the woman’s eyes tearing up.
“That’s life.” she answered, giving a quick look inside Ramona’s car and showing the mirror with her chin. “I fear you’ll have to call a clerk to get rid of this. I wish you good luck.”
And on these words, the old woman left.
“You don’t know one, by any chance?” desperately asked Ramona.
But the only answer she received was the wind that perfectly described the way she just got ignored.
“Rude…” murmured Ramona to herself.
After a short minute’s thought, staring at the mirror on the cargo area, she told herself that it deserved a second chance. Maybe all this was indeed only in her head. The mirror then took its place back in the hall, and the nocturnal whispers started again. Ramona forced herself to live with it, but her sleep worsened, and she felt it on her first day on the job. She almost arrived late and she felt like she couldn’t fully wake up. Her eyes were burning when she closed them and she kept making mistakes repeatedly. Fortunately, those mistakes could be justified by the fact that she was new instead of tiredness and her new colleagues didn’t question her black eyebags. Once this exhausting day was finished, she came back home, with the only thought in her head of the nap waiting for her on the couch. But asking for something to happen normally at least once was already too much. When she went past the mirror, she saw black and dusty stains all over her. Soot. She looked down at her hand and her clothes. Nothing. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking all this would calm her down. But the smell of burnt coming to her nostrils did the total opposite. She ran into each of the rooms in her apartment – let’s just say it wasn’t long – but nothing. She didn’t leave clothes on the radiator, didn’t leave the stove on and didn’t forget to blow out her candles. Ramona thought it was probably from inside or the neighbor’s apartment, but she was too tired to look at the source. She let herself fall on her cheap couch and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long for the sandman to take her.
She was back at home. Her real home, in her house. She had a lighter in her hand that she put in her pocket. She left her house. Now, she was in her car, in front of a building. The building’s sign was blurry. She took one last look at the red jerrycan next to her. She took it and exited the car. It was a dark night, no one saw her, even if she knew there were people inside. She started to hazardously drown the building’s floor with the yellowed liquid. She had no problem entering it. The smell of gasoline burnt her nasal cavity and made her eyes cry. Was it really because of the gasoline? She was now looking at the lighter in her hand. Now, she was outside, in front of the building. The heat emanating from it slightly comforted her. The huge flames were pretty to look at. But she couldn’t stay too long. She had to go. All her stuff was already in her trunk. As she was walking towards her car, she gave one last look to the building, more specifically a window. He was here. He was staring at her, half of her face burnt. He was screaming, but Ramona heard nothing. She simply smiled, a small satisfaction burning inside of her. He should have thought twice before ruining her life.
Ramona jumped out of her sleep, with one hand on her chest from where she could feel her heart racing. She straightened, gasping for breath, still in a state of shock. She looked around her. Night had already fallen.
“That’s enough.” she muttered, teeth clenched, as she was getting up to confront the new source of her problems.
The mirror was here; it didn’t move out of its place. She planted her heels in front of it, and, for the first time, everything was normal. Her reflection was here, unchanged. She wasn’t disfigured, didn’t have any weird stains on her, wasn’t hearing anything else besides her breathing. It was too good to be true. She blinked and suddenly, there was someone behind her. It was him. Ash black.
“You…” started Ramona, frowning.
She saw red and violently turned around, fist raised. Nothing. Once again. Shaking more because of anger than fear, she brought her gaze back to the mirror, and there, multiple people, in the same state, were circling her, staring at her.
“Enough!” she said a bit louder, as if they could hear her.
On this word, she grabbed the mirror without thinking a second longer, opened the bay window that overlooked her balcony and, once sure no one was down there, she dropped the mirror above the void. She looked at it fall, then break into pieces. It was almost satisfactory. She looked up at the stary sky. It was over. All this was over. It was in the past. She could now focus on the present. With this thought, she smiled and went to sleep, ready to spend one of the best nights she ever had since she arrived in this small town. She arrived at work the next day, rested and full of ambitions. She excelled in her tasks and the mistakes she had made the day before were already forgotten. The day went by a lot faster than yesterday, and before she even noticed, she was already clocking out the end of her shift, a satisfied smile on her face. On the way back, she danced and sang along to the music on the radio, and she was still humming the last one she heard while unlocking her front door. Then, she stopped in her tracks. The mirror was back, on the wall, untouched, as if nothing really happened last night. Her gaze then shifted to the floor, from where she could see bare footprints, powdery and black, going from the mirror to the bay window. Someone came to put it back. Someone broke into her house. She then rummaged the apartment from top to bottom but found nothing. Not even other traces. She hesitated to call the police but noticed that the bay window was locked. How was it possible?
Ramona found no answers to her questions for the following days and nights. She tried to get rid of the mirror a second time, but the next day, it was back in the hall. So, she gave up, her night tormented once again by whispers and screams that were no longer haunting her nightmares, but also her reality now, and her work shifts were increasingly tiring.
