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mactavishwritings · 2 years

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Fresh Ink part two

Ghost x Tattoo Artist!Reader

No matter what happens to him, he always comes home

tw: tattoo needles and slight arguing

this one will primarily be from ghost's pov. will switch to reader's pov occassionally. this one is also slightly longer!

part one | part two |part three | part four

The days leading up to the 29th dragged on and on. Ghost couldn't wait to get back into your little shop. Price made fun of him slightly, "I told you that it would become an addiction soon."

The day before the team was suppose to be sent home and Ghost could get his next piece was the final piece of the mission they were on. It should've been so simple, but fucking Graves had to go and throw everything away.

Ghost pictured you sitting in your little chair, waiting for him. He wanted to call or something, but he couldn't. He was stuck in the middle of Mexico, directing Soap to a church. He knew you understood because for active duty soldiers, you did not have a cancelation policy. He always thought it was so sweet that you would do that.

Sitting around a table with the rest of the ghost team, they plotted their next mission. "After this, we should commemorate this shit. We should get little tattoos or somethin'." Soap joked and the team laughed. "We could go to Ghost's girl. She does a fantastic job on him." Price sent a wink Ghost's way and he felt himself tense. The thought of sharing you with the rest of the team made him feel jealous.

He didn't want to share your softness. He didn't want to share your kindness or your artistry. He refuse to allow the others to be tattooed by you, but it was your job; your livelihood. How dare he take that from you.

Ghost nodded. "Considering I was suppose to see her a month ago for my next piece, maybe she can fit all of us in."

You were laying in your bed when your phone started ringing. You were up late like usual, drawing the next day's appointments. You picked up your phone and noticed it was a number you didn't have saved. You usually allowed your clients to give your number out to their friends so it may have been the case.

"Hey this is (Y/N). If this is regarding a tattoo, can you please call again at a better time. It is 2am." You said into your phone, trying to be as polite as you could muster at this hour.

"Why are you up then? Shouldn't you be asleep?" You heard a familiar British voice ask in response and you smiled.

"I was starting to think I offended you or maybe you died. What's up, Simon?" You asked, putting your tablet down. You could hear other voices in the background. You guessed that he was still on the mission that caused him to miss the last appointment he had with you.

"I'm sorry for missing that appointment. Do you think you could possibly tattoo me and my buddies? We wanna get dumb matching tattoos?" While on the surface, it sounded like he hated the idea, but you could tell that he secretly really loved it. He had told you previously about how some of his tattoos were dedicated towards old team members of his who had passed.

"Sounds good to me. You and I can work out a day to continue your sleeve. For this group piece, wanna do like four weeks out? I don't have the book with me. I do know I should be free 'bout a month out." You slightly rambled.

Ghost smiled, nodding along to your words. "Yeah sounds good to me. I can just text you when we get back?" Ghost picked at his thumb again, feeling nervous that you would tell him to keep your relationship more on the business side. "Yeah of course. Now I have your number so I can text you shit about your tattoos." He could tell that you were beaming. He felt his shoulders relax at the thought.

Soap elbowed Ghost and started snickering. "Ghost is in looooove." Ghost quickly thanked you and you two said your goodbyes before Ghost turned to Soap. "I have never seen you so flustered, L.T." Soap leaned forward on his elbows, sighing dreamily. "Shut it."

A few weeks had gone by and Ghost opened the door for your shop. The rest of the team followed him inside, all looking around curiously. Ghost nodded at your receptionist. "(Y/N) in? I actually have an appointment for once." Emma smiled at the group. "Course. Let me grab her. Any of you boys need anything? Water, snacks?"

Soon Emma brought you out as well as some snacks and water. You smiled brightly at Ghost and threw your arms around him. "I'm glad you made it back safely. I worked hard on your half-sleeve!" You laughed.

"Price! How's it been? Lemme see the tat. I wanna see how it healed." You moved on to greet Price and Ghost stepped back, allowing you to greet the team. Soon you led the group back to your room.

Since he had been there last, Ghost noticed that you added a few more couches and just general sitting place. He took the one closest to your usual chair, Soap sitting next to him on the coach, Gaz sitting on the tattooing chair, and Price sat on a bench next to the tattooing chair. "Right boys. Let me know what you guys think. I've been doodling." You smiled and flipped your tablet around to show your designs.

Immediately, Ghost smiled. Most of the designs were serious; Skulls similar to his mask, actual grave markers with dog tags, guns shooting out a ghost. Then there were non serious ones; a cartoon ghost, a small group of ghosts who were holding baseball bats. The guys looked over the designs, all smiling and laughing.

"This is some good shit." Soap looked up at you as you were prepping your work station. "Thank you. I work hard for my favorite client." You nodded your head towards Ghost. Thank god he had his mask on because Ghost felt his face heat up. Soap reached over and nudged Ghost.

Price rolled his eyes and grabbed the tablet from Gaz. "I think we all like the design with the gun shooting out the ghost. I do want you to explain the baseball bats." Price looked in your direction. "Ghost team. Baseball team. Therefore, Ghost sports team. Duh. Alright who's first!" You responded, causing the room to erupt into laughter.

You printed out all the stencils and got them all placed on the boys. Price decided to go first and you got his tattoo done quick. It was a relatively simple design so it wasn't had to get done. Ghost was never able to watch you tattoo from this side before. He was always the one being tattoo, not the watcher. Your arms flexed with each line you created. Your eyes squinted when you concentrated. He felt himself relax in your presence like he did every time he heard the hum of your machine.

Gaz was next. He was the only one in the group who did not have a tattoo. "Is it gonna hurt?" He looked at you with big eyes and the rest of the group rolled their eyes. "Dude, you've been shot before. Grow up." Soap groaned. You laughed and started on Gaz's tattoo. Ghost felt himself tense as Gaz tried to get you to comfort him. It was clear the young man was flirting with you.

After you finished Gaz, Soap plopped down and looked at you. "How many do you have? Tattoos I mean." Ghost was thrown off. He had never thought to ask you. He was sure you had tons that had many deep meanings. "Well, I have two full sleeves. I also have a sternum, a few on my rips, I got two matching pieces on both thighs, and some on my back." You recounted. Ghost had seen most of the ones on your arms. When he first came to you, it helped make him feel at home to see that you were somewhat tatted.

Finally, it was Ghost's turn. He decided to put his piece behind his ear, close to his hairline. Each of the boys had picked different spots and this was an intimate spot for him. You adjusted the tattoo chair and patted it. "Alright, your turn." Ghost lied on his back and turned his head. He lifted his mask up enough so you could tattoo the spot, but didn't reveal his face. You placed a hand on his head softly, running a thumb over his forehead. You started on the tattoo and while the hum of the machine was loud, he could still hear Gaz flirting with you.

Ghost clenched his jaw and slightly adjusted his position, not wanting to mess you up. You suddenly also moved to block his view of the team and your hand rest on his jaw. Once you started tattooing again, he heard you whisper something. "Relax, Simon. He's just messing."

The way you tattooed the rest of the team compared to him was completely different. You were gentle with him. You held him softly in a way that no one had before. He had never felt such softness before and he wanted to keep you to himself. He could feel himself falling.

He could feel himself falling in love with you. Hard.

Ghost's appointment to continue his sleeve came and he actually was able to make it to this one. He had stopped at the local coffee shop before his appointment to grab your favorite coffee. After the team tattoo, the two of you started talking more. First, it was to plan out his sleeves, but now the lines between professional business had blurred.

Emma smiled when he arrived. "Coffee? Someone's really trying to impress her." She sent the man a wink before nodding back to your room. "She's already back there. Go ahead, Ghost." He nodded at her before heading back to your room. You had just put up curtains, after asking for his advice. He was glad you did, made the room a little more private.

He stepped into the room and smiled. You had a stick of incense burning, leaving a warm feeling in Ghost's stomach. You weren't facing him, in your own world. You had music softly playing and were nodding along to it. You were wearing a pair of black jeans that you had cuffed, a black short sleeve shirt that showed off your tattoos, and a pair of black shoes. You soon turned and noticed Ghost standing at the door.

"Si! Is that coffee?" Your eyes soften as you accepted the cup from him. "You're a life saver. I'll have this after so I'm not shakin' with the machine." You put the cup off to the side and gave Simon a hug. He wrapped his arms around you and all the tension melted away. You tended to have that affect on him.

"Ready to get started?" You adjusted the tattoo chair for him as he sat down. He pulled his sleeve up so you'd have full access. He nodded, looking over at your station. You had the stencil already printed out, ready to be fitted. You lifted it up and started fitting the stencil, cutting small dents into curves to fit his biceps.

"Feeling better?" You asked casually, causing him to look at you confused. "Last time you were in, looked like you were gonna rip the little one's head off."

"Oh..Gaz. I don't know what you mean." Ghost immediately got defensive. You looked at him with an unconvinced glare. "Simon. I'm gonna let this stencil dry and you are gonna sit here and tell me why you almost killed your teammate for flirting with me."

You sat back in your chair and prepped the ink. He looked at you, terrified that he was going to have to admit his feelings. He didn't want the one constant kindness to be ripped from him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want him to make you uncomfortable." He said flatly. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. "Sure. Cause I was the uncomfortable one."

A silence fell over the room as the stencil finished drying. Ghost watched your movements carefully. He could tell you had a lot on your mind, a lot you wanted to say. As you sat back down and grabbed your gun, he sighed and turned his head away from you. "I'm sorry. I didn't like him flirting with you."

He saw you nod to yourself out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you. Why didn't you like that?" You asked as you leaned closer to him, starting to tattoo him. "Who are you? My therapist?" You smiled again and looked at him. "In a way. You're always relaxed with me. Expect for that day. I wanna know why. If it's what I think it is, then okay."

"What do you think it is then, little miss therapist?" Ghost turned his head towards you. He knew that you could break him down with a single glance and no one else in the world could do that. He would let you though.

"I think you like me. I think that you don't want to share me, because no one has giving this kindness before so you don't want to share." You said it so casually as if it was your coffee order. "Am I right?"

Ghost remained silent, not wanting to confirm for you out loud that you were correct. "It's okay Simon. I don't let all my client have my personal number to text whenever they want. I really like you too, so it's fine that you don't want Gaz to flirt with what's already yours." Your focus then went back to the tattoo.

Ghost was taken aback. He had always been so afraid to be so vulnerable, but around you, it came so naturally. He wanted to show you every side of him. He reached up and slowly pealed the mask off his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

#simon riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine #simone riley fluff

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lilymystica · 4 months

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Me and my friend made a mdzs prompt in the middle of the night and it came out much cooler than i thought when i read back on it in the morning. We both write but we have zero motivation so you may use this if you like it.

