#military clothing store near me

[belaporter92]

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

Remember Our Heroes T-Shirt with Thank You Veterans on Back

Shop this unique, Remember Our Heroes T-Shirt with Thank you Veterans on back of shirt. This is a perfect shirt to express your thankfulness to our Veterans. This t-shirt makes a great positive message to all of Heroes, and makes a great gift for anyone! When you purchase this t-shirt it will support Minnesota Homeless Veterans. All proceeds will go to the Minnesota Homeless Veterans.

Front of Shirt: Remember Our Heroes

Back of Shirt: Thank You Veterans

Just your everyday comfy t-shirt. Get comfortable with our 100% cotton crew neck t-shirts. Made of 100% soft cotton for a smooth, breathable fit. Pre-shrunk cotton tees are perfect for layering or wearing alone. Lightweight fabric keeps you cool and dry so you can look great and feel great all day.

The perfect tee shirt for a modern casual look. Not too long so you can wear these untucked with a pair of jeans or chinos. Looks great under a casual blazer and jeans for a relaxed Friday style. Stylish and versatile everyday crew neck tees are a wardrobe staple.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

All items are created or designed by Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations. We also print and heat press our items using our professional, commercial grade heat press! Each design is made with High Quality, Heat Transfer Vinyl.

After a package leaves my hands with the post office, Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations is not held responsible. Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU!

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop to view more of our creations!

LET’S GET SOCIAL & BE FRIENDS! Like, Tag & Follow us for Our new Creations, Inspiration & Giveaways!

website/ www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop

facebook.com/ https://www.facebook.com/GrandpaHandmadecreations/

instagram.com/ https://www.instagram.com/grannyandgrandpacustomcreation/

goimagine.com/ https://goimagine.com/granny-and-grandpas-custom-creations/

pinterest.com/https://www.pinterest.com/grannyscustomcreations

#grannygrandpascustomcreations #thankyouveterans #veterans #supportsmallbusiness

Shop this unique, Remember Our Heroes T-Shirt with Thank you Veterans on back of shirt. This is a perfect shirt to express your thankfulness to our Veterans. This t-shirt makes a great positive message to all of Heroes, and makes a great gift for anyone!

Front of Shirt: Remember Our Heroes

Back of Shirt: Thank You Veterans

Just your everyday comfy t-shirt. Get comfortable with our 100% cotton crew neck t-shirts. Made of 100% soft cotton for a smooth, breathable fit. Pre-shrunk cotton tees are perfect for layering or wearing alone. Lightweight fabric keeps you cool and dry so you can look great and feel great all day.

The perfect tee shirt for a modern casual look. Not too long so you can wear these untucked with a pair of jeans or chinos. Looks great under a casual blazer and jeans for a relaxed Friday style. Stylish and versatile everyday crew neck tees are a wardrobe staple.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

All items are created or designed by Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations. We also print and heat press our items using our professional, commercial grade heat press! Each design is made with High Quality, Heat Transfer Vinyl.

After a package leaves my hands with the post office, Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations is not held responsible. Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU!

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop to view more of our creations!

LET’S GET SOCIAL & BE FRIENDS! Like, Tag & Follow us for Our new Creations, Inspiration & Giveaways!

website/ www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop

facebook.com/ https://www.facebook.com/GrandpaHandmadecreations/

instagram.com/ https://www.instagram.com/grannyandgrandpacustomcreation/

goimagine.com/ https://goimagine.com/granny-and-grandpas-custom-creations/

pinterest.com/https://www.pinterest.com/grannyscustomcreations

#grannygrandpascustomcreations #thankyouveterans #veterans #supportsmallbusiness

[gunnrblze]

pls yandere keegan hcs....🙏🙏

Sorry this took so long my dear! I’ve not written yandere shit in a millennia, so if it’s corny I apologize💀 also this turned into a little drabble rather than hc’s. MDNI, 18+, dark fic

big TW below the cut: obsessed,possessive Keegan, reference to violence/murder, stalking, manipulation, reference to sexual activity (no actual sex/assault), home invasion, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of being tied up/caged. it’s dark & fucked up, that’s the warning, please heed it don’t come for me

He sees you one day, his heart melting and his cock throbbing in his jeans. You’re so pretty, so precious, and he feels something light him up from the inside out. He wanted to have you. All to himself. He figured you probably didn’t even know how lost you were, not until he stepped into the picture. He was retired from the forces now, he’d been looking for a new project anyways. This would be your rebirth, that’s the way he saw it at least when he decided to follow you home that day.

Scoping out what he’d be working with, your home, how many entrances and exits there are. The neighbors, if you have any roommates/family, pets, alarm systems, etc. To his sheer pleasure, you lived totally alone. He’d change that soon. Don’t worry, honey.

You had a couple ring cameras set up, child’s play, nothing he couldn’t get past. Not that he really cared, of course. He’d have you any way he could get. He’d just hate to have to involve anyone else with his affairs, lest he need to find a more permanent solution. Cop killer isn’t a good look, but if they sniffed around, they’d get what they’d get, he figured.

Taking you would be easy, that wasn’t a problem. He was a silent, experienced man, you hadn’t even noticed how he’d been following you home for the past week anyways. How he’d sit in his truck across the street and watch your figure move around from behind those curtains that were way too sheer. Hell, if he wasn’t planning to rehome you, he’d have to get you new ones. People could see you like that, sweetheart. People that don’t deserve you. Ones that you don’t belong to.

It didn’t matter, really, when exactly he took you, you’d be living a new life with him anyways. He’d already set up such a nice, cozy little spot for you in his basement. He’d snuck in one day while you were at work, he had to know more about you of course. And he knows your favorite color now, so all the blankets and pillows he bought just for you will suit those tastes. He knows your favorite snacks and drinks, he’ll want you to be comfortable of course, especially when you resist at first.

He made sure to memorize all your products, too. So when he helps you wash your hair, you’ll be using the right shampoo. And when he lets you bathe, you can have your favorite scent of body wash. He loves the way you smell anyhow, that scent was wafting off you when he accidentally bumped into you at the grocery store a few days ago.

All the things you enjoyed, he made sure to make a mental note of them. Music, clothes, books, games, any and everything that you filled your space with. He couldn’t believe how lovely you were. Such a beautiful soul, no? You’d be the best addition to the new home and land he’d purchased after retiring, the acres and acres of property, free of any imposing neighbors.

He’d left your home in the exact condition it was in before he broke in, of course. He’d disabled your cameras through your WiFi router, not the best home surveillance, he reckoned, but he had something much more up to the task on his property. Thank god for military training, no? You didn’t even seem to be too concerned when he watched you come home that evening and check them out yourself. Going back and forth between the app on your phone and the camera near your front door in an attempt to figure out why the connection had cut out for a couple hours.

It almost killed him to watch you get so frustrated before finally giving up, going back inside to simply fix your WiFi. He wished he could tell you that sooner rather than later, you wouldn’t have a problem in the world. He’d take them all from you, give you any and everything you need.

He was expecting a fighter, of course. From what he learned, you had an attitude, didn’t take much shit. That asshole in the mall parking lot got an earful when he almost rear ended your car last week, fucker tried to blame it on you. Thankfully he didn’t, but Keegan took care of it anyway after you left.

Had you noticed the missing man on the news was that same guy? Did you realize what he’d done for you? Nobody would ever get to speak to you like that again, sweetheart. Not when he’s around to take care of you.

He packed extra rope in his truck just for you, just in case you were a smarter cookie than you looked. You can never be too careful, always underestimate your enemy, some of the lessons he’d learned during his career seemed to apply here too. Not that you were an enemy, god no, but you’d certainly consider him one for a while. He was just thinking logically, of course.

Thankfully you still had that spare key in the planter next to your front door from when he’d checked for one the first time he went to your house. He thought it was cute, really. How you figured putting it somewhere else, rather than under the mat, was safer.

He wasn’t stupid enough to take you during the day, but he could’ve. He just figured the darkness would hide his figure more easily. It was almost pathetic, how he walked right into your house without making a sound. He knew you were in bed already, part of your night routine. He felt a little bad for turning the WiFi off again when you were in the middle of your show, but it lured you out of your bedroom, thankfully.

Although it was for the best, he understood that you were scared when he silently cupped a hand over your mouth and locked an arm around your waist from behind. So he made sure to replace his hand with the rag very quickly before you fainted in his arms.

It took him a bit longer to get you into his truck than he’d initially planned. Finally getting his hands on you, laying your limp body down on the living room floor to brush the tears off your cheeks, he almost couldn’t stand it. The sight of his sweetheart, finally in his arms, looking too peaceful for words. He wasn’t one to get distracted, certainly not during a time like this either, but he didn’t account for the time it’d take him to get himself under control.

He had to excuse himself to your bedroom for a moment to jerk his rigid dick off into a pair of your dirty panties. He’d hate to drive with a hard on of course, especially when you’d be waking up around the time he arrived home. He didn’t want to be distracted while he brought you inside, considering you’d no doubt be more combative.

And it’s a good thing he knew how to think ahead, because your wrists were already raw against the rope as he dragged you through his front door. He hated to see you cry, hated the way the gag was soaked with your tears and saliva, but he tried telling you it was okay. You didn’t listen of course, flailing like a fish in his arms as he walked down the basement steps. But he’d wait. He’d wait until the day you thank him, until the day you reciprocate his love.

Until then, you can stay shackled to the wall. Please, just don’t make him put you in the cage again. Really, there’s no need to bite, sweetheart.

[gottalovetumbler]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 7

𝓓𝓪𝔂 8

ⁿⁱᵏᵒˡᵃⁱ/ᵖʳⁱᶜᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Info: Fem!Reader, cussing, probably shit but I’m trying to get everyone introduced by day 10 so then I can start all the fun chapters so please bear with me

———👗 🛍️ ———

The next few days pass by in a blur. Lots of medicine induced sleep made it feel like a second in your life rather than 72 hours stuck in the same bed. The nurses were obviously upset with your trying to leave while not being discharged but they didn’t say much. At least not to you but you did hear some murmuring behinds closed doors between Gaz and them so maybe something was said. That’s didn’t matter much now seeing as you’re finally free to hobble your way back onto base.

You insisted you get yourself back alone after being discharged, much to the disappointment of your seven new and self identified “besties” as Soap said. They didn’t like the idea of you walking around alone and obviously injured but it was only a mile and half away so they couldn’t come up with any good reasons to stop you.

The walk back to the base was a welcome distraction, save for the stares you got of course. The hospital was practically in the bases backyard, separated by a Main Street sort of situation. Little shops lined the street with displays of different items catching your eyes as you passed.

Laughing families and cuddling couples surrounded you as you walked. It was 6pm on a Saturday so it’s not a surprising crowd. You watch a little girl with pigtails sprints into the local pet store, much to her parent’s dismay and chuckle as they chase her.

You pause your walk as you look across the street, an open sigh sits in the window of your favorite vintage clothing store. They typically close at 4 so you have no idea why they’re open now, but you aren’t going to question it.

Cool air snacks your face as you push the door open and greet the store owner. It takes a couple minutes to explain the unfortunate history behind your injuries but she eventually concedes when you tell her you just got out of the hospital and are doing a-ok.

When you ask, she lets you know that’s it’s the monthly family night where all the stores stay open so that military families can go and shop around together. Almost every store and restaurant stays open till 11pm so you’re told to go crazy and try-on as many things on as you want.

Twenty items later you finally check out, purchasing the two dresses, pants, and sweater that you liked. It’s nearing 10pm as you resume your way back home. Almost all the families with kids have already left for the night but there’s still some eating at the restaurants in the open air.

You can finally see the base past all the buildings as you stand, waiting for the signal to cross the road. It finally turns green and right as you’re about to cross and car screeches to a halt 5ft in-front of you. The glare melts off your face as you make eye contact with the driver of said car. Captain Price. And he looks pissed the fuck off.

The sounds of locks clicking and his glare tells you enough, so you climb into the back seat. He waits for you to buckle before driving off towards the base. Now that you’re in the car you also notice a man in the passenger seat, another new man. This man though, isn’t wearing a mask and looks quite nice.

‘We thought’ you wer’ dead.’

‘Why would I be dead? All I was doing was shoppin-‘

‘It’s almos’ 11 at nigh’ and you wer’ discharged at 5:30. So nearly 6 hour’ without any sign of you when the walk was less than 2 miles. Tha’s why.’

‘I was just shopping, maybe if someone tried to call me then I could have to you that Mr.Price. It’s not my fault non of your-‘

‘Ꭵ’Ꮄ ᎤᏬᎥᏖ ᏇᏂᎥᏝᏋ Ꭵ ᏇᏗᏕ ᏗᏂᏋᏗᎴ ᎥᎦ Ꭵ ᏇᏋᏒᏋ ᎩᎧᏬ ᏦᏒᏗᏕᎧᏖᏦᏗ. ᏁᎧ ᎷᏗᏖᏖᏋᏒ ᏇᏂᏗᏖ ᎩᎧᏬ ᏕᏗᎩ, ᎩᎧᏬ ᏇᎧᏁ’Ꮦ ᏇᎥᏁ.’

‘Accordin’ to Soap, she has a hard time understanding accents. Maybe-‘

‘That fucking narc! Who else did he tell about it? I was doing perfectly fucking fine when it was just Gaz and Chase that knew. Now it’s everyone’s fucking business?? What an assholse! I can’t bel-‘

‘ᎧᏦ ᏦᏒᏗᏕᎧᏖᏦᏗ, ᏂᏋ ፈᏝᏋᏗᏒᏝᎩ ᎴᎥᎴᏁ’Ꮦ ᏖᏋᏝᏝ ᏋᏉᏋᏒᎩᎧᏁᏋ ᏰᏋፈᏗᏬᏕᏋ ᏖᏂᎥᏕ ᎥᏕ ᏖᏂᏋ ᎦᎥᏒᏕᏖ Ꭵ’Ꮇ ᏂᏋᏗᏒᎥᏁᎶ ᎧᎦ ᎥᏖ.’

The glare you send him is deadly but it also says “what the fuck did you just say?”

‘Ꭵ ᏕᏗᎥᎴ, ҭᾄќἔ ᾄ в︎ʀἔᾄҭђ︎, ђ︎ἔ’ṩ ῥʀὄв︎ᾄв︎ł︎ẏ ὄᾗł︎ẏ ҭὄł︎ḋ ᾄ ғἔᾧ ῥἔὄῥł︎ἔ ṩὄ ḋὄᾗ’ҭ ᾧὄʀʀẏ ҭὄὄ м︎ὗƈђ︎. Ṃᾄẏв︎ἔ ҭʀẏ ҭὄᾗἷᾗʛ ḋὄᾧᾗ ҭђ︎ἔ ƈὗṩṩἷᾗʛ ᾧђ︎ἷł︎ἔ ẏὄὗ’ʀἔ ᾄҭ ἷҭ, м︎ᾄќἔṩ ẏὄὗ ł︎ὄὄќ ł︎ἷќἔ ᾄ ḋἔł︎ἷᾗqὗἔᾗҭ ᾧἷҭђ︎ ҭђ︎ἔ в︎ʀὗἷṩἔṩ ᾄᾗḋ ᾄł︎ł︎.’