This night was the last straw. Bottles of beer were piled up next to the couch where Ramona was slouched. Unfortunately, it was her new habit before going to sleep. She would drop dead like a mess on her bed and would wake up in the morning with little to no memories of the evening, perfect if something weird had happened. Then, the mutter started. With a sigh and tired eyes, she stared at her reflection on the turned-off TV in front of her. Then, she could understand her name in the whispers, said by a man voice. His voice. Her blood boiled and she suddenly got up, murmuring insults. Her head was spinning, but she was still conscious of her actions. She got closer to the mirror, bracing once again for horror. But much to her surprise, once she was in front of it, she saw a sunny version of herself, surrounded by friends and family. To be honest, she didn’t ask for any news from them since she left. No, even before, since the fire. Her eyes started to sting. Tempted and intrigued, she approached her hand towards the mirror. But she rapidly noticed that her fingers were starting to get swallowed by the mirror. Her first instinct was to pull her hand back. Impossible. She was like stuck. She pulled with all her strength, and it ended up giving up, with a cracking noise. With the impulse, she violently stepped back, almost falling on the floor. Thanks to the wall, she thought while correctly stabilizing herself. She felt something dripping in her hand. She looked down and saw blood running down her hand, tightened in a fist. She then opened her hand and saw a piece of the mirror that she brought back with her. She looked at it: it was, indeed, broken, the corner she had in her hand revealing a hole, and behind it, a piercing black, an interstellar space. After a very short reflection, she went to gather a sheet in her laundry and covered the mirror. This solution seemed so logical on the moment that she asked herself why she didn’t think of it before.
But it was too simple for it to last. Indeed, now that the mirror has broken up, it has become stronger, now able to interact with reality. Since the sheet wasn’t moving, it took some time for Ramona to notice, but a thick and black fog was “escaping” from the mirror and slowly darkened the apartment. Ramona noticed when her shoes disappeared in the thick fog. She looked around her. She wasn’t understanding what was happening, everything happened so fast. Then, as the fog was going up, she could discern shapes. Men, women, with different height and weight circling her. And the murmurs started again. But this time, Ramona could clearly discern what they were waying:
“We were innocent.” started a feminine voice.
“I’m sure she liked it.” said another voice, one of a man, this time.
Ramona kept rotating on her own body, searching for an escape. But the fog was thick, almost suffocating, and coming closer to her. They were getting closer, without stopping talking.
“Are you satisfied?”
Did you obtain what you wanted?
At the cost of our lives?” finally asked a voice, one of a kid this time, and it was the last straw.
“Yes, I got what I wanted!” exclaimed Ramona, eyes closed, hoping that all of this was only a bad dream. “I got him! He destroyed my life, so I destroyed his life! You were only strangers to me, grains of sand, so yes, I had no regrets! And I still don’t, so get out of my head once and for all! Go burn elsewhere!”
She screamed those last words, to the point where her voice cracked. It felt good to admit it. To admit it to herself. When she opened her eyes, there was nothing. Everything was back to normal. Still pumping with adrenaline, she cried out, facing the mirror with a triumphant smile on her face:
“So, this is it? That’s all I had to do? Express my so-called regrets to get rid of you?”
As she started to laugh at the stupidity of what had just happened, an alarm was ringing not far. No, it was more of a siren. A police siren, more precisely, noticed Ramona as she was seeing red and blue blinking lights far away.
“Just what I needed…” she murmured to herself.
Someone in the usually silent building most probably heard her scream. On the surge pressure, Ramona totally forgot that the walls here were in papier-mâché. Maybe someone made the link with what she had said and suspected her? Or they thought someone broke into her house? Multiple theories appeared in Ramona’s head, but none ended well, since police will come soon. Because they’ll eventually make the link. She looked at the mirror once again. She had two options; either she was getting arrested by the police for her crime, or she agreed to get engulfed by the mirror to escape, not knowing what was awaiting. No. She refused to let this damned mirror win after she finally beat it. She’ll confront the consequences of her actions, face them with bravery, and with no regrets. With this thought in mind, she got closer to the mirror and looked at her reflection one last time. Despite her tired face and her appearance that would give her pity looks in the street, a certain determination was glowing in her eyes. She took a deep breath, clutched her fist and she targeted the middle of the mirror with all her strength, smashing it in multiple pieces, all different sizes. At least, she’ll be safe in prison. And then, everything went fast. Or slowly. Ramona had no idea, it was mostly blurry, to be honest. She remembered getting piked-up – someone genuinely made the link. And despite everything, she finally felt at peace with herself. She was handcuffed behind the police car, head low, and with a police officer next to her, gun charged up, in case she would attempt anything. And then…
“You really thought you would get rid of me? Poor girl, I’m still here.” said a masculine voice in her ear, that she could recognize everywhere.
He was laughing while Ramona was freezing on the spot. The man who haunted her alive, that she killed at the cost of innocent live, who kept haunting her through a goddamn mirror, mirror that she managed to beat… Came back to haunt her. She slowly raised her head, shaking, and looked at her reflection through the car’s rear-view mirror. There, she saw him, right behind her, one eye, burnt, that she also could recognize everywhere, but there was no way to say if it was in the mirror or in her head.
“Billy! I’ve been expecting you! Come on, enter!” said the woman, unusually cheerful for someone in her thirties.
Her way of dressing up was also eccentric for her age. Her tan skin did not perfectly match with the all-black dress she was wearing, as well as her long black boots. A white ribbon decorated the dress and big round glasses were placed in the middle of her face. Even though, Billy did not find her bad looking, he even thought she had a certain charm for someone of her age.