Anyways, the story revolves around Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng because we want badass Caiyi Trio. Our trio was helping an old woman in her house in Caiyi but ended up in a dungeon kinda thing where they face some challenges. Those challenges being:

The gang facing a pair of undead corpse but they all just ended up being a married couple that died in the cave and looking for their daughter who was also dead somewhere in the cave. It was Wwx to suggest they listen to the corpse because he heard them cry for their daughter.

Wwx and Jc falling in a maze, a boulder chasing them (chasing, as in it has a sense of direction and actually wants to flat their ass) with nhs on a high platform. In front of him is a some sort of tablet that shows the whole architecture of the maze. Nhs ended up saving them.

And lastly, a group of rabidd wolves chasing wwx. Wwx was scared af but he wants to just yeet himself to the wolves so nhs and jc could survive but jc said fuck no and let one of the wolf bite him instead, saving wwx in the process. Later found out the wolves need them because a female wolf was having a hard time giving birth.

After all those, they came into a room full of treasure. You know the drill, wwx chooses a flute, jc a whip (it's actually supposed to be a rope but let him have his thing, and, of course, nhs with his fan.

Later, they woke up in cloud recesses.

Now this is where the fun part begins.

A few days later, Wwx just woke up and suddenly he can see ghosts. How did he find out? His parents are sitting in front of him (although they're a little bit transparent). Jc and nhs thinks he's crazy but he insisted till they believe him. Oh, he could see Lan Furen as well. (Lwj saw him drawing instead of writing his punishment but ended up seeing his mother's face in wwx's drawing. Tbf tho, wwx doesn't she's Lan Furen.)

Then Nhs can have visions. My friend suggested we should use sand (nice symbolism since nie's are like– the ground, but nhs is like a flimsy ground so he's sand lmao) as his way of seeing the future. If he'll see a vision, he would hear sand pouring. Or if he looks at sand, there's just small visions. And of course, this is how they see the future war too. However, nhs's vision is not perfect so they only see glimpse of it.

Now jc. Look at our dude just insecure an all because his brother and friends have their cool powers but he has none. Then suddenly a weed in the corner just went, "henlo:D!". Yeah. Jc talks to plants. Not just plants tho, like the whole ass nature (aka every living thing).

So yeah! The bois have different abilities and such. We based these off of what could represent them. Like Wwx is death, Nhs with time, and Jc with Nature (wanted it to be human but kinda went meh).

#mdzs #fanfic ideas #jiang wanyin #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #gonna cry #we're so normal about this #AHHHHHHH

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iraprince · 2 years

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i've been wanting to get into digital art for a while, and I'm thinking of getting myself a tablet for this christmas. Any product recommendations?

i would say, particularly for a first tablet, i don't recommend a wacom, even though it's what i use currently (and what i'll probably get again if/when i eventually upgrade to a screen tablet). this is because, while the quality is great, they're very pricey in a way that isn't proportionate compared to other brands. it was one thing a decade ago when wacoms were often much better than other options, but now other brands have caught up and there's no reason to shell out that much extra unless there's a reason u need a wacom specifically. (i.e. i got my current wacom tablet as a gift years ago, but i would spring for wacom as a screen tablet bc i've done a lot of research on cintiqs vs other options and i think for my job i do need the extra oomph in terms of stuff like screen resolution/latency/parallax — not because a more expensive tablet/better performance will make me "draw better" but bc i spend so many hours drawing per week that better performance will reduce friction and make my job easier. if you're not concerned about "this device is about to be a massive part of my life so it had BETTER be the best machinery i can afford," i don't think the extra expense is worth it.)

also, specifically, the wacom intuos 4 pro is a piece of steaming fucking garbage from hell and its cord port WILL eventually die for no reason, and wacom support will not help you because how do you prove it died for no reason even though dozens of other ppl online have clearly experienced the exact same hardware failure, and then you will have to buy an external universal camera battery charger and remove the fucking tablet battery and charge it once every other day at an outlet BECAUSE YOU CAN'T CHARGE IT WITH THE CORD ANYMORE and only use the thing wirelessly. not that i know anything about that

so!!! with that said. my very first tablet was a tiny wacom bamboo (idk if they even make those anymore?), and after that when i had to replace it i got a monoprice. that was a long time ago so i can't vouch for current quality — pls look up recent reviews and do research on anything u pick — but my exp w monoprice was that it was crazy cheap and perfectly good quality. setting up the drivers was a complete nightmare, but once it was working it ran like a dream without any problems and i don't remember ever having to fuss repeatedly with driver resets, reinstalling shit, losing pen pressure, etc (all problems i have had with wacoms, and still do occasionally). that thing took me through several years of art school and then several more years after without an issue and only gave out when the actual hardware was starting to go from wear and tear, i.e. wires were getting loose and it had been dropped a few times.

those are the only ones i have personal experience with, but i've heard very good things about huion tablets, and they seem like a good middle ground of higher quality than monoprice vs cheaper than wacom.

general tips: get the biggest one you can afford, you'll be using it for a long time anyway and the very small ones are hell on your wrist. consider getting one with shortcut buttons; if you end up liking them you'll use them all the time, but if you don't (i never personally got into using mine!) they don't get in the way, so it's no harm. and when you get your tablet, find the pressure settings (there will almost definitely be a menu that comes w your tablet software, but also check your drawing program as well) and adjust the pressure sensitivity so you don't have to press down super hard!! this will save ur wrist.

#resources

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nachfo · 8 months

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ok time to ask you the same question you asked me, and don’t fuck up this time /j

When did you decide to get serious with art? did you ever expect to in the first place.

I’d also would love to know more about the OCs you shared, is there anything you could tell about their story, it looks so interesting and cool!

"sob sob" Forgive me 🥺🥺🥺 My brain is smooth and I have only 3 brain cells left. This shouldn't have taken me so long to answer.

I think I decided to get serious with it when I got my drawing tablet. That was in the pandemic and since then I've been improving. before I would just make little doodles on exam papers or sometimes I would do little comics. One time I gave one of my comics to a friend so that they could borrow it and they never returned it. I remember I would make like 5 - 6 pages of a comic and then grapple them together. One time my cousin helped me digitalize one of them. I still have that comic (it's horrible). I always looked up to my cousin because she was really good at digital art and she was studying that. So now that I am following her same steps, she gives me tips and classes which we sometimes stream on younow. We have very similar interests and we get along really well. She is the only person in my family I get really well with. Also, my brother was a big part of why I decided to start drawing because he also drew but in traditional.

To answer the other question I'd say no, I never would have imagined I would be doing this and be actually good. I never thought of pursuing art as an actual career and studying it. But look at me now! Before art, I was more into video editing and today I still enjoy it, but now it has passed to be more of a hobby than something serious.

Oc lore under cut :3

Okay, so you remember the characters I drew before? The boy is Anthony, and the car girl, oh shit, I still don't have a name for her. I need to come up with one.

So Anthony is part of a band with his friends (I still don't have names for them, damn it). So in the band there is Anthony, his childhood friend, his brother, his brother's girlfriend, and like two more unimportant people to the story (and by that, I mean I haven't developed them).

So they have a consert, and when they get there, Anthony's friend has a panic attack right before they get on the stage and runs from the building, and Anthony follows him. They decide to cancel the concert, and Anthony calls his mom to pick them up. But it was raining really hard, and while going, Anthony's mother crashes and dies. Just before, his mother gave him a pendant that contained a yellow gem.

Anthony now blames and has hatred for his friend. He isolates himself from everyone, and this has a big effect on the group. 2 years later, and Anthony still can't let it go yet, so in an effort to set things right, they all go on a camping trip. At night, they are all around a campfire, and they start talking and having fun, all but Anthony, who doesn't want to talk to anyone. Then his friend says something about his mom, Anthony gets angry, they have an argument, the argument turns into a fight, and Anthony breaks his friend's guitar in a flash of rage. Anthony realizes what he has done and runs into the woods. They all go after him. Anthony stumbles upon a big door made of rocks with a little hole in the middle to insert something. Anthony's pendant starts glowing, and he places the pendant in the hole that opens the door.

there is nothing but pich dark inside. In desperation, Anthony crosses the door without hesitation and keeps walking. It seems like it never ends until he sees stars all around him. All of different colors. He sees a light on the other side and starts running towards it. And gets to the light…

And thats all you are getting. Now that I am writing this, I realize it is very cringy oh god. This looks so much better in my head. I need to rework this a lot. Oh god this is so horrible. Well this might seem cringy because this is just surface level and i haven't talked about a lot of important things about characters and their personalities. I'll expand more of the story another time. I still need to talk about the cat girl, and there is a whole other world. It's a lot, it really is. This would be like the start of the story, and it is the only thing that I have completely planned out in my head.

