#even my drawing WITH a reference makes me want to throw my tablet out the window | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rawrtriesagain · 1 year ago

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Heya, same anon who asked you for art advice! First, I wanted to thank you for answer my questions and listing all that wonderful advice! I just have some followups. It’s really okay to just draw without even knowing how to put down a line? Won’t that just lead to bad habits or not learning the right techniques? And you mentioned learning how to draw the human body, will the sites you listed help, or are there other resources I should look up (like maybe on Pinterest?). Again, thanks!

Combining your asks into one. Thank you for the kind words! I'll be happy to continue helping where I can :)

So in terms of bad habits and practices, this is where my advice will fall flat haha because I myself don't know what's a good practice actually - I just do what I want to do even if its the worst way to do something anyone's ever seen! For example, my way of doing 'lineart' (just cleaning up my sketches) is to draw big fat lines and then slowly carve it with an eraser into a line I deem good enough. Someone who could grab a pen and draw a perfect line on the fly would probably be like wtf watching me meticulously erase my one fat line lol

But!

If you really don't know how to put down a line at all yet, your best bet really is to just start. There's not really a trick or technique too it, its just practice. I think unless you were trying to go into art school or something and needed to work on a portfolio (btw again I am not the person to ask for that), there's not really a 'bad habit,' its just as long as you're having fun. In my earlier example about my 'lineart' I pretty much know I'm doing it in such a dumb way, but I actually find it really fun to carve away my line with an eraser haha. Yea I could put in the effort to actually learn how to do things properly, but I like wasting hours just nitpicking on this little thing just because its fun to me. (I do the same thing for coloring also. I'll scribble my entire screen and then use an eraser to start carving things out lmao)

Of course while you're drawing and you're doing something that makes you think "hey this actually sucks actually-" that's when you take the opportunity to grow and learn something new that you didn't know before. This is a digital art thing: but for the longest time I literally didn't know anything about layers and my thoughts were just "man there's got to be a better way to do this" which throws me into a rabbit hole of searching "how do I do This Thing"

If you're really into learning art techniques though it might be good to slowly go over all of the 'art fundamentals' especially when it comes to like shading and perspective. I looked at this blog post and it looks like it would help start you out with some links to other resources: link then of course you can look up the corresponding Youtube videos to see someone actually do the fundamental for real. I'd also honestly recommend like a beginners artist course in person if that's something affordable and accessible to you. It's been one of my dreams to go to like random art classes for fun haha but alas life happens so its just me and my tablet until I'm rich as hell I guess. I've never taken a digital course either, but if that's one of the ways you're able to learn that's great too and I'd recommend it!

Next on human body:

Sorry I should have talked about them more in depth at the time, but yes they will help but only if you're determined to use them correctly! So the sites I listed basically show a pose for 30 seconds, and the idea is you're supposed to just try to take in the shape/form of the pose and draw it without nitpicking over minor details. You can also set the timer higher if you need (I used to set it to at least 60 seconds just because I was just a slow ass artist). But basically it should help you break down the human body into simple shapes and lines.

Now what I mean by using the sites correctly: So there's two ways to approach drawing from references:

1. "eye tracing" which is where your eyes are kind of just following the outline of whatever you're drawing but you're not really processing what exactly you're doing to help you later down the line. I have a bad habit of doing this and I tend to struggle later again for the same pose.

2. Breaking down the reference into small chunks and shapes, and then morphing those shapes into your piece. And later down the line you should start to be able to think of things like "oh the Circle piece of the body normally goes Here!"

Here's a random google image I found to help illustrate what I'm kind of talking about:

So eye tracing would kind of be like a less refined version of #3. Just a blobby but like you can somewhat tell what it is and that's cool I guess, but its not very helpful for when you want to try drawing a variant of the pose above. Breaking down the reference is like steps #1 and #2, simple shapes and blocks that help guide and outline the final shape you want. #1 in particular is very easy to change around should you want to.

So while you're on the sites I linked, you should try to break down each pose into its shape instead of drawing exactly what you see. You should also keep in mind the 'line of action' while doing so:

It's definitely a lot to take in all at once, so I'd honestly recommend just loading up the site and doing your best to replicate the pose, 'eye tracing' or not. Once you get more used to the routine and flow, then try to branch into learning more appropriate techniques. I've seen around that some people also recommend removing the time limit on the poses, as some people learn better by taking their time on one thing and breaking things down even further from there, but that's definitely up to you. You could also go out and try drawing random people if that helps and if you're bold!

My experience with Pinterest has mostly been for inspiration or cool things I've never thought of before, though I'm sure others are able to use it better than I can haha. I'm sure there are step by step guides to help you out around there!

I think resources to learn how to draw better really do come down to what kind of learner you are in the first place. Lots of people learn really well from Youtube tutorials for example, or maybe reading and following along with a book about anatomy would work for you too. I have like the most god awful attention span ever, so what works for me is just raw trial and error and hoping for the best. tbh idk how I even got this far haha but i am happy that I've progressed at all

Let me know if you have more questions and I'll definitely do my best to answer them! If you're looking for more advice regarding traditional art learning fundamentals, I'm sure there are many other artists that would be happy to answer your questions as well!

Best of luck! :)

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hannahhasafact · 12 days ago

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Art in review 2024!

I know this is a bit of a mess and not even in a template form, but last year I didn’t even post any art in review. So there’s that I suppose! (Tbh I started to get frustrated with my old template because it was month to month; I’ve noticed some months I do a lot of pieces that I like while I truly don’t like/don’t do art the next month. It annoyed me.)

But anyways! Here is a smattering of art that I did this year.

I will forever be simultaneously be my own biggest fan and my biggest critic. With that, I will always be proud of myself for playing around with things stylistically! Like I like looking back on my art and not seeing the same face a bajillion times. Sure, I can get a lil “same face”-y but I know that I try to play with different art styles! And I do like that I try to do that.

Some positives of this year:

Like I said before, variety! I experimented with some things and I think that those were the drawings that turned out the best!

Character interaction! I think this was my art goal from the year before as well, but this year I can literally see how much I had characters interacting with one another!

And the cons:

I’ve been feeling like all of my art is very 2 dimensional and flat. Even when it’s a scene, it just feels pasted to a wall. Like even previous art doesn’t feel as flat… so I’d like to work on that.

I really struggled with anatomy this year??? Which annoys me, because I use references a lot. Sigh. Guess a thing to practice.

I was looking at my art this year thinking “I swear I drew more” which I did!!! But oh my god there’s truly so much art I did not finish.

Regarding the last one. The biggest issue I run into a lot with my art is I always want to make BIG pieces, and then I get frustrated because it’s so much work! Unfortunately for me, a lot of the shows I like are massive ensemble shows… so I always wanna draw stuff with like 4+ people, and that becomes a lot. I also really wanna make comics! But then they end up being like 10 pages and again, I don’t finish them. It’s something I’ve always struggled with. So, much like every other year, I’m going to ATTEMPT to make more small art. Which again, is hard for me.