‘Oh I fucking look like a delinquent do I? Welllll pardon me-‘

The radio goes up in volume as Price rolls his eyes. This 2 minute drive is starting to feel a hell of a lot longer.

———👗 🛍️ ———

Hope yall enjoy!

[bevanne46]

How to Build a Fabric Stash without Breaking the Bank

Fabric can be expensive but it doesn’t have to be.  If you are not stuck on Name Brands or Specialty Fabric Store Exclusives here are some ways to build your fabric stash without costing an arm and a leg. I have made many beautiful quilts using various fabrics from various supplies. And I believe that the quality is not just in the fabric you use but also in your stitch work and seams sizes. If your seams are less than a ¼” they will not hold (personally I prefer to use a ½” seam allowance). If you are not securing your thread ends, your stitch work is going to come undone. So be sure to watch these things too.

Look for fabric at your local Thrift Store (Goodwill, Value Village, etc.)

I have found some wonderful fabrics in various sizes, notions, storage items and more at my local Thrift Stores. I have even found unfinished quilt tops that I have brought home and added a backing to then quilted. Remember that almost any size fabric remnant can be added to other remnants to make some wonderful scrappy quilts so save your own remnants after making a quilt, you may be able to use it later in another quilt.

Look for local Fabric Sales held by Quilting Guilds in Your Area.

We have 2 near me every summer.One charges $2 per pound for any fabric. The second one charges $2 per yard for any fabric. Both also sell batting, notions, books, machines, tools, and more.

Look for fabric on Facebook Marketplace, Nextdoor and other sites.

I sell extra fabric on Marketplace and Nextdoor. I have also found several ladies near me selling fabric that I have purchased. And some I have purchased with shipping to me.

Look for older 100% Cotton Sheets at your local Thrift Stores.

Back in the 1800’s and early 1900’s, Quilts were not show pieces. They were real functional blankets that were made from any and all fabrics they could get, usually used clothing. I think there is no reason why we cannot still do that instead of buying expensive fabrics. I have often used clothing, sheets, curtains, and other linens to make some wonderful, usable quilts. And there are some wonderful patterns you can use for quilts in bedsheets from the 1980’s and 1990’s. Note: I always wash anything from a Thrift Store before I use it.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other Fabric & Craft Stores.

I know some quilters believe that the fabric from Joanns & Hobby Lobby is poor quality but I have not found any bad fabric from these stores.  We do not have a “Quilting” store close to me and because I’m handicapped, I will not drive an hour or more just to buy expensive fabric.  If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to afford to quilt.  I will also buy fabric from Walmart but I am more careful with my selection there as most fabric at Walmart is good but I have had one or two pieces that I felt were poorer quality.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for your Local Quilt Shop.

Quilt shops will also have occasional sales and/or coupons so if you prefer to shop at these locations take notice of when they have sales. Also ask if they ever give discounts to seniors or military.

Use New or Older Clothing.

I have made a lot of beautiful Memorial Quilts from a loved one’s clothing and T-Shirt quilts. I will use jeans, work shirts, uniforms, flannel, cotton, polyester and even some knits.  These can be a little trickier to work with because they are often stretchy fabrics but they will add a wonderful texture and visual variance to your quilts.  I recently found a pair of cotton pants with Mickey Mouse on them. I fell in love with them because they were so colorful, and I love bold colors. I found several other cotton fabrics that matched the colors in the Mickey pants and made a bold colorful quilt!

Rethink Your Backing Fabric

No one ever said your quilt backing had to be all New Cotton. You can use Fleece, Flannel or Bed Sheets as well. On many occasions I have found some wonderful fleece blankets on clearance and used these for my quilt backing.  Joanns right now has a great clearance sale on Flannel fabric. The best part about using some of these is that you can get then in a wider width so you may be able to make your backing in all one piece instead of 2 or more like when using regular cotton (unless you want your backing to be in various colors/patterns).  You can also use new or older cotton bed sheets for a quilt backing. Again, you can make your quilt backing in one solid piece with a sheet!

Check the Clearance Section for Your Favorite On-Line Stores

I have several on-lines stores that I love to shop from (e-Quilter, Missouri Star, etc.) but sometimes they can be expensive so I always check the clearance section of these stores. There are times I will find some beautiful fabrics on clearance so will purchase it then look for matching piece everywhere else so I can get the best deals. Also check for on-line sales from Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other on-lines stores that sell fabric and/or sheets.

Check Out Your Local Garage, Moving and Estate Sales

I have found some of the best deals at moving and estate sales because often the seller is willing to bargain with you. I once found an estate sale where a family was selling off all their mother’s quilting and sewing items because she had passed away and none of then sewed. There was more fabric and notions than I would have used in a year so I found lots of thread and items I purchased at a great price.

Note on Batting

I know that many quilters believe that the only batting you should use is expensive cotton batting. I disagree.  There are many forms of batting. Cotton/Poly blends, Polyester, and Fleece. I love cotton batting but cotton will break down quicker than polyester and I want my quilts to last a lifetime so for most of my quilts I actually use Polyester more often than not. I have taken the backing off many older quilts to do repair work and the cotton batting inside was all balled up and a real mess.

Now when I am doing the Quilt-as-you-Go method I use a Fleece batting. The fleece can be cut into smaller pieces, fabric added to the top and then sewn back together to make wonderful quilts. And the batting doesn’t get stuck in my machine.

Shop Around for your batting to find the best deals. Sometimes Joanns has a sale on batting but the best price I have found so far has been Walmart on-line.  I can buy a 96” x 9 yard Bolt of Poly Batting for just $30 on Walmart on-line. This bolt will make 4+ quilts depending on the size of the quilt and I will have lots of left overs for smaller projects like pillows, etc.  For me the best part is that because it’s 96” wide, I don’t have to piece together my batting before I can sandwich my quilt!

[arlo1611]

Welcome home (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Male Reader)

Being married to someone who works in the armed forces might just be the hardest thing a couple can go through. Only seeing your loved one a few times a year, constantly worrying about them and most off all… the very real possibility that they won’t come home.

Y/N knew all of this when he married Simon Riley. Yet, I don’t think anyone can fully prepare to watch their husband go into war zones. Y/N tried to live a happy live when Simon was not present, but it was hard. Very hard. He kept the house clean, took care of their dogs and even opened up a small bookstore attached to their home. He tried his best to stay busy, because he knew if he didn’t, all he would think about is Simon. He never even took his wedding ring off, not when he worked or when he slept.

It was around 11am and Y/N was working in the bookstore, like every other day. It was a Tuesday and business was slow, but that didn’t stop the regulars from paying their usual visit. He was in the middle of reorganising some shelves, when he heard the gentle bell ring of the front door opening.

“Just a Minute.” He called out, assuming it was an ordinary customer. Y/N turned around and headed to the front of the store only to see Simon. He was dressed in civilian clothes, silver wedding ring on and had a backpack on, clearly having just returned from the military. Oddly, he wasn’t wearing his signature skull mask either. Maybe it was because they lived in a small town in the middle of rural Dartmoor, or maybe he just wanted his husband to see his face. Y/N stood in a stunned silence for a moment, before he dropped the books he was holding and swiftly walking to Simon and hugged him tightly. He didn’t know what to say, he just wanted to be near his husband after so many months of being separated.

“Hello love.” Simon whispered softly as he held Y/N tightly and gently stroked his head. They stood together in silence for a few moments, held firmly in each others embrace. So many things were running through Y/N’s head. He was shocked and very happy. “Your back.” Y/N said quietly, still not letting go of his husband for even a second. Simon chuckled and kissed his head. “Yeah, and I’m staying this time.” He answered, knowing this would raise some questions.

Y/N looked at Simon and asked what he meant by that. “I’ve been medically discharged from the service. Don’t panic but I, I got myself shot. I’m fine, really. but it left some permanent damage to my shoulder. So they discharged me, which, now that I’m here with you, doesn’t bother me at all.” Simon answered, with a smile. Y/N’s face lit up, it was clear he was happy that Simon was going to be staying at home. Y/N cupped Simon’s face and kissed him lovingly.

They spoke together in the bookstore for hours, catching up and acting like no time had passed since they last saw each other. The sun began to set, so they headed home. After some dinner and some more conversation, they headed to bed. Y/N and Simon laid down together in bed facing each other. Y/N smiled sweetly.

“Welcome home.”

[keegansgurl]

Summary: The reader seeks help from her friendly and especially handsome neighbor Rodolfo when she realizes they she's being stalked.

Warnings!!! Stalking, Breaking and Entering, theft of undergarments, general 18+ themes.

You step off the bus with an exhausted sight, gaze fixed on your apartment complex, waiting for you half a block down the street. You've just gotten off a particularly grueling 48-hour shift at the ER. And exhausted doesn't even begin to cover how you feel.

You trudge down the cracked sidewalk, passing under the dim street lamps that barely work anymore. The street is void of other people since it's well past midnight. But you can't help get an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you walk. It feels like someone is watching you.

You quicken your pace and hurry toward the relative safety of your apartment complex. The complex is better-lit than the street, and there are still a couple of working cameras bolted to the top of the building. You make it to the entrance of the complex and dare a glance back toward the street behind you.

It's still just as empty as it was before. But you still can't shake that uneasy feeling you've got.

You adjust your bag on your shoulder and ascend the stairs up to your apartment on the 4th floor. You hurry up the steps at a quickened pace and breathe a sigh of relief once you reach the long hallway of your floor. The hallway is straight and lit well, leaving no places for anyone to hide. You head down the hall and are about to reach your door when you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You freeze up as the footsteps near and dare to turn your head.

"Evening, YN." A male voice sounds as you turn toward it.

Your nerves calm when you realize that it's just your neighbor, Rodolfo, greeting you. From the looks of him, he's also just coming back from work. He's in the military if you remember right. And works long shifts just like you do.

"Rodolfo. You scared me!" You laugh it off with a friendly smile.

"I did?" Rodolfo replies. "Sorry, YN." He is quick to apologize.

You laugh again at your neighbor's lack of humor. "It's fine." You assure him. "I was only joking. Goodnight, Rodolfo." You smile at him again and fish out your keys from your pocket.

"Right. Good." Rodolfo nods. "Goodnight, YN. And hey, my friends call me Rudy, remember?" He reminds you.

"Goodnight, Rudy." You correct yourself with a small laugh and head inside your apartment.

You close the door behind you and lock it. That uneasy feeling you had is gone now. But you can't help but wonder if it was Rodolfo unknowingly following you back out on the street and you just didn't notice him. Regardless, you're tired so you put your things away and head straight to bed, saving a shower for in the morning.

The next morning you wake up around 10 am and finally rinse off in the shower. You're off work for the next three days so it's time to get some stuff done around the house. And there is plenty to do. You've got laundry piling up that needs washed. A sink full of dishes that need to be cleaned. And your fridge is nearly void of any edible foods. Not to mention your apartment could use some general tidying up as well.

You decide to start with the laundry and make a list of stuff you need from the store while you're at it. You gather up all your dirty clothes and toss them into a hamper before making your way down to the laundry room in the basement of the building. People are milling around in the halls and outside now that's its day again. You pass a few neighbors on your way down to the basement and greet swap the usual friendly smiles and hellos.

Down in the basement, you toss your laundry into one of the larger machines and then get to work on your grocery list. The washing machine rumbles to life as you sit on a bench off to the side of the room and begin silently meal planning for the week. With the machine being so loud you don't hear someone coming down the stairs. And it isn't until said person blocks the light coming from the hall and casts a shadow into the room do you look up from your list.

"Hmm? Oh, Rodolfo! Good morning." You find your neighbor once again gracing you with his presence.

"Good morning, YN." Rodolfo nods, holding a basket of laundry to his side. "You off of work today as well?" He asks you casually.

You nod and set your list aside for a moment. "Yeah, finally." You joke. "Things have been crazy down at the ER these past few weeks. So many shootings and other gang attacks." You shake your head.

Rodolfo nods knowingly and walks over to one of the vacant machines. "Crime rates have never been higher in Las Almas." He shakes his head as well. "Damn Narcos. We just can't seem to get rid of them." He grumbles to himself.

"I'm sure that you and the rest of your Los Vaqueros buddies are doing their best." You reply with an assuring smile.

Rodolfo turns back around to face you at the mention of Los Vaqueros. He quirks an eyebrow at you. "Where did you hear about Los Vaqueros?" He asks you. "I thought it was only the military community that was in on that joke."

"Oh, the ladies on the non-emergency floor love to talk about the rough and tough cowboys always coming in for minor injuries and checks." You giggle. "They love bragging about all the eye candy that comes through their floor every week."

The washing machine housing your clothes rumbles to a stop so you saunter over to it and toss them all back into the basket. You take the basket and walk it over to the tower of dryers a few feet away and toss them back into the machine.

"You work on the ER floor, right?" Rodolfo asks you.

"Mhm. In 48-hour shifts usually." You nod and start the dryer. "Why do you ask?"

Rodolfo shrugs and leans on the washing machine he's using. "Did anyone get off the bus with you last night?" He asks you. "I don't want to sound alarming. But there was some guy lurking out by your stop looking really shady last night when I passed by it." He explains.

Your eyes widen in surprise. Was someone following you last night?

"No. I was the only one that got off at that stop." You shake your head. "I didn't see anyone when I got off either." You add, now visibly a bit freaked out.

Rodolfo notices the uneasy look on your face and walks over to you. "Hey. I'm sure it was nothing, right? Probably just someone waiting for the bus to come back around." He attempts to ease your worry.

"Yeah, probably." You agree.

Rodolfo changes the subject to soccer to ease the tension in the room. The two of you chat for a bit until your dryer finishes its cycle. You gather up your clean clothes and bid goodbye to Rodolfo.

"Well. Thanks for the chat, Rudy. I'll catch you later." You smile at him before heading up the stairs back to your apartment.

"Yeah, see you later, YN. Have a good day." Rodolfo waves to you as you walk off.

You head up back to your apartment and put your clothes away. Once everything is put away you grab your purse and head off to wait for the bus.

Outside, the sun is high in the sky and beating down in waves of heat. People of all sorts are out and about in the neighborhood as you walk down the sidewalk to the ruddy bus stop sign down the block. The worn out sign is accompanied by a rusty bench. A little old woman is sitting on said bench when you approach the stop. You offer her a smile and fetch a book to read from your bag while you wait for the bus to arrive.