#asks #mutuals #my fren!!!#mind scaps #silly rambles

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thefaiao · 2 years

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About two months ago my laptop’s HDD died. I couldn’t really recover anything in the moment, and just left it unplugged inside the case until I could take it somewhere to check if it the files were truly unsalvageable. I wasn’t that annoyed by it. I had backed up most important files relating to game work, and I didn’t care too much about drawings that I already posted. I wouldn’t mind backing them up, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it since they are posted somewhere already. This HDD actually had been on a long journey with me. It, together with the laptop, carried me through a whole year of living alone and isolated for everyone I knew. It had been having problems since forever but it soldiered through most of it. It’s actually impressive how long it lasted, to be fair. But any times it would show hints of death then, I’d have a nervous breakdown. My anxiety and isolation were at a critical level. Drinking some Monster sent me to the hospital for pure anxiety. So all the bad stuff blended together at the time, and I couldn’t bother to fix all of it. When you are living day by day and hanging on by a thread on all sides, every loss can feel very major. It only died after I moved back home. The worst part about losing the HDD was having to reinstall all the programs, and relearn my routine. When working on long-term projects, routine is really the only thing that can carry you further. Games are composed of so many different pieces. The amount of programs you have to use really incentivise terrible habits, like leaving the computer on eternally, or having multiple programs open at all times. When I got my first drawing tablet, my thought process was: “If I put this in front of me, eventually I’ll draw on it, even if out of boredom.” This actually worked. I think that by leaving all the different programs open, I am hoping to finish the game out of boredom. But it doesn’t work as well when you are on your mid-twenties and the weight of life starts creeping up your back. It just feels like you are stuck in some sort of hell, and if you aren’t using those programs or drawing, you aren’t really doing anything. I wasn’t a teen trying to teach myself how to draw like those cool internet artists; rather, I was an adult, with a faulty income source, alone, in the middle of nowhere. I think moving out of my Mom’s apartment was a form of attempted suicide. I think I just wanted to leave the world, make the game or die. Games take longer than it’d take me to die. Maybe I didn’t know this consciously, but deep down I think I understood. It’s hard not to feel like a failure. My parents always let me follow my whims. My Dad supports me, but I feel he sees me as more of a symbol. I don’t think he could describe my interests in detail, or the person I am. I am similarly distant to him, but I know he likes Blade Runner, and records, and running, and pretending to smoke big cigars. I like Blade Runner too. I wish he saw that I’m happy he likes Blade Runner, because I got to like Blade Runner because of that. My Mom does understand me, and is able to describe who I am. But I don’t ever feel she is happy with my choices. She doesn’t mention it actively, perhaps out of tiredness, but she wishes I had a normal job, or had chosen another subject that not games. I don’t think the drawings or the commissions I’ve done mean anything to her. I don’t think they mean anything to anyone outside of my circles... I managed to support myself with them, but I wouldn’t say it was a completely successeful endeavour. I think she sees the game as a waste of time and energy, especially if it doesn’t make any money. It might not make any money. It’s understandable. She won’t be here forever. I need a stable source of money, not just enough to pay some bills, sometimes. I feel I almost got tricked by the world into following my dream. I felt everything was telling me I should be honest with myself, and that I should chase after the things that mattered to me. So that’s what I did, and what I’ve been doing still. I’m not sure where I’m going in life. I think I just heard what I wanted to hear, and I always wanted to chase after a dream. Two days ago, my new SSD died. I had used it to boot the laptop back up after the HDD died. I had already gotten into the routine again. It was brand new, and gifted by my friend to me. I didn’t ask for it, she just did it because she knew I needed it. I often complain about life, but thinking back now, this is truly something not everyone gets. It was brand new. It died suddenly. I lost a good chunk of work on the game. We are getting closer to finishing the demo, so each part is major. I may have lost a model of the boss. This time I did have a nervous breakdown because of the loss of the laptop. The truth is that this past year has been setbacks after setbacks, and I feel my time ticking down. Money worries from both my parents. Dog getting a tracheostomy, and all the medical care surrounding it. Having to live apart from my girlfriend, which I am dedicated to being with as long as I can. Having to constantly move to other places, without any certainty for the future, for reasons internal and external. And death, death everywhere. I’ve gotten the habit of looking at my dog knowing he is living on borrowed time, getting sad, and petting him just a bit. I think that through all of this, I do a similar thing to the game. I look at it. Wonder how much time I have left to keep working and polishing it before moving on. Be happy about how far its come. Notice how much needs work on closer inspection. Get back to work. When I spend a few weeks away from the game I noticed how much I care for it, and how much I like what it is. I don’t think everyone will notice why this matters to me, but maybe that is fine. And similarly, I feel like this about my dog. He may pass away soon, but he came so far, lived fifteen years and had many adventures. And I got to take care of him. So it’s not so bad. And he still barks everyday, and he still takes sunbaths. He still thinks, and decides. The people who’ve been with me despite all of this puzzle me. My girlfriend has stuck with me through these decisions, and always says I am destined to make great things. The programmer, whom co-develops the game with me, has stuck with me and this game, and is willing to keep going as far as we need to make it complete. Things like this make me wonder if my dream is actually possible and real. And that I can brave through all these setbacks. Is the game really that good? Is my work that good? Does it even matter if it is? I often show it to people and they don’t understand what’s good about it. All I know for now is that despite everything, I want to work on it still. I want to make this weird dream come true. I won’t get to play a game like the one I’m making, but maybe someone else out there will get to play it the way I wish I could.

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tyrantzeye · 2 years

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doijg oc infodump hour now bc i havent done it previously 4 a while.... huge tw, see in tags....featuring fune aitsuko & natsuki(unknown lasg name)

so guys yk fune & natsuki the 2 ocs i talk ab the least n are basically copy n paste versons of eachother n therefore are besg friends????? SO UHM HERES A. (HEAD)CANONS B. A CANONICAL N SAD STORYLINE & C. NEW OC DROP TEASER

a. (HEAD)CANONS

1. they tease eachother constantly. but its intellectual sounding as FUCK. instead of going "youre short" they go "you appear to be vertically challenged, i love how it matches your mental state" 2. they do little study sessions together n they eat tea and biscuits n fake british accents 3. they have a pet snake together. his name is jerryl. fune has him on weekends. you will not recieve any other details. 4. fune spends most of her time staring at her drawing tablet n natsuki just spits out ideas at her which she WILL make into a poem later 5. fune has a litrle crush on natsuki (canon) but natsuki is oblivious n ir would be rlly funny in like acomedy show its like imagine phineas and feeb and that 1 girlypop 6. they are basically troy and abed(intellect edition)

b. STORYLINE

our story begins in a library.fune is reading n shit n natsuki comes up 2 her n is like "what book r u readinf" n they nerd out n instantly click and then they text and.hang out again n beckme best friends but.natsuki kept being distant n then they eventually moved in 2gether n every other nighr natsuki has someone new in the house n she has a weapon collection n her room is like not whag ud.expect it 2 be like at all considering how timid n shit both her n natsuki r yk?? they have a talk.ab it n irs resolved(hint hint nudge nudge) n anywayz fune keeps finding weird things n hearinf weird things like she finds a crumpled photo of tbem in the trash & sees a glint of like an eye in the closet door but she ignores it n it escalates n fune kicks her out but ir makes ir worse adn nqtsukis begging her to be let back in bur she doesnt and then.theg try to ralk it out in a public space and instead of talking ab shit natsuki talks ab books n her most recent poems n all tbe stuff she loves ab funes mkst recenr art n then funes walkikg to the bus n she thought natsuki got in her car n left already but she DIDNT and she's following her and natsuki taps fune on the shoulder n pulls out a gun but her hands all shaky ad shes crying rlly hard n instead of shootign her she shoots herself n theres a note that reads...."and i hold the gun in my handsand i pull the trigger but where does it point?i don't remember.i love you - natsuki"n funes confused and sad and grieving n then she finds out that natsuki has a bounty on her head bc when she was younger she did a bunch of fucked yp shit in a different country n she fled n didnt want fune 2 find out and couldnt figure out a better way to stop it bc she was worried fune would turn her in but she physicallt couldtn do it so instead yk........she.....yk... n fune is filled with all this regret & shit n js stops everything she xant draw anything other than vent art n cant get out of bed basically can only feed jerryl yk?? BUT then she does a sbit ton of research n stops the bad guys !!!!!! yay !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (aka i couldnt think of a better way to end it.sorry😓)

BAD ENDINF......natsukis finger is on the trigger, and she pulls. she shoots. it echoes. and she runs. she runs and runs far far away. she runs until her legs give out and shes in the middle of nowhere and shes dropped the gun a while back and shes scared and sad and shit because she wasnt supposed to do that n she sits there and cries until dawn n eventually she recollects herself n just flees again n eventually she dies in like some tiny country with like 50 different names following her

C. cant think of a name. but he is going 2 be besg friends w thag 1 kid on tunelogic n is basically kerenzas brief(platonic) like in paswg. give ideas if u dont mind👺

#camille oc infodump hour #tw suicide #tw death #tw murder #tw gun #tw gun violence #HOLY FUCK THIS IS LONG N ITS STILL SUCH A WIP IM GONNA WRITE NATSUKI MORE IN DEPTH LATER💔#waaa im gonna change their entire designs again too

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 3 years

Note

Well my tablet just died in the middle of me drawing so I'll just leave that to charge lmao- While I was drawing I had another thought though, and I was wondering if the other glamrocks k ew anything was wrong with Moon?? Or that he was being more cruel to Sun than usual considering the brothers are usually so affectionate towards each other? I doubt Sun would really go to any of them about it, but I know in the reverse au that Moon goes sleep in Monty's room for a while just to avoid Sun so Monty sort of knows something is up

God I hate when that shit happens -_-

And yes, they did notice! And Monty absolutely noticed himself. I wrote a little drabble about this, but Monty tried to confront Moon about what was wrong but was quickly brushed off by the robot. He found the way Moon talked about his brother and his job disturbing as he usually talked about both so fondly, ESPECIALLY his brother. He tried to visit the daycare to check on Sun after that meeting, because he was worried about if Sun was alright. He managed to come in when Moon was away, as while Moon was present he would refuse Monty entry because "glamrocks aren't allowed in the daycare". Despite not being close with Monty, not nearly as close as his brother was anyways, he still rather quickly admit with a bit of pushing that Moon was acting violent and scary but that he could handle it. Monty told Freddy, and the two came to visit Sun going as far as to give him a way to communicate with them when Moon was away so that he wouldn't be a problem. Neither wanted Sun to be isolated like that.

While Sun was lenient on allowing them to come into the daycare while Moon was away, he still refused to leave the daycare himself. He was too scared of what would happen if Moon found out he left, due to his strict he is with the rules now.

#fnaf security breach au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf monty #fnaf glamrock freddy #redemption au #sunrise #sundrop #moondrop #daycare attendant

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years

Text

Me: *receives this request*

Me: *sips my 3rd coffee of the day from my raccoon mug in the pitch dark of my room*

Me: My time has come...

Pillarmen (separate) with a coffee addicted, sarcastic, career focused s/o (who doesn’t get enough sleep)...

(under the cut for length!)

Kars:

"Have you eaten today?" The Pillarmen questioned you, looming over your desk in the dark of your Office.

"Yes." You answered simply, not bothering to tear your eyes from the laptop screen or the sea of words it held sitting before you. Kars however knew better than to leave it at just that, folding his arms across his chest as he cocked an eyebrow.

Kars frowned to himself as his eyes took in your workspace, trying not to focus on the fact that was littered with disorganized papers, food wrappers and a few empty mugs.

He would never let his desk degenerate into something even close to this mess.

"Alright. What did you eat?"

Kars clicked his tongue, letting out the sigh he knew he was going to make upon making the decision to check in on you in the first place. He had known very well this conversation would be steered into a direction like this.

A silence fell over the room, your the clicking of keyboard keys stalling for the briefest second before resuming.

"Coffee." Came the answer.

"Coffee is NOT a meal." He said curtly.

"I know it's not a meal, it's a vegetable." You replied without missing a single beat.

He pursed his lips, "Now what makes you say that?"

"It came from beans."

"Something to eat first, then you may finish your work. And then it's straight to bed with you." He ordered, carrying you downstairs to the kitchen. It was late and he knew that if he didn't set these boundaries you would be hunched over, typing away at your messy little desk all hours of the night.

Without another word you were picked up out of your office chair like nothing more than a common house cat and thrown over his shoulder, the massive man rolled his eyes as you whined that you had only a couple more pages to do and you were trying to finish.

He ignored your protests as much as he disregarded the sluggish pounds of your fists on his backside.

Needless to say, he didn't want a repeat of last time that happened. Coffee and redbull brew was a potent mixture he wanted to keep out of your reach from now on, no matter how tired you claimed to be.

"Ok, Mom." You bit back, finally giving up on your futile squirming for the night. You shot him your best glare as he set you down on the kitchen counter, the rings under your bleary eyes only becoming more prominent as he once again ignored your words and your stare, getting right into fixing you something quick to eat.

