#𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉 by 𝖑𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 // my writing

[healerfromhell]

On The Night Nurse

hi dead boy detectives fandom, i’m here to give you the tea on the night nurse because i cannot watch her incredible lore get overlooked any longer. this post was initially a thread on my twitter but i wanted to cross post :3

long post under the cut

DOOM PATROL

we first see this iteration of the night nurse in what ruth described as a “backdoor pilot” in s3e3 of doom patrol. she’s only on screen for 3 minutes but in that time there’s an insane amount of implications in terms of her abilities.

she’s shown to have telekinesis, as well as shifting her appearance into a more “demonic” form, including her mouth seemingly splitting in half. finally, as the doom patrol escapes, she projectile vomits acid onto them which later turns them into living-dead style zombies!

it’s up for debate whether or not this is canon to the dead boys show, HOWEVER, in terms of asa herself we’re not given any reason to believe she isn’t functionally the same, even if this IS an alternate universe.

as such, it is likely that the night nurse possesses these abilities in dbd and we simply haven’t seen them yet. furthermore, she’s already canonically an “eternal, trans-dimensional being”, so while this is a different universe, it could potentially be a single, dimension-hoping night nurse.....

COMIC HISTORY

here’s where we get into the good stuff. it’s pretty much agreed upon that the night nurse is an adaptation of the comic character “nightmare nurse”, also known as asa the healer. she’s a demon of an unknown age and she’s absolutely delicious as a character.

asa first appears in the phantom stranger, but she’s most notably present in justice league dark. during this it’s explicitly stated that john constantine is her ex-boyfriend and that she’s sapphic! let's go through some of the most important connections we get from these comics.

Constantine

we see her make several references to her history with constantine, but she’s also pretty loud about how her priorities are, first and foremost, her job, as you can see here, which i think ties in nicely to her pendanticism in dbd — all she wants to do is her job.

Zatanna

here are a few panels in which she hits on zatanna, then kisses her, then says she’s a much better kisser than constantine. girl kisser asa you’ll always be famous.

by the way, that creature with the red eyes? yeah, that's asa. that's her demon form that she appears in after enduring the blackmare curse with constantine.

Alice Winter

it is revealed that asa used to work as a nursemaid for a sickly woman named alice, but eventually she decided to possess alice instead. this is the body we see her in throughout her comic appearances.

however, it turns out asa is the only thing keeping alice alive. when this becomes evident, alice invites asa back into her body for good.

Other Appearances

asa is also seen a few times in other comic runs, i’m just gonna add some of my favourites here.

Suicide Squad

i love her character design here and i think her ability to remove trauma like a cancerous growth is a nice tease at how she can literally go into charles’ head and watch his trauma in dbd

The Phantom Stranger

this is from issue 8 of the phantom stranger and there’s several reasons i love it. firstly, LOOK AT HER.

second, let’s go queer demon who enjoys threesomes! you’re an icon, asa. third, apollo and panacea. oh, apollo and panacea. we’re about to get tinfoil hat-y for this last bit.

FINAL THOUGHTS

so you might’ve noticed, up until this point asa’s mentioned having sworn an oath, but that panel has her outright stating she was actually FORCED into it by the gods. we also get a hint at this in jld, though they don’t explicitly name apollo and panacea.

“asa” quite literally means “healer”. her given name; every time somebody addresses her, they are calling for a healer. that cannot be coincidental. it makes me wonder if she even HAD a name before this oath was forced upon her, or if she was just… a creature. a monster.

perhaps the gods saw fit to name her asa as a means of throwing salt in the wound. not only have they branded her, even her name is a reminder of her new purpose. it gives a lot of weight to the numerous occasions on which she says that she is, no matter what, a healer.

because regardless of where she is, what skin she wears, no matter what… she has that oath, and her name is healer. there’s no escaping that for her. it’s the fundamental core of who she is.

and as a final, final thought i would like to draw attention to this casting because hooooooly shit. perfect.

anyway if anyone cares to see any more of my never-ending thoughts about asa you can find all my head canons on the carrd i have for my rp portrayal or my ao3 where i will no doubt be posting writings about her :3

[themysticmd]

sat down, for once, idly flicking through the pages of her ledger — not exactly necessary now, but old habits die hard.

or don't die, as it were.