So! Goals for next year: 1. FINISH THINGS. (my goal every year lol) 2. Work on making art more 3 dimensional. 3. Practice anatomy!

May 2025 be kind to us all, and may we all continue to create art!

**a small additional note for myself:

It’s also been about a decade since I started doing digital art (I got my first art tablet in 2014) and just

In some ways I look at this in comparison to now and think “god I’ve barely improved” but then I look at little bit closer and I’m just like

You understand line weigh so much better now

You have a better understanding of how an eyebrow affects an expression/how it affects weight in the face more now versus just throwing a sad brow on the face

You have more warmth in your coloring

It might not seem like you know so much more now to yourself but oh my god you know so much more now

And that’s nice in a way

#ramblings #year in review #art improvement #also just gotta say this feels like a bad example of how I know I can draw different body types but I swear I can draw different body types #also there’s like no anthro art in here but I swear I can draw anthro art

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fearowkenya · 9 months ago

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i am so close to finishing my replay of ff7r ive got like maybe 4-6 hours left then i can FINALLY play intermission dlc so that i can FINALLY play rebirth and then FINALLY the mental crop rotation can go back to art or writing (altho i cant promise the art wont be ff7 focused for a while longer, cloud and associates got me gripped real tight rn)

(this got really long so im putting the rest under a readmore so it doesnt make anybodys dash like 5 miles long)

id really like to keep streaming when im done playing ff7 stuff, like art streams are smth id really like to do but im sort of at a loss for what to do setup-wise. i dont have the means or desire to put together a way to stream traditional art so it would have to be digital.

i detach my screen from my keyboard to draw on the touch screen which disconnects the screen from the graphics card i think. or SOMETHING like that . the graphics card I stream with is in the base of the laptop and obs does NOT play nice with the secondary one on the monitor. which means i cant stream with the screen detached.

ive tried streaming with my computer in Drawing Mode which essentially is with the screen on backwards so that its angled toward me with the keyboard inaccessible. it's annoying to stream like that tho because i can then ONLY use the touch screen and cant type anything or use keyboard shortcuts. its manageable if im not streaming but really annoying when im streaming and have to hop between drawing program and messing around w/ obs

i have a little bluetooth keyboard that i could use to get around this but its pretty tiny and while it DOES work the problem is that im not used to how the keys are spaced and i fumble constantly. also theres a delay in the input sometimes (i bought this keyboard from the secondhand store for like 4 dollars so it came with a little wear-and-tear)

and then trying to draw with the screen on normally obvious works the best streaming-wise but the angle that the screen is at with the keyboard in the way has my wrist hurting in like. 45 minutes.

i dont really want to use my external tablets - they're pretty old at this point and ive gotten used to drawing directly on the screen , and i have no desire to get a tablet with its own screen. i imagine cintiq and cintiq-equivalent tablets are still pretty pricey, and even if i had the budget, the entire point of me getting a touch screen computer was to be able to draw on it directly and cut down the number of steps it takes to get started, to keep the adhd demons at bay.

i think the solution is probably just adapting to the tiny bluetooth keyboard . i've messed around with using switch joycons for my keyboard shortcuts and while it actually worked really well it still doesnt fix the problem of shit keyboard access if i need to google a reference pic or smth lmao. touch screen keyboards just dont do it for me i always feel clumsy when im not able to actually feel separate keys. it frankly feels even worse than my tiny bluetooth keyboard

actually one of the main hurdles for me wrt drawing digitally is that i havent figured out a screen configuration that makes pulling up reference pictures feel seamless. its very jarring and clunky to have to tab between screens and i know theres a little window you can plop ref images into in clip itself but i Still find it pretty awkward to use. i think my screen size might be the issue though, so id probably want to use my tv as a second monitor and throw the ref images up there. which DOES work , ive tried it, but the problem is that . well. it's a touchscreen computer. and the bluetooth keyboard doesnt have a trackpad, because why would you need one for a touch screen. except that. the second monitor isn't a touch screen. its my entire goddamn television. i cannot access it via touchscreen. so i have to then plug in a mouse. and then at that point i am juggling the bluetooth keyboard, the joycons for faster keyboard shortcuts, AND a mouse to access the external monitor.

that setup is honestly doable i just feel so clumsy trying to navigate it. im sure with time id acclimate to it and it would become more streamlined as i make adjustments. im getting ahead of myself tho hahah im still at least five hours out from finishing my replay of remake, and then i hear the dlc is like ~4 hours so youd probably have to make that at least 6 for me because i play video games really slowly. and then rebirth is like what. 40 hours for just story?? jesus christ i just checked howlongtobeat and its over 80 hours with sidequests. thats like double the length of remake . GOD im so excited to play it aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#mattie chatters #the ol meds are kicking in and they make me realy chatty

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browzerhistory · 1 year ago

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tips for beginning artists from someone who's been drawing since he could first pick up a crayon:

1. anything worth doing is worth doing poorly

scared the drawing you want to make will turn out ugly? nervous you won't do the angle/character/lighting/etc justice? do it anyway. do it scared. do it weird, do it anatomically incorrect, do it uncolored, but whatever you do, draw that thing. it's better to get the idea out on paper/canvas/etc than to leave it in your brain to eventually fade away. if you still really love the concept, you can come back to it later with better skills, and if you end up disliking it, well, now that you've drawn it you don't have to ever again!

2. get a little silly with it

experiment with your art. go to a color palette generator and make something with the first thing you get. make ocs with complicated designs and weird backstories. change things about your style just to see how they look. the more things you try out, the more things you'll find out you like (or dislike), and your art will start to really feel like yours. i'm not sure if the Youth of Today get as hung up over not having an art style as i used to, but if you do, there's only one way to get it: fuck around and find out.

3. always cheat

listen. there are many people who will tell you that tracing a reference or color picking from a photo or whatever is cheating. those people are lying to you. obviously there are limits (like don't trace/recolor art and post it without credit), but the vast majority of the time, tracing and taking inspiration from other people's art is how you get better.

(one way to stop yourself from plateauing is to trace a reference, then try drawing it by hand. you can also try breaking down a pose into basic shapes/lines; if this seems confusing, just pretend you're making hitboxes for it video game style.)

4. take a goddamn break

if drawing is starting to feel more like a chore than a hobby, or if you feel like you've run out of good ideas, stop for a couple days. pursue another hobby, eat good food, observe local flora and fauna. even if you love drawing with all your heart and think you'll never get enough of it, your brain needs a refresher every now and then to come up with new cool stuff to draw. trying to push past burnout will most likely just ruin the fun of it for you.