Kars wasn't a person to be spoken to in that way by anyone (they never usually lived long enough to get such remarks out) but you were much different of course. In fact, your sharp tongue was easily matched by his quick wit; it only made you an even stronger pair to be reckoned with in his opinion.

With only a quirk of his lips as a response to your sarcastic quip, a cookie was shoved into your mouth.

"Here. Perhaps this will sweeten up your sour, my child." He said, now fully getting on your level as he busied himself making you a sandwich.

A smile curled at the corners of your full mouth as you chewed away, your demeanor just a little lighter as sweet chocolate goodness tickled your senses. However, chocolate did little to coat the silver of your tongue.

"Bite me." You spat playfully, a few crumbs escaping your lips along with the words.

"You know better than to threaten me with a good time, dearest." Kars responded, not even lifting his eyes from the cutting board as he sliced away at a cucumber.

You nearly choked on the sweet you were savoring as you doubled over in laughter, making Kars smile to himself in triumph.

Esidisi:

"What are you doing?" Esidisi watched you with curious interest as you began to depart from the kitchen, just seconds after making your entrance, the entire pot of black coffee he had just prepared in your hand.

The steaming pot of rich and buzzing Caffeine was snatched from your grasp in a fraction of a second, you blinked to find squirming tendrils of veins spiriting it away back to your Husband.

"I'm flipping oyster burgers for the King of Spain, what does it look like?" You asked without even a thought, an impressive feat as it seemed like you were mere seconds away from falling over.

Disheveled wasn't even a word to describe your appearance. Your hair in disarray and wearing the same clothes as you had yesterday; you looked like you had been put through the ringer not once but a few times.

"Hey!" You cried, fully turning on him. It only made the smirk at the corner of his mouth grow as you advanced on him, stomping angrily as you went; inevitably you were only making yourself more adorable in his eyes. "Give that back! I need to get some work done!"

Taking the entire pot with you was the most elegant solution in your eyes rather than coming back downstairs every so often to refill your mug. You definitely needed the quantity of this pot if you wanted to stay awake any longer to complete your workload.

"Ah ah ah, not so fast little oyster flipper!" He laughed, holding the pot far out of your reach and pushing you at arms length as you attempted to make a grab for it.

Esidisi was always amused by your fiery determination when it came down to your work and the lengths you went through to get it done but he knew when enough was enough.

"What I want to know is, did you get any sleep last night?" He questioned, a bare brow raising; a look betraying his genuine concern for you in the midst of his jest.

The Pillarman was not going to let you take the pot of coffee all the way back to your office to chug like an oversized movie soda as you pushed through more piles of papers. You had been up there practically three days straight, basically just surviving on the stuff at this point.

If you weren't going to take care of yourself, he supposed he'd just have to do it for you.

"Er... uh..."

You blinked slowly, the raw stinging of your eyes didn't quite help you in forming a convincing response.

You could've swore you nodded off once, maybe twice, at your desk sometime in the middle of the night but you weren't sure for how long exactly. It probably didn't even come close to qualifying as "sleep" in terms of rest.

"Mm-hmm. That's what I thought." He hummed, putting the pot of coffee back in its rightful place. A sound of surprise managed to escape your lips as he picked you up, carrying you out of the kitchen like you were nothing more than a toddler.

"Wh-Where are we going?" You questioned, blinking stupidly and trying to recover from your slight shock.

"Hmm, not Spain. Sorry, you won't be flipping any burgers today, my little spit-fire." He responded, his tone fluid enough to rival your second-nature sarcasm.

Your lips came together, squirming in his hold as you connected the dots. "I can't go to bed! I still have woooork!" You whined, pushing against him as if that would do anything in his powerful grasp. "I'm not tired!"

"Really? Oh, you could've fooled me." He chuckled, the rumbling of his chest against yours only making sleepy shivers dance through your body.

"I just need some coffee! That's all, c'mon!"

"No more coffee for you. You drank enough to last you a fortnight, yesterday."

He was so warm and comfortable, a much better feeling than any sized mug of coffee you could guzzle down would leave you; your fidgeting had come to a complete stop without you realizing it.

"I just..." You were cut off by a yawn forcing its way out of you. "...just a few more... p-papers..."

"Not today you're not." He chided softly, a hand rubbing tender little circles into your back with heated fingers. You knew that he knew it was only making you more sleepy (not to mention more frustrated) by the second. "You're having a sleep, something proper to eat later and a shower and then you can work and drink all the coffee you want."

Just a few more papers. Just a few more papers.... Just a few more papers.... Just... a few... more...

By the time Esidisi had reached the top of the stairs, your struggle had ceased all together and you had fallen limp in his arms; completely and utterly asleep.

The litany in your head fell silent as your eyelids drooped, losing yourself in the warmth of your Husbands embrace as the swaying of his movement rocked you as he walked along.

So many cheeky things you wanted to say died like flickering embers in your brain, unable to escape your lips this time.

Wamuu:

"Beloved?" The Warrior pushed open the door to your office, peering into the dark room with a frown. "Are you in here?"

"No. I'm on the Moon." Your voice (sounding a little worn but still holding that familiar pinch of playfulness) cut through the dark, coming right from your desk where you were hunched over and drawing away; the dim light from your tablet was the only thing cutting through the shadows of your cave.

He couldn't help but notice it was the exact spot he had left you when he departed early this morning to go do some training.

Warm, golden light shrouded you and your cluttered desk area, making you blink in surprise. You hadn't really realized that it had gotten dark at all and for the briefest of seconds you wondered how late exactly it had gotten; you shook your head quickly as you regained your focus on your work.

Nonetheless, Wamuu smiled softly and entered your workspace. It was an easy feat for the Pillarman to make his way through despite the darkness cloaking the room as he had most excellent night vision.

However, upon reaching your side, he reached over and flicked on your table lamp. He knew that the dark wasn't exactly doing your Human vision much good.

"Thank you." You mumbled, swiping your digital pen across the screen with slow and careful movements.

Wamuu hummed softly, leaning over you with a curious eye to see your work better.

"That looks very nice." He commented, the corners of his full lips tugging into a sweet smile as he admired your handiwork. You never ceased to amaze him with your little drawings and sketches.

You needed to get this piece done by the weekend and you wanted it done today so it could be out of your way. Each slip up of your hand or a line only made you feel more exhausted and more picky, lines overlapped and blurred and you could no longer take in the picture anymore; just your mistakes and its flaws.

A tired sigh escaped your lips, "I just can't get the shading right. I think I've had to redo it 8 times now..." you grumbled, only getting increasingly frustrated at the setback, a hand unconsciously reaching up to scrub at your eye.

Your eyeballs were starting to burn from focusing on the screen too long, a feeling much akin to being rubbed raw with sandpaper.

"Have you been drawing all day?" He questioned, turning his gaze down to the crown of your head with worry.

The Warriors smile fell as he took in your awry state more closely, he definitely didn't miss the umpteen mugs of coffee littering your space (some of which were only half-finished and long gone cold by now).

Did you even move at all while he had been gone? When was the last time you showered? Ate? Changed your clothes?

Really it was the best answer you could give, all you knew was that it was dark and you were sore and tired and your hand was cramping... so it was more than likely you had spent the entirety of the day working.

Once again, your movements stalled before slowly regaining focus, your movements slothy and lacking your usual grace.

"I guess..." you answered lamely.

Again.

Wamuu shook his head, you had been drawing all night last night and you had promised to go to bed after he kissed you goodbye this morning. It was obvious you forgot your promise and kept working.

The drawing tablet was easily plucked from your grasp, making you jump in surprise and reflexively make a grab for it.

"Wamuu-- wha--?!"

"This won't do." He said, quickly hitting the save button on your piece of art as he pulled the tablet further from your reach. "You're done for today."

"What? No! I--" You made an attempt to snatch it back but the hulking man wasn't having any of it, gazing down at you with stern double-ringed emeralds.

For now, he was taking matters into his own hands.

"No. You've worked far too long. Look at you beloved, you've become nothing but a shell!" He chastised, walking past you and placing your tablet on the highest shelf of your office; far, far from your reach.

You would only get it back once you were rested and cared for.

He pushed open the bathroom door with careful ease, not even struggling as he held you and set you down on the toilet.

You were picked up with ease, cradled in the Warriors arms like he was rescuing you from the battlefield as he marched out of the room. Your whines and cries and pleas to be put down went ignored, even as you pounded weakly on his chest.

You had originally thought he was taking your straight to the bedroom to put you down for a sleep but no, he walked right past the room without even a passing glance.

"Sit there." He told you, pressing a tender kiss to your head; the softness of his actions rendering you silent. "Let me handle this."

Your previous protests, your frustrations and any and all thoughts to your work had died all together by the time you two had stripped and were sitting comfortably in the warm scented water.

You blinked, watching him as he puttered around the bathroom; filling the tub with warm water and adding a generous portion of your favorite bathsoap, making a luscious and soothing scent fill the air and your senses.

A warm bath together would do you both some good, he was a little rumpled from training all day himself and you were worn down from your own work. Wamuu always enjoyed washing your hair and bathing together was always a good de-stressor in his eyes.

"You're too persuasive," you remarked, the words coming out as more of a sigh as he combed his fingers through your damp hair.

You hated to admit it but this was just what you needed; you could literally feel all the stress and overwork just washing away with the water rolling over you.

Wamuu chuckled softly, squeezing some of your favourite shampoo into his huge palm. "And You're negligent of your own needs. But don't worry, that's why I'm here..."

Santana:

"You are tired."

"I'm not tired!" You groaned, the exasperation in your voice was short-lived as the corners of your lips quirked up into a teeny grin. "...I'm y/n."

Santana tilted his head, pursing his lips. Usually you would chuckle at his obvious confusion (Santana still couldn't quite grasp puns and dry humor like sarcasm well, despite it being something you used more than often) but today you were too busy to sit down and explain it, let alone spend any time with him.

You still had work to pick at upstairs and judging by how things were going, you weren't going to be done anytime soon.

It didn't help the fact that Santana was becoming increasingly worried about you; he had caught you pouring yourself a bowl of orange juice and a glass of cereal this morning when you begrudgingly trudged downstairs for breakfast. The growling of your stomach neglecting its needs had become too unbearable.

Either way; you weren't going to let the fact you haven't seen a bed (or a fresh change of clothes) in days stop you.

"I just need to get some work done, Santana..." you sighed, emptying the pot of coffee into your mug. "I have a deadline at the end of the week."

"Sleep is for the weak." You replied, bringing the steaming mug to your lips for the first sip.

"You have not slept in days." He pointed out, the deep timber of his voice rumbling around the room. You could feel his eyes staring into your back as you fumbled around the kitchen.