[crimsontippedflower]

tag dump

[ofthemegacoven]

tag dump

[healerfromhell]

Untitled

Rating: None

Pairing: None

Summary: Asa is still struggling to comprehend how exactly her life had spiralled into this sad state of affairs so quickly. One moment you’re running the afterlife’s Lost and Found Department, the next you’re marooned on earth and apparently working as some sort of official handler for an unofficial detective agency. . . how does that even work?

A vignette set directly post-canon focusing on the Night Nurse. Sort of a character study, I don't know. I just love her.

A/N:  i made this into an artsy collage piece and gifted it to ruth at comic con this year and she was very sweet and said it was lovely, so..... not saying I'm the night nurse ceo, but I definitely ammmm~.

ao3 link here

When the kids have turned in for the night, or whatever it is that ghosts do instead, the Night Nurse finds herself in the office. The Dead Boy Detective Agency. Of course she'd been left here to fend for herself on earth for the next who knows how long. It could only happen to her. Asa is still struggling to comprehend how exactly her life had spiralled into this sad state of affairs so quickly. One moment you’re running the afterlife’s Lost and Found Department, the next you’re marooned on earth and apparently working as some sort of official handler for an unofficial detective agency. . . how does that even work?

She should’ve just stuck to the book. None of this would have happened if she’d stuck to the book.

Although, wasn’t that what that strange man in the fish had been trying to tell her? That doing everything so rigidly by the book might not always be the best choice? That, perhaps, rules could be broken? That kindness could be a viable option? Asa’s never really been one for kindness, ironically enough. Nurse she may be, but that healer’s oath had never been taken by choice. No, the powers that be had dished out a fitting punishment to a demon who had done terrible things; she who had lived on suffering would be bound forever to undo the very thing she’d fed upon. Perhaps her prior disregard for any sort of decency resulting in that damned oath is part of the reason Asa is so uptight now. It’s easy to be a stickler for the rules when not following them has seen you quite literally burned before.

She looks away from the ring, a near-permanent adornment on hands that seem altogether too delicate to have caused as much suffering as they have. Her gaze instead falls upon the case files. Even she, authoritarian as she’s become, can’t deny the real, tangible difference those boys have made. And she’d rather die than admit it, but they’re probably part of the reason her department had even received those commendations in the first place. Not that she can die, but she’d sooner find a way to do so than ever come out and say that she had, in fact, been in the wrong.

She can’t say that. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps one day, when she’s more adjusted to this new-found autonomy. To moral choices. To freedom from the rules.

Fingers trail lightly over the numerous files marked solved; so many, and ever-growing. She’s going to be part of this now. Asa still feels quite conflicted about that, but there’s not exactly much she can do about it. Maybe it would do her good to try and see this as an. . . opportunity, rather than a punishment. Maybe, this will end up being. . . what was it Kashi had said?

One of many adventures. . .

[themysticmd]

tag dump

[themysticmd]

tags

GENERAL

# ooc ; ─── for ooc posts

# 𝖆 𝖈ure 𝖋or 𝖆ll 𝖙hat 𝖆ils  //  musings ─── random things that remind me of asa

# 𝖆ll 𝖙hat 𝖘he 𝖙ouches 𝖘he 𝖍eals //  visuals ─── gifs / screencaps / clips / panels of asa

# 𝖙ender 𝖑ike 𝖆 𝖇ruise //  headcanons ─── my own personal headcanons, do not repost

# 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉  by  𝖑𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍  //  my writing ─── my own original writing, do not repost

# games ─── ask games / dashboard games / rp memes

# answered ─── answered asks, will also tag with senders username

# open ─── open starters

INTERACTIONS

# 𝖈onnection : ( insert name ) ─── anything pertaining to a specific connection with a specific muse

# 𝖘hip : ( insert name ) ─── anything pertaining to a specific ship

CONTENT WARNINGS

all trigger warnings will be tagged with the following format: “#tw ___”

currently tagging:

# tw needles ─── images / written mentions of needles

# tw syringe ─── images / written mentions of syringes

# tw medical ─── images of other medical paraphernalia ( e.g. medicine, hospitals, other equipement ) and descriptive written content of medical procedures / scenes.

# tw death

# tw blood

please let me know if there's anything else you need me to tag!