You get a few pages into your book when that same uneasy feeling from last next suddenly overtakes you. You cautiously peer over the top of your book and scan the area. At first, no one around you raises any red flags. But when you glance across the street, your eyes land on a strangely familiar man leaning against the alleyway entrance across the way. He's wearing sunglasses and a torn-up baseball cap, so you can't make out his face. But you swear you've seen him before. And you may not be able to see where his eyes are looking behind those mirrored sunglasses. But you get the uneasy feeling that it's you he's staring at.

Thankfully, the bus comes around the corner and pulls in front of the stop. You put your book back in its bag and help the little old lady next to you up the steps up into the bus. After she's settled, you find an empty seat and settle down for the ride. You go back to reading your book, thankful that the man from across the street didn't make any motion to get on the bus with you.

You pick up everything you need at the market and catch the bus back to your neighborhood. The trip goes off without any other problems and you are relieved to find the creepy man from before gone when you get back from your trip.

You head back to you apartment with your arms hauling four grocery bags up the stairs. You make it to the hallway on the 4th floor and set your bags down in front of your door so you can fish your keys out of your purse. You get your keys out of your purse and attempt to unlock the door. But there's just one problem.

The door is already unlocked.

"What the hell?" You pull your key out of the lock with a puzzled look.

Had you forgotten to lock it before you left? No. You are almost positive that you locked it. You never forget to lock the door before you leave. Especially since you're a woman living alone.

Paranoia gets the better of you and turn around to the apartment door one down from yours. You silently pray that your neighbor is home and knock sharply on the faded wooden door. You wait patiently for an answer and can hear movement from inside the apartment. A few seconds later, the door swings open to reveal quite the sight.

Rodolfo stands in front of you, clad in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts and the sweat rolling down his ridiculously toned chest. You can't help your widening eyes as you drink in the sight before you. And you suddenly find yourself at a loss for words.

"YN!" Rodolfo greets you with his usual friendly smile and wipes some sweat from his brows.

"Umm, hi, Rudy." You return your gaze to his face after another moment of shameless ogling. "Sorry to bother you." You rub your arm sheepishly.

Rodolfo shrugs, still smiling at you. "No trouble." He insists. "I was just getting a quick workout in. What's up?" He nods back inside his apartment.

"Umm, well." You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly feeling silly. "I know this might sound like I'm a bit paranoid. But I just came back to my apartment from getting groceries and found my door unlocked. And I swear that I locked it before I left." You explain the situation to Rudy whom nods.

"Huh." Rodolfo nods. "Here, come inside and let me grab a shirt real quick." He steps back and beckons you inside the doorway. "I'll take a look for you to make sure everything is fine."

You nod and step inside Rodolfo's apartment while he dissapears to unfortunialy put a shirt on. You glance around the part of the apartment that you can see from the door. It's surpisingly clean and neat for being a bachleaor pad. But then again, Rodolfo is a military man. And you can only imagine how neat and proper they like to keep things.

Rudy comes back a few seconds later now wearing a shirt and follows you out to the hallway. You step back out of the way and Roldofo takes the lead. He heads into your apartment and you reamin posted by the door while he checks the room for any intruders.

"Well, it doesnt look like anyones been in here, YN." Rodolfo comes back a few painstaking minutes later. "Does anything seem missing or out of place to you?" He asks you.

You begin walking around the room now that you know that it's safe to enter. You check around for anything miss or moved and come back to find that Rodolfo has kindly retreived your groceries from the hallway.

"Oh, thanks, Rudy." You thank him as he sets your bags down on your kitchen counter. "I don't think anything is missing. And it looks the same as it did when I left." You report to him. "Maybe I did really just forget to lock it." You sigh.

Rodolfo nods and joins you at your door. "Okay. I'm right across the hall if you need anything, YN. So don't hesitate to come get me if you have a bad feeling about something, okay?" He offers.

"Thank you, again, Rudy." You nod again. "And I'll keep that in mind."

Rodolfo places a gentle hand on your arm and flashes a reassuring smile at you before heading back to his apartment. You close and lock your door before tending to putting your groceries up.

Late into the night you are catching up on some emails and paying some bills on your laptop in your room. Some music is playing softly from the laptop and you are humming along when something catches your attention. Your bedroom door is closed but light is streaming in from the main room. Out of the corner of you eye you swear you see a shadow pass by the door and freeze up.

"What the fuck." You whisper to yourself, frozen in fear.

After a few seconds of silence you will yourself silently off your bed and over to your bedroom door. You press your ear to the door and listen as carefully as you can for any signs of someone on the other side of the door. Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart thumps in your chest as the sound of rustling carries through the door.

"Oh my god." You whisper to yourself.

In a fearful state you pick up the metal baseball bat leaned up against the wall by your door. You grip the bat in your hand tightly and brace yourself. Taking a deep breath you swing the bedroom door open and step out into the main room of your apartment. The first thing you see is your front door as it is getting pulled shut from out in the hall.

"What the fuck!" You screech and lurch forward toward the door.

You rush the door with your bat held high and ready to swing. You crash into the hallway and catch a glimpse of someone dressed in dark clothes booking it down the hall to the staircase. Across the hall Rodolfo swings open his apartment door with his service pistol trained in front of him.

"YN!" Rodolfo spots you in the hallway dressed in your PJ"s and weilding a bat.

"Rodolfo!" You turn around and lower the bat, your heart still beating a million miles an hour. "He was in my fucking apartment!"

Rodolfo lowers his pistol and hurries over to your side. "What? Who? Okay, let's put this thing down before you hurt someone." He reaches a hand out and lowers the bat in your hand. "You said someone was in your apartment just now?" He looks for clarification depsite your clearly manic state.

"I was reading email in bed in my room when I heard him out in the apartment! By the time I made it out of my room he was already leaving." You explain. "I saw him booking it down the stairs." You point to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

"Okay. Go into my apartment and lock the door behind you." Rodolfo nods. "I'm gonna call a friend of mine and have a look around."

You nod and step inside Rodolfo's apartment. He shuts the door behind you and you lock it. You see the doorknob rattle indicating Rudy is making sure it's locked before he leaves.

You wander into the apartment and find a seat on Rudy's suprisingly comfortable couch. The quiet ambience of the apartment helps calm your nerves at you wait for Rudy to return.

Around 10 minutes later you hear the front door being unlocked followed by Rodolfo announcing himself to the room. "YN? It's just me! And a friend of mine." He shouts from the door.

Rodolfo finds you sitting on his couch in silence and you eye his tall friend standing right behind him. The pair walk over to you and Rodolfo sits down next to you.

"YN, this is my friend, Colonel Alejandro Vargas." Rudy introduces you to his buddy.

"It's nice to finally meet you, YN." Alejandro offers you a sympathetic smile. "Rudy here talks about you a lot." He jokes.

Rodolfo shoots his friend a look and Alejandro takes a seat in a chair oposite of the couch.

"Rudy told me that you've got a stalker?" Alejandro gets on with his questions. "Do you know who it is?" He asks you.

"No. I don't think I know him." You shake your head.

You take a minute to explain the feeling of being watched that you've been experiencing. As well as the encouters on your way home from work and then again earlier today at the bus stop. You finish up by explaining the encounter in your apartment and Alejandro jots a few things down in his notebook.

"I've got some of my men sweeping the neighborhood for anyone hanging around." Alejandro closes his notebook. "In the meantime, I'd reccomend staying somewhere other than your apartment. Do you have anywhere to stay?" He asks you.

You shake your head, unable to come up with any valid idea of where you could go. "My parents are both dead. And I don't have any sibling or other family in the area. Plus none of my friends at work are that close with me, you know?" You begin to stress yourself out.

"She can stay in her apartment." Rodolfo speaks up. "I'll stay with her until we find this guy. And we will find him, YN." He assures you.

"You don't have to do that, Rudy." You shake your head.

But Rudy won't take no for an answer. "Nonsense. It's no problem, YN. I just want you be safe." He insists.

You agree to let Rudy stay with you and the three of you head back into your apartment. You look around the place to see if anything is missing, but once again find nothing out of place. Alejandro heads out to redevous with his men out on the street while Rudy stays with you.

The two of you sit down on your couch next to eachother and sit in silence for a while. You feel more at ease with Rudy sitting next to you than you have these past few days. So you decide to take a chance while you're feeling safe and at ease.

"So, Alejandro mantioned that you talk about me a lot?" You turn toward Rudy with a playful smile.

"Ah, you caught that, huh?" Rudy chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "I suppose it'd be useless to deny it now, huh?"

You giggle and nod. "You're not the only one that likes to gossip at work, you know?" You tease him.

"Oh?" Rudy replies.

"Oh yeah." You confirm. "The ladies on the ER floor love chatting with me about the hunky special forces guy that lives next to me." You tease him.

A playful smile cracks on Rudy's face and he bows his head with a cheeky grin. "So you think i'm hunky?" He asks you.

"Don't pretend like you didn't notice me drooling all over you earlier today when you answered your door in the middle of your workout!" You laugh.

"I might have noticed your wandering eyes, yes." Rudy grins at you. "It seems to me like we both might have been admiring one another from afar." He adds, leaning in a bit closer to you.

Your heart skips a beat as Rodolfo slowly leans in. He gives you plenty of time and space to stop him he's he's being too forward with you right now. But you don't mae any indication that you want him to stop. In reality you want the oposite. You can't think of anything right now other than finally getting a kiss from your frustrating atttractive and much to sweet for his own good neighbor.

Rodolfo closes the gap between the two of you, his hand resting gently on your leg. You hold your breath, and your eyes begin to flutter shut when suddenly the radio that Rudy set on the coffee table earlier crackles to life.

"Rudy! You there, hermano?" Alejandro's voic cracks over the mic.

Rudy stops his movement toward you and you open your eyes again with just a hint of disapointment in your eyes. "Aye, i'm here." Rudy picks up the radio.

"One of my men picked up some shady-looking guy a few blocks away attempting to get to his stashed motorcycle. We think it's your girls stalker." Alejandro explains. "I'm going to text you a photo of what we found in his backpack. You can show it to YN and ask if any of it belongs to her."

"Alright." Rudy replies and fishes his phone out of his pocket to wait for Alejandro's text.

A few seconds later Rudy's phone chimes with a text and he pulls the photo up. "Meirda." Rudy curses to himself. "I should kill this guy." He grumbles to himsself.

"Rudy?" You regonize the agitated look on Rodolfo's face. "What was in his bag? Let me see." You hold your hand out for his phone.

Rudy begrudgingly hands over his phone, and you glance down at the screen. Your stomach churns with disgust at the sight. Sitting in plain view inside the bag is around four or five pairs of your underwear. And not just some random ones either. The bastard broke into your apartment and had the audacity to steal the expensive ones that you usually reserve for dates. Or when you don't want them riding up under your scrubs on long shifts.

"Yeah, those are all mine." Your nose crinkles at the thought of what this guy was planning on doing with your panties.

You hand the phone back to Rodolfo and he deletes the photo. After the picture is gone off his phone he picks up his radio and confrms with Alejandro.

"Throw that fucker in a hole somwhere dark." Rudy seethes. "She just confirmed it. You've got the right guy, Alejandro."

"Copy that." Alejandro's voice breaks over the radio again. "I'll get him locked up and you can bring YN down in the morning to make the ID. In the meantime we'll get a name out the sleaze as well as the rest of his information." He adds.

Rudy says a quick thanks to Alejandro before signing off and switching his radio off. He sets it back down on the table and turns to you.

"Well, thats taken care of." Rudy flashes you and assuring smile. "He won't be bothering you anymore, YN. I can gurantee you that."

"I know. Thank you, Rudy. And Alejandro as well for helping out." You thank him for all his effort.

Rudy nods and rubs the back of his neck. "Well you're safe now. So I guess I'll go." He rises from your couch.

You lean forward and grab onto Rudy;s arm. He looks down at you and you flash your best doe eyes at him. "Stay?" You ask him.

"I thought you'd never ask." Rudy laughs and sits back down.

You watch eagerly as Rudy once again attempts to lean in. And this time there is no radio call to interupt him.

This time, you get your kiss. And it's even better than you've been imagining it.

[short-honey-badger]

Life Imitates Art

Heyy. So after a lil brainstorming and talking with @writingmysanity, this has been born. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings! None yet!

You examine yourself in the mirror, your makeup looks good, but there is just something missing from the ensemble. You brighten when it hits you and you dip the brush into the red face paint. You lean in closer and then carefully begin to dab it on the very tip of your nose. When you are finished, you drop the brush and grin widely at your reflection. 

Red has been artfully smeared across your mouth giving you a permanent smile while blue has been swiped vertically across both eyes. Crossed bones have been painstakingly painted on your forehead and your new red nose completes it. You braid your hair and then tie on the red and white striped bandana. All in all, you look like the man you admire, the man who saved your life so long ago, even if he didn't know it.

The Buggy Pirates and a group of Marines battled it out in the middle of a small town on an island in the East Blue. It was rumored that the island held riches, and that had been all that Buggy needed to hear before he and his crew had swooped in on the unsuspecting town. You, young and impressionable at the time, had watched in fascination as the pirates plundered the town. 

The captain and his crew picked and marched their way through the poor district of the town, leaving the haggard weary townspeople be. You followed after them, quick on your feet after years of running from the men in the blue coats and black sticks. You followed them until they came to the Top City, where the horrible people spit at you and your hand-me-down clothes whenever you came near. You watched with rising awe as a lion of all things toppled the large doors that separated the two districts.

The raiding truly began now that the pirates were inside and chaos quickly began to consume the streets. They broke into the impressive housing and overpriced stores, stealing anything that caught their eyes. You followed the man with the bright red nose and the massive hat with blue hair? down the street until he arrived at the bank. He cackled as he demanded the owner pack their own cash and treasure up or else things would get Choppy. 

Well, someone must have called the Navy because soon shots were being fired from all directions. Buggy laughed even louder and engaged in the fight, something he usually would not do, but you would come to find that out later. Turned out that not even Buggy the Clown would turn away from a fight when it would prove too advantageous to him. 

The fighting didn't last long. While prosperous, the military presence on the island was small and soon the Buggy Pirates stood victorious in the streets. There were a few losses and so it was proposed that they would stay here for a while to heal and recoup. Things changed for you and everyone else on that tiny island in the month and a half that the pirates stayed. While a significant difference still remained between the two directs, the poor were not so poor anymore. Not when the pirates preferred to spend their money at the bars and shops in the harbor.

It was after Buggy left that you started to dress like him. People left you alone that way, thinking that you were a crew member left behind. You liked it, it gave you the freedom you needed, that you wanted so you could be yourself. So, you learned how to steal, how to pickpocket, and how to sail a ship. You interfered on his behalf when you could. Changing news articles and threatening reporters with your little lie about being part of the Clown's crew. You spewed lies and whispered in the right ears to throw the navy off of his trail. Buggy had set you free, and you needed to repay that debt, no matter how long it would take.  