5. make a mary sue oc immediately

there's way too much hate on mary sue characters, especially when so many stories introduce protagonists by going "what if there was a guy. and he was the Specialest Guy Ever." having a character who's sexy and smart and powerful is not only fun, but good for the soul, and nobody gets hurt when you make one. plus, it's hard to overstate how good it is to have a character you love to draw in lots of different outfits, poses, and situations.

6. your art is good because you made it

now this one will probably be controversial, since a lot of artist memes are about feeling self conscious about or straight-up hating your own art. but you've gotta find pride in what you make. you've gotta look at your drawings and say, "this fucks actually and i did an amazing job." for me, even if i don't like how a drawing turned out, i try to find at least one thing i really like about it, like the shading or colors or emotion. making self-deprecating jokes stops being ironic the more you do it, and the same applies to jokingly tearing your own art apart.

7. keep your old art

a very good poster once said that throwing away/deleting your old art is like walking up a staircase and smashing every stair behind you. even if you're very high up, you won't see it because it looks like you're just on the first step.

personally, i have sketchbooks going back to early 2018, when i first started regularly using them, and i keep some of my first ever digital pieces in an archive on my tablet, but i get that that sort of record keeping isn't possible for a lot of people. the gist of this advice is just to have some reminder of where you've been, so you can look forward to where you're going.

8. make furry characters

beyond the obvious (you're probably a furry and it's nice to be able to draw your fursona), doing furry art is also a great way to find community in art. whether you do commissions, comics, or just draw yourself for fun, furry art is a wonderful method of self-expression that has the added bonus of being basically limitless. my main fursona is a bug, my secondary one is a gastropod. follow your dreams.

there may be more i add to this list later, but these are the main ones i can come up with. obligatory disclaimer that i'm just one guy with one experience; this advice might not work for everyone; etc etc. i've just tried to base this off of what i wish i knew when i started getting into art seriously.

#art advice #have fun and be queer... my final message... goodbye

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sanghyukstattoos · 3 years ago

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SF9's reaction: first time over at theirs, accidentally leak

Warnings: mentions of blood, medicine (tablets)

A/N: None of the images in the collage are mine, refer to here for more; For more SF9, read here, for iKON, read here and for optional bias writings, read here

Safe and happy reading everyone!

Youngbin:

Partly anxious, partly thinks he knows what to do

He has a vague idea of what he should do, it presents itself to his decisions in the form of a solution but he isn't sure, is it what he is supposed to do? Suppose you have been asleep when he found out about your period, he will softly climb back into bed and wake you up. He'll hold you as and when you wake up and he finds it important to cuddle you all day long, even when he suggests that you watch something to distract yourself. He'll try to engage you in doing something like cooking as well but when he see that it doesn't work, he'll tell you that it's okay and pull you to the sofa where the two of you will spend the time either watching the tv or not but in each other's arms. You may go on a walk because he insists on getting fresh air and it's reliving, to feel the wind breeze through your hair, away from the growing stuffiness of staying indoors all day long.

Inseong:

''Oh, she must be in pain, what do I do?''

He may wake up because of your whimpers and heated body (you feel warm to the touch, much more than usual) so he wakes you up, giving you a detailed report of the blood stains and your probably high body temperature. He's freaking out which is cute before you sigh. The previous evening you felt your pms but when would it actually come? That was your question. Nevertheless, he leaves you to freshen up and takes the sheets for cleaning. He has some tricks up his sleeve; he knows that to do. When you come out, maybe hug him from the pain, his heart will squeeze like a towel filled with water, he'll press kisses on your face and give you gently words of support, ''You're doing so well. You want to lay down? I'll lay down with you, come.'' as he tugs you along. If you feel more active, he'll try his best to cook, as in, he'll give in his ultimate best. Extra effort so that you can eat food at home rather than from outside, it will taste good in the end because he would have followed the recipe and it's measurements to the t. Shining eyes should be following your movements when you taste his food, anxiously waiting for your response. Should you feed him, he'll melt, like a marshmallow. He loves you that much.

Jaeyoon:

Jaeyoon's a sweet heart

He'll ask you, ''Are you cramping?''. His voice is soft, almost down to a whisper. It draws you closer to him. You nod, pout whilst holding your lower tummy. You feel uncomfortable standing because of the pain, he knows it and draws you into his arms, holding you steady on your feet. He gives you little kisses on the cheek, teasing out giggles from you. He'll cook for you, maybe pancakes or avocado with fried eggs on toasted bread, whatever you want + as long as he is capable of making it, he may even surprise you! When you are eating, he'll give you company, his chin will rest in the palms of his hand and he'll give you this look where his eyes shine and the pads of his fingers drum on his cheek. He'll melt if you feed him, into a puddle his true form has been summoned. He'll make you smile, partly because of his cheeky jokes but also partly because of his own smile, lit cheeks that resemble a baking bun. He'll tell you not to apologise for the stained sheets, kissing your concern away. He'll join heads with you and figure out to do with it. The rest of the day, he'll spend it with you by taking you into his arms. Be prepared, fluff! passionate-driven! domestic husband! Jaeyoon is out to cuddle you!

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

🥺🥺

He may wake up to your groans of pain, too disorientated at first to comprehend that you may be pms-ing so he'll go back to sleep. When he wakes up later on, the first thing he may say is, ''Shit.'', biting his lip but not yet thinking of a solution. He'll first check up on you, to see if you are still asleep or not. If you are, he'll let you you be and sit back with his mouth agape, wondering how this could happen. This may go on for some moments. He doesn't have even half the heart to wake up but if he has to, he will. When you curl up into a foetal ball, his heart will break. After you refresh, he'll rush to sort out a hot bag for you and maybe some tea and cuddle with you on the sofa till you begin to feel hungry (he may wait for when you are ready to make breakfast!). It's because he loves eating and so he'll love to see his significant other too. He knows that you enjoy what you are eating and that makes him happy, so he'll wait!

Rowoon I Kim Seokwoo:

Luxurious level Rowoon 💸💸💸

You may already be up when he wakes up. ''Oh!?!?'' is his voice when he looks at the lil' crime scene you left. You didn't stress about it okay maybe a little but decided to deal with it when he woke up. O-O is his facial expression. He can't believe his eyes. He's scared, he may never be able to un-see it again, ever. To bad for him, slightly better for you. You are already refreshed and not feeling to great, drained even before the day has begun but he's not asking anything, only how you are feeling. You settle in the seat beside him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, he greets you with a kiss back, discussing about your plans for the day. ''About the sheets'', ''It's okay'' he says, noticing your apologetic face, ''We'll throw them out'', ''Okay~ they are your sheets'' you laugh. Otherwise, if he wants to make love to you, your period may briefly hinder his thoughts but not by much, especially if you agree. He undress you in the shower and kiss you all over, to relieve the soreness of your body and fill you up. He would be okay to cock warm, to sit there with you on his lap and talk to you, giggle and laugh with you, occasionally cutting you off by giving you love-bites and sucking your nipples, nipping the area around them, if you find yourself comfortable with cock warming.