[crimsontippedflower]

tagging

GENERAL

# ooc ; ─── for ooc posts.

# 𝔱he 𝔣ear 𝔬’ 𝔥ell's 𝔞 𝔥angman's 𝔴hip // musings ─── random things that make me think of màiri

# 𝔟ut 𝔱o 𝔰ee 𝔥er 𝔴as 𝔱o 𝔩ove 𝔥er  //  visuals ─── gifs / screencaps / clips of màiri

# 𝔪y 𝔟onnie 𝔩ass // headcanons ─── my own personal headcanons, DO NOT REPOST

# 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉 by 𝖑𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 // my writing ─── my own original writing, DO NOT REPOST

# games ─── ask games / dashboard games / rp memes

# answered ─── answered asks, will also tag with senders username

INTERACTIONS

# 𝔠onnection ; ( user here ) ─── anything pertaining to a specific connection with a specific muse

# 𝔰hip ; ( user here ) ─── anything pertaining to a specific ship

CONTENT WARNINGS

all trigger warnings will be tagged with the following format: “#tw ___”

currently tagging:

# tw violence

# tw blood

# tw death

please let me know if there’s anything else you need me to tag!

[ofthemegacoven]

Tags ──⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆

GENERAL

# ooc ; ─── for ooc posts.

# 𝖘he 𝖜as 𝖍er 𝖔wn 𝖒use // musings ─── random things that make me think of rowena

# 𝖒eant 𝖋or 𝖌randeur & 𝖔pulence // visuals ─── gifs / screencaps / clips of rowena

# doe—eyed & 𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘 // headcanons ─── my own personal headcanons, DO NOT REPOST

# 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉 by 𝖑𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 // my writing ─── my own original writing, DO NOT REPOST

# games ─── ask games / dashboard games / rp memes

# answered ─── answered asks, will also tag with senders username

INTERACTIONS

# 𝖈onnection ; ( user here ) ─── anything pertaining to a specific connection with a specific muse

# 𝖘hip ; ( user here ) ─── anything pertaining to a specific ship

CONTENT WARNINGS

all trigger warnings will be tagged with the following format: “#tw ___”

currently tagging:

# tw violence

# tw blood

# tw mother dearest ( everything relating to rowena’s bad parenting )

# tw death

please let me know if there’s anything else you need me to tag!

[healerfromhell]

Hi u should write soft Miranda/reader 🥺

Just Enough

Rating: None

Pairing: Miranda Croft x reader

Summary: some banter, some smooching, miranda being cute and overthinking. use of “darlin’” also she threatens to kill you but definitely doesn’t mean it 🥺

A/N: “Ken” is scots for “i know”, “aye” is yes.

ao3 link here

You’d just arrived home and hung your coat up at the door. You weren’t sure what to expect upon entering; Miranda was… unpredictable, to say the least. Sometimes you’d find her already there, other times she wouldn’t appear until some ridiculous hour of the night. She never explained, never told you where she’d been. It was better that way, she’d said, safer.

“Miranda?” you called out. Silence.

Well then, that answers that question, you thought. A little disappointing - you’d been hoping she’d be there - but ultimately not a surprise. Resigned to a night at home alone, you kicked your shoes off and padded towards the sitting room. You were not, then, expecting to be grabbed from behind. A strong grip pinned your arms to your sides, leaving you completely trapped and at the mercy of your assailant.

“Slow today, darlin’,” she drawled. “Have you not learned anything from me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn’t stop the smile growing on your face. This was a game Miranda had been playing with you for a while. She had this weird idea that everyone should be adept at close combat - as if that was a skill set normal people had - and when she’d found out you weren’t, she’d taken it upon herself to show you the ropes. According to her, your peripheral vision was abysmal and your tendency to zone out during mundane tasks was amateurish. As such, she’d been making a point of showing you how easy it was for someone to sneak up on you. She’d said it was practical, an opportunity for you to learn; you thought it was just her way of being protective.

“Did you ever consider that maybe I want you to catch me?” you ask, turning your head and trying to catch a glimpse of her.

“Might not be me next time,” she replied, finally releasing her grip on you and taking a step back.

You turned to face her. Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders, and you felt the urge to twist a strand of it around your fingers. She’d come home with a small cut on her temple the previous week, but you were pleased to see it was now almost entirely healed. You catch her eyes and smile.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hi,” she echoed, tilting her head. You took a step towards her before looping your arms around her neck.