You huff. Years it would take. The longer you trailed after the Captain like some loyal puppy, the more you found out about him. Buggy the Clown was a paranoid bastard with self-esteem issues the size of the sun. He questioned anything and everyone unless they were part of his crew, and you learned that he could be cruel. 

But you also see how can be kind. He frowns harshly at the state of a decaying village while the highborn nobles laugh in their high towers. How, like some fairytale antihero, Buggy gave back to the struggling outer cities all across the sea. You came to admire, maybe even love, you weren't really sure yet, the Bombastic Clown, and you would give anything to thank him. If only the paranoid pirate wasn't always one step ahead of you. 

You had overheard that Buggy had left just that morning, and you cursed again for being literal hours behind him. You check your appearance one last time and then head out of the hotel room after shrugging on your long coat, ready to fish for rumors once more. 

Unknown to you, this would be your lucky day, because Buggy had yet to leave. The Captain had heard about his little shadow, and boy was he eager to meet you.      

[bokettochild]

I am frequently startled by seeing random people

That one couple came through my line at work just yesterday, my eyes turn to their clothes immediately, did I sell those to them? I see the gentlemen who works the self check out at the grocery near my house, but he's on the other side of town from where he works, in a coffee shop I'm trying for the first time, and he's got a little boy with him. Yesterday, I was walking to grab some milk after work, and I see the gal who runs my favorite coffee shop walking out of the same grocery store I'm heading to. She doesn't notice me, but I know her on sight.

The gal who used to work as a bagger at the commissary on base appears in my store. We chat about her grand-kids and retirement. I know her by name, but it's still weird seeing her outside of the place she used to work.

I run into my pastor at Walmart. He's wearing typical dad clothes, not a suit. It's startling.

I find out the receptionist at my orthodontist goes to the same church that one of my clients does, I now clean that same church and we see each other at church meals, despite the fact that I don't go there.

It's weird knowing people, by face, by name, by what they bought or used to do. I have jokes with the groundskeeper of the church but I know nothing about him except he carries a gun and is some sort of military (and single, as everyone likes to remind me). I listen in and sometimes offer answers to questions and conversations of the staff at the coffee shop.

To them, I'm the girl who sits by the door and types for four hours, or the register worker at the Old Navy, or the awkward gal who comes through the self checkout no matter how many groceries she has. I order the 20 oz. coffee, I was wearing a Zelda shirt when they last saw me. I clean their church, or go to their place of work once a month for an appointment. I might sit behind them in church (I might have dated their kid three years ago) and it's weird to think they see me this way too.

I'm just a somebody they see, and when they see me in a new place, a place outside of where they usually do, we both stop, and stare a second, before smiling and moving on.

It's nice, I think. To exist in a world where you run into people enough that you know them, even if you don't really, and you know to smile at each other or laugh, or say "good job for not scaring me today!" before going about your day again. It makes me feel real, and that's great, I think.

It makes being alive more fun.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 8

On the run from infected at the dawn of the end of the world, you fight to keep those you hold dear safe. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-7 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Length: 5.3K

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, character death (not reader), miscarriage, Sexual Assault/SA (coercion or blackmail). No use of Y/N. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: See note at the end of the chapter please. Trying to avoid spoilers (beyond what's in the warnings) and want to contextualize the story choices. Feel free to read first before reading the chapter if you want as long as you don't mind some spoilers!

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

“The Princess Pat” 

“The Princess Pat” 

“Lived in a tree” 

“Lived in a tree” 

“She sailed across”

“She sailed across”

“The seven seas”

“The seven seas” 

“She sailed across”

“She sailed across”

“The channel too”

“The channel too”

“And she took with her!” 

“And she took….” 

“Hello!” 

You threw your arm out, forcing Jessica behind you, and raised the shotgun. Your heart was pounding. 

It had been 2 days since you’d last seen another person, possessed or otherwise. You’d stuck to the woods alongside the main road, hopefully far enough away to not be easily seen while staying close enough to follow the route. You were heading steadily east. You figured eventually, you’d reach the Atlantic, orient yourself and go from there. 

On Saturday, you’d shot six people. Almost people. Former people? You weren’t sure how to count it, but you’d killed six people who were trying to rip you and Jessica apart. It made you sick. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.” 

You tried to justify it. Jessica and the baby made it easier but it was hard. Could you possibly be worth that many lives? What if whatever was wrong with them was temporary and you’d murdered them? The only way you could live with it was by thinking of Jessica and the baby. You could kill for your child and the girl you’d come to think of as your niece. You could live with that. Or you thought you could, at least. 

Saturday, you’d come across a sporting goods store. There was one possessed person inside, someone had locked them in a storage room and you’d been stupid enough to open the damn door looking for more ammunition. You’d been so surprised it took you a moment to get a shot off and the first one missed. You kept shoving Jessica back, the thing lunging for you and snarling until you hit it with the butt of your gun, forcing it far enough away that you could shoot it. You stood guard while Jessica found some clothes and you were able to take your sweatshirt back. It probably would have been smart to change the shirt, when you thought about it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It was one of your UT sweatshirts, one that said “alumni” on it. Joel had gotten it for you as a graduation gift. It didn’t matter that it was bloodstained now. You needed something from then. You packed a bag for her, too. The store had been pretty well looted but the possessed person in the storage room had left the stock in there intact and you were able to find some useful stuff. 

You ran into three more possessed people on your way back out of town. You were pretty certain you were traveling about a day behind the military - or some military like force, anyway. Did the military actually exist anymore? Did America? But you kept coming across near mountains of bodies. You weren’t sure if they were people who had been possessed or if whoever was in charge now was just wiping out anyone they deemed as a potential risk. There were two more possessed as you made your way into the woods again. 

On Sunday, Jessica woke up crying. It took some time to calm her down. She didn’t want to tell you what she’d dreamed about that made her so upset but you could guess. When the day started quiet enough, you started trying to get her to engage a bit. Pointing out different trees as you walked, signs of different animals when you saw them. You tried to think of something else to talk about with her - something that would take her mind off of the fact that you were pretty sure the world was ending without reminding her of what you thought was entirely lost. You resorted to singing NSYNC. 

“That’s not how it goes,” she muttered at one point. 

“What isn’t?” You asked, knowing perfectly well what you’d gotten wrong. 

“It’s ‘I wanna see you out that door’ not ‘Go walk on out that door,’” she said. 

“Well, I’ve never been a good singer,” you shrugged, still keeping an eye out for possessed people. 

“Yeah, you’re really not,” she snorted. “Heard you and my mom singing in the kitchen once. I think you were drunk. It was real bad.” 

“We thought you were asleep!” You looked over your shoulder to her. She smiled a little. 

“Yeah, I had my GameBoy,” she said. 

“You little shit,” you smiled. “We were that bad, huh?” 

“You are always bad,” she said. “It was way worse then. I was embarrassed and there wasn’t even anyone else to hear you it was that bad.” 

“Well then you demonstrate, rock star,” you said. “Seem to recall you doing pretty good hairbrush karaoke.” 

She was quiet for a minute. You were trying to think of something else to get her mind off things when she started signing a Spice Girls song. You smiled. She was quiet at first, almost under her breath. You didn’t press her. She got louder as the day went on. 

Monday you hummed the Beetles to see if she’d sing along. She did. 

Tuesday, you suggested some of the songs she’d brought home from Girl Scout camp over the summer. She’d sung them for three weeks after spending two weeks a few hours away, horseback riding and swimming and boating. You were half sure she was singing because she knew it was annoying the shit out of her mother. The other half of her just really loved summer camp. She sang the songs so much, you’d learned them, too. You could even lead them. 

Which is how you ended up singing Princess Pat somewhere in the woods along the highway in New York State. 

“Who’s there?” You yelled, gun up. 

“I’ll come to you!” It was a man’s voice. You tightened your grip on the weapon. 

“How many of you are there?” You called, looking around for some sign of whoever was talking but you couldn’t see them. 

“Just me!” He said. “Please… please don’t shoot me?” 

“I won’t if you don’t give me a reason,” you called back. “But I’m keeping the gun up.” 

He came from further into the woods and you moved in front of Jessica, gun up. When he got about 20 feet away, you stopped him. 

“That’s close enough.” 

You looked him over. He was young, probably not even 20, tall and gangly. All limbs. He hadn’t grown into his body yet. His hands were up and his eyes were wide. One of his arms didn’t look right.

“Lift your shirt,” you said, gun still up. 

“What?” He frowned.” 

“I need to see your waistband,” you said. “Make sure you don’t have a weapon. Lift up your shirt and turn around in a circle, slowly.” 

He did as he was told. No gun or knife that you could see. You lowered the gun. He lowered his hands.

“Hi,” he smiled, looking like he was about to cry. 

“Hi,” you smiled a little back. You nodded to the misshapen arm. “What happened there?” 

“I fell,” he said, cautiously stepping closer to you. “I was running, my parents…” 

“How’d you escape?” Jessica peered out from behind you. 

“By falling,” he said. “Down a cliff. It was short but they stayed up top. What the hell is going on?” 

“I don’t know,” you took your pack off and started rifling around for the first aid kit. “But I can set your arm for you.”

His name, you learned while aligning his bones in the way you’d read about in medical texts, was Andrew. You were right on his age, he was 18 and from a small town not far from there. He’d been wandering alone since Sunday. 

“I haven’t seen any people,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been hiding but I thought I’d see someone. Anyone. I was hiding from… I wasn’t trying to hide from people. Where is everyone?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You knew what little you’d seen but you weren’t sure if that was true anywhere else but where you’d been. And you weren’t sure if telling that to a teenager would make it any better. 

“We haven’t run into anyone in a few days either,” you said, tying off the makeshift cast you’d put on his arm. “Feel better?” 

“Yeah,” he said, bending his elbow a bit. “Thank you.” 

“You can travel with us,” you said, repacking your bag. “But you have to do what I say when I say it. I can try to keep you safe but I can’t do that if you’re a wildcard.” 

“I can listen,” he said quickly. “I won’t be any trouble, I promise.” 

You got moving again. 

You made it to another small town that night, the bodies all piled in the center of the little downtown area, a heap of flesh in front of a pizza parlor. You tried to protect Andrew and Jessica from seeing it. You weren’t sure it worked. You set up for the night in a pharmacy, tucking yourselves away behind the counter and pulling down the gates. You stocked up on water, pain killers, bandages and broad spectrum antibiotics before you left. 

You were walking until Wednesday afternoon when you saw the first sign of people. 

There was a man in a military uniform dead on the ground. So it was military. 

“Stay back, guys,” you said, waving Jessica and Andrew off. You looked around for a moment. “Andrew, have you ever used a gun? Hunting with your dad or anything?” 

“Yeah,” he said, voice shaky. “But I’ve never shot a person…” 

“Well I hope you don’t need to today,” you said, handing him the gun. “But keep an eye out for me? If you see someone coming, I’ll take it back, OK?” 

He nodded once, taking a deep breath. You went to the body. 

Someone had shot him in the head, blood splattered over his camo. His body was still warmer than the air around you, but not by much. Whoever had gunned him down was in a hurry, his weapons were still on him. You took his guns - a sidearm and a rifle, both with some extra ammunition - and his knife. You looked over the rest of him. There was a vicious looking bite at his wrist. You were busy looking at that when something moved out of the corner of your eye. 

It was like the tentacle that had reached out of your grandmother’s mouth coming out from between the man’s lips. 

“Holy shit,” you leapt back as the fibrous thing stretched for you. Eventually, it stopped, just sitting there. You looked at it, frowning. 

“What is it?” Andrew yelled at you. 

“I think…” You leaned in a little closer. “It’s a fungus.” 

The thing reached for you. You backed up again before getting up and getting away from the body entirely. 

“A fungus?” Andrew asked. 

“Yeah,” you frowned, standing beside him again. “Which both makes a lot of sense and none at all.” You held the guns out that you’d just picked up. “Pick your poison.” 

He chose the rifle. You took back the shotgun and tucked the sidearm in your waistband. 

“What do you mean about the fungus?” Jessica frowned. “Also, I don’t have a gun.” 

“Yeah, you don’t need a gun,” you said. “You don’t need to be shooting at anyone, you’re 13.” 

“It’s the end of the world,” she said flatly. 

“Not yet it’s not,” you said. “No gun. Let’s keep moving.” 

“Fine,” Jessica said. “But you need to explain the fungus thing because I don’t think mushrooms are doing this.” 

“There are lots of different kinds of fungus,” you said, starting down the road. “There are some we eat, some that does stuff like make your toenails yellow… And there are some that take over host bodies and control them in hopes of spreading.” 

“What the fuck,” Andrew said, taking up the rear. “Like people?” 

“Well, no, that’s the weird thing,” you said. “We’re too warm for those fungi. They live in insects, take over the bodies of ants or wasps, not mammals. But that’s what that looked like. It doesn’t make any sense…” 

“None of this makes any sense,” Jessica said. 

You kept walking. 

That afternoon, you found people. Two of them, in uniform guarding the road, a military truck parked broadside over the lanes so no one could just drive through. 

You were back in the tree line and you signaled for Jessica and Andrew to be quiet, but you stepped on a stick, snapping it. The men spun, training their guns on the trees. 

“Who’s out there!” The one closer to the tree line yelled. “Respond or I start shooting!” 

“We’re not possessed!” You yelled, signaling for Jessica and Andrew to get behind you. 

“Come out here!” He yelled. “Now!” 

“There are three of us,” you called back. “We’re armed but we will lower our weapons if you lower yours.” 

He hesitated. “I’ve got two kids with me,” you said after a moment. “Teenagers. We’re healthy.” 

“I’m keeping my gun out,” he called. “But I’ll point it down.” 

You aimed your gun toward the ground and cautiously walked toward the road. 

“What are you doing here?” The man demanded. 

“Trying to find somewhere safe,” you replied. “What’s going on? How widespread is this?” 

“It’s the whole world,” he said, looking you up and down. “It’s everywhere.” 

“What do you mean it’s everywhere,” you frowned. “How can it be everywhere?” 

“You’re trying to get somewhere safe?” The second man came and stood beside the first, looking you up and down, too. You nodded. You could sense Jessica and Andrew behind you. You wanted to tell them to run. Something about these men didn’t feel right. 

“There’s a base of operations in Boston,” the first man said. “We’ve been told to send survivors there, people who aren’t at risk of infection.” 

“We’re not infected,” you said. “We haven’t had any contact with any infected person in days, we’re not a risk.” 

“We can help you get to Boston,” the second man stepped closer to you. “But I’d want something in return.” 

“She’s a doctor,” Jessica said quickly. You shot a glare over your shoulder. 

“No, I’m a science teacher who’s been training to become a doctor,” you said quickly. “But if you’re injured, I might be able to help. We also have some food and water, pain killers…” 

“Not what I’m interested in.” 

It took you a second to realize what he meant. His eyes were on you, ranging hungrily over your body. 

“Not sure the next time I’ll see a woman who isn’t infected,” he said. “Want to make sure I enjoy it.” 