Damn him for being so perceptive.

"Your kind is very weak." Came the immediate and factual response. "You require sleep to function and survive."

Like it or not, he was spitting straight facts.

You nearly choked on the gulp of hot liquid, it burned in your throat as his words hit you. Your mate watched as you opened your mouth and fumbled with a response to conteract that statement; ultimately having nothing.

It was always hard to argue when you felt so sluggish, your brain running just as well as an old windows computer, let alone when Santana stood there blinking so innocently.

You groaned, shuffling out of the room; mug in hand and the migrane you had been trying to rid of slowly regaining its pounding pulse in your temples.

"Oh honey, I'll be fine..." you whined, trying to ignore his eyes still watching you as you began your slothy trek up the stairs. "I may be a 'Primitive lifeform' but I can handle a little work."

The Pillarman watched you go, frowning to himself as you disappeared up the stairs; the hard shut of the door to your office the only sound following your exit.

Your energy was very low, he had only seen you eat a handful of times and it seemed like you were running into walls and doors more often than the average Human lately.

Santana was getting worried.

The hours of the morning ticked bye, eventually Noon rolled around and then passed and you didn't come down for lunch (or more coffee). The primal instincts of protecting you as his mate inevitably kicked in and Santana found himself at the door to your office, peering in with a curious eye.

There he was met with the sight of you slumped over at your desk, your back rising and falling slowly and rhythmically. The sounds of your soft breath hit his sharp ears, even from all the way across the room, and he found himself wandering in, coming right up beside you where you lay crumpled.

You stirred slightly, making his hair stand on end as a groan barely passed your lips before you settled down again, resuming your quiet snoring.

Upon further inspection he found your eyes were closed, cheek smooshed right against the wood of the desk and papers sticking uncomfortably to your face. Even your pen was still gripped in hand.

His eyes skimmed over some loose papers, nothing but meaningless words and numbers scrawled across the white without rhyme and reason to him but always it held some deeper meaning to you; your supposed work.

Your coffee had barely been touched, gone cold and sitting quite forlorn among the foodwrappers and empty water bottles and papers scattered across your workspace. Santana reached for the mug, sniffing curiously at the coal black liquid sloshing around inside. Throughout all the time he had known you, you always had a strange attachment to this drink; you claimed it was what kept you functioning.

Curiosity got the best of him and he brought it to his lips for a taste, wondering the exact appeal of it. He shuddered, growling, almost spitting the shallow mouthful of it out and turning his head away as the bitter and cold liquid overwhelmed his senses as it slipped down his throat...

Disgusting.

He brought the mug to his mouth again, unable to stop himself as he dove in for his second taste; doing the very same thing as before.

Not bad, actually.

The red-haired Pillarman pulled the mug close a third time, throwing his head back gulping back the liquid as if his life depended on it. Licking his lips and blinking rapidly, he cradled the now empty mug to his bare chest as his nostrils flared and toes curled, riding out the waves of it overpowering his senses.

It was so terrible but so good at the same time; so good he didn't want it to end but so terrible he wished the bitter and overpowering aftertaste would leave his tongue.

He turned his attention back to you, with a tilt of his head. You were still sleeping, nonethewiser to his very presence; it was likely you would stay that way for some time.

With only a moments thought he shuffled out of the room quickly, returning just moments later with a blanket and pillow in tow.

You needed your sleep to function, as he had told you, so he would leave you to it as he went downstairs to prepare more of that delicious "coffee" for when you woke.

With all the carefulness in the world, a massive hand slipped under you, lifting your face just inches off the had desk as he slipped the cushy pillow under you and let you down softly.

Gently, he draped the blanket over your back before leaning down, smoothing your hair and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

He planned on having another mug himself.

Or two mugs.

Or five.

Or maybe three pots worth...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

fathers.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it turns out the words really do fly out of you when you write in comic sans. who knew? anyways, here’s a little sunday morning angst for you. starts sweet, ends sweet. takes place au!may 2016.

words: 1.8k warnings: discussion of abuse and alcoholism (nothing too graphic)

summary: “‘why do men like me want sons?’ he wondered. ‘it must be because they hope in their poor beaten souls that these new men, who are their blood, will do the things they were not strong enough nor wise enough nor brave enough to do. it is rather like another chance at life; like a new bag of coins at a table of luck after your fortune is gone.’” – john steinbeck

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Aaron walks in from a very long day at the office to find you and Sean crashed out on the couch. Isaac’s asleep, too, sprawled out on his back in his Pack ‘n Play. He can hear Jack shuffling around in his room, probably on the tablet or working on homework.

Sean has the remote loosely gripped in his hand, hanging off the edge of the couch. His head is in your lap, one of your hands in his hair, and your body curled around his shoulders. You look more like a pair of siblings or long-lost childhood friends than anyone Aaron’s ever seen - certainly more so than he would in the same situation.

He almost envies the familiarity you and Sean have between you. Your friendship is easy and automatic - always has been.

How can two people, seemingly so similar, feel so starkly different about him?

Aaron’s not quite sure how long he’s been standing there watching as you two sleep like a pair of house cats. Eventually, you stir with a furrowed brow, squinting into the late afternoon sunshine.

When you find Aaron’s eyes, you smile widely and wink at him. After some delicate maneuvering in which you replace your thighs with a couch cushion and your arm with a throw blanket, you’re free of Sean’s weight and you can finally tuck into your husband.

He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you. “How was your day?”

“Good.” You burrow further into his chest. “Sean and I talked.”

Aaron dips his head. “Oh?”

“Mhmm.” You pat his chest twice and kiss his cheek. “Later.”

+++

“Sean talked to me about your dad today.”

Aaron freezes where he sits at the edge of the bed. You don’t mean to ambush him, but there’d never be a good time, so out with it was your best option.

He shudders as if a chill ran through him, but the room was warm and free of drafts. Sean warned you that this might be the reaction. Even then, he only told you about his experience with the patriarch of the Hotchner household. When you’d asked about Aaron, he only paled and shook his head.

“Ask him about it, but I won’t… I can’t do that to him,” he’d said.

So you have. And now you wait.

Aaron’s voice is a croak when he speaks. “What -�� He clears his throat. “What did he say?”

You turn toward him, tucking your legs close to you and pulling the duvet up. “He told me a little about what it was like for him growing up.”

“Just him?”

“Just him. He wouldn’t say anything about your relationship with your father, nor about your childhood. I didn’t push.”

You pause for a moment. He’s still frozen, but his breath picks up. Not for the first time, you notice the silver lines - scars - across his back.

Long-healed and decades-old.

“I realized in that moment that it’s one of the few things I don’t know about you. I knew, even when I first met you, never to ask and you never told. You’ve alluded to things over the years on cases, and I’ve seen the unique kind of loathing you have for unsubs who hurt their children.” Your voice is low, Isaac sleeping in his crib beside the bed, almost old enough to sleep in the nursery.

You hear Aaron’s breath catch and you lean forward, putting your hand beside his hip so he knows you’re there.

“I’ve known not to ask for so long that I never did.”

A huff leaves him. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t expect to,” you reply simply.

Aaron’s hand wanders back to find your own and he grasps your fingers like a lifeline. Eventually, he turns, sitting in the middle of the bed like a child, his legs crisscrossed with his feet nearly underneath him.

He stares at the bedspread as he tells you about his father. A charming, handsome lawyer with a wicked vodka habit. That particular wicked habit fed into his other one - a liberal use of his belt as a tool of discipline.

Aaron tells you about the day he was old enough to step between his parents, to take whatever his father had to throw - sometimes literally - on behalf of his mother. Evelyn did her best, kept the house together and her boys as safe as she could. It didn’t always work.

She’d thought, Aaron shared with you, that a second child would soothe whatever hurt tortured her husband.

Aaron never resented her. Especially after starting his work as a lawyer and later as an agent, he understands how difficult - really, impossible - it is to leave those situations when you have children.

As his parents struggled to conceive, his father grew worse. By the time Evelyn had Sean, Aaron was thankfully old enough to wrangle his father into a cold shower and into bed most nights before he could get violent. He was thirteen.

“It was almost a relief - it was a relief - when his body finally failed him. I was barely in college when he died, and I graduated early. Sean was still little, so I don’t know what he remembers.”

Aaron sits for a moment, thinking. “If I could hazard a guess, I’d say it was the shouting.” He shakes his head. “We were always shouting.”

You’re both in tears now, but your crying is silent and his tears hardly disrupt his breath.

“Almost everyone at his funeral was someone he worked with. They, of course, loved him. His functional alcoholism served to make him affable enough to make and keep friends at the law firm. They had no idea what happened after he came home.”

He takes another breath. “I did my best to protect Sean after our father died, to keep him safe. I know he resented me for it - might still resent me for it - but he’s alive. And so is my mom.”

You can’t imagine what Evelyn’s been through, the peace she’s probably had in the decades she’s spent widowed. How the Hotchner line managed to survive - managed to become as kind and genuine and loving as they are - is close to a miracle.

You tell him as much.

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, looking very much like the lost boy who took on too much, too fast, too early. “I don’t know how.”

“Because,’ you say, leaning forward and crawling into his lap and wrapping around him like a koala. “You are a better man, Aaron. You won.”

His breath is unsteady as he clasps his arms around you, his hands locked around his opposite forearms.

“You’re a great brother, a fantastic husband, an exceptional father.” You lean back so you can frame his face in your hands. “You wanna know something?”

He just stares at you.

“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you raise your voice at a member of our team or your family.” Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones as his eyes flutter shut. “You are a strong and gentle leader who relies on integrity rather than force to win respect.”

You kiss his cheek and hook your chin over his shoulder, holding him as close as you can. “We’re never afraid of you. Your sons can’t wait for you to come home. They’re thrilled when they hear your keys in the door.”

He sniffles. “I’m afraid...”

Leaning back again, you grip his jaw with a kind of gentle ferocity, forcing his gaze. “Aaron. Look me in the eye and tell me what your sons could do to push you to beat them, to physically discipline them. What would they have to do?”

He meets your eyes, shifty and shadowed like a wild animal, and stares at you without speaking. After a moment, the wildness fades and his lower lip wobbles as he exhales.

That’s enough of an answer for you.

“Can’t find anything, can you?”

Aaron shakes his head. He’s barely audible.

“No.”

“No,” you echo, your voice gentle and soft. Bringing his head back to your shoulder, you hold onto him, running your hands over his shoulders to soothe some of his shaking.

Isaac snuffles and stirs, drawing your attention. Aaron looks up too, his eyes searching for his son.

“Lemme get him,” he says. You untangle yourself and shuffle to the edge of the bed, looking over the edge of the crib. Knowing Isaac, he probably just wants snuggles. He’s the snuggliest baby you’ve ever known.

His father’s son, certainly.