“Missed you.”

Her nose scrunched in disgust, “Fuck off, why’ve you always gotta be so sappy?” Nevertheless, her hands now rested on your waist.

“Mm, sorry,” you feigned sympathy, “it’s true though.”

Her eyes rolled as you tucked her hair behind her ear. You grasped her chin, turning her face slightly so you could get a better look at her injury. Miranda hated you fussing over her, but you couldn’t help but worry a little.

“That’s looking better,” you hummed. “Whoever did that’s got some nerve. Imagine hitting a face like that.”

“Ken. Bastards.”

You let your hand drop, settling your arm back over her shoulder. Your eyes scanned her face, trailing over every sharp angle. You did love to admire her, but the opportunities to do so weren’t as frequent as you would like. Unable to help yourself, you pressed a kiss to her cheek. She scoffed at you, but you could see her fighting a smile. Miranda pretended to hate affection, but it was mostly a front; she just didn’t like to be vulnerable.

“You finished for the day?”, you asked her.

She hummed noncommittally. “Aye, suppose. It’s not like I’ve got to clock in, is it? I’m kind of at liberty to pick my own hours.”

“Good. I wanna cuddle.”

The way her face dropped was borderline comical. “Get fucked.”

“Maybe later, if you’re nice. After cuddles.” You were pushing your luck, but she was just so fun to tease.

“Get absolutely fucked, you know I don’t do that,” she said, eyes narrowed.

You leaned towards her, letting your eyes drop to her lips for a moment. Your nose barely touched hers before you backed off, just enough to maintain eye contact.

“I’ll make it worth your while…” you tried.

“I could kill you,” she began with a low voice, “in under ten seconds, in about six different ways.”

You bit your lip, “Wish you would.” She huffed out a laugh.

“Unbelievable.” Her eyes shut as she sighed in resignation. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope!” you smiled.

“Fuck sake…”

You could practically pinpoint the exact moment the last of her resolve crumbled. Her eyes met yours once more, and you thought she might protest again. Instead, she wordlessly cocked her head towards the sofa. You grinned at her before pulling her forward to kiss her once, twice, a lingering third time. Your fingertips grazed over her cheek and you hummed in satisfaction. Pulling away, you smiled again and released her from your grasp.

As you walked away from her, Miranda finally allowed herself to smile, shaking her head lightly. She wouldn’t admit it, but you had somehow wormed your way behind all her walls and defences. If she thought too much about it, it scared her; she was well aware that she wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with, and her lifestyle was dangerous. She knew you were her Achilles heel; if anyone wanted to get to her, they’d do it through you. Realistically, it would be safer for both of you if she just disappeared. But…

Fuck it. Who was she kidding? You’d softened her edges, just a bit. Just enough to make her keep coming back, enough to make her want to stay, and, okay, maybe she wasn’t completely opposed to cuddling on the sofa. It’s not like anyone was there to see her anyway, her reputation was fine, she could afford to just… drop her mask, for a while.

“Miranda?”

She blinked. You were waiting for her.

Stop overthinking.

She followed you.

[healerfromhell]

Worth It

Rating: None

Pairing: Mary Wardwell x reader

Summary: You come home to find Mary asleep on the couch. Softness ensues.

A/N: This is my first reader insert fic so pls don’t judge too harshly! 🥹

ao3 link here

You could hear your keys jingling as you walked towards the door of the cottage. It was getting late; you’d been held up, and now the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over everything in sight. You knew Mary wouldn’t be annoyed at your tardiness, though. She never was, she didn’t have it in her. You, on the other hand, did have the capacity for annoyance, and it was surely coming into play. They’d kept you from her for far longer than you’d anticipated. Ah well, late is better than never, I guess, you thought as the key she’d given you turned in the lock.

Upon entering, you noticed that it seemed… dark? Darker than normal, at least. Mary’s home wasn’t exactly what one would call bright and airy. She tended to favour candlelight and the glow of the fire, with an old standing lamp in the corner of her sitting room providing enough light to read by. It was cosy. Homely. An atmosphere that suited Mary right down to the ground. The only time it was dark like this was when the two of you were cuddled up watching old black and white horror flicks, but you definitely couldn’t hear the TV.

