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bouncybongfairy · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do a live action Zuko x reader, they were betrothed to eachother before his banishment. They frequently had visits and got along really well. First time they met he saw her creating a blue butterfly from her fire bending. The reader can produce blue flames but is a gentle, kind person. Zuko is reading the latest letter she has sent him, praying for his safety and health. How does he feel about them after all this time? Maybe this fuel his fire to complete his quest and get home.

See You Soon

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader

Summary: Both Zuko and can't stop thinking about each other, after reading the most recent letters you sent to each other.

Word Count: 2.0k

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s been some time since the last time you’d seen Zuko face to face. Ever since his banishment, so about three years. You’d think those wounds would have healed, a betrothal that was nothing more than a concept faded in time. Anyone who’d know you would say you were well past it, those people obviously weren’t paying close enough attention. Sending each other letters, drawings and pressed flowers. Detailing everything unfolding in his quest to find the Avatar. Her day to day life with school and helping your mom with all the tailoring for the Fire Lord’s family. A very important part in your life considering your family had been tailoring in the palace for generations. Every once in a while you’d send him an embroidered Lion to represent power and leadership, hiding his name tiny within the mane. Although you found comfort in the words of reassurance he gave through ink and paper, it only made you long for something more. Reminiscing on all the precious memories that now feel like they were taken for granted.

The two of you met by chance, your mother worked in the palace. She made all the clothes for the royal family. Often having you assist, holding her pin cushion or any other request she may have. At first not paying each other much attention, one day Azula came in, berating both your mother and self like she did to all other staff. Hearing horror stories from others in the palace made you terrified of her. The last thing you wanted was to get your family banished for looking at her wrong. Zuko noticed this, and nudged your arm; looking over at her and then rolling his eyes. Giving you a reassuring smile, Azula then nudged your shoulder with hers as she walked out.

“That girl may be a princess by blood line but not respect from her people. She rules with fear when it should be grace,” you mother grumbled as you walked into the house.

“That may be true but it must be hard, growing up competing for the throne. Having your entire life mapped out for you even before you’re born. That must be so hard on someone so young, I think I'd break,” pulling your hair out of the tight bun. Your mother smiled, setting the bags on the table. Cupping your face in her hands,

“I love that in a nation so pitiless and jaded that you have kept your soft spirit. You know that, but that girl spoiled down to the soul,” your mother laughs before turning back to her bags.

You laugh and walk into your bedroom to change before heading back outside. The weather was perfect to practice your fire bending. One of the perks of having a mother who worked in the palace was better education for you. Now that you had been learning to bend from a master, you were able to do more than you could ever imagine. At school all you learned was combat or defensive bending. At home, you liked practicing making different shapes. At the beginning it was simple stuff like circles or hearts, with time they were getting more intricate. Being able to make things like flowers, birds and even butterflies. You were in the empty field behind your family's home, working on your bending. You’d finally learned to make the butterfly flap its wings and fly around for a couple moments at a time before dissipating. Taking a deep breath and creating the flames, putting all your focus into manipulating its form. Holding your breath nervously as you watch it fly around you. The blue light glowing off the flame lit Zuko's face up, where he was watching from a couple feet away. You gasped out of surprise and backed away.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to- when Azula nudged you, this fell off your top. I just wanted to return it,” he said, holding out the embroidered patch of a crabapple tree that was pinned to your top.

“Oh, thank you. Wow I'm really surprised you took the time to return it, as someone with so much responsibility; it’s an honor,” you say, giving him a quick bow out of respect.

“I’ve only seen masters create such detailed shapes with blue flame, can I help?” he asks, you nod in agreement as he comes closer. He stands behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Nudging your arms up with his hands telling you to create the flame before continuing,

“Holding your breath limits the amount of time your fire can stay in the air. Like suffocating a candle with its lid. Fire can’t be without oxygen, can you feel my breathing against your back? Match it to yours then try to make the butterfly,” he said.

You were so nervous but took a deep breath in before matching the rise and fall of his chest. Immediately you could feel the difference, like you had more control over the flames. Being able to make the wing movements sharp and clean. Making the flame circle around the two of you, forcing your bodies closer together.

“See, isn't that so much better?” he asked.

“Yeah, I never thought I could have so much control over my bending,” you said, moving to face him.

“I have to get back but i’ll see you around?” he asked, as he took off in a rush which made you chuckle.

After that night, it was like fate just couldn’t keep the two of you apart. He was getting fitted more often for leather armor and things like that. Noticing each other in lessons and sneaking glances. This progressed until eventually Zuko became unbothered with who saw the two of you interacting. One day he slipped a note into your bag, wanting to meet later that night. Your heart skipped a beat of course, and for the rest of the day it was all you could think about. The day seemed so much longer now that you had something to look forward to. Practically skipping home from lessons, even though you still had a couple hours before dark. You were happy to be home daydreaming. Your mom was home, cooking komodo chicken. Giving her a kiss on the cheek before heading off to your bedroom. Originally you were going to wear what you always did but part of you felt like the night was too special for your everyday attire. Normally keeping your hair up in a tight bun, you decide to let it down. It took you a while to convince yourself to leave it down but eventually you did.

Everyone was finally asleep, the house dark and quiet. You sneak out the window of your bedroom. Zuko was waiting for you right outside which made you gasp, not seeing it was him at first. He had a big smile on his face, which was refreshing considering he’s been going through alot lately. On a night with such amazing weather, the main city and markets were busy with life. Zuko and you however prefer the peacefulness of looking over the city from the peak of a hill not too far. Zuko was pointing out different constellations in the sky to you. Or showing him new little tricks you were learning with your bending. He always acted really impressed but you knew he was doing it for your benefit. You loved that about him, that he cared so much about your confidence.

“You know, my father says it’s time to start looking for a girl to betroth,” he says.

“Oh? Any girls you had in mind?” you ask playfully.

“No,” he says back in the same playful tone, which makes you elbow him in his ribs.

“In all seriousness though, how do you feel about that?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“I think I'm waiting for you to ask me properly,” you said chuckling.

Zuko also felt like he took all these moments for granted. He was currently in his room on the ship. Looking around at all the notes and drawings he’d pinned to the walls. They’d just left where he and his crew were docked, following a lead on the Avatar. Reading the most recent letter you’d sent him, it pained him to know you were feeling the same grief he was about feeling apart. He never really talked about it to his uncle or anyone but it was one of the main reasons he was so motivated to complete his quest. He felt like he was missing out on the most important years of his life. Uncle Iroh always talks about how memorable his late youth was, before he had real responsibilities as general. He missed everything about you. Especially how sweet you were, always finding the good in people. Even finding beauty and grace in Azula; his own mother couldn’t find that in her.

Often when Zuko was anxious he would think about you comforting him. He knew he could be hot headed both emotionally and physically. This never phased you, even when he was in full blown flames. Always finding a way to calm you down. Somehow reassuring him without making him feel small or stupid. You always used to tell him that anger is a form of passion. That you loved the passion and resilience he had, and that one day he’d be able to channel it without anger. He found so much comfort in you so being ripped away was hard but reading your letters helped. Made him feel like everything wasn’t as impossible as it may seem. Like once he returns home he’ll know you’ll be there to support him.

He laid back on his bed, your letter on his chest. Worried that you’d grow tired feeling his love through paper and ink. That you’d yearn for love that’s more present in your everyday life. This fear was doubled by the fact that he assumed telling you about this fear would make him come across as insecure. Maybe he was but he didn’t want you to know that. He hated being seen as weak, you were too kind to admit but he knows that exactly what you’d think. Currently thinking about one of the last nights you had together. In Zuko’s old room, laying on the bed together. You were playing with his hair and he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Both of you were pretty tired from training and school. Just melting into each other, enjoying the comfort you gave him. There wasn’t any talking but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. You’d kiss him on his forehead every once in a while, finger combing his hair. Taking in your smell and leaning into your touch. He never felt so vulnerable in a comforting way with someone.

Iroh came into the room, making Zuko jump up. Clutching onto his letter, immediately his uncle sensed something was off. His eyes were dark and puffy, not to mention quite red. The bruise on his face appeared to be swelling and it was obvious that he was beyond his limit. Iroh set down the wooden tray he carried in, handing him a cup.

“I know you don’t want to hear this but mentally you are being strained. Bending and combat is easy for you because you’ve done it your whole life. Emotionally, some of your muscles are weak but I can see your slowly strengthening them. It’s important that you get lots of rest while you-” he went to look over at Zuko and stopped talking once he realized the boy was asleep. Iroh held back a laugh before taking the cup and letter out of his hands. Zuko gripped the paper and woke up but settled down once he realized it was him.

“Rest now, and please truly let yourself rest,” he said, pulling the blanket over him and he laid down. Folding the letter gently and leaving it on the nightstand.

#prince zuko fanfic #netflix avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar live action #avatar last airbender #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko x you

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rollinouttahere-writes · 10 months ago

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what about platonic Zeff and Sanji where they take in an abanoned baby and Sanji is immediately like guess I'm a big brother now

Adrift, At Home

Platonic Zeff and Child Sanji x GN Baby Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: graphic depictions of gore and mild references of starvation

The fishing line swayed with the water, drifting freely as it waited for something to bite. Zeff had been sitting in a chair on the dock for a while now and had yet to catch anything beyond the errant piece of seaweed that had tangled itself on the hook. This didn’t bother him. The restaurant was closed for the day and he was more than content to simply enjoy the fair weather, the fishing rod was an excuse to be out here more than anything.