Zuho I Baek Juho:

Home-man Ju, never-leaving-his-cats Ju

But for you, it'll happen. You may have not brought pads or tampons with you because your schedule is hay-wire. If no and you have some then problem solved but if not, he'll leave you with a hot bag and run to the nearest store to buy you some pads. He'll hurry, knowing that you are in pain so he'll even say to his cats before he goes, ''Be good and take care of y/n for me okay?''. You have half a mind to chuckle at this adorable behaviour. In his pyjamas and slippers, he'll walk out, coming back with pads/tampons and food! Food! What's not there to love about this man? He'll bring your favourite snacks, putting them on a plate while you freshen up. If you borrow his clothes, you'll take his breath away. He'll put something on to watch or go out, like an amusement park or food stalls or wherever you would love to go. He wants you to feel better.

Yoo Taeyang:

Shocked or master level response

The first would be more appropriate for this man no? But I can't also help but think that he would see you in pain and move quickly. Without thinking of a plan or immediate solution, he would try to use what he has, a resourceful character is my point. He may rummage through the kitchen and medicine cabinets, standing there for two to three minutes, pondering over what he could use. He is quick to find a heat bag and warm it up, perhaps a wet towel that he thinks he will come back to and tablets for your pain. No doubt that his once blurry eyes and tired mind have disappeared to the back, your peacefulness of mind and sleep becomes his first priority. He takes you to the toilet and while you hazily strip off your clothes, he warms up the water and fills the tub with it. While you soak, cleaning yourself up, he lets you be, giving you the space you need to take a while and gather your peace of mind. There's a lot he would do for you. In the morning, he would cook for you and take you out. Later in the afternoon, you'll fall asleep together and in the evening, if you both are in the mood, he'll be willing to try and ease your cramps with releases. He's someone to be grateful for.

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Shy, to the bone

You knock on his door, ''Kyun?'', ''hm? You okay?'', he is curious. ''Yea, I'm going to the store and coming back.'', ''It's pitch black outside, I'll come with you.'', ''okay'', it's dangerous outside, anyone could be there. Just left the complex, he asks, ''What do you need?'', ''Tampons'', ''oh.'', he's flustered now. The tips of his ears turn pink and his cheeks- he can't resist them from going upwards. After scratching the tip of his ear, he asks, ''Does it hurt?'', ''hm, I can feel it, it's hurts a little but later it may hurt a lot.'', ''As in, unbearably?'', ''Yea and I think that I may have already leaked.''. ''Shit'' he murmurs, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, ''If you want, you could go home and I could get them?'', he asks, in all seriousness. He doesn't contemplate that he's never done this before but he could, for you. ''It's okay, I think I can make it. Plus, you won't know what to get.'', ''Call me, ''Are you sure about this?'', ''Absolutely, I'll drop you off and then I'll pick them up, do you want something to eat?''. The endeavours make you smile, now you are at the front of his house, ''Anything is okay with me.'' to which he chuckles. He knows what you want, ''So some snacks?'', in a teasing manner. He moves closer to you. It's a pause from the outside world, cupping your face entirely in his hands, he kisses your cheek. You softly gasp, slipping into his grasp when he lets go. You could smell his shampoo and the way he lingered, he's already telling you, ''Go up, I'll come to you.'' having you shake you head and tell him, ''thank you.''. As he begins to walk, he resists turning back and pulling you into a kiss driven by heat-blinding passion.

I guarantee that the kiss doesn't happen for sometime but when it does, you end up making soft love under the covers. He starts with mapping out kisses along your body + he loves how you touch him when he kisses you.

Chani:

Loving and admirable

When he sees you in pain, he hurts too, expressed as a pout or frown, tugging your hand and asking if you are okay. He wants to make your pain go away. He may be doing some work on his laptop, he'll hold you in his arms with your head on his chest and you softly snoring away. It'll make him smile, after all you were woken up so early in the morning by your cramps, waking him up to a few hours later to find that you made breakfast. It depends on who wakes up, one or the other makes breakfast after a long competition of seeing who can sleep the longest. He feels grateful and he tells you that, before saying that you shouldn't have when you felt this much pain and that he was okay with eating outside food. You have to smile and place a finger to his mouth to prevent his nagging from chewing your ears off and give him a little kiss and then immediately pull him for cuddles. Complain about how you are in pain and he will melt like a lolly on a hot summer day and instantly cuddle you, hovering over your figure that he placed on the sofa and tease you, maybe by feeling your waist to your neck to a small make-out session. It'll be automatic for him to compliment you and shower you with love, easily embracing you and kissing you to tell you that he loves you.

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crown-anon · 4 years ago

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aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #sapnap x reader

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firebrands · 4 years ago

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the square root of infinity | stevetony

2.7k, established relationship, first fight angst | on ao3 | for @maguna-stxrk

***

Tony finds out with his hands deep in JARVIS’ code. Former-JARVIS, actual-JARVIS, he hasn’t really decided on what to refer to the mess of numbers of letters that formed his former AI, and now, well—Vision, too. It’s all a mess, really, and Tony wanted something simple to do with his hands, minimal focus, low-risk.

He should have known better, really. Nothing about him, his work, his life, has ever been low-risk.

It’s a command from Steve with a privacy protocol. Search, identify, and surveil Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier. Missing, found, and missing again as of six months ago. Tony frowns at the monitor. He knows he hasn’t read it wrong, but can’t believe it; he reads it again.

Somehow, in the span of time of Steve coming back from Washington, of them settling in together, he’d done this. He’d asked JARVIS to do this for him, and keep it from Tony.

Tony leans back against his chair. “FRI,” he says.

His new AI chirps to life. “Boss?”

“Gimme everything JARVIS found on this.”

“It’s on your phone now, boss.” In front of him, a hologram materializes as well, displaying hundreds of photos, grainy and filtered, and copies of reports on sightings. Tony stands up, takes a step back and frowns some more. He opens his mouth a few times, borne of his need to verbalize even without anyone listening; he’s angry. He’s more shocked than angry, but the anger is there, low and simmering.

Beneath it, though, is a grain of doubt: Why? Why did he keep it hidden? Especially now—after all the truth came spilling out of them, crystallizing into something Tony held dear. And after all Steve had said, about keeping secrets, about trust. He briefly considers asking FRIDAY to print it all out, just so he can throw the sheaf of paper in front of Steve and demand: what the fuck, but he’s better now, more mature. Or so he likes to tell himself.

So instead, he walks to the penthouse and finds Steve reading.

Tony clears his throat.

Steve looks up. “Hey,” he says, setting his book down. “You done working?”

Tony smiles, pained and tight. “So,” he says, sitting at the foot of the bed. “Bucky.”

Steve’s eyebrows meet, looking concerned. “What about him?”

Tony shuts his eyes and counts backward from five. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Steve inches closer to him and rests his hand on Tony’s knee. Tony doesn’t open his eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Steve says very quietly.