Curiosity peaked, you crossed the hallway to the sitting room. You were just about to call out for her when you caught a glimpse of dark hair in your peripheral vision. Mary was fast asleep, curled on her side on the sofa, a pile of marking set before her on the table. Her hair had all but fallen out of its usual bun and her glasses sat crooked on her nose. You walked closer, mindful to be quiet, with a growing smile. Kneeling between the couch and the table, you reached out and gently slipped her glasses off. Can’t have those digging into that pretty face, you thought. After placing them atop the pile of papers on the table, you gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. So adorable, you thought, but you knew you had to wake her. If you left her to sleep there like that, she’d wake up sore.

“Hey…” you whispered, stroking the tips of your fingers along her sharp cheekbone. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, you gotta wake up.” Nothing. Your fingers began to run through her hair. “Maryyy…”

“Mm…” she mumbled, before stretching. “What time is it?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, husky from sleep, and your chest ached with love for her. Her eyes fluttered open, but you could see she was struggling to wake up. A pink tinge lightly coloured her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I was waiting for you…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, fingers still lost in a sea of chestnut, “you obviously needed the rest.”

“Mhmm…” she hummed in acknowledgement. She was melting like butter under your touch; you really had to stop petting her if you didn’t want her to fall back asleep. You glanced again at the papers on the table; it seemed she’d gotten through most of it, though you did notice an exceptional amount of Mary’s neat red handwriting in the margins. Looks intense, you thought. Looking back at her, you see she has barely stirred and her eyes have fallen shut again. There’s only one thing to do, really. You ran your index finger down her nose before lightly tapping the tip. “Sit up for a second,” you said.

Her brows furrowed in displeasure, which was easily the cutest thing you’d ever seen. She pushed herself up from the couch, swaying slightly. Not wanting to keep her up any longer than necessary, you quickly rose from the floor and set yourself down where Mary had been. After some maneuvering, you were able to pull her back down, letting her lie mostly on top of you. Your legs tangled, and she nuzzled into the crook of your neck. Her lips pressed against your skin softly, before she settled against you with a sweet little sigh. You began to stroke up and down her spine, and the arm she had wound around your waist squeezed you gently.

“Go back to sleep, darling,” you whispered.

“Mm… love you…” and then she was out like a light once more.

You smiled to yourself, enjoying her weight above you. She was so sweet, so effortlessly charming, and she had absolutely no idea. Everything about her was inviting; her warmth, the smell of her shampoo, and now that you thought about it you were a little tired too…

To hell with it. Your sore back tomorrow would be more than worth it.

[healerfromhell]

Oh my god, please make a soft Miranda Croft

Patch Me Up and Mend My Heart

Rating: Aftermath of violence, whump, mentions of blood

Pairing: Miranda Croft x reader

Summary: In the aftermath of Miranda's fight with Felix, she finds herself at your door.

A/N: I also wrote a bonus spicier version here because my hellish brain wouldn’t let me rest after I thought about her bloody nose that much. Enjoy!

AO3 link here

“What happened?!”

You’d heard urgent banging on your front door - which, to be fair, immediately put you on edge - but you hadn’t expected this. When you opened it, you were met with Miranda leaning heavily against the doorframe, hair tousled, a slightly dazed look in her eyes, and a stream of blood from her nose dribbling down her chin. She went to stand up straight but staggered in a way that made you nervous. Immediately, you grabbed her and pulled her to you, taking most of her weight for her.

“Who did this to you?” you tried, softer than your initial frenzied exclamation.

“Doesn’ matter,” she said, and you were alarmed to hear a slight slur in her words. I hope that’s just the tiredness making her talk like that, otherwise we might be in trouble.

Right. First things first, you needed to stop panicking. You’d seen her hurt before, but never like this. She hated being vulnerable and you knew she’d rather suffer than ask for help, but you could see she needed you. Slinging her arm around your shoulders and gripping her around the waist, you walked her to the sofa. You sat her down as gently as you could, loathe to hurt her anymore than she already was.

“Miranda, what happened?” you asked once more. You needed to know if you wanted to help her.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she shifted on the seat slightly, and she tried to mask a sharp intake of breath.