However, the problem was what she said. Billy has a perfect memory and never met this woman in his life. How did she know his name? How did she know he was coming? Multiple questions crowded his little brain. It was interrupted by the woman’s voice:
“Let me take your jacket, the fireplace works well here, you will not get cold” she smiled as Billy gave her his jacket, placing his suitcase next to the sofa.
Billy had already seen the interior of the house through the window, so he just watched the flames inside the chimney dancing together. It was calm. Only the cracking of the wood burning was filling the silent room.
“Would you like something to drink? I have coffee, hot chocolate, tea, even alcohol, but I think you’re too young for that” suddenly said the woman.
Billy jumped. He did not hear her coming back and was a little taken aback. He thought for a few seconds before answering:
“I would like…
- Coffee with a drop of milk? I got you! said the woman, leaving once again the room.
- Coffee with drop of milk, exactly… repeated the boy.
This was strange. Another thing that was strange was this door he hasn’t seen through the window ten minutes before. The door was grey, contrasting with the warm color the rest of the room offered. At least, it suits with the clothes of the strange lady. As he got closer to the door, the feminine voice boomed from the kitchen, assumed Billy:
“I have already prepared your room, if I remember well, you’re staying 2 weeks, am I right?
- Uh… Y-Yeah! stuttered Billy, more concerned than surprised of the knowledge of the woman. By the way, I don’t think I’ve caught your name, dared to ask Billy.
- Don’t worry, it happens sometimes. You can call me Cassandra. Or Cassie, whatever you want.”
As she talked, she came back to the living room, carrying a plate with some biscuits in it.
“I’m back with the drinks in 5 minutes.” she announced, leaving again.
Billy sighed and looked at the door. She’s not here until 5 minutes, and she said nothing as she saw him getting closer to it. It’s maybe just the bathroom, thought Billy as he put his hand on the metallic doorknob. He turned it and, surprisingly, opened very easily, not even a cracking noise or whatsoever. The room was pitch black. Billy tried to turn the lights on but nothing.
“Maybe the lightbulb is dead…” he muttered to himself.
Looking behind him, he found a lantern, a little flame inside it. He took it, and the dim light allowed Billy to see a little more. It looked like an artist’s room. There were shelves full of paint cans, brushes, burning tools, papers, pencils, everything an artist would need. A canvas was in the center, a drape covering it. Billy felt like he was attracted to this canvas and, without trying to restrain himself, got closer to it. He took off the drape and what he saw was, to say the least, unexpected. There was a girl painted in it. All the painting was in black and white, except the accessories of the girl. She had a blue flower in her hair, a purple shawl, a golden broach, and her eyes… Oh, well, one of her eyes, was red. More precisely, the left one.
“Are you the new painter?” asked the girl in the painting.
Billy was about to answer negatively when he realized that this wasn’t normal at all. It was a painting; how could it talk? And move? Nevertheless, his curiosity was stronger, and he decided to take a step forward. As he got closer, he noticed some face features strangely lookalike with Cassandra’s ones. Like the beauty mark in the left corner of the mouth or the long eyelashes.
“Anyway, painter or not, I’m still hungry. Could you be a good little boy and paint an apple in my hands, please?”
Billy remained in silence, causing the girl in the painting rolling her eyes.
“Can you reassure me, you can draw an apple, right? It’s not that difficult, is it?”
Billy had a bad feeling about this and decided to concede to the girl’s wish. He took the two things he needed: red paint and a brush. He took his time to paint a good apple. Maybe the shape was a little questionable, but apples aren’t exactly perfect in the market, thought Billy to reassure himself. Once done, he got up, painting materials still in hands. The little girl looked down, her little smile never leaving her face.
“A gentleman would never let a noble lady peeling her apple herself, it’s disrespectful, she said slowly. Maybe peeling the skin of your little frame will teach you the good manners?”
Billy felt dizzy, but not enough to stay here any longer. He ran out of the room, fear gripping his guts. He felt something on his cheek but ignored it, violently closing the door behind him, and getting the farthest he could from the door. Everything was silent. He touched his cheek and noticed blood on his fingers. How could it be possible? The fireplace was still emanating warmed smokes. This is when Billy noticed the room before was cold. Listening to what was surrounding him, he also noticed that the only person inhabiting the boarding-house was silent. Taking a deep breath, he found his jacket on the coat rack. He rapidly put it on, gripped his suitcase and exited the house as fast as possible. Once sure he was outside, he looked behind him and what he saw make him freeze in place. The warm and welcoming boarding-house was now half-destroyed, dirty, and dusty. The bright colors of the façade were now dull.
I heard you were taking Thunderbolts* requests? You can refuse there's absolutely no pressure!
What about Bucky with an adopted child, young adult? I don't really have a scenario, just some context that popped when I watched the movie yesterday :')
Like, Bucky can take care of himself, sure, but his child always makes sure he's not living on the bare minimum. During the happenings of the movie, they followed Bucky without his permission but ended up being useful in their own way (because Bucky taught them how to fight, of course).
I know it's a bit abstract, but I've always liked your blog, and the last request I gave you did not disappoint (probably a year ago or something), so I trust your brain can make up something wonderful!