He’s not an old man that just wants to relax once in a while, he’s catching some fish for the restaurant, thank you very much.

A page was turned from a little farther down the dock. Zeff glanced over, casually observing Sanji as he paged through that fish book he was so fond of. He was lying on his stomach, head propped up on one hand and feet kicking in the air behind him. The boy was fully engrossed in the book and hasn’t spoken a word to Zeff since coming out here. Which was normal for him.

Zeff went back to idly watching his line, not wanting to provoke Sanji into getting huffy because he caught Zeff looking at him. The horror.

“There’s a boat.”

The off duty chef couldn’t help but tense when Sanji abruptly broke the silence. Looking over at him again, the boy had propped himself up and was pointing. Shifting his focus to where he was motioning to, he saw what Sanji was talking about.

A small boat was slowly drifting past them. It was far too small to be a legitimate sea faring vessel. A lifeboat, perhaps? Had there been a shipwreck nearby? If there was anyone in it, he couldn’t see them. It’s still light out. If they were lost at sea, they should be up and actively trying to call for help. The only reason there wouldn’t be anyone in sight is either because the boat is empty and had simply drifted off on its own.

Or if whoever was in it was already gone.

Sanji suddenly leapt to his feet, “There’s someone in there! I can see a hand!”

A hand? Zeff squinted, internally cursing his aging vision. Just barely peeking over the edge of the boat was the hand Sanji was talking about. Some fingers limply hung off the edge, showing no signs of movement. Zeff really didn’t like that.

Sanji hopped on one foot while ripping off his shoes and was just about to leap into the water when Zeff caught his arm, “Don’t. I’ll go check on them, you go tell the others.”

The boy’s eyes flickered down to his leg, “But-”

“Go. I’m sure that person is hungry, tell Patty to make them something nice,” Zeff’s tone left no room for argument, and Sanji knew better than to push it. He sped off for the Baratie, his previously discarded shoes forgotten in his hurry.

It would be for the best if Sanji wasn’t here to see this if the stranger in the boat was indeed deceased. There was no telling how long they’ve been there, and Sanji did not need to see that.

After reeling in the fishing line, he tossed it to the side and got to work on unbuckling the straps for his prosthetic. He pulled the peg leg off and propped it up against the chair. Using the armrests, he stood on his remaining leg, then dove into the sea.

The water was cold, but not debilitatingly so. Zeff had no trouble cutting through the mild waves, his lack of one of his limbs had done little to slow him down. The lifeboat wasn’t far off, it won’t take him long to close the gap.

Once he was close enough to be heard, he called out, “Are you alright in there?”

The flapping of wings, followed by some birds flying away from the boat was the only response he received. His heart sank. Maybe those birds were only there to rest, but it was unlikely that they would be bold enough to do so if someone was there to shoo them away.

Then the smell hit him. The musty, putrid, and sickeningly sweet scent of death. Before even making contact with the boat, he knew that it was already too late for whoever was on it.

Still, he forced himself to go the rest of the way. Whoever this was deserved a proper burial after what was likely an agonizing death.

Finally, he was at the boat. His hands grabbed onto the side of the boat, the unidentified person’s hand was directly next to his left hand. Steeling himself for what he was about to see, he hauled himself up. If it wasn’t for his rough history, the sight would have left him sick.

Based on the clothing, he could assume the deceased had been a woman. There wasn’t much else for him to go off of. Sea birds had been eating away at her flesh. They would start at the face, the skin was easiest to get through there, and after that they would work their way down. Her face was gone, every strip of meat had been ripped off and left nothing but a blood soaked skull in its wake. The birds had made decent progress down to the chest after that, a couple hours more and they would have gotten to the organs.

If he had to guess, he would say she hasn’t been dead that long. Birds work quickly, and the wounds are all very fresh. She was probably still alive yesterday.

Zeff heaved himself up onto the boat, doing his best to avoid disturbing the body. Empty food tins crunched loudly under his weight as he army crawled onboard. The rocking of the boat dislodged the woman’s sunburnt hand from its perch. Rather than falling limp, the muscles remained stiff, fingers clenched as if they were still holding on to something.

Under no circumstances could he let Sanji see this. His eyes darted around the boat for something to cover at least her face with. He would use his shirt if he had to. There was a turned over crate with a tarp covering it. Perfect. It would be more than big enough to wrap around her entire body. Why she hadn’t used it for protection from the sun was beyond him, but there was really no use questioning it now.

The tarp was ripped off the box unceremoniously, and Zeff was frankly eager to get the body covered. Just because he could handle the sight didn’t mean he particularly wanted to see it.

There was something in the box. No. Someone.

A baby, and it isn’t moving.

Zeff forgot about the tarp in an instant and lurched forward to pull the baby out of its hiding place. You were underweight, that much was notable off the bat. Cradling your weak form carefully, he held you up to his face and pressed an ear against your chest.

thump thump thump

The relief that went through him was indescribable. You were weak, but alive. As bad as your given condition may be, your lack of energy was likely the only reason the birds hadn’t noticed you. He set you down in his lap and scrambled to get the oars into the water and get paddling. There was no telling how little time you had left.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll puree some of the best baby food you’ve ever had as soon as we get back to the Baratie.” It was debatable if he was saying this to reassure you or himself. It was barely audible, but he heard a small grunt. Looking down, he saw your face pinch as you attempted to open your eyes with what little energy you had left. “That’s it. Keep fighting, kid.”

Fortunately for you, the dock wasn’t far away, it would only take a couple of minutes before you would be out of the scorching sun and in the restaurant. Several of his workers were already waiting for him at the dock, one of them being Sanji.

Shit! He forgot to cover up the body of who he now presumed to be your mother. Setting down the oar, he pulled the tarp over her head and did his best to make sure it wouldn’t come loose. “Sanji, go inside and help in the kitchen!”

It looked like he was trying to argue, but the other cooks shut it down. From their grim expressions, it appeared that they already knew why Zeff would be so insistent on Sanji not being here for this. The kid scowled, but ultimately turned to leave, stomping his way to the restaurant.

Zeff paddled as fast as he could, praying that his efforts wouldn’t be in vain.

—

The time from when Zeff docked to now had been a whirlwind. Everyone had been prepared for a dead body, but had gone into a tizzy upon realizing there was also a survivor. A very young one at that.

Fortunately, you appeared to be old enough to eat solid food, and had been eager to do so once you’d gotten your wits about you. Apparently they hadn’t been feeding you fast enough, so you tried to take matters into your own hands by snatching the spoon out of theirs. For as weak as you’d looked on the boat, it seems your health hadn’t deteriorated as much as he’d initially thought. Your mother must have been giving the bulk of the food she had to you.

As for the deceased mother, there wasn’t much they could do about her. Ships went missing all the time, figuring out which one she had specifically come from would be near impossible. Even if they did… it would be difficult for anyone to identify her. As sad as it was, giving her a burial at sea was the best they could do.

They can only hope that she will be able to rest peacefully now that her baby is safe.

After giving you a much needed bath and clothing you in one of Sanji’s old shirts, you were happily sitting in a basket they’d stuffed some blankets into for padding. The shirt was dramatically too big for you, but it would have to do until proper clothes could be picked up.

Taking in an infant had hardly been something that Zeff planned to do today, but he saw few other options. If he couldn’t figure out who your mother was, what chance did he have at identifying you and tracking down surviving family members? Sure, this situation was what orphanages were there for, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon you at one. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to have a good roof over your head, and such a thing is hardly a guarantee at one of those.

“Where is the other person?”

Zeff looked up from the catalog he’d been flipping through at Sanji’s inquiry. Admittedly, he’d been hoping the kid wouldn’t ask about it, however unrealistic that was. He’d been very focused on you since you were brought in. Even now, he was sitting by your basket and letting you play with his hand. Ah, they would need to pick up some toys for you next time they went to shore, too.

The pause was too long for Sanji’s liking, so he continued, “That hand I saw was too big to be theirs.”

Of course he’d notice the discrepancy. While Sanji was far from being a stranger to horrors and hardships, Zeff still did not want to disclose the details of what he saw to him. “The other person was already dead. We had no way of knowing where she came from so she was buried at sea.”

“Was she their mother?” Sanji turned to look at Zeff.

“More than likely,” was his simple response.

Sanji bit his lip and abruptly looked away, then back at the baby. Silence hung in the air a while longer before he spoke up again, “So they’re all alone now?”

“I wouldn’t say that. They’ve got all of us, don’t they? I expect that you’ll help take care of them since you were the one that spotted the boat they were in.” Zeff glanced over the list of baby supplies he’d made. Content with what he saw, he stood from the table. Now he needed to take account of what food they had in stock and make that list next. “Keep an eye on them while I finish making the list.”

He heard a hum of affirmation and considered that good enough before making his exit. The pantry wasn’t far, he’ll be able to hear you if you start fussing. Besides, Sanji’s a good kid. He can handle watching a baby for a few minutes.

You’re going to need a name, he supposes. Can’t keep calling you ‘the baby’ forever. Oh well, he’s sure a name will come to him soon enough.