Tony’s eyes fly open, the anger now boiling over. “Oh is that it?” He asks sarcastically. “So you decided to use JARVIS—without my permission, to look for him?”

Steve’s mouth works, and he looks genuinely shocked. “You said I could talk to JARVIS.”

“That’s not the point!” He pushes Steve’s hand off him and stands. “Why would you keep that a secret?”

“I—I didn’t,” Steve says haltingly. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to know if JARVIS could find him, but I knew it was almost impossible anyway, so there was no real point—”

“If there was no point,” Tony says, voice lowering, “then why’d you do it?”

“Tony,” Steve stands now, too, tries to reach out and touch Tony’s elbow, to disentangle Tony’s arms that have crossed over his chest on their own volition. “He’s my best friend. I’m worried about him. I just thought it was something I should do myself.”

Tony nods, not really listening. His head is swimming with what he thinks could be actual reasons why Steve had kept this from him. A tangled mess of fear and insecurity, then shock at his ability to be aware of it. Is this maturity? He doesn’t like it much. Better if it stayed Steve’s fault—and it is Steve’s fault, it is. But maybe Tony doesn’t need to work himself up like this. But then again, Tony’s already worked up. “Stop,” Tony grinds out.

So Steve stops, a foot away from Tony, looking more scared than Tony’s ever seen him.

“I’m going to go.”

“Don’t.”

Tony looks up at Steve. He hadn’t even realized he’d looked away. Steve takes a deep breath, closes the space between them, and takes Tony’s hands in his.

Tony sighs.

Steve threads their fingers together, squeezes Tony’s palms. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want to say more than one syllable, maybe?”

A joke? Now? Tony feels his frown deepen.

“No.”

“Is this a fight?”

Tony looks up at him. “A fight means you don’t think you should be sorry.”

“Now, hold on a second,” Steve says, a small frown beginning to form on his face. Barely perceptible, if you didn’t know the signs. “I already explained why—”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

“Where is this coming from?” Steve asks, letting go of Tony’s hands, which means he’s mad too, which drives Tony insane.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“There’s no need to raise your tone—”

“Don’t fucking use your de-escalation tactics on me.” Tony hisses, turns on his heel, and walks out the door. He gives himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

***

The next few days are filled with small acts of penitence: a cup of coffee on the bedside table when Tony wakes, a sandwich in the workshop, a completed report for a day-old mishap. It’s on Thursday that Tony’s heart finally softens. Over nothing, really, just a small doodle on his desk. He realizes, in that moment, that of all his achievements, perhaps learning to understand Steve Rogers should rank highest. Right up there with being understood by him, too.

Tony’s lying in bed, reading a report on his tablet, when Steve peeks in.

“Hey.” He sounds tentative.

Tony sighs, sets his tablet aside, and takes off his glasses. “Well, come in.”

Steve’s barely able to hide his grin, and nearly bowls Tony over when he hugs him. “Hi,” Steve says, burying his nose against Tony’s neck.

“Hello to you too, you overgrown labrador,” Tony laughs, pushing Steve away a little lest he be crushed under all combined weight of supersoldier and three bowls of pasta that Clint prepared for dinner.

“I missed you,” Steve says, hugging Tony closer to him. He looks up at Tony, resting his chin right on Tony’s sternum. “Was that our first fight?”

Tony snorts. “Unlikely to be our last,” he says.

“Hey,” Steve chides, leaning up and brushing Tony’s nose with his. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Anyway,” Tony leans closer, brushes their lips together. “Make it up to me.”

Steve arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” Tony warns.

Steve huffs out a laugh, tips them over until they’re lying down, and makes it up to him.

***

As a man of science, it behooves Tony to conduct experiments and to test hypotheses.

First, identify the problem.

Second, conduct research.

Third, develop a hypothesis: follow if / then structure.

Fourth, test through experiments: ensure factors are varied one at a time.

Fifth and final, draw a conclusion.

Tony’s tapping the tip of a screwdriver against his bottom lip as he thinks, and then two strong arms wrap around his waist and just like that, the problem has identified itself.

(One frustrating blind spot in Tony’s life: relationships. Which isn’t to say he hasn’t tried to make sense of them, sped read through self-help books and trawled through Reddit. Unlike everything else, research pales in comparison to experience, and there’s only so much he can do to make sure this one precious thing in his life is perfect.)

“Busy?” Steve presses a small kiss on the back of Tony’s neck. Tony can barely suppress a shiver.

He wants to say, I was, until you showed up. It doesn’t just apply to this moment. That fact shouldn’t hurt.

Instead, Tony says: “Yeah, kinda.”

“Okay,” Steve says easily, pulling away. He comes back to press a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek. “See you later?”

“Yup,” Tony says, and okay. Maybe he needs to spend a day or two really figuring out who the problem is, here. (It’s him. He knows this. He’s always the problem.)

Two days later, Tony settles on having to review related literature. In this case, this means sitting alone in the workshop as he relives every moment when Steve was distracted. Was that a sign? In a brief moment of clarity, Tony asks: “Fri, am I crazy?”

“Signs point to no, boss. But I can pull up recent results on the search engines?”

“I’d rather not hear what the general public thinks, thanks,” Tony says, sighing. He rests his face in his hands. It’s not like he meant to think of this—what is wrong with his brain, that the intrusive thoughts come in the form of the few moments he’d asked Steve what was on his mind, only to be brushed off?

What did that mean?

Did it matter?

Step three: if that was a sign, then there was a problem.

If that wasn’t a sign, then there wasn’t a problem.

If Tony didn’t figure this out, then there would definitely be a problem.

This isn’t how a hypothesis is meant to sound. Tony’s a terrible scientist.

“Fri, call Bruce.”

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice is rough. He sounds annoyed.

“Hey, seven PhDs, how do I form a proper hypothesis?”

“Fuck you, Stark.” The line clicks off.

Tony turns his wrist, checks his watch. Three AM? Figures.

He stretches out his back. “Friday,” he says, standing up. “The search functions for Barnes.”

“On it, boss.”

“Atta girl.”

***

Try as Tony might—and he’s trying, which in itself feels like a failure, because Tony stark does or does not and there is no need to attempt—he feels like something has shifted between them, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Maybe he’s just making it all up in his head. That’s the easy solution, isn’t it? And that’s usually the answer: start with the easiest answer and work your way up. He can already see Natasha rolling her eyes at him. Maybe the solution is to stop treating your relationship like it’s quantum theory.

Steve’s hand is on his lower back, steering him inside a restaurant. He thinks only of what Steve said, all those weeks ago: I had to do it myself.

Tony wants to argue, right this moment. But how can he? It’s awful that they can be so alike. The only reason he keeps his mouth shut is because he knows that Tony’s used that argument before. Maybe this is growth, to know when to back down from a fight. Or to avoid one totally.