(If you wanna get a little crazy, totally optional, you can make his child a mutant, with wings. Thought it could be funny :'D)
Own it (Platonic)
Summary: Being Bucky Barnes' adopted child comes with challenges. Challenges that boil over in ways that almost make you lose each other, both to your memories, and physically.
Requested by @len-psychofr
Warnings: Swearing, depression, self-hatred, violence, dead parents, Valentina.
"How was the party?" You asked, sitting curled near the window, eating some leftover takeout that Bucky had left out for you to have when you got back in from work.
This was actual work. Not hired gun work, not Black Widow work. Work-work. A job.
Mind you, it didn't exactly pay the bills.
Bucky did that. He was an elected official. You were happy for him, the pair of you making new names for yourselves after pasts you'd rather forget.
You, a shit mum who sold you to some research programme that Yelena Belova found you in. She wasn't in a great headspace, so she asked the Winter Soldier of all people to keep an eye on you.
Yelena had then disappeared, but Bucky had stayed.
A butterfly came through the window, landing on your finger.
"Met Valentina's assistant," he said as he shut the door behind him, "trying to scope me out."
"In what way?" you teased. You knew how people had a crush on Bucky. The way he made people swoon with the simple phrase of doll.
It was harmless...mostly.
He rolled his eyes, "you got a broken mind, kid. Sometimes wonder why I took you in if all you're gonna do is talk shit."
He meant it in a light-hearted way. It had the opposite effect.
You were good at hiding how things felt, though.
You laughed. He didn't read into it.
A proper dad would, you told yourself. Your brain told itself.
It told you a lot of things. Most of them are not nice.
Yet, here you stood still, with a man who was seemingly getting bored of you.
Bucky looked at you, waiting for the dishwasher to be done; you were looking at the butterfly still, smiling at it.
You didn’t get much of that in your youth, he guessed. Time to just slow down and appreciate your life and the life around you. Just survive constantly until the next day.
You heard his phone go. The butterfly flew away.
You finished your "meal" before clearing your throat, "your arm is done."
He nodded to you in thanks, pulling it from the dishwasher, the one he wore to the party being a dud.
You laid on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.
He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. He didn't --
"You don't touch them," Bucky sneered into his phone.
You poked your head out of the doorway, "Kid may be 'weak' but they're my kid. You don't go after them."
Oh. That was...mixed.
He slammed the phone down, accidentally crushing it with his arm that he had just cleaned.
You left the room, clearing your throat, "Everything ok?"
He let out a sigh, before turning around, “Yeah…no,” he was honest, at least, growth, “how much of that did you hear?”
You shook your head, “not much,” you lied, “just decided to come out when the phone got…you know…”
He nodded, both of you deciding to believe the lie. This was something serious.
“Take it trying to impeach the bitch isn’t going well.”
“Language,” you rolled your eyes, “but, no. But, there may be a way to find some people who can help.”
“I can help,” you said, arm going up.
“And, how is that?”
“Because it’s who my mum sold me to.”
“What?!” Bucky was walking towards you.
You took a step back. He paused.
“Sorry…” he sounded apologetic.
He isn’t, a voice said in your mind, he’s just like her.
You cleared your throat, “it’s ok.”
“This is serious, (your name).”
“I can help,” you promised.
Bucky saw it in your eyes, a look that was in his long ago - though it still lingered, the past never fully went away: Redemption.
A want to make it right.
He knew you’d just follow anyway.
“You’re a pain in my arse, you know that?”
“So I’ve gathered.”
You had an attitude today. He just put it up to age. He remembered being in his mid-teen years as well. Anti-authority and all that.
He took you to the garage, where he had a bike. He even donned a new outfit, and shades for some reason.
“You look like a cliche biker,” you said, waiting for him.
“And you look like a hipster.”
You gawked at him.
He got on the bike, you got on behind him.
He held something to you: A helmet.
“Really?”
“Safety first.”
You parroted what he said as you put it on, making sure it was secure.
“Hold on, I ain’t obeying traffic laws.”
“Wow, you’re so cool,” you said, dryly.
He shook his head, with you behind him, meaning you missed the smile on his face.
You set off, tearing through the mean streets and only almost dying several thousand times due to not obeying the traffic laws.
You even got pulled over at one point:
“Do you know who I am?” Bucky asked.
“Senator Barnes,” the officer looked at you, “and here’s your little scrap.”
“Walk off,” you said, the cop obeying.
Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that you had powers? We’ll get more into them later.
“Thank you,” Bucky said, starting the journey again.
“Uh-huh,” you said, not biting.
You drove on, and you did enjoy this part about America, the amount of diverse landscapes there were. From concrete jungles to more empty areas with deserts all around.
“So, who are we chasing, exactly?”
“Some people like us: fuck ups. One of them is the same girl who gave you to me.”
“Yelena?” You asked, wanting to see the woman who saved your life.
“That’s the one. We also got John Walker –”
“Fuck up Captain America, right?”
He snorted at the name, “That’s the one.”
“And the last one?”
“Ava Starr, The Ghost.”
“Cool name.”
“You said that about my name.”
“Well, I was lying then; that, and you didn’t like it.”