He adjusted the grip on his gun. 

You considered your options for a split second. There was no way you’d be able to kill both of them before they killed one of you. And even then, could you live with killing two people - two people who weren’t infected or possessed or whatever it was - if it was anything but a last resort? 

“You can get us to Boston?” You said. 

“There’s a code,” the man said. “I’ll give it to you. If you give me something.” 

You glanced behind you. Jessica just looked confused. Andrew seemed to get it. Your stomach turned. 

“Fine,” you said, taking off your pack and passing it back to Andrew. “Give me a minute.” 

You handed him the gun, too. 

“If he goes for either of you,” you said quietly. “Kill him.” 

He gave you a nod. You turned back to the man. 

“Let’s go.” 

You followed him into the woods. He was still armed. 

“What do you want?” You asked, standing there, trying to not think about what you were about to do. 

“Take off your shirt,” he said, still holding the gun. You obeyed, pulling off your sweatshirt and t-shirt at the same time, hands shaking. 

“Good,” he smiled. “Bra, too.” 

You took that off, too. 

“Fuck you’ve got nice tits,” his hand went to his crotch, feeling himself through his pants. “Waist down now. All off.” 

You shakily stepped out of your boots and peeled off your pants and underwear, glancing back toward the road, thankful you couldn’t see Jessica and Andrew. 

“Lie down.” 

You got down on your back. The leaves and pinecones scratched your bare skin. Your stomach turned. Until now, Joel had been the only man to have seen you naked. He’d been the only man you ever wanted to see you naked. 

The man stepped forward, his penis in his hand, still fully clothed, working himself. You looked at it for a second before staring up at the tree canopy. He was smaller than Joel. You were thankful for that much, at least. 

He got on top of you without preamble and you tried to push your mind elsewhere, anywhere but here. He started trying to work his way into you, forcing his way inside. 

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he grunted. You stared past him. 

You thought about Joel. Not about sex with Joel - you didn’t want to connect any part of that with this - but just being around him. How he made you feel safe. His smile. The way he tried to pretend he didn’t like the movies you picked but you caught him sitting forward a bit more in his seat when the story reached its climax. The man over you was making your back drag along the ground and your vagina hurt. You tried to ignore it. Joel playing guitar in the backyard. Sarah making fun of him for his choice of song. There was a cluster of three pinecones over your head. The man’s pace increased. Joel making burgers in the summer. He was so picky about the meat, looking over every package at the store until he found just the right one. 

“Fuck,” the man grunted and stilled before going limp on top of you. He breathed heavy for a second before rolling off you. 

“Done?” Your voice sounded strange. Weirdly flat. He reached over and patted your stomach. You tensed. You took it as a yes, getting up off the ground. You brushed yourself off quickly and got dressed as fast as you could, the man watching you as he panted for breath. He put his penis away and got up. You looked up at him. “You said there was a code.” 

“C’mon,” he jerked his head back toward the road. You followed. He went to the back of the truck and ripped off a scrap of paper. He wrote down a name and a number and handed it to you. “Give that information at the checkpoints between here and Boston. They’ll let you through.” 

You nodded once, reading the paper and trying to memorize it. McCarthy. You looked at the name on the uniform. It matched. You pocketed the paper. 

“Stick to the road,” he said, looking you over again, almost affectionately. Almost like he thought what had just happened meant something. Like he was invested in you now. “Now that you have that, it’s safer that way. Lots of crazies and infected in the woods between here and there, road is better. It’ll take about a week to walk to Boston from here.” 

You nodded once and went and got your bag from Andrew. He was staring at you. You put the pack on and took your gun. 

“Let’s go.” 

You led the way again. No one talked. No one sang. You stared straight ahead. Your hand went to your lower stomach. You tried to focus on what was important. You threw up a mile later.

Sunday, October 5, 2003

“It’s my birthday, you know,” you whispered to your stomach. It was late, about three in the morning. You were on watch, Andrew and Jessica were asleep. You ran your thumb over yourself. There was a bump there now. It was small, if you didn’t know to look for it you wouldn’t notice it was there, but you could feel it. “Last one before you’re born, little one. Sorry to be bringing you into such a shit show.” 

You leaned your head back against a tree, cradling the little bump, and sighed. 

“Maybe it will be better by April,” you said. “Maybe this is just a crazy blip. I can tell you the insane story one day. About everything your mom did to get to your dad.” 

The amount of infected had grown as you’d gone down the road, getting closer to Boston and more civilization. You’d killed a dozen more people. Andrew had killed three others. You’d tried to make it so he wouldn’t have to shoot anyone but you’d been nearly overrun at one point and he’d been forced to. He was sobbing after, his whole body shaking. You tried to hold it together enough to comfort him. 

It was hard to believe that it had been just over a week since this started. It felt like an eternity. Two weeks ago at this time, you’d been asleep in your bed at home. You’d gone to bed that night after giving up on finalizing your lesson plans for the week, leaving Thursday and Friday to deal with during your planning period on Monday and mad at yourself for procrastinating. You were still debating about whether or not you wanted to tell Joel about his child. It all seemed so silly now. You’d die to go back to those kinds of problems. 

At four, you roused Andrew. He groggily got up and took over the watch, you laying down beside Jessica. She sighed and pressed herself back against you. You put an arm around her, tugging her close to you. It was easier to sleep, having someone close. 

You got up and got moving right away in the morning. You were expecting to hit another checkpoint that afternoon or evening, you wanted to put some miles between it and you before stopping for the night. The code from McCarthy had done what he’d promised so far. They took your word that you weren’t infected after a quick once over and didn’t demand any more ‘payment’ for passage, instead just sending you down the road. You were thankful for that much. But you didn’t trust the men at the checkpoints. You wouldn’t be able to relax, knowing they were close by. 

You’d been walking six hours when it happened. 

Your gun was out but held low. You heard the odd, guttural sound only a split second before they came from the tree line. 

There were more than a dozen of them, all of them running for you, strange husks of human beings now driven by one thing. 

“Run!” You screamed, raising your shotgun and firing, catching one in the chest and sending it flying back. You’d gotten better with the gun since the world collapsed, knowing that you had to plant your feet to keep from falling, knowing how to stand to aim and not stumble back. You stood in one spot, firing off the four rounds in the shotgun and taking down three infected before you ran, too, Jessica frantically looking back over her shoulder at you. “Go!” 

You did your best to lodge the depleted shotgun between your pack and your back while pulling the sidearm from your waistband, turning and firing almost blindly behind you. Three shots, another infected fell. You looked forward and saw it before Jessica or Andrew did. 

“Jessica!” You shrieked, an infected launching at her from the other side of the road and tackling her to the ground. It pinned her for a moment and Andrew ran up on it, slamming the butt of his rifle into it, sending it sprawling before shooting it. He gave Jessica his hand and yanked her to her feet. She clutched her hand to her upper arm and ran with him. 

You weren’t sure how the hell you were going to get out of this, firing behind you, barely outpacing the infected as it was, your lungs starting to ache, when you saw the checkpoint up ahead. 

“Help!” You yelled. “McCarthy sent us on! There are infected!” 

The two men at the checkpoint ran forward, rifles drawn. It only took a moment for them to start firing. You instinctively ducked your head but kept moving, hoping it would keep you from getting shot. 

The men and their rifles made pretty quick work of the hoard of infected, the bodies littering the road. You panted for breath, stopping at the truck that blocked the lanes. 

“McCarthy sent you through?” One of the men asked. You just nodded and pulled the code from your pocket. The man took it and nodded, handing it back to you. “Those the first infected you’ve seen lately?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “But first since the last checkpoint.” 

He nodded once and started looking you over. 

“Clear,” he said, nodding Andrew forward. He did the same with him before calling Jessica up. He sighed, stopping at her arm. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded sad. Genuinely sad. Jessica frowned. “You’ve been bitten.” 

You all but jumped up from where you’d been leaning against the truck, going to Jessica’s arm. He was right, there were distinctly human teethmarks on her arm. 

“Shit,” you muttered, sliding your pack off to get out the first aid kit. Jessica’s eyes were wide. “We’ve got the stuff for this but you’re probably going to get a pretty cool scar…” 

“What the fuck!” Andrew yelled. You looked up. The man was aiming a gun at Jessica. You stepped in front of her, your arms spread wide. 

“Woah!” You said. “Gun down, we’re not a threat!” 

“She’s been bitten,” he said. “Stand aside.” 

“No!” 

“I don’t want to die,” Jessica was sobbing. “Please…” 

“I will kill you too,” the man aimed the gun at you. “Don’t make me.” You made the decision before really thinking, lunging for the man. He fired the gun, the bullet glancing off your shoulder, and turned the weapon so he could slam the butt of it into your stomach. He put all his weight behind it, sending you sprawling to the ground before he starting aiming again. You scrambled to your feet and tried to grab the gun as he tried to throw you off. The other soldier grabbed you by the collar from behind and threw you against the gate of the truck, the metal slamming into your stomach. You felt a sickening jolt just as the gun fired. 

“NO!” You shrieked, the man holding you down, your face against the metal. You fought to look to Jessica, to get to Jessica. “Let me go!” 

The man listened, letting you up and you ran for her. Andrew was over her already and you shoved him back. There was a gaping wound on her stomach. 

“It hurts,” she whimpered. She was crying. You tried to stem the bleeding but there was so much blood. 

“Andrew,” you were panting, gasping for breath. “The first aid kit, in the pack…” 

Jessica sobbed. Andrew was frozen. 

“Andrew!” 

“I’m sorry,” he was crying. “I’m sorry…” 

You looked down at her. Her eyes were wide. 

“I’m scared,” she said. “I don’t…” 

“It’s OK,” your face was wet. You delicately, gently, pulled her onto her lap. “You’re going to be OK sweetie. It’ll be OK, you’ll be OK, it’s OK…” 

You brushed her hair back. She grabbed your arm. 

“My mom,” her eyes searched yours. “My mom…” 

“You’ll get to see her again,” you tried to smile. “I’m sure she’s missed you, probably thinks I’ve been corrupting you all this time. It’s OK. It’ll be OK.” 

You felt her die, a strangled cry ripping through you as you collapsed against Andrew. He cautiously put his arms around you, Jessica’s body still between you. 

“Why!” You turned to the man who killed her. The gun was still in his hands. He didn’t say anything. You set her body down, gently, like you would a toddler who had fallen asleep against you, and got to your feet. Your head spun. You stalked toward him. “Why would you kill her? She was a child!” You shoved him. You didn’t care that he had a gun. He stumbled back. The other man raised his weapon for you. You didn’t care about him, either. “A CHILD!” 

You threw your whole body at him and he fell down. 

“She was infected!” He yelled at you, breathless. You fell to your knees. “She was infected. That’s how it spreads, through bites. Once someone’s bitten, it’s just a matter of time - sometimes just an hour or two - and they’re like them. There’s nothing anyone can do. It was better this way. I’m so sorry.” 

You sobbed. You felt Andrew’s hands on you, pulling you to your feet. He started moving you down the road. 

“Her body,” you turned, reaching for her. 

“That other guy wants to fucking shoot you,” he said quickly. “We have to keep moving, she’s gone, it doesn’t matter now, we have to go.” 

You weren’t sure how long you walked before he took his hands off you. It could have been five minutes or five hours. He’d grabbed the backpack, your shotgun. You stared straight ahead. You’d promised to keep her safe. You’d told her you were going to get her through this. And now she was dead. 

You kept running the attack over in your head again and again. What could you have done differently? What would have saved her? You catalogued every way you failed her, every way you let her die. 

Andrew said your name. You barely registered it. He said it again. 

“What?” You asked, looking back at him. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

You looked at your arms, your torso, but didn’t see anything. 

“No, like…” he paused. “I think you started your period but… it looks like a lot of blood for that. I have…had sisters, it looks like a lot of blood….” 

Your hand went to your lower stomach and you stopped in the street, right in the middle, a yellow dashed line in front of you, one behind. 

“It’s not a period,” you said, putting a hand between your legs for a moment and examining it. It was slick with blood. You wondered how you hadn’t felt it. You registered the cramping then, the sharp, stabbing pain of it breaking through the numbness. “I’m having a miscarriage.” 

You kept walking, the blood running down your legs. You put both hands over the small bump. You wanted to feel it as long as you could. Your child. The piece of Joel you carried with you. You’d failed your child, too. 

Andrew pulled you off the road as it got dark. You were in a daze. You couldn’t bring yourself to get cleaned up or pull a sleeping bag out of your pack. You lay down in the dirt and stared into nothing. 

“I’ll keep watch,” he said. “I can pull an all nighter. You sleep.” 

“It’s my birthday today,” you said softly. You cradled the bump. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

You considered the gun tucked in the waistband of your bloody pants. You knew that, if you tried that way, you’d succeed. It would be easy. Just one twitch of a finger and you could be done here. 

“Don’t do it alone.” That’s what Joel had said, when you’d told him about the way you felt sometimes. About the time you’d tried to die before. “Tell me. Always tell me.” 

“Don’t let anyone take you from me.” 

You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, too.” 

You cried, closing your eyes, letting the numbness swallow you. 

A/N: Hi y'all. I'm so sorry for this. I know there's a ton of misery in this chapter, but here's why. I'm not just brutalizing my characters for no reason. Kid is meant to be Joel's mirror. She carries much the same trauma as him. She loses someone in her care and she loses her child. She was willing to do anything for Jessica and her baby and she still lost. What she does with that grief and pain and what Joel does with his are very different. They are two sides of the same coin, bound by trauma and love and loss. I hope you stick with their story in spite of the sad stuff and thank you for reading <3

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

DF Posting: KingChannels - Year 3

Here we are again. Much belated on account of me having an awful head cold for most of the past two weeks.

The beginning of the defensive layer, which, as time has gone on, has only gotten less solid. Regardless I think having room to retreat behind corners when archers come a knocking will be helpful.

We left last year with the trade depot Almost complete, and the defensive layer, starting up. Happy to say we made a lot of progress on both, but a lot happened so we'll start from the top.

Early on the elven caravan arrived; I personally have no abnormal distaste for the elves (even if selecting everything in a bin except the bin is obnoxious), but we didn't have any trade goods because I'd not decided to, you know, make any, on account of sheets being wanted next year. So we didn't really get anything, not that they brought much. Not even very many animals. Very dissapointing honestly. Didn't even get a screenshot.

Our starter library. We probably won't need it anymore after we start getting the tower constructed but that could be a while. I set a scholar to work here after I made it as well, and installed a table later on.

In the meantime we made a starter library for our scholarly pursuits to begin in earnest, rather then waiting for the tower to start construction. It's small, but it'll work. We assigned Ingish Arzesidan as scholar, our old woodcutter. She honestly loves it and is constantly getting good thoughts from debating and pondering, though these are somewhat offset by her bad thoughts from not practicing a craft. Thems the breaks. Around this time I also started making clothes from our pig tail fiber, to ensure our in fort child would have clothing. Also so anyone whose clothes rot off can get a new set.