It didn’t take long to make note of what food they needed, which wasn’t much. They weren’t due for another grocery run for a few more days yet, but there were some supplies for you that they simply couldn’t go without in the meantime. He’ll set out bright and early tomorrow, you won’t have to wait for long.

Zeff came back into the kitchen, only to find it empty. This wasn’t immediately concerning to him. The only people on the Baratie were his staff, and he knew none of them posed any danger. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder where you’d gone off to. Even the basket was missing.

Might as well look around, to sate his curiosity if nothing else.

The first place he checked was the dining room, but that turned up nothing besides a couple of workers repairing a table that had been broken in a scuffle earlier that day. Maybe someone had taken you out to the outdoor seating area for some fresh air? He was on his way to go and look when he heard a muffled voice. It was coming from Sanji’s room.

The door was cracked open just enough for Zeff to be able to peer in.

“And this one is blue-finned elephant tuna. See how it’s got tusks and a feeler that looks like a trunk? It’s supposed to taste really good!”

Sanji was seated behind your basket and used it to prop up the book he was showing you. The book seemed to be holding your attention. You were taking in the pictures with wide eyes while gnawing on one of your fists. Sanji’s enthusiasm appeared to be rubbing off on you, making you let out little coos as he spoke to you in depth about the fish.

The next page was turned to, and he continued excitedly rambling, “This one is a sandora catfish. They’re carnivorous and huge! I bet it would be really good fried and with a cream sauce.”

It would seem that you liked the sound of that. The hand that had previously been in your mouth suddenly went forward and grasped at the page.

“Ack! Hey, don’t get drool on it! It’s not even food yet,” Sanji mumbled the last part. He’d been able to pull the book away without you tearing a page and was trying to wipe off the drool you’d smeared across the page.

His scolding had little effect, you giggled loudly at his outburst and were doing your best to turn around and continue your assault on his book.

Zeff quietly chuckled to himself as you succeeded in grabbing the book again. It seems you two were getting along well, he’ll leave you be for now.

#one piece x reader #one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #red leg zeff #x reader #reader insert

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agere-fics · 7 months ago

Text

Doctor Papa

dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄

pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader

characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.

summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.

word count: 1,751

content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything

author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs

♡

Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?

You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.

UGH!

Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.

He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still... At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those were always nice.

While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun. Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.

The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.

“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”

“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.

The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.

“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.

“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”

“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”

Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.

You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.

Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.

At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.

Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.

You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.

“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”

Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”

You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”

Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.

“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”

“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.

“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”

“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.

You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.

Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”

“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”

“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”

You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”

Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.

“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”

That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.

Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”

You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!

“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”

“Papa, he can't hear you!”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”

You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’

“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”

You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.

Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”

You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”

“BEEEEP BRRR-”

“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.

“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”

♡

“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”

You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”

“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”

You traced up your pointer finger.

“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”

You paused at the tip of your finger.

“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”

You traced down your pointer finger.

Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.

“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.

You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”

You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”

Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.

Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.

Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.

Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

BBRRRRRRR

‘It's okay. I'm okay.’

BEEEEEEPPP

‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’

REEEEHHHHHH

‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’

After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.

He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!

You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.

Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!

“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

♡

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thescarletnargacuga · 2 months ago

Text

BULLSEYE

A CANON TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

Caine is blowing off some steam at the Capsule's shooting range. Pomni joins him, curious how he has such good marksmanship. Can he teach her?

WARNING: mention of PTSD

~~~

BANG!!

Caine pulled the bolt on the M1903 Springfield rifle, discharging a .30 bullet casing and readying the next shot. He focused down range through the scope.

BANG!!

He narrowed his eyes. Each shot was a memory. Another target. Another kill. Another enemy destroyed. He pulled the bolt, throwing another case.

BANG!!

The shots were tightly grouped in the center. This was a very dead soldier, but he had be sure. He pulled the bolt.

BANG!!

He readied the final shot the fastest, pulling the trigger less than a second after the firing chamber was closed.

BANG!!

Caine stood up straight and ejected the final casing. The target down range no longer had a center. Not a single shot went astray. He took a deep breath, putting away the foul wartime memories. A guest had really pissed him off today and he resorted to shooting the feelings away, despite the fact that the loud gunshots always took him back to the trenches.

Caine could feel someone's eyes on him. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" He set the rifle down and turned to see Pomni peeking from behind a tent flap.

"Sorry. I just, um...heard the gunfire and I thought all the guests were gone for today so I wanted to see what all the noise was about." Pomni stepped out of her hiding spot. Her posture was sheepish, but she made eye contact with Caine.

"The guests are gone. Finally. I was using the range. It's one of the few things I get to do for fun around here." He almost looked away from Pomni. She was one of the few that would look directly at him. Most people couldn't stand the look of him. Too strange. Too unusual. So he found it mildly intimidating that she'd not only look at him, but even smile sometimes. It made his chest feel weird.

Pomni saw the downrange target. "Did you do that? That's incredible accuracy."

The compliment nearly went over his head. Of course he did that. He's the only one here. Wait a second- "Thank you." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I've....had a lot of practice."

"I can only imagine, considering you've been here the longest. Have you tried the other weapons?" Pomni thumbed at the rental counter, where an NPC clerk stood lifelessly at the register.

"No, I prefer this model."

Pomni looked over the Springfield. "You made those shots with this? It doesn't look like it would shoot straight if you took it to church."

"This was top of the line!" Caine said indignantly.

Pomni smirked. "It makes your skill all the more impressive."

Caine's defensiveness deflated immediately. "I- um..." There she went, making his chest feel funny again. For once, he was at a loss for words and he was grateful Kinger wasn't here to witness it.

"Can you teach me?"

Caine blinked. "What?"

"Can you teach me? We have nothing but time and learning a new skill would be a great way to pass it."

Caine knew all about that. In his time in the capsule, he's learned everything from being ambidextrous to sewing to art to different languages. "Alright." He showed her a magazine of five .30-6 bullets. "Ammunition." He picked up the rifle with one hand and showed her how to load it. "Goes here." He opened the firing chamber. "When you pull back on the bolt, It releases the expended casing and loads the next bullet. Push forward and fully lock in place before firing."

Caine pressed a button and his target was charged out with a new one before handing Pomni the rifle. She took it with both hands, surprised by its weight. Caine stood close next to her and showed her how to properly hold that rifle. "Basic safety. Always keep the barrel facing down range or at the ground, even when unloaded. Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to fire."

"Okay." Pomni started to feel nervous. The gun was a real weapon and it was really loaded. She was almost afraid it would go off on its own unexpectedly. Caine's guiding hands on hers helped her nerves.

Caine was in full instructor mode. He tiled the barrel up to align the sites. "To aim, use the scope by lining up your dominant eye with the tip of the stock. Don't put your eye right up against the scope. That's a good way to blind yourself."

Now Pomni was actually nervous. Her rapid heartbeat made the gun tremble.

Caine placed a hand on Pomni's upper back. "Lean into the shot when you fire and keep a firm grip. The rifle will kick back some." He double checked the firing chamber. She was loaded and secured. "Fire when ready."

Pomni took a minute to get a feel for the sight and tried to line it up with the center of the target. Her finger grazed the trigger, half expecting it to go off immediately, but it actually took some effort to squeeze.

BANG!!

Pomni hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until she gasped. She lowered the rifle and squinted to see where she hit. There was a small hole in the top center of the target.

Caine's brow raised. "Not bad. You were dead on, just a little high. Want to try again?"

Pomni felt a little adrenaline rush and nodded excitedly. She brought the rifle back up to aim.

"You're forgetting something." Caine smirked.

Pomni furrowed for a second. "...oh!" She pulled open the bolt and the expended casing clattered to the ground. She pushed it back in and carefully locked the firing chamber closed.

"There you go. A few aiming tips: keep both eyes open, this will reduce eye strain." Caine reached around and tapped next to her closed eye, she opened it in response. "You did good holding your breath before firing, but don't hold it too long. The faster your heart beats, the harder it is to aim."

"Yeah, I noticed." Pomni laughed anxiously. "First time jitters."

BANG!!

The shot went wide right, hitting the edge of the target. Pomni lowered the rifle, disappointed.

"That's alright. None of us are Annie Oakley the first time." Caine consoled. "Rest your arms when you need to. Holding the rifle up like this for long periods of time will make your muscles shake if you're not used to it."

"Right." Pomni racked the next shot, doing it much smoother this time.

Caine watched her each time to make sure she was doing it correctly, but the determined tone in her voice with how quickly she set up the next shot was doing strange things to him. He mentally reprimanded himself for such thoughts and focused on Pomni's aim, his face right next to hers. "A little more to the left. Up a degree. There. Now, breathe in."

Pomni inhaled. She could feel her heart in her ears.

"Fire." Caine whispered.

BANG!!

A hole was in the bottom of the center. Pomni smiled brightly. "I did it!"

Caine found her excitement contagious, smiling with her. "You did it. Very well done."

Pomni set the rifle down. "I think that's enough for me for now, but thank you so much for this. I can see why you come here. It must be rather nice to imagine guest faces on those targets."

Caine chuckled. "It's a guilty pleasure. And between you and me." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I imagine BUBLE too."

Pomni giggled. "Give him two between the eyes for me."

"Yes, ma'am." Caine picked up the rifle, racked the next shot and fired. Then racked and fired again in rapid succession. Both shots hit dead center.

Pomni's jaw dropped. "How- now you're just showing off." She crossed her arms.

The rifle's barrel smoked from use as Caine cleared the final casing. "Maybe." He said coyly.