He looked at you from the mirror on the bike, you were a kind soul. He always admired that. You were traumatised and sarcastic, but deeply kind to others.
Just not yourself.
You made it. He held out his hand, and you placed a grenade launcher into it. He fired it, and you both rode through the smoke.
You leant to the side, “you got a plan?” he asked.
“Trust me?”
He nodded: of course, he did, he just sometimes wasn’t great at showing it.
You zoomed off, carrying some bombs with you. You placed each of them on the trucks.
All but one went off –
“Oh for fu–”
He fired his launcher at it, it did the job – doubly so when the grenade you had planted went off as well.
“It’s alright,” he said, “you’ll get them next time.”
You won’t, he had to clean up for you.
“You wanna do this one?” Bucky asked, holding out the last one.
He still trusted you.
You hesitated before taking it and zooming off once again.
It worked. The limousine flipped.
You just hoped Yelena survived.
She did. They all had. Even her dad.
You had read up on her ages ago, Bucky had given you her files.
You wanted to know about the friend who saved you.
She didn’t look too different, sans the blue eyeliner.
“You did good,” Bucky said. He’d said it before, but this time he sounded different.
He doesn’t believe it.
“I mean it.”
You just hummed, looking back at the group of misfits.
Bucky called you kind, your therapist called you someone who got attached too quickly.
Maybe it was why, as everyone started to wake up, you hugged Yelena.
What? You only had two friends.
“(Your name)?” she asked, blinking a few times.
“Hi,” you said, backing away.
She smiled, “it’s good to see you again. Even if the circumstances aren’t great. You did blow up our car.”
You smiled, looking from friend to friend.
You felt good. You felt worth something. Not discarded.
“Never apologise, little America,” he said, “your technique was flawless.”
“Uh…”
“That’s Alexei,” Bucky said, “Yelena’s father.”
You waved, he nodded.
You listened to your father’s proposed plan: Impeach Valentina.
“That’s why you’ll go with (Your name) and –”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa –” You shot up, finger waving, “uh-uh.”
You had shifted back quickly.
Bucky sighed, turning back to you.
“So, I told you all that about where my mum sold me too and tell you this and the first thing you think about is impeaching Valentina?”
“She’s a threat.”
“So were - are - we!”
“So we are –”
“Don’t fucking correct me!” he flinched at your words. They had affected him.
“Don’t. Talk.” He didn’t open his mouth. Your powers had worked again.
“They care about this Bob dude, ok? Valentina hurt him. What was it you said to me once?”
He didn’t talk.
“Say it!” your voice had a deep rumble to it.
“That you don’t let those who can’t defend themselves get hurt.”
“Exactly,” you pointed at them, “we’re the best shot he’s got, ok? We go there, we find him and we stop Valentina.”
He agreed. Alexei cheered.
Your ragtag team was born.
You sat in the back of the van with Yelena, Ava and John.
It was a battered truck, with small little holes in it. You looked out of one, seeing an old friend: The Butterfly from before.
“What’s the weirdo looking at?” John asked.
“Knock it off,” Ava warned.
“What is it?” Yelena asked, looking at you.
“It’s a butterfly,” you answered.
She turned, finding a hole to look out of with you.
“It’s very pretty.”
You smiled, “it’s a reminder of what we’re fighting for in this capitalistic hellscape of ours.”
“Sounds a bit commie to me.”
You spun round to John, “Why? You do know that like, not liking capitalism isn’t a hot fucking idea, right? You gonna go all-new Captain America, gonna crush my head in with your shield as well?”
“What, no. How do you even –”
“I live with Bucky, we’re friends. He told me.”
“What are you? Twelve?”
“Seventeen.”
“Seventeen, and looking at butterflies still.”
“God forbid someone has a hobby, John.”
“Look – all I’m saying is, you don’t like my helmet, but you don’t mind them looking at butterflies.”
“How are those two things related?”
“They – they aren’t. I just – I just want someone to like my helmet.”
You hated that you felt yourself tear up a small amount.
Yelena put a hand on your shoulder, “Ignore him.”
“No, it’s fine,” you said, rubbing your eyes, “I’m used to people like him. Besides, he’s right –”
“No,” both Ava and Yelena said.
“World we live in, we just fight to get ourselves through it, until we die,” you looked at him, eyes still glassy, “Thank you for reminding me of that.” You were sincere.
John loathed that you were sincere with your thanks. He didn’t mean to accidentally dig. From the look in your eyes, you didn’t mean to throw it so harshly back at him, either.
You’re not kind, you're nasty and cruel. You deserved what happened to you. You hurt him. Look, look at him. Damaged but not broken. Then there’s you, you cu–
“That’s – that’s not what I –”
The truck smashed through the wall before he could finish.
You were brutal with your fighting: Just like you were told.
Bucky and you even made a team.
Hell, you did with everyone: John launched you up with his shield, Yelena and you went back to back, you flung one person up and Ava appeared to slam them into the ground, and you threw someone at Alexei for him to hook.
You made it up to Valentina after being invited.
“Oh, you,” she said, looking at you in disgust, “I thought I got rid of you a long time ago.”
“Oops.”