Aaron rounds the crib and leans down, bringing Isaac to his chest. “Hey, little man. You alright?”

Isaac makes a little creaky baby noise and grabs Aaron’s shirt in a death grip.

There are still tears streaked down Aaron’s cheeks and his breath is still a little unsteady, but he’s relaxed as he gently rocks Isaac around the room, shifting his weight from side to side. In his father's arms, Isaac falls right to sleep.

+++

Aaron’s night is fitful, but after you curl up at his side he manages to close his eyes and rest.

You’re up before him in the morning - a rarity - finding Isaac awake and holding onto his own feet in the crib, staring up at the ceiling.

My boy. Always happy to entertain himself.

You pick him up and carry him out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. At this point, you’ve perfected the one-armed carry thanks to Aaron, and it usually comes in handy.

Jack and Sean are already awake, making cereal so quietly the bowls probably deserve their own top-secret clearance.

“Good morning, boys,” you say with a smile.

“Morning, Mom,” they drone, in tandem, before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

With a laugh, you find your own bowl and Sean pours your cereal just the way you like it while you pull a bottle for Isaac.

The four of you eat breakfast in relative peace. It’s nice to have Sean here with you for more than one reason, but for now, it’s because he’s holding Isaac’s bottle so you can eat with one hand. One hand, you've learned, is decidedly better than no hands at all.

Aaron rolls into the kitchen about ten minutes after you, looking rumpled and squinty in the morning sun.

“Coffee’s on, honey.”

He mumbles his thanks and you share a smile with Sean.

“He’s predictable,” you explain in a half-whisper.

Sean nods, playing at something pensive. “And old.”

“Heard that.”

You and Sean share a look and a smile. You look over your shoulder. "Heard what?"

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @writefasttalkevenfaster @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @ceceguajardo-blog @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #abuse tw #a joyful future fanfic

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loubatas-art · 2 years

Text

Sorry for the lack of activity lately - unfortunately my computer is, once again, undergoing repairs This time it was 100% my fault : I brought an unclosed liquid container to my desk and Murphy's Law applied Thankfully the keyboard is the only thing that died, but since it's a laptop I can't just change the keyboard myself, so. Until it's repaired, I am, once again, unable to use my computer to draw And in the middle of a heatwave, I can't exactly do traditional art, not with the shutters closed almost all day

Thankfully, my birthday was at the beginning of the month and I got myself a neat little toy

My original intent was to use it when I'm travelling & visiting family so I don't have to haul my computer + drawing tablet which are both pretty big and heavy, but turns out it's also useful when my computer needs maintenant XD I still need to get used to it, but you can expect some sketches in the near future

I'd also like to write some reviews for the apps I'm using to draw (Infinite Painter, Ibis Paint X, SketchBook...) because Ipad & Procreate supremacy means there's little resources for artists who draw on Android, so I'm trying all the ones I can to see which one is the best

#behind the art

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cyberloops · 3 years

Photo

Some quick studio updates:

My spouse was having a hard time at their new job, so when my boss mentioned that he was looking for another person to do the same sort of tech helpdesk work that I was doing, my spouse decided to go for the opportunity. On the one hand, it means less stress. On the other hand... less money. Our income is going to be cut by about 1/3. So we really need to find some way to work from home to earn money to make up for that. So this week, while my spouse had a few days off before the new job starts, we buckled down and worked on getting our home office/studio situation set up in a way that will work for us.

Originally we had planned on keeping all the computers in the office (not the room in the picture here) and dividing the studio (the room in this picture) into halves. The half now taken up by the giant desk on the left would be where I’d set up my studio, the area where the other 2 desks are would be a workbench for crafting type stuff, and the drafting table would be where it is. But between the plague causing us to switch jobs and work from home and everything else that’s happened... well... plans change. We couldn’t both work from home in the office, so my spouse had to get a desk and set it up in the studio. And the little corner desk my spouse had gotten for the office way far too small for all of the paperwork that their new job entailed. So we had to get the giant desk.

Since we’d like to get back into the habit of streaming, we decided that we needed to once again change the plans we had for our studio. But with less income, that meant no more buying furniture. We need to work with what we have. So the giant desk that takes up half the room will stay, and will become the graphics powerhouse of the studio, with my spouse’s new computer in the middle, a big monitor on the left, and the graphics tablet monitor on the right. Unfortunately the USB C port is on the left side of the computer and the right side of the graphics tablet... which means we need a longer USB C to USB C cable if we want to use all three monitors. (We can use an HDMI cable instead, but then we wouldn’t be able to use the other big monitor.)

I moved the smaller corner desk from the office into the space between my studio and my spouse’s, and got rid of the little wooden table that was kind of in my way on the right side of my studio. Now we have an entire wall of nothing but desk. The drafting table is still just out of camera view on the right, so my spouse still has a space for traditional drawing.

You can also see in this picture that I was able to finally rig up a top down view of my studio, the camcorder is attached to a little microphone handle instead of a stand. The little handle came with a different mic, the one that I’ve currently got hooked up to my desktop computer in the office. I’m using a boom mic stand that I had packed away that was a birthday present to me like fifteen years ago. (I’m glad it’s finally getting decent use, I used to have it set up next to my old Windows XP desktop computer that had an M-Audio 10/10 soundcard that had XLR inputs so I could actually record a microphone directly into the computer. But that desktop died about 9 years ago, and I haven’t used that stand since then. I don’t even think they have drivers for the 10/10 for modern versions of Windows anymore.) Ironically, the microphone that came with the boom mic stand is in a little tripod that came with a DIFFERENT mic that crapped out on me and I’m not using anymore, it’s somewhere on that desk studio setup. I don’t know if it’s in camera view, it’s not currently plugged into the mixer, but it’s there if I want to record any vocals. However, that setup means that the camera is also about six feet away from where the computer will be... which means we need a longer USB A to Micro USB cable if I want to stream.

... and after moving all that furniture, getting sweaty and gross, and stressing out my bad knees... I didn’t wanna go to Best Buy to get cables. So we ordered them online, and maybe once we’ve gotten them, we’ll be able to get back to streaming again.

Also, since my spouse got a new, better computer, I’m going to see if their old computer is powerful enough to do basic streaming with just my sound and video setup. It’s (I think) about 9 years old, just like my laptop... but mine was bottom of the line at the time of purchase, and this one was midrange. They have the same amount of RAM and hard drive space, but my spouse’s old computer has about 3 or 4 times the processing power of my dinky little old laptop. So maybe it can handle it. We’ll find out once I get that new cable. If not, well, we’ll see what I can do. Now that we’re past the first few weeks of classes, my job is slowing down a bit, so I’ll have a little more free time and energy. I’d really like to spend some time working on more fun, creative stuff. I suppose I could just say screw it and move my desktop into that room, that’s definitely powerful enough to stream. And if I don’t feel like doing music, I can work on 3d modeling/sculpting instead. Or, hell, I could even go back to doing game streaming when we’re not streaming art or music.

I would love to also get a better chair. Unfortunately, all of the comfortable chairs we have right now are too wide to work with that setup, unless I can figure out a way to move my keyboards to the right side of my studio instead of the left. Which honestly, I could probably do if I just got some longer cables. I went cheap and just got 3 and 4 foot audio and MIDI cables when I first set up the studio, since I was jammed in the corner there. So maybe my last investment in the studio will be to buy a couple of longer audio and MIDI cables just for those two synths.

... and after all that, months and months of setup, investing my pandemic bonus money into setting up the whole studio... I still am finding myself kinda obsessing over the fact that the ONE kind of synth I wanted and still don’t have is one that can do more than 2 operator FM synthesis. I was really debating between the Modal Skulpt or the Korg Volca FM at the time, and the Skulpt only won out for me because it had 4 note polyphony, and I like complex chords. But with our sudden cut in income, I really can’t justify buying another synth anytime soon. So I really should buckle down and work with what I have.

#home studio #music studio #art studio #dawless #streaming setup #music streaming #art streaming

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chromium7sky · 4 years

Text

The Devil wears Armani | chapter 12

A/n: I'm really sorry for the long hiatus of this au 😭. Finally got some spark about this update and I hope you guys enjoy it. Btw, guess who finally meet Raven? 😆😆

Raven finally reached her home after outing and small reunion with Karen. She remove her heels awkwardly as she yawned. It was a long night.

She tell Karen everything about what happen between her and Damian and of course minus the intimacy in his office.

-flash back-

Karen land her chin on her palm propped on the table as she listen to Raven's story. "You know, this is an interesting story though but did he knew about Melchior?"

Raven narrowed her eyes. " Why would I mention that jerk? Besides me and Damian still haven't declare about our relationship, I mean, he does flirt me back. Not to mention we did kiss..." Raven stop at the kissing part.

"Men can be complicated sometimes." She sighed as she take a bite from the cake she ordered.

"Couldn't agree more since I'm about to marry one." Karen wiggle her fingers that had betrothed ring on it.

Both designer and ex model giggled.

"I...I just hope Damian is serious about it. I'm quite invested my feeling for him." Raven chewed her lips.

"I hope so, Rachel. I hope he does." Karen smiled.

- end flashback-

Raven sighed on her bed after she change her clothes into night gown. "Gotta get some sleep because I'm going to meet him tomorrow. Should I ask again about us?"

Raven's mind wander about the golden question, her eyes start to droop as the cold night beckons her to the land of morpheus.

--------

Damian watched the E! Entertainment as he tidy up his studio to catch up any news on fashion industry then the anchorman, Josh Dirkmann said about a known designer from Europe came to town known as Melchior Draco.

"Melchior?" Damian arched his brows. Another designer in town? Maybe there's an event? And as soon as the reporter had some short interview with the silver hair gentlemen with black suit.

"So what makes you come to Gotham?" The reporter pointed the mic towards the designer.

"Well, a big company invited me to launched both of our collaboration and they said Gotham fit the aesthetic." He answered as he tug his silver hair behind his ears which earn a sneer from Damian as he watch the interview.

"Do you know Raven the designer?"

" Oh, yes. We did compete each other in Paris Fashion Show. She won first while I won second. It was a tough decision for the judges. Just so you know, between you and me, we kinda close during that time." Melchior slip out some interesting info towards the reporter.

The reporter almost gasped and demand for more answer but Melchior quickly waved away and walked towards the hotel lobby.

Damian quickly grab the remote control and closed the show.

" What do you mean close each other?" Both of his eyebrows knitted together. He closed his eyes and throw the remote at the couch. "It doesn't matter."

-------

Raven now in mess. The phone call came in nonstop just because of a statement when Melchior mention that both of them were close and the paparazzi possible sniffing out a scandal.

She sighed and landed her head on her desk. A hard knocking landed on her door makes her jolted. " Come in." As she turn her head towards the door.