~~~

A/N: I'm on a time capsule kick lol

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc showtime #the amazing digital time capsule #tadc time capsule #time capsule au #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #tw gun

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heich0e · 2 years ago

Text

bright - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 2k, part 3 of poly!au, wild west!au, bounty hunters, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, this is just sweet n fluffy and nothing is bad (for now...), alexa play home on the range BOUND - poly!au masterlist

it’s been two days since nicholas and vash returned.

well, two nights and one day, technically, but it all seems to bleed together—the seconds since the two crept through the door at midnight passing slow and sticky-sweet like honey. half the day following their homecoming was spent asleep, just a pile of tangled limbs and warm skin together in your shared bed, and the remaining hours had been spent in that same place as well—though your activities had been far from restful. your body is left tender and heavy and tired as you make up for the day’s work you’d neglected, but those aches are sweet too in their own way; a reminder as sure and tangible as any that your boys are home.

the day is hot, like most days are on the little homestead where you dwell, and the sun beats down on you oppressively from overhead. at the clothesline, you find some reprieve hiding in the shadows cast by the sheets you’re hanging out to dry, catching in the warm breeze and fluttering as it passes. you’ve got a few more pieces of bedlinen to hang waiting in the basket at your feet, freshly washed and then wrung out until they were a manageable degree of sopping, and you wipe the sweat from your brow before you stoop down to reach for the next one in the pile.

on the front porch, nicholas watches your every move from his favourite rocking chair. you feel his eyes on you even when your back is turned to him.

“hey,” you call back to him dryly, turning and squinting against the brightness as you peer across the yard in his direction. he perks up when you acknowledge him, a brow drawn up in question. “you gonna help me with this? or at the very least pay for the show?”

nicholas stands, laughing a little at your lip, and hops off the edge of the raised porch to saunter over to you at the clothesline.

“pay for the show?” he asks, dipping down so he’s near to you under the brim of your sunhat. his nose is almost brushing yours, so close you think he might even kiss you, but suddenly he snags the next blanket from the wash basket and slinks back again. he shoots you a pointed look as he unfurls the sheet, something akin to a scowl though not quite as severe. “with what money?”

you pucker your lips slightly. he’s not wrong—the purse you keep tucked safely away in the back of your chest of drawers has gotten dangerously light these days—but he doesn’t need to say it like that.

“i can’t believe he blew another fucking job for us,” nicholas mutters with a derisive tch as the two of you work to fasten the wide cotton bed sheet to the line; stretching it out between your bodies until the full width separates you. you struggle to keep it secure as the damp edges flap in the wind.

you clip your side of the linen down with a clothespin, and then hand him another from the edge of your apron so that he can do the same. he takes the pin without comment, his rough fingers brushing yours as they close around it and pluck it from your grasp.

“you know how he is, nico,” you say quietly, as you have many times in the past. “vash sees the best in people. he just wants to help them.”

“you can’t help wanted criminals,” nicholas bites sharply, pinning his side of the sheet down with an undue amount of force—the rest of the line bouncing lightly from how he’d jostled the length of cord.

you pause.

“we did.”

he huffs, shooting you a resentful look—half-guilty and half-frustrated, all because he knows you’re right.

“that’s different,” he murmurs.

“it’s not,” you counter, the wind lifting the edge of your skirt as it blows past, your eyes remaining unwaveringly fixed to his.

nicholas lets out a weary sigh to be caught and swept away by the breeze, rubbing at the back of his tanned neck as his body slackens in defeat. he stoops down and reaches for the next sheet in the basket.

the two of you work side by side in silence for a while, emptying the basket and filling up the clothesline. there’s nothing around you but the sound of the midday wind whistling through the valley, just the silence you’ve grown used to now after so long. vash went into town that morning to run some errands, so as it stands you and nicholas are the only people around for miles.

“i’ll look for some more jobs in town to help make ends meet,” you say as you reach up with another clothespin in hand and secure the hem of one of your nightdresses down against the twine of the line. you reach over and do the same to the other side, angling into nicholas’ space as he holds the garment safely in place. “not like there’s any shortage of bullet wounds to patch up around here.”

nicholas catches the brim of your hat between his fingers, tilting it back so he can stare you clearly in the face.

“you’re not going around stitching up strange men,” he says firmly, something possessive and protective in his staunch, unswayable tone. “that’s the rule.”

you huff, your nose scrunching in a weak glare. it’s a rule you'd set for yourself years ago, long before nicholas stumbled into your life: you only tend to the medical needs of the town’s women, no exceptions. this guiding principle is as much for your own sake as it is for theirs, but the local women aren’t the ones running around getting shot in the first place, so while the rule is one that you’ve operated under for as long as you’ve been taking on odd doctoring jobs, lately it’s been holding you back—money’s never been this tight, so there’s never been a reason to change it, but things are different now.

“the girls don’t need me much these days,” you mumble softly, and it’s true: since you started helping more and more of the women in town (beyond just big annie’s working girls,) their overall wellness has improved significantly, which consequently means they don't need to see you nearly as much. “i’ve been taking good care of them.”

nicholas smiles then, a crooked, fond expression—as proud as it is warm. “yeah, you have.”

he lets his grip on your hat fall and leans away, and you do the same—stepping back around to the other side of the basket where you’d started. nicholas snags a cigarette from the holder he keeps on him at all times and pinches it between his lips, then starts fumbling around his pockets for a match.

you look out at the property around you; your little house on one side of the yard, the stable on the other, with the old well pump poised halfway in-between. you’re insulated from the worst of the heat and the elements in this little valley just outside of town, craggy rock formations stretching in a ring around your little homestead, protected on every side. you’ve even got a few meagre patches of green down here, beyond all the brush and bramble.

it’s not much but it’s something; it’s yours and it’s home.

you turn to your husband, still digging around in his pockets for a match, and you pluck his sad little cigarette from his lips unceremoniously. nicholas looks down at you in surprise, finding you suddenly toe-to-toe with him again. this time you’re softer. this time you’re gentler as you intrude upon his space.

“we’ll make it work, nico,” you say to him with fluttering lashes and a tender gaze, tilting your face up towards his. you fiddle with the cigarette idly, watching the way the gold band on your finger glints in the sunlight. his eyes never stray from your face. “just like we always do.”

“hey!”

both you and the dark-haired man before you’s eyes snap to the other side of the valley at the loud, excited greeting that echoes through the yard. at the top of the beaten dirt path that leads in the direction of town, vash is approaching on horseback. he’s waving his arms overhead, moving at a quick canter like he’s eager to get to you.

nicholas laughs under his breath at the sight. he steals his cigarette back from your still outstretched hand, tucking it quickly behind his ear, and his hand finds the small of your back. the two of you make your way towards the edge of the property to meet vash upon his arrival, watching as his mare paws at the ground when her rider pulls the reins to a stop.

“what’s all this?” you ask, your eyes tracing curiously over the array of goods that vash has hanging from his saddle. there’s food—you see some local vegetables and jars of pickles and jam—and a bolt of cloth that you can make out right away. he’s hours later returning home than you expected him to be when he departed that morning, and clearly he’d been busy.

vash hops down from his saddle, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and then another to nicholas’s.

“what the hell have you been up to?” nicholas asks warily, his lips pulled into a thin line as he scrubs at the spot on his cheek vash had kissed—as though you aren't all perfectly aware of the pleased flush staining the tips of his ears. nicholas has every reason to be wary: vash hadn’t taken much money into town with him, just enough for the few errands he had to run, certainly not enough to explain the splendours he’d returned with.

“you know all the old ladies who sit outside the general store playing bridge?” the blonde asks, his eyes bright behind the lenses of his glasses as he ruffles his untidy hair. “well, one of them stopped me when i was leaving town and asked if i could help put one of her shutters back on since it blew off in that storm last week! once that was done, another one asked if i could look at her well pump because it’s been squeaking so much lately and too hard to turn. i helped out a couple other people while i was in town too! i told them they didn’t have to, but they kept giving me stuff when i was done.”

you feel a smile tug at your lips, peeking over at nicholas beside you to gauge his own reaction. his expression is flat, but you can tell he’s just as amused as you are.

“oh!” vash perks up, his eyes wide. he reaches into the saddle bag and pulls out the bolt of blue fabric you’d been appreciating a moment prior. “this isn’t from them though, it’s from that young couple who live above the post office.”

you know the couple he’s referring to well. they’d just had a baby a few months before, and you’d helped the young wife through her pregnancy and caught the baby when labour finally came. it was a little boy, no bigger than a loaf of bread the first time you’d held him, that they’d named samuel.

“sammy’s getting big”—vash grins, squishing his own cheeks a little bit with his hands—“super cute and chubby too. they wanted you to have this to say thank you.”

he passes the fabric to you, and you cradle the tightly-wound bundle into the crook of your arm like it’s precious—because it is.

the things vash brought home aren’t enough to live off of indefinitely, but it’s something to help you get by for another little while—at least until another bounty comes through for the boys, or until another mother needs your hand to hold through the quickening of labour.

it’s something.

it’s enough for now.

you shoot nicholas a little smirk and he rolls his eyes at your blatant self-satisfaction, at your smugness that you’d been right about finding a way to get by. he looks over at vash who’s watching you both with expectant eyes, waiting eagerly (though perhaps unconsciously) for praise.

after a moment, nicholas plops a hand down into vash’s hair, ruffling it affectionately.