“You know,” Valentina said, walking towards you. Yelena took a step forward, Valentina didn’t clock her as she leant down close to you, “When your mother left you in my…care –”
“Don’t believe her, (your name),” John said.
Bucky went forward, but Alexei put a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head: Trust your child.
“She only asked that your name get changed. The rest of it could do what I wanted with you. She took the money and left.”
Ava went to use her ability.
“Uh-uh,” Valentina said, “look, whatever weird protection squad you’ve assembled here for little old (nickname), when - truthfully - I thought you were here for Bob, is all very cute and all. But, guys, let’s not forget here, I’m the one with all the cards on the table.”
She looked to Yelena, “You really do just pick up strays, don’t you,” she cocked her head to the side, “Bob, the little brother; (your name) the little sib. God, you learnt how to do that from Nat, didn’t you.”
Yelena pursed her lips at the words.
Valentina wasn’t digging her grave further, she was just digging the knife deeper into you all.
Bob appeared, in an outfit with his hair slicked back.
“I heard it all,” he proclaimed, “you’ve replaced me already.”
“Bob, no –” Yelena tried to dissuade her friend, but Valentina spoke before she could finish.
“They did, that’s right,” she said, putting a hand on his chest in what you hoped was meant to be a maternal gesture, “they’re criminals, Bob. It’s what they do: They lie, they cheat, they betray.”
You fought for your lives. You were the last one standing.
Bob picked you up by your throat. He looked to Yelena, “So this is who you’re replacing me with.”
“Bob, (brother), no. No, I didn’t –”
He looked at you, “I’ve seen that look before, that want to die. I can do that for you.”
“Let them run,” Valentina ordered.
You barely remembered getting outside.
Yelena was tearing into everyone. You were out of your mind doing this, even attempting it.
She then turned to you, “and you…you deserve so much better, (your name). Better than us –”
“Hey –”
“No, Bucky, look,” Yelena pointed at you, “look at them. They’re a mess. They deserve stability.”
“I know!” Bucky lost control for a second. Yelena backed away. He put his hands up in an apology, taking a step back, “I know,” he said in a softer tone.
Bucky turned towards you, reaching an arm out, “What did he –”
“Fuck off.”
“Language,” the three males said.
“Don’t act all parental to me now Bucky, just because we got our arses kicked.”
“Where’s this coming from –”
“You,” you pushed him, “what was it, huh? ‘Sometimes wonder why I took you in if all you're gonna do is talk shit.’? Or, or was it ‘Kid may be 'weak'’?”
“I also said you don’t go after them.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you spat, “you agreed with her.”
“Who says that about their own child?!” Alexei was angered on your behalf.
“A tired dad who didn't mean it,” Bucky defended.
“Oh no,” you pointed a finger in his face, “you said it. Own it.”
“Own it! You shouted, but this time you didn’t use your power.
“I did – I did say those things…and I can’t excuse them.”
There was a pause. Before:
“If I - if I can have a go.”
“Sure, John, join happy hour.”
“Oh, fuck you, Bucky,” John then softened his tone as he looked at you, “Look, I screwed up with my kid, alright? I was a lousy dad,” he waited to be made a punchline; when no one did, he continued, “I’d do anything to take it back. But, I’d burn the whole world down just to see my kid and wife again and try and pick up the pieces.
It might be too late for me, I don’t think it is for you guys.”
You and Bucky just looked at each other, unsure of what to say.
“Sometimes it is for some,” was what Yelena said, looking at Alexei before walking away. Alexei followed.
You looked to Ava, “So, what are you going to do now?”
She let out a breath, “to be honest, I don’t entirely know. I guess, do what I’m best at: run.”
“You?” she asked.
You lifted your arms before letting them hit your sides. You were burnt out, at this point.
Why did you think you could do this? Help? Look at how that’s gone.
Screams, you heard screams next.
People were disappearing.
Someone was in the sky…Bob.
You moved without thinking. Instinct took over.
You helped zip someone out of the way. You were thanked.
You were thanked a few more times, and someone even shook your hand when in relative safety.
Together, you all lifted a wall.
You were cheered.
Maybe you weren’t complete fuck ups after all.
Yelena stood at the edge of darkness…she walked into it.
Alexei broke down.
You all took cover, John comforting Alexei as he wept.
You looked out at the darkness.
You felt a pull to it.
It was calling to you and –
A hand went on your shoulder. A metallic one.
“If you’re going into it to help her,” he said, “I’m going with you.”
You looked from him to Bob in the sky, to the darkness engulfing New York.
“I don’t fucking care for New York,” you said, starting to walk, “but I ain’t leaving Yelena to fend for herself.”
“We’re coming too,” Ava said.
“If there is even a chance that my Yelena is alive in there,” Alexei said, choked, “then I will fight with all I have.”
Then, you heard voices, “Just, change their name. Pull whatever strings you need,” your mother said to Valentina. You were shaking in the corner of a room.
“Done and done,” Valentina said, shaking her hand, “take her out.”
You learnt that she meant that in two ways when you saw your mother be escorted out, and then when you heard a gunshot ring out.
Valentina crouched by your younger self, “Now, what are we going to call you?”
Valentina, or your mind's version of…well, it wasn’t a warped version, but still, looked up at the real you: “You shouldn’t have made it. But, to be honest, I’m kind of glad you did. Bob would likely have been harder to turn on them if you weren’t here.”