Mona came in a hurry with an apologetic face. " Miss Rachel, I forgot to inform you that there will be a journalist came for your gala interview today. I'm really really sorry." Mona bow her head.

Raven stare blankly at Mona while her internal having conflict. 'First it's was Melchior statement and now interview? What...what should I do?'

Her palm start to sweat but quickly she fist up her hand. " When will be the journalist comes?"

The assistant girl check through her tablet. " In two hours."

"Who from where?"

"Jonathan Kent from Daily Planet, ma'am."

"Oh?" The same journalist who interview her winning success in fashion show. " Well, make sure escort him to my office and prepare our boarding room. Easier to execute it in there." Raven gives a stern order.

Mona nodded her head vigorously then quickly exit her room.

------------

She straighten her back as she heard a knock. She breath in. "Come in."

"Ms. Rachel!"

"Mona."

"A journalist came to meet you for Wayne's Gala interview." She gesture her hands towards a young man with curly hair and those prominent square glasses. "Mr. Jonathan Kent."

"Ah, Jonathan. Hi! It's been a while." Raven stretch her hand towards him.

Jon adjust his specs then handshake with her. "Thank you for letting me interview again , Ms. Roth." His face display his friendliness towards her.

Mona bowed her heads and quickly went out of her office. "How about we bring this interview to boarding room? More comfy?" Raven suggest about changing place.

"Yeah, you're right." Jon nodded.

Raven stood up and escort Jon to the meeting room for more proper place to interview.

She open the light switch and pull out a chair. " You can sit here."

"Ah, right, thank you." Jon smiled sheepishly as he pull the leather chair and sit, opposite with the owner of AMZ company.

" So, how long does this interview lasting?" Raven asked him as soon as she's in her seat and lean on the table with both of her hands propped on her chin.

"Well, not long, more or less 10 minutes." The journalist smile sheepishly. "Anyway..." He pull out his notebook, voice recording and a pen."Let us start with, how long you know Damian Wayne?"

"Well...since I was freshly involved in this industry, Mr Wayne offered me to promote myself at Gala." Raven calmly answer as she tried to cover Damian from being involve with fashion drawing class back in those days.

Jon then stopped the voice recording which made her jolted then adjust his specs. "You are the one who have the same class with him right?"

Raven almost gasped but she quickly act nonchalant as she tried to deny it . "Are you try to dig something from me, Mr Kent?"

"Ah, yes. Such as wanted to know more about Dami's secret girl." He smiled.

Dami? Her eyebrow arched as she heard the name. Why in the world he would address Damian that way? "You must be mistaking. We were only in term of business."

"Seriously? I thought you guys were serious." He's moping. "He did ask me about how to flirt a girl too. Man, he's really an emotional constipated." He laughed. "Besides, Dami said he haven't meet her in 3 years after he's graduated."

Raven with her eyes wide as she heard it from him. "HOW DID YOU KNOW ALL THAT?!" She quickly rised from the desk.

Jon jolted as he seen her reaction. " Ah, I guess that's why he keep a secret about his girl." Sweat drop start to rolled down on his forehead. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. Let me introduce myself again."

Jon straighten his back and stretch his hand. "Hi, I'm Jonathan Kent. Dami' s childhood friend and school mate, same goes with roommate at uni and currently, a journalist." He smiled.

Raven tried to process all the information at once and it takes a few moment. "So, you are Damian's close friend?" She point out with as she narrowed her eyes.

"That's right!" Jon's smile getting wider.

"Ah, hello." She slowly put her hands on him which Jon grab it and makes a several shake as he excited to met her.

"It's really pleasure to meet you by the way! For sure if Maya and Colin knew about you they will be screaming or teasing him saying Dami has finally grown up!" He laughed.

Raven sit on her chair with unsure feeling. First the confession, then his childhood friend meet her, and then what? A wedding? She press her lips into a thin line.

"You know, Dami is not that kind of guy when it comes to women. He always thought they were hyenas." Jon chuckled.

"Hyenas?" Raven puzzled. "What's with hyenas?"

"Ever since he lives in Gotham, he always seen his father been in and out with other women who prey for money. Still, poor him having lack of parent's love." Jon sighed.

That explain why he's being hard on anyone. Raven attentively listen to Jon's story. "You know, he has pets like a zoo at his house. From cow to snakes. I remember when I came, This Alfred the cat always sulking and threaten to scratch me."

"An animal lover? That much?" Both of Raven's eyebrow jumpy as she heard it. She could imagine if Damian standing on the field, as birds will land on him, it either makes him look like Disney princess or a scarecrow.

"Most of them are animal rescue." Jon nodded.

"I see..." Then Raven suddenly remember something. "How did Damian took fashion drawing class by the way?"

"Actually we suggested to him. I mean seriously, you haven't seen his potrait and figure drawing, Those are amazing! He most likely to observe the surrounding and draw on his sketch book while on his free time."

Wait. Does that means Damian has a secret sketch book like her? Raven unconsciously put her hands on her lips.

"Still, what makes you suspect it was me? I mean we haven't contact it for a while."

"Other than he told me that he haven't met her in three years, I've seen a drawing that looks just like you at his studio." Jon smiled.

There it is.

Raven sighed and there's a slightly red tint on her ears.

"Why you haven't contact him when he's in middle east?" Jon asked curious question.

"It was because when I know that he's Damian Wayne, I..I was screwed. I mean, Wayne as in Wayne Enterprise. The biggest contributor on east side. Me? I'm just, just an orphan girl who try to rise my own feet."

"Oh?"

"My mother died when I was 14. I still don't know who were my father is and all I got is this necklace from my mother." She showed the necklace to Jon.

The young journalist seems to be fasinating with it's design. "I wonder where did your mother got this?"

Raven sighed as she try to remember. " I'm not sure. All I remember that it's been in heritage for years."

"I see." Jon rubbed his chin. "Well, Maybe you should hang up with us sometimes. I'm sure Colin and Maya would love to see you." He smiled.

"The thing is, Jon. I'm still unclear about between us." Raven chewed her lips.

"Ah nonsense, he really likes you. I can see from the way he look at you."

"Is it? Wait, where did you saw him see me?"

"I think it was two day before?"

Raven slap both of her cheeks. OH MY GOD, HE SAW BOTH OF US KISSING.

"And don't worry. I won't tell a soul, though, I've been warn by him and probably will be dig out by Colin and Maya." Jon widen his smile as sweat start to rolled down on his cheek."Dami has been my friend of more than a decade. I understand the way he express himself."

Raven nodded slowly. " Jon, a question."

"Yeah?"

"Since you are a journalist, do you know anything about Melchior?" Raven voice change to serious tone.

"That Silver Blond guy?"

"Yeah."

" I heard he's having collaboration with a big company. However, another speculation I heard that he choose Gotham because of its mysterious aesthetic."

"Well, uh, there's something I heard during interview. He claimed that we were close during the fashion show competition."

Raven as stared at the desk.

"Been wondering myself too. Are you close to him?" Jon's curious eyes start to lit.

"We do only for a while but the thing is he stole my design during that time which I never forgive myself for letting me get fooled by him." Raven sighed then she looked at Jon. "Wait. Don't tell me you're going to put this on paper?"

"Wait, I get it." Jon again propped his hand on his chin. "No wonder I've seen familiarity design between both of you. Plus you're having a hard time too."

"Uh, Jon?"

"I think I found something to investigate." Jon's mischievous smiles start to paint on his face.

"Now you act like Damian."

"Damian is more hardcore. I'm still on the average level." Jon beamed his happy face on her.

"Well, I think our interview stopped here. Besides, I need to cover some story from Me Wayne itself about the gala."

"Dami?"

"Yep."

"So, nice to meet you, Ms. Rachel Roth. It's been a pleasure talking to you."

"It's been a pleasure to spill tea with you." Raven smug.

Jon blinked then put on his mischievous smile.

-------

Somewhere in his office, Damian sneezed for no reason. " Is it me or is this office are getting colder?" He looked at the air ventilation.

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amymel86 · 4 years

Text

Wishes

A little time travel... for a treat...

Jon doesn’t believe in fate, or signs, or serendipity or any of that bullshit. But, he will admit that something is telling him that the time is right ‘to do the thing’ now. ‘The thing’ in question being telling Sansa how he feels.

For years he’d stamp down those admirations – the desire she’d spark or the warm, glow-y feeling she’d ignite low in his belly – because she was his best friend’s sister, and Robb was (understandably) ridiculously protective of Sansa after she’d had a couple of bad experiences with guys in her teens and early twenties. When they’d all been younger, Jon had felt like if he had actually done anything about the way his best friend’s sister makes him feel, then he’d be compromising his friendship with Robb or some shit. He can sneer at his younger self now, but that possible betrayal had felt real at the time.

The current problem Jon faced was boyfriend-shaped – specifically, Sansa’s boyfriend, Harry. What kind of a douche would he be if he confessed to always having feeling for her while she’s involved with someone else?

So instead he sulked and admired from afar... or not so ‘afar’ as it were, since he and Sansa had gotten even closer in terms of friendship since Robb married Rhaenys and moved south to Dorne.

Anyway, tonight is THE night. He can feel it. She’d recently broken up with Harry but even Sansa has admitted to him that it was a long time coming AND he’d just gotten off the phone to her asking him to come over because she has something she wants to show him.

What it actually is that she wants to show him, he does not know. Oh, he can imagine. But then he’s been imagining a hell of a lot when it comes to Sansa Stark.

It’s probably a new craft she’s learnt. She is forever finding things to try through YouTube tutorials. Just last month she taught herself to crochet and made him a blanket. It still kind of has that Sansa smell to it which Jon totally doesn’t hold to his nose like some sort of lovesick dork. (He does.)

With nerves all a-jumble as he pulls up to her little ground-floor flat, Jon prays to the Gods that he doesn’t believe in that he’s not about to a) make an absolute fool of himself and b) completely ruin the friendship that means the most to him right now. Maybe he would completely chicken out of this if it hadn’t been the little glimmers of hope he’s seen over the years; the way she’d look at him sometimes, an invitation in her eyes, the way she’s so tactile with him... the way she’s never called him out when she’s caught him staring at her ass.

God-damn, she has a nice ass.

Alright, Seven Hells, Jon. Get a grip!

The motion detector light Sansa has above her front door turns on as he approaches and her door swings open before he has a chance to even reach for the doorbell. Jon’s kind of abashed that he startles a little. His head’s not in the game yet and there she stands in all her glory – holding the power to make him elated or miserable.

“Sorry,” Sansa winces, noticing how her quick-to-answer actions had made him jump. “It’s just that he doesn’t like a lot of the noises of the house... or outside. The doorbell would’ve really freaked him out so-”

“He?” Jon asks, stepping over her threshold and ridding himself of his coat to hang on her hooks. “You get a dog or something?”

She looks nervous. Why is she nervous? “Err... no, not a dog.”