“good job,” he murmurs wryly, removing his hand and pressing a fleeting kiss to the crown he’d just been mussing. vash’s cheeks go pink and pretty at the gesture, teeming with pride. nicholas looks over at you next. “you too, kid.”

you smile, not as brilliant or beaming as vash’s, but with a happiness that’s every bit as sincere.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #trigun writing #trigun drabble #poly vashwood #writing

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clangenrising · 7 months ago

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Month 14 - Newleaf

“The desert?” Oddstripe stopped halfway through scoring his claws down the stones framing the entrance to the healers’ den to look at Scorchplume, unsure if he had heard her question properly.

The ginger she-cat cocked her head and smiled. “Yes, you came from out east, didn’t you?”

“Oh,” he melted out of his backbend into a more natural sitting position, “why, yes, I did.”

“I thought so,” purred Scorchplume sweetly. He smiled back. He noticed the tired lines under her eyes had started to disappear. It seemed she was finally getting proper sleep.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about it,” she continued. “I’m considering traveling that way and I’d love to know what I should look out for.”

“Alright,” he shrugged, happy to be helpful. “Um, I’m not sure where to start though.”

“Start with the basics,” she said, swishing her tail over her paws as she settled down. “I’ve heard they’re hard to survive in, is that true?”

“They can be,” he said, thinking back. “You have to stay out of the heat during midday but you need to get into a burrow at night to keep yourself warm or you’ll freeze, especially during leafbare.”

“Really,” Scorchplume mused.

“Oh, yes,” he nodded. “It’s sweltering in the day and shivering at night. Most animals come out around dawn and dusk so you’ll want to hunt then but also be careful for things like hawks and coyotes.” He shuddered at the thought of those massive, cackling things. He’d been lucky enough never to see one up close but their laughter was not something he could easily forget.

“Coyotes?” Scorchplume’s eyes flickered over his movement. “Are they hard to avoid?”

“Um,” Oddstripe frowned in thought. “Not terribly? If you’re hunting and you run into one, just leave the food and it won’t bother chasing you most of the time. I’m sorry, I’m not very familiar with them. They seemed to stay away from where I lived for some reason.”

“Interesting.” Scorchplume’s eyes glittered coldly in thought.

“I’d worry more about snakes, honestly. They like to hide in cool places so you have to be careful not to run into them when getting out of the heat.”

“It sounds terribly dangerous out there,” frowned Scorchplume. “Why didn’t you leave sooner? Was there something dangerous on the other side?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” laughed Oddstripe, flapping one of his paws idly. “I grew up there. It felt like home. When my mama disappeared it felt wrong to leave the den empty - it was such a nice spot after all - so I stayed. There were a few cats in the area, I tried to get to know them but they didn’t seem all too keen to get to know me. Until Stranger showed up, of course.”

“Stranger?” Scorchplume cut in, her voice edged with interest.

“Oh, yes!” Oddstripe brightened. “Stranger! She taught me everything I know about healing in exchange for a place to stay and help finding food. She’s actually how I learned about RisingClan! I guess she was from here?”

Scorchplume nodded politely. “Yes, I remember hearing that. Redleaf, they said she was called.”

“Yeah, that’s what Sagetooth said. She never gave me her name, though,” Oddstripe said, remembering her fondly, “not in the whole time we knew each other. So I just called her Stranger. She seemed to like it. Anyway, after she became my teacher cats stopped by more often to get help. Mostly we treated heat stroke and coughs. It was lovely. I hope she’s alright. I think she’s still there, in mama’s old burrow.”

“Do you know what’s on the other side of the desert?” asked Scorchplume and Oddstripe pursed his lips in embarrassment. Of course, she was here for information, not to hear him ramble on about a cat she would never meet.

“Not first hand,” he said, ears wilting. “The mountains run all along the north side. I think there’s a forest if you go far enough east but I’ve never seen it.”

“Mm,” hummed Scorchplume. “Thank you, Oddstripe. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.”

“Of course!” he purred. “Let me know if you have any other questions.”

She nodded and excused herself, leaving him alone once more. He sighed a little and flexed his claws against the earth. Sometimes it felt like people only ever spoke with him when they needed a problem solved. He wondered what other people had that he didn’t. Even his kits were visiting less and less as they prepared to become warriors. It made him ache.

He finished scratching his claws across the stone, abandoning a few shed claws in the dust, and headed back inside the den to look at the stores again and see if anything needed replacing. After a brief examination, he decided they could probably do with some more borage and started out of the den.

“Ah!” jumped Aldertail who had been heading the other way. “Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he smiled, stepping back to give her space. “What can I help you with? Are your legs bothering you?” Aldertail looked down at them and he watched her use all of her mental strength not to lick them. He kicked himself for saying anything.

“No, they’re fine,” she said. “I was just coming to see what you were doing. It’s fine if you’re busy, I can-”

“No, no, I’m not too busy,” he said. “I was just going to look for some borage.”

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, chewing her lip. “Um, could I come with you?”

“Oh!” he blinked in surprise. “Of course! I’d love to have you along!”

“Thank you,” Aldertail smiled, visibly letting her shoulders relax a little.

“Don’t mention it,” he purred, rubbing his cheek on hers as he passed her. “Come on, I’ll show you where the best patches grow.”

“Okay,” she purred shyly and scampered to catch up with him.

Oddstripe smiled to himself and led the way out of camp, glad for her company. He could always count on Aldertail to be there to brighten his day. He shook himself out, deciding to leave the moody thoughts in the past where they belonged. Today was bright and sunny and he had great company. What more could a cat ask for?

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Oddstripe #Scorchplume #Aldertail #Redleaf #Newleaf #clangenrising

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years ago

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Hallo! Could I possibly request a Tim Drake x M!Reader?

Seeing your autistic reader mirroring the batboys. I think it would be funny seeing the other Batboys (+ Batman maybe), react to reader and Tim mirroring eachother.

Maybe it doesn't start right away, but builds up steam over time. It starting with them rocking back in forth in sync while bouncing off info from an going case, to them picking up mannerisms.

Then maybe continued with their wardrobes becoming so mixed up, they just have double the clothes.

______

Honsetly, the thought of Damien being creeped out by Tim and Reader lifting their cups of coffee or energy drinks up in unison, makes me laugh harder than it should.

That or Bruce seeing Reader and Tim mirroring eachothers fighting style for the frist time and just like, 'what the fuck???'. Because, he probably tested Damien for autism snice they are blood, it's generic. Maybe, Dick for ADHD.

Then, it just slipped his mind to get Tim tested or even see the signs of autism in Tim. Because Bruce is autistic, so would just look at Tim and think, 'Yup, that's normal development .'

- Crow

Tim Drake x autistic male reader

Headcanons

Funny thing is I hc that pretty much the entire batfam is on the autism spectrum in some way or another. Bruce is autistic , Dick has ADHD or ADD, Jason has ASD or ODD, Tim is autistic, Damian is autistic and mild OCD.

Is this me projecting onto my comfort characters? Yes, yes it is. But come on, look at the batfam and tell me there isn’t at least a little tism in all of them.

You are also very right in Bruce just not noticing the signs in most of his kids since he’s autistic himself and that behavior is the norm for him. Alfred was most likely the one who had Bruce tested when he was younger, so it would have to be Alfred who steps in and advises them to get checked out, just in case.

Tim just happens to slip under the radar, maybe because of the stress at the time he joined the family, or they were all just too busy at the time, so it just slipped their minds.

Tim is also very good as masking, having grown up with his parents, acting “strange” wasn’t allowed, so he’s mastered the skill of hiding his less approved quirks. So, you’ll never see him stimming or rocking in public, or around people for that matter.

It was only after you two started dating and became very close that he started to let it slip, unconsciously of course. But it’s because he doesn’t feel the need to hide around you, and you are one of his comfort people.

The family doesn’t fully notice in the beginning as Tim grows more comfortable not masking and starts mirroring you. Infodumping is a common occurrence in the family, especially with the type of work they do, so when Tim is talking to you about cameras or his favorite band in extreme detail, They just think it’s a normal happening.

Damian is the first to notice, and he would think you two are trying to punk him somehow. When you and Tim always do things in tandem, picking up your drinks at the same time, always pushing your chairs back and getting up together, using the same type of glass or plates, etc.

He wouldn’t confront either of you obviously, since he doesn’t want to play into your hands. But then your mirroring becomes even more obvious. Like mirroring stims, meaning Tim starts stimming the same way you do.

Do you flap your hands? Tim now does too. Verbal stims? Catch Tim making the same noises over comms during patrol. You both also come to enjoy the same textures if you don’t already, because those textures remind you of each other.

It finally clicks for Bruce when he sees Tim and you wearing each other’s clothes and using stim toys, whilst rocking back and forth on the couch, excited to see your comfort movie. It makes Bruce want to facepalm because it’s been so obvious this entire time.

When he asks Alfred about it, the Brit just gives him a bland look whilst saying something along the lines of “Master Bruce, I thought it was obvious from the start”, because Bruce has a habit picking up kids with the tism.

After that Tim finally gets tested and gets his diagnosis. Not that it changes anything other than what’s on paper. But it does help Tim feel better, as in the past he probably struggled with feeling wrong or like he didn’t fit in.