“Bastard got me in the stomach… punched me... looks worse than it is,” she said. She couldn’t tell you she’d also been shot in the leg and knocked out cold; you’d want to take her to a hospital and they’d ask too many questions. She’d been hurt worse than this before and been fine, she was happy to deal with it herself. Or rather, she was happy to let you deal with it; after making her escape from the bathroom and leaving Cassie to handle the aftermath, her body seemed to take her to your door on autopilot. She didn’t care to examine that particular thought process any further, though, lest she uncover something she’d rather not know.

“Did you lose consciousness?” you question her.

“No.”

Your eyes were scanning every inch of her that you could see, assessing the damage. She’d said they’d got her stomach, but you couldn’t see any blood coming through her shirt, so it was safe to assume she hadn’t been stabbed. That left her face; the blood flow from her nose seemed to have stopped, but it was a mess to look at, and you could already see a bruise forming on her cheekbone.

“Wait there,” you tell her gently, rising from your seated position.

Miranda didn’t respond, so you quickly went to fetch a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. Upon returning, you were glad to see she was still awake and lucid; you feared a concussion when she’d staggered at the doorway, but the fact that she wasn’t struggling to stay conscious was reassuring. You sat back down beside her after placing the bowl on the coffee table and dipped the cloth in the water. Turning to her, you grasped her chin and guided her to face you, tilting her chin up slightly. As gently as you could, you began to wipe the blood from her face. She sat silently with her gaze cast downwards, avoiding your eyes as you cleaned her up. You knew she must be hating this much vulnerability, but you were so glad she was letting you take care of her, for once.

Cleaning the last of the blood from her face, you set the washcloth down on the table. Her nose didn’t look broken, but you had to be sure. You raised your hands to her face again, and she backed away slightly with narrowed eyes.

“Just let me look, please,” you said.

She sighed, scowling, but made no further movements. Your fingers gently felt down the sides of her nose, and she hissed slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmured. A little swollen and obviously a little sore, but nothing to suggest that her nose was broken.

You cupped her cheek tenderly, and the shock quickly melted into euphoria when she nuzzled her face into your palm. You smiled, but you didn’t speak; you didn’t want to say anything that might prompt her to stop. Your hand slid from her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear before falling away altogether, and she finally met your eye.

“... Thanks,” she said, so quietly that you might’ve missed it if she hadn’t had your undivided attention.

You felt your heart melt inside your chest. Maybe it was because she was battered up and tired, or maybe deep down she’d missed you; you didn’t ask, happy to simply enjoy the softer side she was unexpectedly letting you see. You stood, intending to clear away the now red-tinged water and cloth. Her eyes tracked your movement, watching as you picked up the bowl and disappeared off to the kitchen momentarily. Left alone, Miranda’s thoughts started to wander; you were right, she did hate to be vulnerable. She prided herself on the fact that she didn’t need anybody, that she was independent and could look after herself. But… it was quite nice, she thought, being cared for. Her head still felt a little fuzzy, and she hurt all over, and she just wanted to curl up and wait for it to pass, but maybe she didn’t have to do that alone, this time.

You reappeared before her having cleaned everything up and washed her blood from your hands. You wanted to take a look at her stomach, ideally, but you didn’t want to push your luck too much. Miranda would likely only take so much fussing in a short period of time. Best leave it for now . Standing in front of her, you lifted her chin with your fingers to take one final look at her face. No more blood had appeared since you’d left; she’d be fine, you thought, to rest for a while before you checked over her other injuries. In the spur of the moment, you bent down and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead. You heard her intake a breath, but she didn’t push you away. Feeling emboldened, you left another kiss on her temple, then a barely-there third one on her slowly bruising cheek. With that, you retook your seat beside her.

“Come here,” you said, patting your lap.

She scoffed, and you expected a rebuttal, but she simply rolled her eyes and moved to lay down. Her head rested on your thighs, and you began gently running your fingers through her hair.

“Just rest for a little while,” you told her.

Miranda hummed in acknowledgment and fell silent once more. She felt the tension finally begin to leave her body with your soothing touch. She hadn’t really meant to come here, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. You’d been concerned for her safety, you’d taken the time to patch her up, you… cared. And now, you were letting her stay and rest with no complaint. A part of her wanted to protest, wanted to pull back and regain some of the distance she liked to maintain with people. But she was sore, and she was tired, and you were comfortable…

A little catnap wouldn’t kill her, she supposed.