Steve reaches over the table, brushes his fingers over Tony’s wrist. “You okay?”

There are a lot of answers to that. Tony settles on the truth. “Not really.”

Steve’s brow creases with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Again: an infinite multiverse of answers to answer a question that simple. With this, Tony does struggle for a moment, and the next words are much harder to say—they almost feel caught in his throat, like a lump of meat. “I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything, you know,” Steve says gently. So gentle, it almost breaks him; Tony doesn’t deserve this. Steve doesn’t deserve this.

“I know,” Tony says, and this is him lying through his teeth, and this is what he’s good at, and maybe this is why he’ll never know how relationships are. It’s a trust issue, probably. He doesn’t know if the issue is with Steve, or with himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tony tries harder, now: smiles more, eats with gusto. He knocks Steve’s thigh with his knee, looks up at him from under his lashes. This is what life is like for Tony Stark: it’s acting. He knows the approximations to get his point across. As their evening goes on, the small wrinkle on Steve’s forehead smooths out, and maybe Tony wishes he wasn’t so good at pretending.

Maybe he wishes that Steve read him better.

***

The moment of epiphany is often described as transcendental.

This one hits like a ton of bricks—literally, because Tony does know what that feels like, and the suit is shock proof, sure, but that shit still fucking hurts, and even in moments of epiphany, somehow he still manages to go off on a tangent. The point remains: Steve’s hand is on his hip, and they’re in bed, and epiphanies usually equate clarity, peace.

Tony freezes up.

“Tony?” Steve murmurs, sliding his hand up Tony’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, sitting up. “I know I’m being difficult.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Steve sits up beside him, rests his hand on Tony’s shoulder, and turns Tony to look at him. “Who said you were being difficult?”

“Me, I’m saying it,” Tony says. Panic is beginning to bubble in his belly, slowly rising up his throat. Typical of him to mistake a eureka moment with a panic attack. Par for the fucking course for Tony Stark. “I’m being difficult right now.”

“No you’re not,” Steve says, rubbing up and down his arms. “Tony. Look at me.”

Tony breathes out through his mouth, then in through his nose. Steve tips his chin up and meets his gaze.

“Here are the variables,” Tony breathes out, is afraid of what he’ll say next, his brain is fogged over and full of static. “I love you, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Steve takes a deep breath, takes Tony’s face in his hands. “Here’s a constant,” he whispers, breath warm on Tony’s cheek. “I love you. I love you. You, Tony Stark. I love you.” He kisses Tony, hard and close lipped, more aggressive reminder than affection.

“Okay,” Tony says, because there’s a wild part of him that still thinks—there was a problem, there was a problem and if this is love, then what comes next? If this is constant, then what variable will arrive to change all of that?

Steve kisses Tony again, almost desperate, this time. “Is this about Bucky?” Tony sucks in a breath at the question, horrified at being discovered. Steve hums, then he runs one hand down Tony’s back, up his arm, down his side. A reminder of his presence. Tony is suddenly grateful for it.

“And if it is?” he murmurs.

“Tony,” and somehow, Steve sounds fond, which throws a wrench in this whole debacle, and deep in the recesses of Tony’s brain, rationality begins to take root. “He’s my best friend. You’re the love of my life.”

Tony breathes.

“Did you hear me? You. You’re the love of my life. Please don’t make me compare,” Steve huffs out a small laugh, and it warms Tony all over, like sunshine peeking through the clouds after a strong rain. “And maybe you don’t believe me just yet,” Steve touches their foreheads together, then rubs his nose against Tony’s, the affection plain and chaste. It makes Tony feel more loved than he’s ever felt in his life—not that there were many moments to compare against, but still.

“I feel a little crazy,” Tony says, finding it in himself to smile up at Steve.

“A little crazy in love?” Steve asks, grinning.

“I can’t believe you just made a Beyonce reference. In the middle of my panic attack.”

Steve bites his bottom lip, a poor attempt at stopping himself from laughing. Tony flicks his forehead. “Say it again,” Tony says, and his smile still feels a little wobbly, but it’s a step.

“Crazy in Love?” Steve asks, pulling Tony close and wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist.

It’s an odd angle, and eventually Steve shifts to lift Tony up onto his lap. “Ass,” Tony says. “You know what I meant.”

Steve smiles again, right before pressing a kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “Step one,” he says. “The problem is you’re afraid I don’t love you. Step two: find out how to show you that I do.” He pauses, and Tony feels breathless as he presses another kiss to Tony’s bare skin. “Step three. Hypothesis? If I show Tony I love him all the time, then eventually he’ll believe me.”

“Sounds like a shaky hypothesis,” Tony says, but his voice quivers a little as he says it. He can’t explain how he feels, other than warm in Steve’s embrace.

Steve tuts. “Step four, experimentation. Small gestures, date nights.” Steve rubs Tony’s back as he speaks, and stops to tilt Tony’s head up to face him. “Am I getting this right?”

Tony smiles. “I don’t know, what’s the conclusion?”

Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s waist once more. “You’re here. I’m here. I love you.” He leans up, brushes their lips together. “Is that enough?”

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #(well hello) (sometimes you just want to write something warm and familiar. i thought i'd forgotten how.)#things i write

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 4 years ago

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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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dawnwave16 · 5 years ago

Text

Project Widow Soldier

When Marinette first joined her classmates at the age of 11 it was clear that she wasn't what they considered normal. Sure her clothes were fashionable, but there was just something about her that made them second guess themselves. As the days passed they put that unease out of their minds, after all, why should they be scared of someone who was so clumsy?

What they didn't know was they should have listened to those instincts. Marinette was not normal, not in the slightest. She had been genetically engineered by Hydra. Half her DNA came from the Winter Soldier, the other half came from the Black Widow. How they had access to Widow's DNA, Marinette didn't know. She had his colouring but her build was similar to that of the widow's. Not that she knew that. She had been 8 when she had first heard whispers of what Hydra wanted to do with her, the perfect weapon, they called her. One born in a lab from an unknown surrogate and taken straight to their version of the red room. She had been trained and had her skills honed since before she could walk. Languages were drilled into her skull until it became a reflex to speak in whatever language was spoken around her.

That was something they should have remembered when they spoke of the next step of her training, whipping out her class. Well trained she may be but she had her father's true nature. The nature the Winter Soldier possessed when he was still James Buchanan Barnes aka 'Bucky' of the Howling Commando's and Captain America's best friend. Her true nature was kind, caring and bubbly when she was allowed to be, and the mile-wide stubborn streak in her refused to let her trainers take that away from her. When she heard what they had planned for her, she made her own plans. Instead of just taking out her class, she took out the whole base, hacking their computers to delete any and all references of herself, then ran.