When Damian also realizes you two weren’t trying to dupe him, he settles with his arms crossed and huffs, saying that of course that was the reason since you two couldn’t get the upper hand on him anyways.

The entire fam shares fidget toys or different coping things. The house is stocked with everyone’s comfort food, clothes, media, etc. The walls are made so sound doesn’t pass through them, the fridge and electronics are also upgraded so they don’t make those buzzing sounds. It’s like autism heaven.

You also are included since your dating Tim, and you two are very happy together. The family is also thankful in you helping Tim come out of his shell, even though neither of you realized you were doing it.

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xxblairexxss · 1 year ago

Text

Hunt game (Charles Leclerc x reader)

Series contain stalking, harrasment, sexual violence.

Masterlist

Just an introduction to the characters and a little sneak peak on how they met since we gonna picked up the story from their engagement day ahead. We have more chapters ahead so buckle up!

Chapter 1

The sun was scorching hot, and there wasn’t a single moment where the vertical wrinkles between your brows had stopped creasing ever since you got here. Those Pinterest-inspired outfits you had saved on your albums weeks before would have been a mess if you hadn’t done a double check on your outfit today.

You were especially keen on trying out this one outfit where it paired high-waisted jeans with an oversized sweatshirt because it would look adorable, especially with a claw-clip bun hairstyle, but that would have made you drenched with sweat as it confined all that heat. Instead, you went with a cute embroidery off-shoulder frill trim crop top in white with basic denim jeans.

This whole motorsport event was something you had only seen on television every weekend. Being able to experience it in real life and seeing the hype with your own eyes made you feel all giddy, even though you weren’t a fan of it. It was only then that you knew that Formula 1 had its own little branches.

They were listing out names on the big screen with a picture of every driver. You were pretty sure you were the only one squinting your eyes trying to read those names just so you would be more familiar with the names and team involved in Formula 2. The paddock pass you had hanging on your neck was used as some sort of fan as you kept on flapping it in front of your face, seeking a little breeze in the hope of cooling down the heat.

With one hand holding your travel-sized sunscreen, you stepped aside from the roes and lines of people to take a breath. There were people walking past you within every minute, each of them wearing a different colour of shirt, indicating the different team they were supporting. Those team logos that you saw on the shirts were not the same ones as the ones you had seen earlier.

"Checking the driver out?"

Your frown disappeared the second you heard a voice too close to your ear while you were staring at the on-going interview that was held with two well-known drivers wearing red shirts. The logo on the shirt was familiar to you as it didn’t take a genius to spot that. It was familiar to every human being in this world. The classic black horse on a yellow shield background.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were checking out the drivers like what I’m currently doing."

His reply was very nonchalant. He wasn’t even looking at you. He was staring at the two drivers with his hands on his waist. The way he was acting so casual made you feel so out of place for being surprised, so you tilted your head back to the drivers with your hands crossing over your chest.

"You know them?" You heard his voice again.

"Yeah, I have seen them a lot on television." He leaned in to be able to hear what you were saying while you were unconsciously straining your voice to make sure he was able to hear you amongst all sorts of noises coming from the crowd. "That one—yeah, that one is Sebastian Vettel, and that one is Kimi Räikkönen!"

"Big fan of Ferrari?"

"My dad is." You responded. Your hospitality pass was flapping on your face again as the heat caught up to you while you leaned back against the wall. "Are you?"

"Everyone’s a Ferrari fan." He fished out his phone and took a few pictures of the drivers before they passed the microphones back to the interviewers and made their way back. "Who’s your dad’s favourite driver?"

"I don’t know, actually. I think he likes them all equally." You realised he was no longer looking ahead. He was leaning against the gray-colored wall from the building that both of you had been standing beside all this time while the interview went on. His eyes were on you now, and his hands mimicked yours as he had them crossed over his chest.

"What about you?"

"I like Sebastian Vettel!" Your voice went a little high, a little excited to answer the first ever question you have ever gotten in relation to the sport. It felt like you were somehow accepted by the clique, though you only knew a few teams and names.

"Yeah? I like him too. I would love to be in the same team with him one day."

That wasn’t something that a normal fan would say. You had to go through and check the facts to see if it was even possible for a fan to wish to be in the same team as their favourite driver. If so, your dad would have been talking about it. "You drive too? Like these fast cars?"

"Yeah, I drive too, but mine isn’t as fast as Vettel's, though." He grinned, knowing what you would say after. It wasn’t the first time people ever told him that his little sweet dream would never come true. He had heard it countless times and had gotten used to it by now. "I know what you’re going to say."

"What?"

"You are going to tell me it’s impossible, aren’t you? For me to be on the same team with him." His hand went into his back pocket as he stood up straight.

"No."

"Sorry?" He blinked in surprise.

"I think it’s possible. I think... I think Vettel could do a teammate like you." You beamed widely and nodded in satisfaction with your words before taking a step away to find your dad.

"You can use this." He called out and handed you a white portable mini-fan.

"Are you sure?" The paddock pass fell and was left hanging on your neck as you let it go and took the mini fan from him.

"I don’t really need it."

"Thank you!" You clicked on the button as it flipped, and you felt the cooling effect hit your face. Sending him one last beam of gratitude, you walked back and joined the crowd, looking left and right to find your dad.

"Thank you too."

His gaze was interrupted as he was handed a green notebook with a striped marker pen by one of the fans, asking for his autograph, followed by a couple of photo sessions with a few others.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were back again in the paddock, two years older. The weather this time, if you were to express it in words, would be an antonym to the last two years. It wasn’t extremely cold, but enough to send chills down your body from the constant rain. Your knowledge of motorsports this time has improved a lot. Your dad was excited when you started bringing up his favourite topic first during dinnertime because now he had someone to talk to about all the things that excited him.

The raincoat you had kept inside your tote bag was being pulled out as soon as you felt a few drops on your cheeks. The rain never learned how to do its greeting properly. It was always a few drops and a heavy rain the next second. You were trying to untie the little string that helped to keep your folded raincoat neatly in square shape while the rain started dropping down even more.

"How do I untie this?" Your hand kept on going from unknoting the string to protecting yourself from the rain, as if your palm was big enough to cover your entire body. The string wasn’t cooperating, and your indecisive trait made you stand in place instead of figuring something out.

"Need my help?

"Please!" Your eyes flittered upon feeling the little drops on your face as the person tried to untie the string.

"Shoot! This isn’t working. Let’s just run." Your hand that was purposelessly trying to cover your head from the rain was being grabbed as you found yourself running with him in the rain, unsure of where you were heading.

"Can we even be in here?" The run made you puff out. He had somehow dragged you inside Ferrari’s hospitality when you were so sure you would get kicked out the second someone noticed you. "I should go." You tried to scurry away and flinched when the thunderstorm rumbled.

"It’s okay. Just stay here. They’ll know you’re with me."

"It’s you?!" Your hands went to cover your mouth immediately as you got a proper look at his face this. It was the same guy from last year. He looked the same, just in a different uniform. "Oh my God! Are you Sebastian Vettel’s teammate now?"

"Is he still your favourite driver?"

"Yeah! I am still a big fan of him. Oh, I didn’t bring your mini fan.” The mini fan was still working perfectly fine, but it was left in your room because you weren’t expecting to bump into him again.

He took out his phone, and you saw his fingers danced on the screen before he handed it to you. "How about you give it back to me when I take you out?"

"What should I do with this?" The screen showed a numberless contact with the name ‘pretty girl in white top’.

"Your phone number?"

You passed the phone back and chewed on your lips. "I have a boyfriend."

"Ah! Sure– I’m so sorry."

You chuckled as you retracted your hand back and typed in your phone number. "Just kidding! There! I should probably go to my dad before he freaks out.”

"Wait!" The phone was being placed on the coffee table, as he ran to get an umbrella. "Use this."

"Thank you!"

Charles turned on his phone and saw your contact number being saved as "My name’s Y/N!"

"Y/N.."

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Can I get her sign too?"

"My girlfriend?" Charles chuckled and passed the green notebook to you. You weren’t really sure what to do or how you should make your sign looked like because you had never prepared yourself anything like this. "Sign here, love."

"Like this?" You handed the striped marker pen back to Charles and hid your face in his arms when he laughed at how small the signature was.

"You might need more practise." The notebook and marker pen were handed back to the owner, making him laugh along after seeing your little sign.

"I’ll make sure she attends my classes on how to improve her signature."

"Can I get a picture?"

Charles’s hand went back to hold yours while his free hand moved vigorously, sliding those pens and markers on caps, shirts, and banners that the fans had prepared while exchanging a few conversations.

"What was that signature, baby?"

He was holding it the whole time. The occasional glances he gave you as he kept on signing the merchandise were enough to let you know that he wasn’t done yet with the tease so it wasn’t a surprise when that was the first topic he brought up once both of you got your own privacy time.

"Shut up! I didn’t know they would ask for my signature too." You leaned on his side as he kept you close with his arm on your waist.

"But it’s cute! I would definitely get it tattooed if I was obsessed with you." Laughing, he pinched your cheek when you scowled. "Let’s be real. Would you tattoo my name on your body?"

"Of course!" You exclaimed. It was impossible to hold your laugh when he stared at you with scepticism.