Our first scholar.

After all that hubbub we almost immediately got a migrant wave; 9 dwarves, 2 melee dwarves for the military, and a High Master Surgeon, very nice. This reminded me we needed to make a hospital. My idea is to build it on the ground floor, likely near the cistern, hopefully out of the way of any trouble in the event anyone needs to be brought to it during combat. It'll also make getting the water from the cistern to the nearly required hospital well less of a pain in the butt.

The first two are our melee dwarves and the last is the surgeon.

Around the time of the migrant wave we got another Child Strange Mood; it finished around the time we finished sorting otu the migrant wave as Ablel Regezar only grabbed two apple wood logs. He made, adorably, a toy axe, Desiszisang. During the course of this year I caught several dwarf children playing with it so at least it's getting use!

The fort's most popular toy. And... only toy, now that I'm thinking about it.

Of note; all this happened in Early Spring. This was a very rapid fire series of events, but things slow down a bit henceforth. Not before finding a mysterious vomit trail from the trade depot to the first floor of the fortress entrance. Probably a dwarf that'd been underground long enough to get cave adapted. I didn't see any sign of combat, anyway, so it's not an injury at least. Regardless the fort now has its first streak of green mess. There will be many more.

Every fort, by the end of the run, is usually just covered in blood and puke. This is small potatoes.

Taking up the next large swathe of time was mostly me digging to find ores, rather then for fortress construction, with the completion of a stockpile I was digging near the metal processing area to store ore and coal. During this time I'd noticed unhappy dwarves were looking pretty intimidating, I think it hit a high of 16 which is more then a third of our fort. You've gotta nip this in the bud so in a mostly ineffectual attempt to do that I made some meals. Mostly quarry bush leaves, but higher food quality = happier dwarf. Unfortunately we don't really have a lot of edible wildlife, I've only seen ravens and they're too small to butcher and a pain to catch besides. Maybe one day we'll be eating raven eggs, but it seems like a bit too much trouble for now.

all of my mining floors start like this. I want people to be able to move through them well in the event I use them for something more important then burial site.

We hit Lignite and Iron shortly below where I started digging exploratorily. Very good sign; if we can find flux we've got steel, which is fantastic. That'll handily take care of most of our fortress defense needs, at least as far as we can hope for. We also found kaolinite which will make us some high quality ceramic stuff when I set it up. I also intend to use the exploratory digging tunnels for most of our burial slabs; it just feels appropriate to me.

During all this, the work on the defensive layer was moving along. The windows on the left are Gem windows, and we'll be layering some fortifications over hte front of them to ensure noone just breaks in through those windows. Eventually patrols or watch animals will keep an eye out through there to let us know when goblins or kobolds are skulking around. Hopefully, anyway.

It was around this time I realized my military squads had Never Stopped Training. I looked into a bit of stuff regarding the new UI and it turns out they've been on manual training, never stop mode, for like a year now. That's probably why everyone's so pissed off. I fix that and indeed the bad moods at the fort start dropping, thankfully. THe summer migrant wave also hit, 8 dwarves. A high master metalcrafter, a high master furnace operator, and a middling papermaker. Normally the papermaker would be on hauling duty, but given we're making a library... hmm. Two randos from the wave got drafted into our military squad making an even 10. Training can Really start now. Especially now that they're doing advanced training and teaching and sparring and such. They don't do that on manual evidently.

Once more, oru new Local Celebrities. I also assigned another dwarf to scholarship around this time I believe; Kadol Usenvabok. We'll probably worry more about the scholars when the tower goes up because if I keep posting dwarf thoughts we're gonna hit the image cap.

Seconds after this migrant wave the high master metalcrafter enters a secretive mood. Looks like we're getting a legendary metalcrafter. Honestly sort've stinks; he was allmost there anyway. Regardless, he goes to work. After some livestock butchery, he makes an Artifact Silver Chain out of Horse Leather, Chert Blocks, a Silver Bar, and cut bloodstones. Pretty nice sounding, and we can definitely find a use for it somewhere. Probably put it in a well, but maybe we can find some sort've novel use for it in the tower. It Is silver after all.

Pretty Good.

As we moved into autumn, I realized we were running out of food for some reason. Had the realization we weren't growing any plump helmets in autumn for some reason, so I fixed that. Also set about to making another still, as the population was getting quite hefty and a single still probably wouldn't be cutting it for much longer. As time went on it stabilized, and later in the year restocked itself so we're good again. Crisis Averted.

Shortly before the caravan arrived there were officially enough farmers in the fort to qualify for a farmer's guild. I immediately set about making one of the rooms I Dug out for specifically this purpose into a farmer's guild, and everyone was happy about it. Farmer dwarves will talk about farming in there, along with just generally socializing. It'll slowly increase their skills in various farming aptitudes. It's great.

The Dwarven caravan arrives annnnnd I forgot to make trade goods. God damn. I quickly hammer out some rock rings and buy some iron bars, using them to make a weapon for the militia. Need stuff sooner then later, and we're not exactly short on iron. The liason requested Amulets, which is great for us and I Immediately set on that to avoid this problem next year. I make our standard selection of military grade metals and silver.

Around this time enough work on the cistern got done for me to be comfortable draining the pond, finally. I wanted to get constructed stuff in there sooner rather then later because... I like constructed stuff. No dirty hole water here.

the top floor hadn't been walled in yet but I did take care of that over the rest of the year.

I love a bit of fluid mechanics in DF so this excited me. I've actually not done a lot of it, but I love the concept. We'll probably need another pool or two before it'll have enough loaded in to make its way to the hospital well, but it rains all the time here, so it shouldn't be too long. Since we've got enough standing water in the cistern too (about a full z level), we can just dump in whatever we can get and it'll be stored too, so that's nice.

Anyway the autumn migrant wave hits annnnnnd we got two dwarves. I forgot I had the migrant cap lowered to a pitiful 50 due to a previous fort I ran, so that's my bad, Yet Again. I raise it to 100. The two dwarves were not notable in any way. I also assign a scribe to our library to copy the books we do have.

As we trundle on towards winter, a child is posessed, which has become a commonplace enough occurrence that I honestly wasn't particularly interested. More livestock died to feed the leather requirement, and he got wood, bones and leather.

Before he finished his artifact, however, a werehare broke into the depot. He immediately bites down on Logem Urvaddatan, our freshly recruited high master surgeon, and shakes him to bits.

So much for that hospital. KingChannelses first fatality. Brutal.

There were two militadwarves nearby at the time so they immediately set to attacking the werehare (with picks?? why do you people have picks equipped you're not miners), and he goes down pretty unceremoniously, being an unarmored, roughly human size, enemy.

During the scuffle however, a militadwarf was bitten. This means they are now a werehare, and they Will be hostile to their fellow dwarves when they turn.

The bitten militiadwarf on the left, Iden Eshtanmubun and more competent combat on the right.

Me, not willing to create isolation chambers for bitten dwarves, and not wanting to have to deal with this guy popping off every quarter of a year, elect to banish him. Iden Eshtanmubun has no family in the fort, so nobody is going with him. He's upset, but what's he gonna do, come back as a werehare to take revenge? Hopefully not. He was actually also a aprt of the wave the surgeon came in on, so I guess the wave was just cursed. We'll have to keep an eye on Ablel Dumatdeleth, I Suppose.

After all of the drama and our first death, the child finishes his artifact, a horse bone pick. Maybe someone will actually use it. I kind've don't care right now kid I'm sorry.

I am normally quite happy about equippable artifacts, even if they're shit, but a pick is pretty hard to equip on purpose and they all behave the same regardless of material.

After processing all this I realized our defensive layer is pretty much done, our wall is done, our trade depot is done, it's time to build that overhang. I don't think the werehare climbed in over the wall but better safe then sorry. Unfortunaetly, while trying to do this, I realize my wall is too close to the edge of the map to build an overhang. So we have to rebuild half of it. Ugh.

In the shadow of death we find.... more menial labor. As usual, I guess.

I immediately stat making another layer of the wall on the relevant sides inside the fort. We'll worry about tearing down the outside layer later. I'd rather have a wall people can climb over then no wall at all. This in and of itself takes about til the end of the season, so we'll carry on with other stuff, though the death was the last major event of the year.

Other then some boring logistical stuff (we ran out of chert I can't color coordinate until I mine more rarrrr), the rest of the year was pretty quiet. We found some Green Jade, a 20 value gem, which is Very nice, we found more iron on the living floor, while expanding it for future waves, which I mined out, and our scribe made a copy of our one book, The Way of the Path of the Moon. Or whatever. It was something like that.

As the year drew to a close, the baby born in fort grew to a child and learned to walk on his own. He is no longer at risk of being used as a shield by his mother, and they ran out into the snow and immediately got pissed off about being snowed on. Thanks kid. She can now harvest and haul stuff, so she'll be a minor help for the next.... 15 years. Frankly if we see her grow to be an adult that alone is a fantastic run.

Baby Lolor Rimtarilir, like all dwarves, immediately knows where the clothes are upon gaining locomotion. She's also pissed off because of the snow. Get in line Lolor.

Along with the baby becoming independent, our initial Scholar, Ingish, became an astronomor. He's officially studied the book about the moon's path enough to gain a title. Our mental pursuits are looking up.

A monumentous occasion given the goal of our fort. We need more eggheads. They're chopping a tree right now but rest assured they are very intelligent.

And that's that. A death, a lot of construction and a working cistern; that will continue, but we are pulling up on the end of Surface construction not involving the tower, at least, maybe another couple of years? Hopefully we'll have sterling silver production in hand by then.

Next years goals are finally get that cistern loaded up with water and giving our dwarves an indoor well, Finish The Damn Wall, and hopefully find flux and start steel production. Also hopefully we find silver. I guess if we can't find any silver on site a ceramic tower might be good. And very silly. Same color anyway. We'll see.

Until Next Year. Our fortunes rise and fall together.

[violet-fluff]

💙 Post War! Levi x Baker! Reader

I Only Knead You

This is part 2 to Love in the Oven

A few weeks have passed by since you and Levi officially became a couple. The both of you have been even more inseparable than before, to the point Levi has become a side worker at your bakery just so he can be near you.

Levi is kneading some dough on the counter, and you couldn’t help but blush when you watch the way the muscles on his arms flex every time he puts pressure down on the dough.

It’s been a while since Levi’s been in the military, but his nice physique has decided to stay.

You can’t help but fantasize what he may have looked like while wearing his uniform or being in a fight.

Or giving orders in a stern voice…

The butterflies in your stomach start to go wild.

“Hey, stop daydreaming and tell me if I’ve beaten this dough up good enough. My hands are hurting.” Levi says, snapping you from the fantasies playing in your head.

“Oh! It looks perfect, Love. Great job.” You smile and pick up the dough to let it go rise on the rack.

Levi tries to wipe all the flour off his clothes. “How do you do this every day? It’s so messy.”

You laugh and help dust him off. “Hey, no negative energy here. It’ll get into the pastries.”

Levi smiles and pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are we done so we can go home and relax?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smile softly. “Yes, let me just go do a quick inventory count and we can leave.” You kiss his cheek and walk to the back room.

“Well hurry up.” He tells you and sits down in his wheelchair, massaging his sore leg.

Suddenly the bell above the front door jingles and a tall man walks in. He looks around until his eyes land on Levi.

“Um…do you work here?” He asks Levi nervously.

“Sure.” Is all he replies while eyeing him up and down.

The man walks up to the counter. “Is y/n here today?”

Levi’s eye narrows. “Why do you need her?”

You come back to the front of the store since you heard the bell go off. You recognize the man at the counter once you see him. “Oh! Hi, Isaac. Did you want to order something today?”

Levi can’t help but mad dog the poor guy with an intense stare.

Isaac looks at you, then looks at Levi nervously, and then looks back at you. “Uh…yes I will…I want to put in an order for an apple pie.” He quickly spurts out.

You look at him concerned as he never acts so nervous. “Sure! Um…I will have that ready for you tomorrow in the late afternoon.”

Isaac only nods with a quick “thank you” and heads out the door.

“That was strange. He seemed off today.” You say as you write down Isaac’s order on your order sheet.

Levi scoffs. “Does he come in a lot?”

You nod. “He used to come in a lot. Lately he’s only been showing up every once in a while. You’re usually out with Gabi and Falco when he shows up.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “He comes in when I’m not here. I caught him by surprise today. He has feelings for you.”

Levi grunts once he realizes he has a new job now. Keeping other men away from his girl. He knows it will be a tough job because of how beautiful and nice you are. Any man would want you.

You giggle. “Well Love, you have nothing to worry about anyway because you’re the only one for me.” You reassure him as you bend forward to wrap your arms around the back of his shoulders.

Levi gives you a small smile and kisses your hand. “Now hurry your ass up. I need to eat.”

“Ok, Mr. Hangry.” You laugh.

[arrloww]

Café Oasis

Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

In where you apply for a job at a café. Café Oasis, although everyone calls it Café 141, due the number of military things in the café, and the army cadets that wonder into the café on their downtown.

SERIES CONTENT WARNING: xreader, Swearing, Sexual innuendos, fucked up sense of humor, Baking inaccuracies, military inaccuracies, Smut?

If there is anything I missed, please let me know :)

Word Count: 1.9K

The small whir of your laptops fan sends you a small reminder that you need to get a new laptop. Having this one since you were in Uni. Clicking the link, it takes you to an application form. Typing in your information, some of your keys getting stuck and causing you to retype words much to your annoyance.

The tap of your keys is drowned out by the music you have playing, swaying your head to the music and shoulders moving to the beat. You finish the application and close the tab, you get up from the lounge you were sitting on, walking to the kitchen a few steps away. The cold floor sends shivers up your legs and arms, but when you near the baking sweets it doesn’t matter, the warmth that surrounds your small kitchen when you open the door to the oven.

Placing the sweets on top of the stove and pulling a cooling rack from a cupboard underneath the bench to your left, you set them to cool, and netting thing over it to keep flies off it.

Things like this were normal when you weren’t working at your corner store shop before, but now that you quit, you had more time to bake but not enough money to fund it.

Sighing, you finished up what you had to do, then you head to bed.

The day was a bright day, but with a cold wind. Dressing in something warm, but you could always take something off, in case you got too warm. You lock the door behind you, placing your keys in your pocket, and roaming down the stairs of your apartment block.

From your pocket, you unlocked your car, shivering and turning on the car. You blast the heat before pulling out of your parking space, heading towards the markets. Sundays were market days, you enjoyed wondering and buying cute stuff, or if there was anything you needed, sometimes it was cheaper than buying them at a store.

The smells of a beautiful Lavender soap bar filled your sense as you stepped into the market. The closest stall to your left was a cute little cottage core style with the main table painted a light baby blue, small bubbles painted on it.