You shut your eyes, trying not to well up.
“Oh,” Valentina cooed, “You gonna cry? Is your…protection squad not here to help you anymore?”
“You’re not real…”
“Oh, honey, no I’m not. But, I must have fucked you up badly to even be here in the first place and talking to the real you. To be honest, I forgot you as soon as I left. Figured that the trash would just take itself out.
“Oh well, adjustments and all –”
“You grabbed her throat, slamming her into the wall.
“There it is. There they are. There’s the monster I wanted.”
“You’re not real.”
“We’ve established that.”
You took your hands off of her throat. You looked around. It was this void that was showing you this.
You shut your eyes and took some deep breaths.
You heard a flutter. Opening them, you saw the butterfly again.
It landed on your hand.
“Show me the way, buddy,” you whispered to it.
When it left your hand, the scene shifted.
You were in the apartment that you shared with Bucky, your home. The only place you have felt safe in.
Bucky rushed you, “You were the runt. You ruined me! All you had to do, was keep your mouth shut, and I wouldn’t have had to be re-elected!”
You were being choked on the table.
Even without his metal arm, he was strong.
You could feel your vision fading when –
“Get. Off!” He was whacked across the room.
…Bucky? Appeared in your vision again.
“Hey. Hey, it’s me, buddy. It’s me,” he rushed out the words, helping you sit up as you caught your breath back.
“How the – how the hell are you here?” You coughed.
“Dad power.”
You chuckled, being down to only small coughs now, “You’re weird.”
“I’m also sorry,” he said, hand on your shoulder, “I didn’t mean for the broken mind comment to come across how it did.”
You waved it off, “No, I’m serious, (your name). It hurt you, it matters.”
You nodded, he meant it.
“Talk about it later? I promise.”
He nodded, he could do that.
You made your way to Bob and Yelena, helping them not get hit by the debris.
Yelena nodded to you, you nodded back.
She then took Bob’s hands, promising that they were there and made him take them to the darkest parts.
He did, he trusted you.
John punched his dad, not using his nickname of ‘Bobby’ anymore.
Bucky punched the high version of Bob before you all moved through the cellar door.
There, you were in a lab. Yelena recognised it.
There he stood: The void. The part of Bob that internalised all the self-hatred.
It moved on you, pinning you all and splitting the ground to create more distance.
Bob declared himself not alone, running and tackling this part of him, throwing punches.
It wasn’t working. It was doing the opposite.
Yelena got out first, using her acrobatics to reach him. She didn’t do any fancy moves, she just hugged him.
John was next.
Bucky looked at you, “You go, I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”
He pushed your rubble enough to let you get out.
You started running, about to zip when the ground shuddered and you stumbled.
Ava grabbed you, “I’ve got you!”
You zipped the pair of you to Bob, holding him in the hug.
“We have you,” you said. Given how he cried out, your voice and power had reached him.
Alexei and Bucky then joined, and together you pulled him out of his spiral and back to New York.
You and Yelena stayed with him. Yelena reached over, hand going into yours.
You squeezed.
Her newly found siblings were ok.
Attached quickly? Sure, but sometimes love worked like that. She cared.
Alexei offered a hand, you took it and were hoisted up.
“I am glad you are ok, little American. Where is Big American?”
“Present,” Bucky said.
“Ah,” Alexei put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, then yours, “you seem to have mended your problem?”
You looked at each other, “we’re getting there.”
“Progress is good, my friends!” He cheered, bringing you both into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t mind it, though, hugging him back.
“Now,” he put you both down, “what say you, we deal with Valentina?”
You were all broken people. Dented by the world and internalised it the wrong way. You knew that, but you couldn’t help when your brain spiralled.
You were all just existing after a mission, and you found yourself on the sofa, lying on it and looking at the ceiling.
You hated it, you thought after this journey you would be complete. Why weren’t you –
“Hey,” Yelena said as she crouched near you, “bad brain day?”
You looked at her, nodding.
She smiled sympathetically, she kissed your head, “Silly brain.”
Bob entered the room, then, “Hey,” he was still unsure, but powered through, “I did most of the dishes,” you smiled at your friend, “but, I left some things…if you wanted to do them.”
Ah, so he knew.
You got up silently, walked over to your friend, and hugged him.
He hugged you back.
You nodded to each other, “proud of you,” you said to him, giving his arms a squeeze.
He squeezed back, “proud of you, too.”
It had been a mantra for you both.
You went to the kitchen, finding a few glasses left and Bucky’s arm.
You did the first few dishes fine, then found your way to the arm.
“Ah, was wondering where you were,” Bucky said, coming up to you and putting a hand on your back, “Yelena told me that today was a cloudy head day?”
You nodded, not having the energy for words.
“That’s alright,” he assured.
Then he looked at his arm, “You’re doing a great job.”
You hummed.
“You know,” he said, leaning against the counter, “when Yelena told me about keeping you, I wasn’t sure if I could do it. If I could be what you…needed.”
You looked to him, continuing your cleaning duties.
“But,” he continued, “I think…maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I needed you. Something to fight for, rather than just an abstract concept of good. I was so scared I’d screw it up, and I have don’t get me wrong.