"Yeah, right! No one’s believing that, baby." He retorted, leaving a lingering kiss on your hair.

"Yeah, no. Can you imagine if I have your name written in a big font across my arms?" You questioned.

"On a second thought, that might not be that bad of an idea. Everyone will know you are my girlfriend." He jested and earned a slap on his arm.

"No! What if we break up? I’m going to have to get them removed, and even if they were removed, you'd still see the mark."

"We’ll never break up. I don’t want us to ever break up." He muttered.

"I don’t want you to leave me too." You murmured, tiptoeing to leave a peck on his cheek.

"Whatever happens in the future, let’s talk it out instead of choosing a break. I can’t lose you, Y/N." He murmured.

"You won’t lose me, baby."

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Charles, slow down! You’re going to make me trip on my dress!" You called out, feeling his pace increased with every step you took.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was just excited for you to see the place. Here we are!"

The sudden switch from pitch black to the brightness around you when Charles took off the blindfold on your eyes caused you to squeeze them shut.

"Do you like it?"

The room was illuminated with candles that were placed on a dark-coloured candle holders. There were rose petals spread out on the floor, looking like a path that led you to the centre.

He had asked you to go out for a dinner date, and you thought it was just like any other ones you had, but he reminded you specifically to dress a little extra, so you went with a split thigh backless dress in dark blue paired with a necklace that you got as a gift from Charles.

"Oh my god, I love this! Did you decorate this on your own?"

"Yeah, with some help from the Internet." He murmured and moved closer to snake his arms around your waist while your arms circled his neck.

"What’s the special occasion?" You questioned him, brushing your nose against his jaw.

"Oh, yeah! Okay.." He muttered, pulling away as he gave your arms a squeeze. Charles looked anxious. You knew because he kept on pressing his lips together; his green eyes barely kept on you for any longer than a minute as he kept on looking away.

"Charles? What’s wrong.."

"I– um," Charles had seen this a lot in movies, but he wasn’t really sure how someone went about doing it. He wasn’t sure if he should pull out the ring and put out the question first, if he should give a hint so you knew what’s coming, or if he should let you talk first.

"Y/N,"

You let out a gasp, your hand went to cup over your mouth as he went down and got on one knee. Charles fished out the velvet ring box he had kept in his pocket, which felt significantly heavier despite its small size.

"I wanted you to write the happy ending to our lives together. Will you marry me?"

He could see you were smiling, though half of your face was covered. "Yes! Oh my God, yes!" Your head bobbed up and down in a nod, feeling the weight on your finger as he slipped the ring on.

"I love you so much." He breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up as your lips met his.

"I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, fiancé." You muttered, fingers stroking the back of his neck while slowly feeling as if you were getting hypnotised the longer you stared into his green eyes.

charles_leclerc

Liked by ynusername, carlossainz55, and 1,836,729 others

charles_leclerc She said yes 🧸💍

pierregasly Ay congrats!!! 🤵🏻‍♂️👰🏻

username1 OMG OMG OMGGGGG

carlossainz55 Off to the next chapter 🛫

ynusername 🥹❤️

username2 FINALLYYY I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

username3 im crying 😭🥹😭🥹😭🥹

username4 Charles is off the market! ❤️😩

ynusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, charlottesiine, and 633,820 others

ynusername day one as someone’s fiancée ❤️🥰

charles_leclerc you made me the luckiest man on earth ❤️

username1 parentsssss 🥹🥹

username2 the cutest couple ever

charlottesiine Congratulations, linda! ❤️

username3 They have always been the most unproblematic couple in the grid

katerinaberezhna Omg congrats angel!

They said you could never please anyone in the room. Let it be a room of hundreds or tens, there would always be one unsatiated person. They said you would fail the moment you lived your life making sure everyone else was please with you. They said ignore, walk away, because people’s words shouldn’t limit how you should live your life.

But what happened when you ignored them way too much that they decided to kick it up a notch, thwarting their way into your own bubbles of euphoria.

Just like what happened to Mufasa.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! 😭 Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

Note

Hi it would be awesome if u did the angs print list #11 with Cassian x reader

Feeling ANGSTY 👁️👄👁️

Warnings: angst, some injury detail.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The place was utter chaos. The air tinged with the stench of blood, of rain, of mud. Screams of pain reaching out to you from the healers tents, cries of grief over those who didn’t survive. People zipped around you, rushing back and forth with buckets of water and blankets and medical supplies.

There was always a numbness that set in after battle. An emptiness. Though you may not join your friends and family on the battlefield, being a healer kept you up close and personal with injuries and casualties. There was no escaping the gruesome realities of war — not when you spent hour after hour depleting your magic on stitching skin back together and setting broken bones, healing fatal blows by the very skin of your teeth.

You were exhausted by the time you left your tent, another healer having taken over and insisting that you rest. You immediately began to drag your heavy feet through the muddy track that wended through the lines and lines of tents, intending to return to the one you shared with your mate, Cassian. You were desperate for a bath, to submerge yourself in too-hot water that would make you feel something and wash the grot and grime and blood from your skin.

“Y/N.” A grave voice came from behind you, a firm hand landing on your shoulder and stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to find Azriel, and a pinch of relief spread through you at the sight of him. You’d received word that all of your friends had come back from the battlefield, but you could never quite settle until you’d seen them all. Apart from some nicks and slices that were already healing, Azriel seemed otherwise unharmed.

But the set of his jaw was…wrong. Tense. The fierce look in his eyes telling you that something was amiss.

Cassian. Your mate’s name immediately bleated in your head.

“What is it?” You breathed, your stomach churning. Panicked thoughts began to claw at you. “What happened?”

“It’s Cassian.” A muscle in Az’s jaw ticked. “He got badly injured.”

You were going to be sick. Or collapse. Black out. Something. He couldn’t be dead — you knew he couldn’t be dead, because you would feel it. Would just know. But why hadn’t you sensed him being injured?

“Breathe, Y/N.” Azriel gently clasped your arm. The composure you applied to healing people was completely lost when it came to your mate. “He’s okay. Madja healed him, he’s going to be fine. He’s asleep right now, but…he’ll be waking soon. I’m sure you’ll want to be there.”

You were trying so hard to fight back tears. You’d barely had a year with your mate. The thought of losing him—

“Take me to him, Az.” You rasped. “Please.”

Azriel took your hand, easily manoeuvring you around the chaos that continued around you, that you no longer noticed. It felt like eons passed before you were being led to the main war tent where the Inner Circle discussed their information and strategy. Rhys was just stepping out of the entrance as you skidded to a stop.

“There you are.” The High Lord breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N — I gave him a direct order to wait and he ignored it. His damn insides were hanging out. I’m so angry with him. If not for Madja already being here—”

“Can I just see him?” You bit back a sob. “Please?”

He dipped his chin, holding the tent flap aside for you. As you stepped in, the strong, clinical smell of tonics and salves burned your nose.

Your eyes immediately found your mate. Sprawled out on a settee, he was undressed, aside from a pair of undershorts that were stained with his blood. A huge white bandage was wrapped around his torso, and even in sleep, his face seemed to twitch in pain with every breath.

He looked…a mess. Awful. And it sliced you open. Made you feel like your heart was being tightly squeezed.

His sweat-slick hair was sticking to his mud-speckled face. You took a step towards him, stopping and angling yourself back towards Rhys and Az.

“Can I have some time with him?” You wiped you eyes quickly. “Please?”

Rhys nodded, and the two of them shot you a concerned glance before turning on their feet and trudging away. Where the others were, you didn’t know. But right now…right now, Cassian was your focus.

You perched on the coffee table in front of him and waited for him to wake.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

It wasn’t long after that you heard a soft groan.

Your eyes, that had been staring into space, snapped down to Cassian. And it was only then that you became aware of the tears that had been silently falling down your cheeks.

You wiped them away, and watched as your mate’s eyes slowly opened. As he winced, his face contorting in pain, and tried to push himself up.

“Careful.” You murmured, reaching out to steady him. Your hands stayed on him as he moved himself into a sitting position, and then you were stepping back once more.

Cassian stared up at you. And smiled.

Albeit a grim smile — one marred by discomfort and looking wrong beneath the smattering of blood and dirt. But he smiled.

And maybe it shouldn’t have done, but…it boiled your blood.

“There’s my little love.” He croaked, reaching a hand towards you. “Such a sight for sore eyes.”

You immediately stepped out of reach, folding your arms over your chest. “You’re injured, Cassian.”

He glanced down at the bandage with infuriating indifference. “Injured, not infectious.” He reached for you again, wincing as he did so. “Come sit with me.”

So many emotions were rooting you to the spot, stopping you from going to him. Sheer panic and fear and worry and hurt and anger. Pure, blinding anger.

All you could do was stare at him.

He stared back, his features slowly creasing into a frown. He looked you up and down — your apron spattered with blood and grime. Your face and hands not much better. The wisps of hair that had long ripped from your braid.

“…you’re not injured, are you?” He started, trying to ease himself up. “Let me see.”

“No, I’m not injured.” You snapped. “I’m fucking furious, Cassian.”

“What—”

“Why did you go against Rhys’s order? Why would you do that?”

Your mate blinked at you, and it seemed only then that he became truly aware of your fury. Your hurt. He eased himself up from the settee, using the arm to steady himself. “Y/N—”

“Why, Cassian?”