You roam over to the stall, taking your time to look through and smell the soaps. You occasionally took a smell of a coffee jar to make sure all the smells didn’t muddle together.

The next stall was a small station of crocheted items of clothing, alongside wool. The wools and fabrics were soft and in a large range of colour and gradient, softness, and texture. Feeling the different wools and fabrics you tense up at a certain texture, saying a bye before walking away rubbing the tips of your fingers to the palm of your hand. You did NOT like that texture.

An hour later you had two bags filled with things, diamond dots to do while you watch criminal minds, couple books that were on sale, cooking ingredients, etc.

It wasn’t until you got to your car, placing the bags on the passenger side floor. It was cold in your car, but hot while you were walking outside, you decided to take off your outerwear, turning the heat up, your fingers and nose copping the worse of the cold. Your phone rang, a number you didn’t recognize, but you picked it up anyways. Could be one of the twelve jobs you applied for.

Picking up the call, and making sure it wasn’t connected to the speakers, you hear a lady’s voice on the other end. “Hello?” She asked for your name.

“I saw your application this morning and I wanted to see if you could come in today? If you can’t today, that’s alright too.” Her voice was nice and calm, sweet sounding too. You told the lady you could, and what time she wanted you around.

“Anytime today, lunchtime maybe?” Her voice sounded distant for a second like she was turned away rom the phone. “And just ask for Laswell. Hope to see you soon.”

You say a quick thank you and goodbye. Taking a sip from a milkshake you got, you buckled up and set GPS to café 141, driving out of the car park. The café was popular, but on a Wednesday lunchtime, it shouldn’t be too busy, you hoped. The traffic was a bit annoying, people coming out of work for lunch breaks, or some going home from a late-night shift or early morning one. Turning left, you started playing some music, driving home to pick up your folder of work interview things. Changing clothes, into something warm but interview worthy.

When you went into the bathroom to fix up, you walked out of your house at 11:30am, the interview around 12:00pm. You had to be early. If you’re on time, you’re late. That’s what you told yourself when you moved out on your own.

The doors lock clicked, and you continued to your car, then to the café.

Walking into the café, there was people here and there. Some college kids in a group, on laptops and making occasional conversations. On the other side there was older guys, almost scary looking, if they did have massive smiles on their faces and loud laughing.

Stomach grumbling, you wonder into the line. Ordering a Raspberry Crumble, you ask to see Laswell as you paid. The worker at the cash register, a young girl who still seems to be in school nods, her ponytail bobbing as she does. She turns and makes her way into the kitchen and makes a turn out of sight. A couple seconds later, a blonde woman walks out, dark dress pants and a dark grey button down.

She motions you around to her side of the register, to follow her.

Following the woman, Kate Laswell, into her office she sits you down, allowing you to eat your piece of crumble ass she explains what the job position will ask of you in more detail, and ask you more questions.

“Are you sure if I can eat? I don’t want to seem unprofessional…” You trail off, a tad bit anxious.

‘Maybe it’s a ploy? To get you to eat, just so you seem unprofessional, them they will tell everyone around that hiring to not hire you and that you won’t be able to get a job and youll be kicked from your apartmentand thenyoullhavetomovebackkinwithyourparents’ Shifting and continuing to not eat the crumble slice that is still in a brown paper bag.

Kate laughs, not a loud laugh like the men on the table to your left as you walk in, but a little closed mouth chuckle. Her blue eyes crinkling around the edges. Almost mother-like, in some of mannerisms, Kate gestures to the paper bag, and stands to reach and get a snack of her own.

“I am quite hungry myself, ready to start? And do you have everything?” She bites into a blueberry muffin, small crumbs falling to the plate she had sitting underneath it.

Nodding and bringing out the folder, you hold a quarter of the raspberry crumble in the paper bag taking a bite. Swallowing, you open the folder to give her another copy of your resume.

She looks through it, nodding with an unreadable expression on her face. “Do you have any licenses and certificates from school?” As she traces a finger on the schooling area of your resume, “And maybe a cover letter, if you have one written?”

Placing the crumble down and sifting through the folder for certification for the cooking classes you did in university, and your wallet as well to get your driver’s license. Not forgetting the cover letter, you wrote.

There more gruelling silence, the only sound is very soft rustling from the paper bag, and voice from behind the door to the kitchen. You tap your fingers against your thigh, looking at your nails, the wall, the window, admiring her office as Kate reads through everything.

She scares the living shit out of you as she suddenly speaks up. “Looks good so far! Now, the position, it’s not guaranteed but we will give you more information anyways. So, your role will be baking, so you’ll be spending a lot of time on your feet and in early hours. Do you have any disabilities that will stop you from being on your feet for long periods?” Pulling a notebook from a drawer in her desk. Shaking your head, you say no.

“Okay, uhm what next?” Tapping her pen against the notebook. “Are you able to work in loud environment? Are you able to work with others?” You answer.

“I have no problem with a loud environment, I’m quite used to it from working in the corner store. And I was a manager at the corner store, Hop’s.” She writes your answer in her notebook.

“What do you think of music while you work?” She looks up at you, raising an eyebrow. You give a small sheepish smile.

“I quite prefer working with music, but I can without too. “

“One of the last questions before we move on, Are you comfortable working around men? We have a few men working here, they are good men. But I would like to hear your opinion.”

Your quiet for a moment thinking it over, weighing pros and cons. “I don’t mind, it should matter who works with me as long as we get along and do our jobs.” Kate smile at that, the corner of her eyes crinkling again.

“Last question, promise” She chuckles softly, “What are your available hours?”

You sit straighter in the seemingly soft chair, “Everyday ma’am. I was going to ask if a full-time position was available?” You didn’t want to come off to strong, but you had to ask, rent was going up, and things needed to be replaced, you needed money to live off. Tapping your thumbs together you await her response. 

“If you get the job, I could arrange that, but I do have another three interviews today.” She stands, you follow suit thanking her for interviewing you and that you hope to hear from her soon.

As you walk out, you spot a small group of men behind the counter. They’re laughing together and hanging around the barista area. Some people have left, and the line is now gone.

Throat parched, going up to the counter and waiting for the men to finish talking, not wanting to be rude.

The one to spot you is a tall fluffy blonde-haired man, with a simple black surgical mask covering his face. “Sorry abou’ that, didn’t see you ther’, what can I get ya’?” He has a thick accent, not surprised you weren’t from England. Waving off the apology shyly, not one to bother people, you quickly order a vanilla latte, iced, one shot. The tall guy made it quickly, shooting quips back and forth between his co-workers. Paying and taking the drink, you say thank you and make your way out of the café.

You’re grateful for the cold car, unlike last time. You take off your outwear, feeling yourself start to sweat. Hands getting clammy, and unable to sit still, you hear the click of your seatbelt, autopilot getting you ready to drive. Plugging the keys in and stopping to play music, you check your blinds spots and tug the gearstick into first.

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Y'know how I said I'm not gonna post every day... Okay look I'm just enjoying myself and I'm on break so I got time to write. Sue me.

This chapter is called "The Ruin". Enjoy!

Page 5 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 2:

A blind man finds upon his path, a thing of uncertain birth, He whispers words of guilt, gait unsure around the being, A story of war falls from his lips, a tale well known, The beastly soul bows in assent, warmed only by gore, The man asks of the Beast, will you let me pass, The path clears, but a voice requests, Will you, O fallen knight, Will you let a monster trail?

The last time Soap was under a CO, the man spat in his face that he’s never going to amount to anything, not with his “attitude”. The one before it made him clean the latrines for three months, not that he stayed long enough to finish that sentence.

Ghost was… surprisingly different. His orders were clean cut, but Soap found them completely logical. And when he didn’t…

“We can’t go that way, the roundabout is full of equipment. Soldiers are constantly circling it.” Soap muttered next to Ghost. The SAS operator looked back at him. The skull mask adorning his face was cracked from untold battles long past, the sharp edges catching the low neon light from a nearby street sign.

Soap is sure if he saw that jumping at him from the shadows, he would scream like a wee girl. As it stands, the mask only makes him think of shirts edgy teenage boys would find on a sale at TK Maxx.

“How do you know?” the masked man questions.

Soap pulls a small bag from the rucksack he nabbed two days earlier, “managed to swipe some black powder from there when they weren’t lookin’.”

Ghost hums, “know how to use it?”

“Was a demolition expert, before…” Soap trails off, shoving the bag back into the side pocket, “we can go through the southern side, near the church. Think they’ve already combed that area.”

“Copy, lead the way Sergeant.”

Soap takes them through the winding alleys, hearing nothing behind, but knowing Ghost follows. For a man his size, he’s unnervingly dead silent.

“Where was yer exfil point set?” he starts. They would need to double time it, if it was back north…

Ghost is cryptid with his answers, as always, “we’ll have to set a new one.”

Soap frowns. “So our goal is just to put distance between us an’ the hostiles?”

“Affirmative. You got intel on their location?”

They enter an abandoned grocery store (as all stores in this area are), and Soap makes a detour at the cleaning aisle, looking for bleach and other solutions he could use for crafting. “I was ‘ere two days ago, dinnea where they are now…” he grins brightly when he finds a nice big bottle of bleach. With the vinegar he already has, he could create a good amount of chlorine gas. Pour it into a bottle and chuck it at hostiles, and they got a distraction should they need it.

“Stay focused, then.” Ghost murmurs, snapping Soap out of thought. He’s not used to having someone next to him, even before everything went to shit…

The church comes into view when they exit the store. Ghost stops to stare at it, and Soap takes the moment to inspect the Lieutenant further. Black gear over black clothes, no markings of country, unit, even blood type. Soap feels like there’s a lot more about this botched mission that Ghost isn’t telling him.

Not that the spooky bastard tells him much of anything.

“Could use the tower to scope the area. I see a line up there we can zip line down from.” Ghost eventually rumbles. 

“Sounds good, LT.” Soap responds, catching his slip belatedly. Internally, he muses, ‘ye can take the man out of the military…’

Ghost’s head snaps around to glare at him, and Soap can see his mouth open under the balaclava, before he turns around to stomp to the church tower, leaving Soap to jog to catch up.

The church looks ransacked, in a way that makes Soap’s gut churn. He’s not religious, not since he enlisted, but the way the soldiers destroyed everything without disregard…

It’s a view that haunts him throughout the city. How they don’t care that anyone lived here before.

Children laughed, babes were born, old men reminisced over long gone memories, girls played together. People lived and died here, this was their world.

And the Hunter’s soldiers crushed it all under their boot, spat on the graves of their ancestors and severed the ties.

Soap feels the anger building within him once more. His fuel for the firepower he throws at the hostiles. At first, he wanted to know why more than anything. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing can justify this.

He stares at Ghost’s wide back as they climb up the stairs to the tower, wondering what the operator thinks of all this. If he too feels his heart clench at the thoughts of senseless violence. Or if he doesn’t care, if the mission is the one and only important thing on his mind.

Soap wonders if there’s anything under that mask at all.

He asks himself, if there’s anything left behind his.

They reach the top, the city sprawling beneath them. The little lights blend together, shining between the dark buildings. Would’ve been a nice view.

Would have, if they didn’t spot the trucks rolling to a stop in front of the church.

Ghost and Soap share a brief look, and instantly he moves to climb out of the window to jump to the zip line, only to be stopped by the Brit.

“What are ye waitin’ for?! We need to go!” he almost yells.

Ghost yanks him back in, the sheer power knocking Soap into the wall. Fuckin’ hell, he hits like a beast.

“If we zip line now, they’ll shoot us down. We need to get through the ground floor.” he growls, turning away and starting to run down the stairs. Soap rolls his shoulders and runs after him, muttering a few curses under his breath.

Soap catches up to him, yelling, “there must be a back exit we can use-!”

Ghost stills on one of the last steps, shushing him. They both strain their ears, hearing far-off steps growing closer, and closer, and closer-

Soap shucks his rucksack off, taking out the bleach and vinegar, quickly pouring them into an empty beer bottle, “the fuck are you doing?” Ghost yells above him, crouching to hide behind the banister when the front doors are kicked open.

Soap ignores him, driving a piece of cloth down to stop the gas from leaking, and shoves it into Ghost’s hand as he makes another one, “throw this right before we go, they won’t be able to breathe right for days.”

Soldiers start spreading through the ruined church, Ghost testing the weight in his hand, “on my count.”

Soap nods, finishing up his bottle.

“One, two…”

One of the soldiers spots them, and Soap stops breathing.

“Three!”

They throw the bottles, the liquid within them splashing as they arc across the church. His bottle hits the soldier that saw them square in the face, and he instantly starts coughing and clawing at his eyes.

The gas isn’t visible to the naked eye, but Soap can track its spread by the way all soldiers start coughing. He and Ghost push off to run up the stairs, but as Soap casts a glance back, he sees some of them equipping a gas mask.

Why the fuck were they prepared for chemical weapons in a civilian city?!

“Ghost!” he shouts, slinging his rifle off his shoulder, “they have gas masks!”

He hears the man curse, “keep running!”

Not sooner after, bullets begin to ricochet around the spiral staircase. Soap swings around to shoot a couple of them, and as Ghost does the same, he notices his shots don’t land as they should.

He glances back at the Lieutenant, watching him rub roughly at his left arm. Right… Ghost did say he was broken. Soap didn’t realize how bad it was. 

A few seconds later, he realizes Ghost threw the bottle with his left hand, landing it perfectly between the soldiers.

With no time to maul it over, he pushes onwards.

Ghost is still grasping at his arm when they reach the window, and Soap can’t help but ask, “are ye gonna be able to zip dow-”

Ghost’s tone lowers dangerously, nailing him with a death glare, “I am not weak, Sergeant.”

He’s not sure who’s cornering who here. Ghost takes his eyes off him a second later, tugging on the line before asking, “got anything we can use?”

Soap continues shooting down the enemies pushing up the stairs, “check my pack!”

He feels Ghost rummaging through his rucksack, and it almost distracts him from the hails of bullets around them.

It’s… odd. How he doesn’t even know the man’s face, but he can trust him with his back.

Ghost zips the pack back up. From the corner of his eye, Soap can see two metal clothing hangers he picked up in one of his searches for a thicker jacket. In his other hand is his little project he used most of the black powder on.

He lifts it questioningly, and Soap answers while shooting, “a wee gift I made. It’ll trigger when someone steps on it.”

“How big’s the explosion?”

Soap smirks, “big enough.”

He can almost feel Ghost’s eye roll from his silence, and he would’ve chuckled if soldiers didn’t start coming closer.

“Ye ready to jump?” he yells.

Ghost hands him a hanger, dropping the charges on the last stair step. Soap watched him flex his left arm one last time, before swinging the hanger over the line, and jumping off.

Soap’s heart drops for a moment when the operator sways wildly, part afraid for him, but mostly for himself.