She hitched her way to an orphanage in France where she was soon adopted and finally given a name of her own. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It sounded so much better than Experiment Widow Soldier 1623. Despite having run away she kept up most of her training, firearms were done at night by breaking into gun shops and dismantling then reassembling them against a timer. Other weapons were done by training in a dojo every second night. Hand to hand was done the same way except that was practised by a man who would alternate between watching her and sparing with her. She was always extra careful when they sparred as she didn't want anyone to know her true strength. It was why she always acted so clumsy too, no-one ever thought that the clumsiest person in the room could kill you with their bare hands.

Whenever they had a gym class at school she would pretend to injure herself so that she wouldn't have to participate in them. The teachers and other students simply thought it was bad luck so they ignored it rather than make a fuss of it. She found the classes very easy but after getting herself put up a grade she hid her boredom and simply put in the minimum effort she needed to still get her stellar grades. That's not to say her new life was perfect. There were still those that tried to bully her, but she generally only acted upset to help Chloe feel like she was copying her mother properly. She also discovered that she didn't feel comfortable not having at least one weapon on her, yet normal clothes didn't sit properly when she had a weapon. So she started designing and, making her own clothes and to her surprise, she discovered that not only did she enjoy doing so but she was good at it! Soon she was making all her clothes, up to and including bra's when she started needing them.

Two years after she was adopted and started her normal school career, she met Ayla. Although she got along well with Ayla, she decided to wait a while before deciding if they would be true friends or not. When one of her classmates was turned to stone she thought about intervening but knew that if she did, she stood the chance of being recognised, so she went home only to find a box on her desk. After checking it for traps she opened it, met Tikki and found she could help without exposing her secret to the world. It was in Tikki she found, what she felt, her first true friend. She then met Chat Noir and had to admit, while he needed to work on his comedic timing, he was a decent partner, especially for someone who clearly had no prior training. It was only due to her upbringing that she remembered that she had to catch the butterfly before they started celebrating their win.

When she arrived at school the next day she saw a boy leaning over her seat, at first she thought he had put it there but upon hearing Chloe giggling she realised that it was Chloe that had put it there. Despite this, she knew she had to make a scene about the gum so she pretended to be angry and pretended not to know who he was when Ayla showed her his picture on her phone. It was then that the downside of her training kicked in, this boy, Adrian, was her partner! She groaned and mentally hit her head against a brick wall in frustration.

School continued in pretty much the same way as previous years until yet another new girl joined their class. As far as Marinette was concerned the new girl was lacking in every way. Her lies were easy to disprove, her fashion sense was abysmal and don't even get her started on the girl's hair! When Lila first started to spread her lies, Marinette didn't care. When she stole Adrian's book though Marinette got angry. Didn't she know what Adrian's father would do to him if Adrian lost it? So she followed them and took the book out of the trash, only for Tikki to identify it as a grimoire and insist it be taken to the guardian. Marinette knew Tikki was right but she also worried about what would happen to her Kitty if she didn't return it. So she scanned it into her tablet, made a copy for the guardian and returned the book to Mr Agreste herself, saying she had found it in the trash after seeing Lila throw it away. As she had filmed Lila when she followed them he simply thanked her and sent her away. He hadn't even asked why she followed them!

It made her very suspicious of Mr Agreste but she knew Adrian as Chat wasn't ready for that confrontation so she kept her silence. She took one of the copies to the guardian and started her training as the next guardian. School carried on and Lila came back with yet more stories, she even tried threatening Marinette but she just shrugged it off, she'd dealt with worse.

Three more years past in much the same way, Lila lied, Marinette got ignored and the class seemed to drop in intelligence every time Marinette checked. Tom and Sabine never fell for Lilas' lies no matter how much the girl tried so Marinette was content. Then came the day that Marinette finally slipped.

There had been a difficult Akuma in the early hours of the morning so Marinette was running late. In her haste, she forgot that that day was a “gym” day meaning she needed an injury lined up. It definitely didn't help that the news that the Avengers were in Paris and would be visiting her school had been circulating.

“They all love me and we all text each other regularly but when they here they will pretend they don't know me so that I'm not made a target.” Lila was saying as Marinette stumbled into the classroom, pretending to be out of breath. “I wish I could tell you when they'll be here but they want it to be a surprise.”

Marinette rolled her eyes then finally remembered that today was a gym day and groaned softly. She didn't even have a viable excuse to get out of it! 'Looks like I'll have to try fake not being good at whatever activity they come up with' she thought with a sigh.

As luck would have it the Avengers showed up just in time for her classes gym class. At first, she thought that this would be a good thing, the Avengers would talk to them about whatever and then they would go back to their normal classes. Except that's not what happened. Kim, being his typical self, made a bet with Alix that if anyone in their class would be able to pick up Thor's hammer it was him. This led to a lot of snickering at the innuendo but it also got the attention of Tony Stark aka Ironman so they all had to line up and try to lift it. None of them managed to and then it was her turn. She didn't think she'd be able to but knew she had to try anyway. To her surprise, she lifted it easily. She blanched then did the only thing she could think of, she dropped the hammer and bolted from the room. She didn't mean to run into Bucky but she did and when he caught her, he could feel the muscles she had kept hidden with slightly loose shirts. This wasn't good.

“Alright little lady, what has you in such a panic,” Bucky asked.

“I was able to lift that stupid hammer so I panicked. I catch enough flack from my class that I didn't want to see their reactions.” Her voice came out against her will. Even though his question had been friendly enough, his voice had the same commanding tone in it that some of her instructors had had. He seemed to recognise that her answer hadn't been willingly given and studied her, his eyes showing that he was drawing the right conclusions about her training.

“You were trained. I accidentally used 'That Voice' and you had no option but to reply. Am I right?” His voice was filled with dawning understanding, however, he still kept that commanding tone in it so she felt compelled to answer.

“I managed to get away 5 years ago. I didn't think it would still work on me.” She replied miserably.

“5 years ago? That's when the Hydra base in Belgium blew up if I remember the reports I've recently been able to read correctly. Shield had found it hidden in a mountain under a monastery and three days before they went to attack it, it went up in flames. Was that you? If so, why, that would have been against all your training.” Bucky was still holding her arm so she couldn't escape. In a way, it felt like she was being grounded against her maelstrom of emotions through that contact.

“Look, can we not talk about this here? The last thing we need is for someone to hear this and start rumours about me. More rumours anyway,” her voice was very quiet at this stage.

Bucky thought for a moment then he answered. “We're staying on the fourth floor, I trust you can get in unseen?” He cocked an eyebrow as he said this, so she just nodded.

“What time?”

“22H00”

“I'll be there, though I would recommend having something that can do an express DNA analysis or I doubt anyone will believe me. I'm guessing I'll be talking to everyone?” Her tone was resigned as she said this. Bucky just nodded. “Alright, I'll see everyone tonight then.”

It seemed her run of bad luck was still going strong when an Akuma attack happened just after she had finished her supper and fighting it lasted for so long she only had 5 minutes to get to the meeting. She had 3 minutes before her transformation timed out so she decided to throw caution into the wind.