“But…I’m never going to stop trying to be the parent you deserve. I’m even asking Alexei and - god help me - John.”
You silently chuckled. He smiled.
“I’m proud of you, on the good and bad days. I’m here for all of them.”
You held his arm to him. He picked it up and put it on.
I did a thing on Notion. It is like an index with all the playlists, ambiences and subliminals that I found on YouTube or other websites.
I called it the Ultimate collection for shifting. (Yes, you can click, this is the link)
Since I like things to be sorted, this is how I proceeded: It is sorted by DR and Methods.
Under the DR, there is each DR that I'm shifting to or just came to my mind. If you want a specific DR, I can take requests, obviously. There is a lot of links, all sorted being more or less than an hour.
Under the methods, there is guided meditations and subliminals related to each method. I'm also taking requests.
Hope this can be useful to you as for me.
Stay motivated 💗
111
(Everytime a new category/folder is made, imma try to repost this page)
(And please, open it on the app, it'll be smoother and the cover images will be in good quality)
Bones (TV show) had been added under the DR folder ! Unfortunately, I only found ambiences on Ambient Mixer, so there's no subliminals nor ambiences on Youtube.
I did a thing on Notion. It is like an index with all the playlists, ambiences and subliminals that I found on YouTube or other websites.
I called it the Ultimate collection for shifting. (Yes, you can click, this is the link)
Since I like things to be sorted, this is how I proceeded: It is sorted by DR and Methods.
Under the DR, there is each DR that I'm shifting to or just came to my mind. If you want a specific DR, I can take requests, obviously. There is a lot of links, all sorted being more or less than an hour.
Under the methods, there is guided meditations and subliminals related to each method. I'm also taking requests.
Hope this can be useful to you as for me.
Stay motivated 💗
111
(Everytime a new category/folder is made, imma try to repost this page)
(And please, open it on the app, it'll be smoother and the cover images will be in good quality)
Bones (TV show) had been added under the DR folder ! Unfortunately, I only found ambiences on Ambient Mixer, so there's no subliminals nor ambiences on Youtube.
I did a thing on Notion. It is like an index with all the playlists, ambiences and subliminals that I found on YouTube or other websites.
I called it the Ultimate collection for shifting. (Yes, you can click, this is the link)
Since I like things to be sorted, this is how I proceeded: It is sorted by DR and Methods.
Under the DR, there is each DR that I'm shifting to or just came to my mind. If you want a specific DR, I can take requests, obviously. There is a lot of links, all sorted being more or less than an hour.
Under the methods, there is guided meditations and subliminals related to each method. I'm also taking requests.
Hope this can be useful to you as for me.
Stay motivated 💗
111
(Everytime a new category/folder is made, imma try to repost this page)
(And please, open it on the app, it'll be smoother and the cover images will be in good quality)
Bones (TV show) had been added under the DR folder ! Unfortunately, I only found ambiences on Ambient Mixer, so there's no subliminals nor ambiences on Youtube.
I did a thing on Notion. It is like an index with all the playlists, ambiences and subliminals that I found on YouTube or other websites.
I called it the Ultimate collection for shifting. (Yes, you can click, this is the link)
Since I like things to be sorted, this is how I proceeded: It is sorted by DR and Methods.
Under the DR, there is each DR that I'm shifting to or just came to my mind. If you want a specific DR, I can take requests, obviously. There is a lot of links, all sorted being more or less than an hour.
Under the methods, there is guided meditations and subliminals related to each method. I'm also taking requests.
Hope this can be useful to you as for me.
Stay motivated 💗
111
(Everytime a new category/folder is made, imma try to repost this page)
(And please, open it on the app, it'll be smoother and the cover images will be in good quality)
Bones (TV show) had been added under the DR folder ! Unfortunately, I only found ambiences on Ambient Mixer, so there's no subliminals nor ambiences on Youtube.
I’m doing a Philosophy paper on Asexuality. Please reblog if you think Love without Sex is possible! I really need the data. Like if you think love has to have sex.
Welcome... How are you, I hope you are well. I am Hani from Gaza،Palestine🍉. I am talking to you, and my heart is sad about what happened to me, my wife, and my children. I ask you not to ignore me and to support me until I reach safety. And if you cannot support me, share my story so that my goal can be achieved. My many thanks and gratitude to you 🎀
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #99 )
being a only child is like. I'm the eldest. I'm the responsible one. I need to live up to their expectations. I'm their baby. I know everything. I don't know anything that matters. I'm their golden child. I'm their biggest disappointment. I'm nothing like my parents. I'm the worst version of my parents. I'm the exact copy of my parents. I miss them. I can't stand being on the same house for more than a week. They love me. They regret me. I get everything they can offer. I get their whole attention. I can't do anything wrong. I can't fail. I inherited every flaw they have. I'm a mistake. If they fight it's my fault. Everything is my fault. I'm not that important. I'm everything for them. They don't need me the way I need them. They raised me and now they expect me to be somebody else different from them. I'm nothing without them. I'm my own person. I can be everything I want to be. I can't cross their beliefs. When they die I'll be alone. I have been alone since I was born.
Another weird girl in the world @len-psychofr - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