The hostiles at his feet don’t care either way, so Soap braces himself and jumps off as well. The way down is bumpy, rattling, and fuckin’ fast. Soap lets go of the hanger right before the end, rolling off on the rooftop, and stopping.

He hears his “gift” go off, and the sound is so beautifully familiar, it sends a pang of nostalgia through him.

Ghost is already making his way down, seeking to hide between concrete buildings. Soap hastily catches up.

“That was a wild one, wasn’t it, LT?” he says, a little out of breath.

That breath gets completely knocked out of him when Ghost slams him to the nearest wall. His eyes are obscured by shadows, leaving only two black holes when he leans down to growl in his ear.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. I am not your LT, not your CO, we are strangers. We get outta here, and you can go back to your civvy little life. Understood?”

Soap breathes out harshly, grinding his teeth. “Like I have a fuckin’ life-”

Ghost pulls back just to slam him harder, “do you fucking understand, Sergeant?”

He stares at the black voids, voice clear and flat, “yes sir.”

The Lieutenant finally pushes off, and Soap lingers for a moment. He wants to be angry, he wants to snarl and bite and talk back, like he used to when his past COs were yelling at him.

But Ghost is right. After this little “adventure”, Soap will have to go back to his life. To an empty apartment, which he has probably already been evicted from. To searching a job, only to find nothing truly worthwhile. To an airsoft field, a fuckin’ mockery of what he lost.

To a monotonous, repetitive, grey cycle, where John loses his mind just a little more every day.

Ghost is just telling him the truth.

Soap trails back behind Ghost, the man not reacting to his presence. He looks so much larger than him like this, blocking what little light is around them, casting a long shadow over Soap. 

He tried not to think of “what could have been” in the past year. But it’s so hard, when it’s literally within reach.

Could he have been like Ghost? This imposing, unrelenting soldier, stronger than anyone he’s ever fought. So powerful, he escaped a whole military worth of hostile soldiers?

There may be nothing behind Ghost’s mask, but there’s someone behind Soap’s. Someone weak, lost, and repulsive.

And Soap isn’t sure what’s worse.

They’ve walked in silence for the last hour or so, Soap lost in the tar pit of his own mind. Some part of him, hysteric and deranged as it is, doesn’t want this to be over. It disgusts him.

Ghost’s arm has been twitching minutely for a few minutes now. It distracted Soap from spiraling for a bit, wondering what exactly is wrong with him. He doesn’t see any rips in the fabric around the area, so it’s not a stab or gunshot wound. He thought about blunt force trauma, but that wouldn’t act up every once in a while like this. An old injury would, but if it’s bad enough Ghost can’t even shoot straight, no one in their right mind would send him on the field.

Soap exhales, his stomach knotting in warning. They didn’t stop moving since they encountered each other, so they didn’t really eat. Which Soap just remembered, and now can’t ignore.

He considers it for a moment before piping up, “ye hungry?”

Ghost pauses in front of him, slowly turning to stare at him. “You got food?”

Soap nods, pulling a few oranges from his bag. He almost hands one to Ghost before remembering his arm, and sets about to peel them both. Ghost watches him silently, as a sweet aroma fills the small back way. 

Soap gives him the first peeled orange, busying himself with the other while Ghost turns around to eat it. When Soap takes the first bite, a sour taste bursts on his palate. Yet as he chews, it turns sweet, and he closes his eyes for a moment, savoring it.

Ghost has turned back to face him when he opens his eyes again, a look Soap can’t place in his eyes. It makes him hurry and gulp down the rest of the fruit, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He starts walking, but this time Ghost walks beside him, his eyes still not straying from Soap.

Ghost’s eyes are a nice, rich brown, he notices for the first time.

[burgersnacksformax]

Gk charas' google history headcanons

Shiraishi

He definitely has gambling websites open, and you know he knows what he's doing when you find "gambling.com/this-is-not-a-scam-website-xoxo/".

Which is then followed by dozens of searches along the lines of "scammed by gambling website", "how to get money back after scam", "how to report gambling website".

Also various paid corn sites, good for him

He uses Quora and Yahoo Answers as a reputable source of information.

So many goddamn 9GAG pages.

Vasily

Tons of links on social media of art by his favourite artists.

And Twitch, he probably watches vtubers while he draws.

There are also lots of vids in his history of first person shooters.

Random wikipedia articles of highly specific phenomena that piqued his interest.

And drawing references. His search history even seems suspicious out of context with the poses he searches.

Saichi

Travel and tourism vlogs, followed by google maps searches.

Also, recipe blogs and videos.

He has compilation vids all over his watch history, whether its compilations of "Funny Fails 🤣🤣😂 LOL LMAO #TRENDING" or just a compliation of moments from a show or a game, even if he doesnt play the game or watch the show.

Random trivia google searches, mainly because he mightve seen something he didn't know and ended up googling it.

And then he falls down a rabbit hole of random trivia, ending up excitedly telling Asirpa all about it.

Asirpa

Definitely watches animal fail videos.

Probably gets addicted to Wordle.

Does Not Use Keywords When Googling to point it's a miracle that google can even interpret what she's saying. Who tf searches like "I put my shirt in the dryer and now it shrunk and now I want to know if I can reverse it".

Watches educational youtube channels about literally anything. She'll fall dowm that rabbit hole.

Secretly loves those online flash games but would never admit to it.

Ogata

It's fucking wiped clean, almost nothing is there.

He mostly just does typical ogata stuff like searching up really specific facts that could get the average person arrested for knowing.

And also cat videos :)

Oh and he most certainly does not use google, he opts for browsers that keep you super secure.

He probably has reddit just to spread misinformation honestly.

Koito

Tons of beauty guru channels definitely.

He also has a channel of his own which is also in his search history a lot.

Search history completely unorganized. Youll see pictures and vids he finds funny, links to online shopping sites, wikipedia articles on military icons and tactics, etc.

He also loves reading travel blogs and watching vlogs.

Is really fucking good at Wordle, Asirpa hates him for always being able to get it right.

Tsukishima

also has koitos yt channel in his search history.

Lots of miscellaneous journals and artciles open for him to read.

He has perused a lot through online libraries too.

Does crossword puzzles online.

Reads the fucking. News. Every day.

Tanigaki

Ngl probably wouldnt google many things, and if anything his search history would be few and far in between.

But when he does search its things its so normal ?? Like "XXL clothing store near me" and "How to repair a broken air conditioning unit".

Gym websites and workout routine stuff. He maintains his build and I gotta respect that.

Also has facebook to check in on how his family and friends are doing.

And also baking and cooking videos.

[avinryd]

Cat's Cradle

Author: AvinRyd Fandom: Critical Role Rating: T Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast Word Count: ~1,650 Series: Shards and Spells

"...first time I've been glad Molly wasn't there."

- @caitmayart

--

Saw Cait's fanart (x) and it broke me into little pieces. I put those back together into this.

Read on AO3

On any other night, the soft riffle of worn parchment shuffling would be comforting, meditative work in Mollymauk’s hands. On any other night, there would be a blood-deep satisfaction in the near-inaudible sound of cards placed on threadbare fabric. On any other night, the glow of moonlight would light his spread and sing in his veins and there would be the humming feeling of not only Sehanine’s gentle presence, but a hint of mischievous spark from Jester’s Traveler and, underneath his incense and the floral warmth of the Wildmother, the sharp scent of ozone. Yasha’s Stormlord.

On any other night. But not tonight. Because Yasha is...Yasha is— 

Footsteps on the stairs of the Ready Room—ascending, growing louder, stopping on the landing.

“If we’re not discussing how to get her back, I’m not coming downstairs.” Molly says flatly, not looking up from his cards.

“I am not here to fetch you back, Mollymauk.”

Caleb. Soft-spoken, level-headed, absolutely fucking calm Caleb. How can he sound so gods-damned calm? How can all of them be so cold to just walk away and let that door close and— 

His mental tirade is interrupted by movement in his periphery. Just off the edge of his tarot cloth, one of Caduces’s wooden bowls slides into view. It’s full of a creamy stew of some sort, dinged iron spoon leaning against the edge, being held by a bandaged hand. It’s followed shortly by a chipped ceramic mug of steaming liquid, borne by a matching other hand. Molly looks up to see Caleb crouched across from him, fancy new coat pooled on the gritty wood floor and not meeting his eyes.

“You need to eat. You’re no good to her wasted away to nothing.”

Molly scoffs. “I’m no good to her stuck here either! Miles and a mountain and a half away, sitting in a fucking military storehouse when I should still be in there, still—” 

“Still what, Mollymauk? You wouldn’t still be anything. You would be stabbed through by another gods-verdammt oversized blade and by the time your neat little trick got around to bringing you back, there would be more time wasted than we are using right now.”

Caleb isn’t so soft-spoken, isn’t so calm now. His voice is low, but it’s tense and rough and he’s meeting Molly’s gaze now—deep purple bruising under his eyes and brows furrowed in consternation as he pins Molly with a hard look and it stops his mind short. This Caleb is familiar, for all Molly never actually got to meet him. This is the Caleb that rode up the Glory Run Road, dragging broken friends and compatriots away from a fresh grave to rescue the ones yet living. 

Molly swallows the spitting retort that’s fast dying on his devil’s tongue and carefully returns the cards to his deck, inverse of how they’d been placed and rolls up the cloth, sets them both aside and reaches for the bowl.

He eats in silence. Caleb shifts, sits against the bunk that hides Molly’s corner from the rest of the large room and pulls out a loop of silver thread to fiddle with. Moonlight catches in the threads and Molly recognizes the geometric patterns.

“No Molly, if you do it that way—see? You’ve got it tangled now.”

Molly made a face at the snarls of string binding up his wrists and fingers. Yasha only laughed softly and reached to pick apart the knots.

“Where did you even learn this? Practice for building snares in the Xorhassian wastes?”

“Jester taught me while we were at sea. It was a long journey and you run out of things to do on a ship, eventually.”

There was a waft of sea-salt tang rising from the string, nearly masked by the scent of dry parchment and flowers that clung to everything stored in Yasha’s belt-pouch. He wiggled his fingers gleefully once Yasha freed them, then looped the string around once more.

“Alright. Show me again.”

Molly sets the empty bowl aside—when had he finished it? Must have been hungrier than he thought—and scoots over across from Caleb. The wizard has reached a point in the pattern where he can’t move further. Wordless, Molly reaches in and deftly moves the strings, pulls them off Caleb’s hands and into the next pattern, then holds it out.

Their eyes meet in a quick glance, all that Caleb allows, then burn-scarred fingers reach across to pluck at the web spanned between Molly’s hands; gingerly pinching strings together, then looping them around and pulling back. Another familiar pattern. Molly follows along, and so they go, the silence stretching on and growing more comfortable as it does. Comfortable, but it’s not enough to soothe the agitation still simmering in Molly’s blood.

The emotions still boil up in him, horror and fear and anguish that steam out as anger at the situation, anger at his friends, their hesitance, their—

Caleb nudges Molly’s elbow with his own. Their hands are suddenly knotted together—Molly’s hands having spasmed and yanked the careful magic out of true, tangling the thread. Shit. Fuck. Gods damn it all, can't even get a simple children’s game right, let alone anything more useful. He doesn’t move as Caleb slips his own fingers free and starts untangling the thread. Still quiet, movements slow and purposeful and fucking hells below.

“How are you all so calm about this?” He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t.

There is a long moment of silence, Caleb slipping the last knots from the thread and winding it carefully before replying, “Everyone is in shock, Mollymauk. Do not mistake it for apathy.”

“Bullshit. If any of you gave a—” Caleb doesn’t let him finish, talks over him.

“Beauregard hasn’t said a single word since your shouting match three hours and twenty-seven minutes ago. Jester started crying halfway through that argument and hasn’t stopped. Caduceus burned the stew and oversteeped three separate pots of tea. Nott has done nothing but drink since we got back and Fjord has let his accent slip at least four times in that span.”

“And you?” Molly is still stuck on their firebrand wizard and his icy calm all through the ride back to Bazzoxan—stuck and enraged, if he’s honest with himself. 

Caleb laughs, dry as dust. “Well.” 

He holds out his right hand for inspection and Molly takes in what he hadn’t noticed earlier. The bandages on the outer blade of his hand are scorched brown, black at the edges, and there are red smears in the palm mirrored by the rusty brown caked under burned short nails. Unthinking, he reaches out to cradle it in his own two as Caleb continues,

“Nott told me to find something to do with myself before the proprietor noticed I was burning a hole in their table. So I brought you food.”

The hand in Molly’s grasp is shaking, as if only just being held back from clenching into a fist once more. Molly has to take a moment, has to sit with what Caleb’s just told him. He wants to stay angry, wants it more than anything, because if he’s angry then nothing else can get to him—if he’s angry, the rest of the awful, awful things...

Ah, too late. 

Their game of Cat’s Cradle had brought him and Caleb knee-to-knee, so it’s not far to go when Molly slumps forward to knock his head into Caleb’s shoulder. Months and months ago, back when they’d all first met, the Caleb Molly had known would have jerked back on instinct. The Caleb Molly had known wouldn’t have let his hand be held so tenderly either, or played a silly string game with him in grief-stricken silence. This Caleb has done all those things, and more—twisting his hand just enough to clasp around Molly’s forearm in a firm hold.

“I hate this.” Molly says to their laps, forehead pressed into the shoulder seam of Caleb’s fancy new coat. “Is this what it felt like? When I… When I was gone?”

“Nein,” Caleb replies, harsh and certain. Molly jerks upright at the tone.

“How?”

Caleb’s frown deepens. “You were dead, Mollymauk. You were dead and you were gone and we mourned you.” His hand tightens on Molly’s arm. “Yasha is not. She is alive, and we may not be strong enough yet, but we will get her back. I don’t— I’m not sure how we can, but we will, Molly. I swear it.”

Caleb’s free hand has lifted to rub at his face and Molly sees a smear of crimson when it comes away—a cut on his jaw that should have been healed many cleric spells ago. There’s dried blood crusted under the nails of that hand as well. Had he picked open that shaving nick over the course of the night?

There’s a hard lump in Molly’s throat that he tries to swallow past, but can’t. It blocks all his words except the few syllables he needs to send up to the Moonweaver as he reaches out to touch Caleb’s jaw. The silver crescent charm on his horn chimes softly as it spins and hits keratin, and a sparkle of divine blue light dances in the blue of Caleb’s eyes as Molly draws on the absolute last of his strength to seal up the tiny cut. He doesn’t move his hand after—keeps it there to feel the subtle movement of Caleb adjusting his jaw, relaxing clenched teeth.

It’s not far to go when their foreheads press together, made shorter by Caleb leaning in to meet him halfway. Molly lets his hand drop to fall atop Caleb’s wrapped ones in their laps, closes his eyes and tries to just breathe—he feels like he hasn’t properly since that door closed. 

It hurts. It’s going to hurt for a good long while yet, he reckons. But it’ll hurt a damn sight less once they’ve got Yasha back.