She’s twiddling with her fingers as she glances behind herself towards the lounge and back to Jon.

“Sansa?” Jon scoops up her hands and holds them gently. He gives them a squeeze and hopes that she knows what that squeeze means – that whatever that’s got her nervous, he’ll be there, he’ll help her through whatever it is. He’d do anything for her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Her earnest eyes glaze over a little as she blinks at him. She does that sometimes – Jon thinks it’s a reaction to the endearment and he’s ashamed to admit that he calls her ‘sweetheart’ at any opportunity he gets just to see her shiver or bite down on her lip.

She’s moving close now. Her mouth parts, drawing him in like a moth to the flame. He leans closer still, about to close his eyes and just – go for it. Maybe he doesn’t need words right now? Maybe he should just show her? Lay all the years of yearning out in one searing kiss.

What will she taste like?

Will it make her moan into his mouth?

Will she grasp at his hair? Tug a little? Pull him ever closer until there couldn’t possibly be any space left between them?

“I tossed a coin,” she whispers, eyes glued to his lips.

Jon’s brain switches tracks – slowly, and confusingly. Where is this current track going? “What?”

Jon watches Sansa shake herself out from under whatever spell they’d both cast here in her little entrance hallway.

Way to go, dumbass. She’s barely broken up from her boyfriend and you can’t step one foot over threshold without wanting to shove your tongue down her throat?

“I tossed a coin in the water,” Sansa repeats, making some space between them both. “At the hotsprings up at the old castle ruin.”

Jon was lost. “Okay?”

“And I made a wish and.... I think it came true?” Jon nods but Sansa is back to glancing behind herself, back toward her lounge.

Jon doesn’t believe in fate and wishes and all that gubbins. But Sansa does, so he’ll humour her. “What did you wish?”

Sansa’s twiddling with her fingers again. “I wished to fall in love,” she states quietly. “I wished for a good man who definitely, without question loves me back... in a romantic way, not like a friend.”

Ok, that last part was definitely aimed at him. Jon stutters, his foot jutting forward and his hand reaching out. He needs to tell her – he needs to tell her NOW. “Sansa, I-“

There’s an almighty crash in the lounge making Sansa spin and leave to go and see to the commotion. What on earth is it? Did she adopt a wild animal or something? That sounds exactly like something Sansa Stark would do. Jon follows, curious.

What he sees when he rounds the corner is not a wild animal... but a man; a man dressed very oddly and wielding a big-ass sword. “What the fuck?” Suddenly, the sword is aimed at him. Jon grabs for Sansa and yanks her behind himself. “Take what you want, man, but you can think fucking twice if you think you’re touching her.” His heart was racing.

“Unhand her!” The man orders. He’s dressed in some kind of medieval-renaissance-fayre-cosplay-get-up with leather and furs and riding boots and shit and-... apart from the scars on his face... looks... exactly like Jon?

Sansa steps out from behind him with her hands raised but Jon doesn’t really notice – he’s too busy having some sort of mental breakdown as he stares at his doppelganger, mouth agape.

“It’s ok, Jon, it’s alright,” she says, cooing at the Lord-of-the-Rings-cosplayer version of himself like he was the wounded wild animal that Jon had previously envisioned Sansa adopting. “Lower your sword,” she urges gently. “This is my friend, Jon – like I told you. The one that looks exactly like you! Do you remember?”

The medieval imposter’s shoulders seem to release their tension under that big-ass dead badger or whatever the fuck it is he’s wearing. “Aye,” he says with a chuckle. “It is good to meet you, Jon.” He sheathes his sword and steps forward, offering his hand. “I am Jon, Jon Snow.”

In part daze, part confusion and a whole heap of what the fuckity-fuck?!?!, Jon finds himself shaking the weirdo’s hand before pulling himself out of it. “Wait, what? No you’re not. I’m Jon Snow. Sansa,” he says, turning to her, “what is this? What’s going on?”

Am I tripping on something I don’t even remember taking?

“It’s like I told you, Jon. I tossed a coin into the hotspings and made a wish. I wished for someone to love me and then Jon appeared from behind the weirwood tree. At first I thought it was you pulling some weird prank,” she says, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of her vase that medieval-boy here clearly knocked off with his admittedly cool sword. The doppelganger knelt too to help her, a bashful sort of smile on his face when their eyes met. Jon did not like it. “But then I called you,” she says, wrenching her eyes away from the other Jon to look up at him. “Do you remember? Earlier today? I called and when you’d answered, I distractedly said I’d forgotten why I’d called?”

Yeah – he remembers. He’d thought –hoped- that she had wanted to confess some deep, burning love for him only for her courage to dry up when she’d squeaked at hearing his voice. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was just verifying that there were indeed two of him now. How silly of him.

“My apologies for the breakage,” the other Jon murmurs to Sansa, “your magic tablet came alive with sound and light and began moving across the surface in a rhythmic dance. I was unsure of the entity it would conjure and so drew my sword. I hope you can forgive me?”

“My phone,” Sansa mutters to herself in realisation. She reaches for it as it laid there on her coffee table. “I’d better put this on silent and turn off the vibration alerts,” she says with a smile aimed at middle-ages-moron next to her.

Jon purses his lips and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Okay, what is this?” If this is some kind of prank, he was over it yesterday.

Fur-boy stands and sighs. “I don’t claim to be knowledgeable in things such as these,” he starts in an admittedly gruff voice that Jon kind of hates. “All I know is that in my second lifetime, I didn’t get the chance to love Sansa as I’d wanted. We thought each other to be siblings and when I died again, I thought it was to be my last time...” he turns, giving Sansa a moon-struck look. “And I died wishing I could have loved you the way my heart wanted to.” Sansa’s answering expression looks as though her insides have gone all gooey.

“Wait – wait – wait!” Jon – the real Jon – says, stepping in between the two now. “First of all, you had the hots for your sister?”

Cosplay-Jon’s eyes don’t leave Sansa’s as he nods solemnly.

“Ok... just sayin’... kinda gross.” That earns him a playful slap on the shoulder from Sansa. “What?! It is! Secondly... what’s this about a ‘second life’ and ‘died again’?”

“I have danced death’s steps twice,” the other Jon says. “The first time I was brought back I knew my purpose was to protect her,” the damn man is looking Sansa again. “And this being the second, I fully believe that it is to love her properly this time.”

This guy has really lost his fucking mind. “Hold on there, buddy,” Jon says, squaring his shoulders. “Sansa isn’t yours to love, she’s-“ He glances at her, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs at her expectant expression. “Well.... she’s – can I talk to you in private a minute?” he says, ushering Sansa out of the room and back into the hallway. “You have to get rid of him, he’s a few slices short of a pizza.”

Sansa chuckles. “What?”

“Sansa, he’s an absolute nutter!”

“No, he’s not! He’s telling the truth, Jon!”

They both turn to peer back into Sansa’s lounge to see medieval-land boy picking up her TV remote with two tentative fingers and studying it like it had just landed from outer space.

Jon shoves his fingers up under his glasses and rubs at his eyes in exasperation. “Sansa, this dude went LARPing and bumped his head or something, shit – I don’t know, but this is all insane!”

She’s not even looking at him as he talks. She’s practically drooling at his doppelganger with hearts in her eyes as the lunatic in leather armour settles on her couch with his big-ass cloak, his hands curled around one of Sansa’s mugs (black with gold writing that says ‘Boss Bitch’ and little pink hearts). He takes a tentative sip of whatever it is that Sansa had made for him while he continues to study the room he finds himself in.

This is ridiculous. He thought this was his time! He never envisioned that he’d lose her to... himself?... himself but with a big-ass-sword?

Seven-fucking-hells!

#jonsa #jon x sansa #my jonsa fic

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 4 years

Text

here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.

A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.

She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.

She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.

She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.

The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.

“Shelby Goodkind?”

“Dot Campbell?”

Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.

“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.

“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.

“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”

“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.

“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.

She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.

“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”

“No problem,” Shelby beamed.

Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.

It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.

“Family’s gone then?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”

“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.

“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”

“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”

Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”

Dot nodded, “What about you?”

“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”

“Work for you?” Dot asked.

Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”

Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”

They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.

Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.

But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.

But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.

“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.

“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”

“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”

“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”

“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”

Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.

The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dot Campbell,” she said.

The girl stared at her.

“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”

“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”

“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”

“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.

“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”

“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.

“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”

“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.

A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.

Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.

So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.

“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”

Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.

Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.

One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.

They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.

“Live ones?” Shelby asked.

“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”

“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.

They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.

She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.

“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”

“Dottie,” Shelby said.

Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.

“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.

“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”

Dot nodded at them.

“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.

“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”

“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”

Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”

“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.

“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.

“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”

“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.

“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.

“None of your business,” Toni said.

“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”

“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.

Martha shook her head.

“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.

“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”

“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.

Dot sighed.

Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”

“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”

“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”

“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”

“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”

They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.

“We might as well go together,” she repeated.

Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”

The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.

Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.

The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.

“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.

“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”

“The fuck happened?” Dot said.

“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”

Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.

“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.

Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”

“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”

“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”

“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.

Dot shook her head.

“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”

“Texas,” Dot said.

Rachel nodded.

“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”

Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”

“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.

“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.

Dot nodded, “Fuego?”

“Fuego.”

And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”

Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”

Dot nodded.

Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.

“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”

Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”

“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”

“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”

“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”

“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”

“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.

“Try again,” Rachel said.

“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”

“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”

“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.

It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.

The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.

They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.

But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.

The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.

They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.

Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”

They trudged on.

In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.

Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.

Only problem was their destination.

“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.

“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”

“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.

“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”

“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.

Fatin’s face was grim.

“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.

“Warn who?” Dot asked.

“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.

“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.

“Yeah,” Dot said.

“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.

“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.

“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.

Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”

“No,” Dot said.

“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.

Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.

So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.

When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.

They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.

Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.

After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.

Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”

Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”

“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”

“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.

“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”

“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.

“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”

“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”

“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”

“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”

“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”

“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.

“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.

“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”

“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.

“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”

Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.

“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”

“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”

Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.

The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.

They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.

This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.

Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.

As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.

If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.

“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.

“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”

“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”

“You’re crazy,” Dot said.

Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.

It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.

“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”

Leah snorted.

They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.

“I gotta piss,” Dot said.

“Hurry,” Fatin said.

Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.

She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.

“Dot! Jesus Christ!”

The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.

“Toni?”

Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.

“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”

“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.

“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.

“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”

Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”

Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.

“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”

Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.

“You took your pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But you came back.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.

They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.

Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.

Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.

Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.

“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.

“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”

“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”

“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”

Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.

On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.

They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.

Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.

Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.

#gus writes #the wilds #the wilds fanfic #goodfoe fanfic #shoni #leatin fanfic #leatin #dot campbell #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #rachel reid #nora reid #martha blackburn #the unsinkable 8 #the unsinkable eight

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