“Chat, I have to be somewhere ASAP, can I leave the comforting to you?” Chat hadn't had to use his power so he nodded and she swung away quickly. Landing on the correct balcony with a minute to spare, she stepped through to the surprise of everyone in the room and dropped her transformation. Tikki had known she was going to tell them anyway so she just smiled at her as she accepted a macaroon.

The avengers, who had all tensed up ready to fight as she dropped in, relaxed slightly before Thor's laughter boomed around the room.

“So that's why you were able to lift Mjolnir earlier! Well met young wielder of creation!”

She blushed but nodded. “Mind if I sit down? I'm a little tired.”

“Pull up a chair,” Tony said. Then he continued “Why'd you tell metal arm here to have a DNA tester ready?”

In answer, she simply held out her arm and when nobody moved she sighed. “Look, it would make it a lot easier for everyone to understand if they could see that what I'm about to say if they could see I'm not lying and that I have nothing to hide, at least not from anyone in this room.”

That got a reaction out of them. Bruce got up and drew the blood sample needed and ran it, only to let a strangled sound out when the results came in. Marinette giggled.

“Are you serious?!? This can't be right!” he spluttered.

“They accurate. You can check me for any hidden vials etc that could have messed with the results if you want but I promise they are true.” Marinette couldn't help but be amused.

“What's wrong big man?” Tony asked.

“The DNA results say she's Bucky and Natasha's kid but that's not possible!” Bruce's voice was filled with denial.

“WHAT?” Everyone in the room except Bruce and Marinette shouted.

“Read them yourself!” Bruce thrust the result sheet toward them.

“It's true. Oh my god, how?”

Tony was about to make a joke about two people having sex when Natasha shook her head.

“Before you start, Tony, I've never had sex with Bucky let alone been pregnant so it won't be the way you thinking.” She turned to Marinette and simply said: “Explain, now!”

Marinette sighed then leaned back and started to explain about Hydra's project Widow Soldier and how she got away. Halfway through her explanation, Tony had Friday start pulling all the records that he could and shared them with the rest of the Avengers. Friday was a little more thorough then Marinette expected him to be and had pulled up files regarding what was going on at Marinette's school too. Most specifically about Lila Rossi. The team was not pleased when they saw the videos with Lila lying about them and quite a few others.

As the team started to discuss how they would deal with Lila's lies about them, Natasha and Bucky walked over to Marinette.

“So, you're our daughter huh?” Marinette nodded with her eyes lowered thinking that they must either be angry or disappointed.

“Did the serums in us affect you in any way?” Natasha asked.

“I'm stronger, faster and more flexible than most, which helps with being Ladybug but is a pain as a civilian as I always have to hide it, even from my adopted parents. I'm immune to poisons and need very little sleep. Oh, and my eyes are better and my hearing is a little more acute. If anyone found out I was going to blame it on having an active X-gene but I know I don't actually have one.”

“At least you had a backup plan for it kiddo,” Bucky said ruffling her hair. She swatted his hand away.

“Up for a sparing session so that we can see where you at in term of training?” Natasha asked.

“Sure, just know I don't want to go into the hero business full time. I was hoping to be like Edna Mode in the Incredibles, you know? Design super suits for everyone, yet still, be awesome in my own right.” Bucky and Natasha chuckled.

“If's that's what you want sure, but we still going to double-check your level of training,” Bucky replied.

“Fair enough.” She hopped up and stripped off her jacket as they started sparring.

What no-one knew was that a certain Salt-water Crocodile had smelt his favourite teen and had escaped from the room he was in. He had a bad habit of doing that, mainly so that he could destroy and crocodile skin items Chloe had, as well as her shoes. Marinette and Natasha had been sparing for 10 minutes when Fang managed to track Marinette's scent down and break into the Avengers' room, causing them all to freak and reach for their weapons. Marinette and Natasha stopped their spar and Marinette stood with her hands on her hips, looking uncannily like a blue-eyed version of her mother.

“Really Fang? Must you resort to scaring everyone whenever you even think I'm nearby?” She didn't get an answer except for a slight rumble from Fang's chest almost like a purr. She sighed then walked over to her jacket to get her phone and dialled a number.

“Hey Uncle J, you wouldn't happen to be missing something would you?” She asked into the phone when her call connected. When she got an answer all she replied was “Room 416,” before hanging up and sitting down. Fang was instantly half on her lap demanding cuddles.

The team was startled, to say the least, but even more so when Jagged Stone burst into the room. He ignored them his eyes locking onto Fang and Marinette. “Little M! No wonder he decided to go for a walk!” He looked around, “Oh, were you in the middle of a design meeting? I'll catch up later then! We still on for you coming on tour with me for a month when school finishes? Excellent! See you later then!” And with that, he was gone again.

“Don't ask,” was all she said with a shake of her head and a small laugh “You'll get used to it.”

Seeing how similar the man was to Tony the team accepted that easily enough. Marinette looked at the clock and saw it was 2 o'clock. She sighed then looked back at everyone.

“Look do what you want about Lila but I don't want to know the plan beforehand. If I look smug, or if I don't look surprised she'll twist your actions to be the result of me manipulating her. I've got to get home and get some sleep as I have school in the morning, while I don't need a lot of sleep I still need some.” Having said that she called for her transformation and left.

School was as boring as ever the next day when the door slammed open and Tony stood there.

“Sorry not sorry for barging in Ms Incompitence,” he said to Mlle Bustier, “But there is something I need to say to this class. After we left yesterday and saw that Akuma attack we tried to get more information on them. Imagine our surprise when we saw a video on a blog we'd never heard of, a video that contained an interview with a girl we had never met or even seen until we spoke to this class yesterday. We decided to do what little miss tabloid reporter here should have done and did some fact-checking. Yes, there are some facts in what she said but 95% of what she said was total BS. We even called some of the celebs that were spoken about to make sure!” With that, he slammed a wad of paper down on the desk in front of Lila. “These are copies of the lawsuits you will be facing Ms Liar, your mother has copies of them too.” He turned to Ayla and dumped another slightly smaller wad in front of her. “This is your set, same story.” Finally, he turned to Mlle Bustier, “You will be hearing from the education board shortly.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

Marinette sat back in her seat watching as the class slowly processed what had just happened. When Adrian looked at her she shook her head showing she had nothing to do with it. Realising she probably wouldn't learn anything new until Ms Mendeleiev came to teach them, she closed her eyes and thought about her summer. A month travelling with Jagged, the rest spent with the Avengers, who knew what would happen? Either way, she looked forward to the future, knowing she had two sets of parents that supported her and a whole family to meet. Who knows maybe she could even find someone she would be willing to date?

by popular request part 2

#winter soldier #mlb #au bio dad for marinette #au bio mom for marinette #ayla salt #lila salt #ms bustier salt #avengers

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