“…the decision I made was the more logical one—”

“Oh, yeah — so logical to get your fucking intestines ripped out of you. Great job, my mate.”

He’d never seen you this angry. Even though you’d chastised him a couple of times before about certain reckless decisions, it had never been like this. Tears were stinging your eyes again.

Cassian caught it immediately, his features softening. “Sweetheart…”

“Don’t do that.” Your voice cracked. “Don’t act like this is nothing.”

“I’m not. I’m not. But you’re new to all of this. And injuries are a part of it…”

You scoffed. Yes, you were far younger than him. He had four hundred years on you and had seen battle multiple times. Clearly his wealth of experience didn’t stop him acting like a reckless fool.

“Funny, because you’re the only one of us who had his insides ripped out, Cassian, and you’re also the only one who went against Rhys’s orders!”

“I made the right choice!” His voice rose. “And I’d damn well make it again!”

“I know you would! And that scares me, Cass, because what about me?”

A sob choked your voice on the last word, your hurt and panic completely overtaking your anger. You couldn’t stand it, couldn’t take the thought of anything happening to him—

You buried into your hands, your cries breaking out of you uncontrollably. And you knew Cassian was stunned into silence. That he’d gone preternaturally still.

“…Y/N…” He sighed softly. “Hey. Look at me. I’m fine.”

He limped over to you, his hands grasping your arms. But his touch didn’t stop the heaving sobs.

“You may have got off okay this time,” your whole body shook, “but what about the next time? Or the time after that?”

“I…” He frowned. “You just have to trust me. I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t about trust!” You wrenched away from him. “I’m sick and tired of worrying about you and all the risks you take. You tell me you’ll be fine but what about me? Because if I lose you, I won’t be fine. Do you even realise that?”

“Y/N, you’re not going to lose me—”

“I’m pregnant, Cassian.”

Cassian’s mouth immediately snap shut, his eyes widening. And then his gaze was dipping down to your stomach, back up to your face.

“We can’t lose you.” You snivelled, placing a hand on your abdomen. “So please…all I ask is that you think of us before making risky decisions.”

“I…” He was still blinking. “You’re…”

“Pregnant.” You whispered. “Yeah.”

Only a beat passed before he was striding over to you — groaning as he did so — and pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and you knew it was causing him pain, but he held you so tightly. Rocked you. Kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

Slowly, you stroked your hand up his back. You could feel your sobs silently shaking your body, soaking his bare chest.

“I’ll never leave you.” Cass pulled back just slightly — just enough to place a hand over yours on your stomach. “Either of you.”

You stared up at him with glistening eyes, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

And then he was pulling you into his chest again, and the two of your were crying into each other’s skin, just your weak noises filling the tent, mixed up in Cassian’s repeated apologies. You didn’t know how long you stood like that for, but it was long enough for your anger to dissipate. For you to feel the pure relief and love that hit you with Cassian back in your arms.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. “Forgive me.”

And you — you lifted your head. Looked up at him. A soft, watery smile played on your lips, and you pushed yourself up to press them against his, to speak a single word onto them.

“Forgiven.”

#ask #request #prompt list #acotar #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x reader #cassian #angst

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that-struggling-writer-lh · 8 months ago

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A Flower For Every Secret Ch. 3 - Basket Flowers

Buckle up my friends because I was giggling and kicking my feet writing this.

WORD COUNT : 1885

WARNINGS: Extreme fluff, mutual pining. MINORS DNI. These guys are sickly in love I can feel it in my bones.

Pair the dancing scene with the song J's Lullaby by Delaney Bailey. ALL THE FEELS.

“You going to Colleen’s wedding tomorrow?” a voice piped from behind the glass window.

“Good morning to you, too. I’m not sure. I feel like it was a tentative invite because I’ve only been here like a month.” I looked up at Agent Carrillo through my lashes, phone on hold between my neck and ear.

Joel hadn’t been home hardly all week. His truck always leaving at dawn and not back until late, Sarah begrudgingly following close behind him. Both of their clothes had been covered in sawdust several of those days.

He hadn’t acknowledged me much since the dinner he had invited me to, the only conversation being passing hello, how was your day? He didn’t have time to play in the streets with the neighborhood kids, much to the dismay of many parents who had to pay extra attention without Joel keeping watch of the street. He had mentioned a big job in the city, renovating an old shop front into a high-end bakery.

“Still nice to get to know people better, you’re kind of in your own world over here.” he shrugged, leaning past the barrier to peek at my desk space.

I covered the note I was writing, waiting to get it sent out to a patrol unit. A welfare check on an elderly woman, I hung up the line when I was confident my message went through, and sighed. “I don’t have a date. So I won’t know anyone, and I’ll be alone. You have a wife, Carrillo. You have a buffer.”

He seemed to consider, “Find one. I mean this in the most platonic way. You’re pretty. Someone would want to go with you, even if it’s some shitty blind date.”

I chewed the end of my pen gently, the only person that came to mind being the neighbor I’d been pining over for the last week, “I think there’s someone I can ask.”

Joel’s truck was surprisingly in the driveway when I pulled into the cul-de-sac, Sarah in the front yard with one of her friends, laying in the grass with a neatly folded fortune teller. They played the game with smiles on their faces, even from across the street I could hear the flip, flop, flap of the paper with the swish of their hands.

I tentatively walked across the street, “Hey, Sarah. Your dad home?” I questioned.

“In his office, just walk inside and let him know I said it's okay.” She looked away from me and smiled at her friend again, “Pick a number one through four.”

“Joel?” I called into the silent house, “Joel, it’s me, Sarah said to come in. I have to ask you something.”

A shuffling noise and a door opening came from down the hallway and Joel appeared, phone pressed to his ear, he motioned for me to follow, using his spare hand to silently shush me, “Again, it’s not possible with the current price of lumber, tools and extras. I gotta pay my guys, I gotta feed my kid. I’d love to continue offering the labor rate I had five years ago when I previously did work at your home, but I am a small business.” he was rolling his eyes, rolling up his long sleeved shirt to his elbows.

I watched him as he sat at an l-shaped desk, stuffed into a corner of the small room, a window directly in front of his chair. A few photos of him and Sarah framed, dusted. A tiny cactus potted, and neat stacks of binders with printed labels. Money In, Money Out, Project Portfolio, Current Client List and Job Sites, Employee Records/Handbook.

He pinched his brow, exhaling slowly so as not to let the person on the other end hear his frustration, “I offer very competitive rates, you won’t find someone cheaper than me right now, I don’t think. I’ve held off on raising prices again… I understand your frustration, times are changing for everyone. Yes, just let me know. I’d love to be of help to you, have a great weekend Bob.” he put the phone into its cradle and groaned aloud, “Sorry, Sweetheart.” he drawled as he spun on squeaky wheels to face me.

“Sarah let me in, I wanted to ask something pretty big of you this weekend. I understand if it's a no, I just have nobody else I’d like to ask.”

He pressed his elbow into the desk, resting his chin in his palm, “I’m all ears.”

“There’s this… Thing.” I started, looking up at the ceiling.

He waited for me to continue, “Gosh, I’m nervous.” I huffed a laugh.

“Don’t be nervous, just ask.” he had started grinning at this point.

“The chief’s secretary is getting married tomorrow. I was a last minute invite, I wasn’t planning on going, but was given the option of taking a plus one and-” I froze, trying not to stammer over my words, “I was hoping that maybe you’d like to come. With me. As a favor. It doesn't have to be like…” I trailed off.

His ears turned a soft shade of pink and he looked out the window, now to the side of him, “Let me make a call.” he turned back to the phone and in moments, “Maria.” a pause, entirely too long as he stared directly in my eyes with the phone to his ear. I began wringing my hands together in anticipation. My heart thrumming wildly in my throat, “Nothing serious, just a favor.” he started, “I have uh… A date tomorrow… Need someone to feed Sarah dinner, make sure she’s okay.” he was chewing his lower lip nervously, that eye contact still unbreaking, “Of course,” he was grinning now, the pink in his ears flushing through his cheeks, “I really appreciate you guys. Thank you.”

The phone clicked back into its home on the desk, and Joel stood from his chair, “It’s a date.”

Joel promised to wear his best. Based on what I’d seen I’d hoped it was a little more than a blazer and nice pants. But he could show up in anything and I’d be happy just to hear his laugh again.

I wasn’t sure exactly what to label my feelings for my neighbor as, other than when I look at him it feels like the breath has been taken from my lungs for a moment. I spent all evening laying everything out, he promised to pick me up by three p.m for the four o’clock ceremony in the gardens of the event center. The reception would follow in a large barn. From what I had heard, Colleen’s family spared no expense. I opted to wear a lilac, solid colored dress that ended at my ankles, off shoulder sleeves and tulle underneath the skirts to plump up the whole thing, paired with silver heels. My hair in a french twist with pieces left out to frame my face, my makeup bright, blushy and glossy.

The knock at the door as I put an extra coat of lipgloss on and stuffed touchup stuff into my clutch almost sent me into a panic. I rushed to answer the door, careful not to trip over myself before opening the door. I was not prepared to see him look so-

“Wow.” we said in unison, wide-eyed.

“You look-” we both started,

“Handsome.”

“Perfect”

Joel really pulled it off. Hair neatly parted and slicked, facial hair trimmed. He sported a full tux, perfectly tailored. He offered me his arm and I graciously accepted, the cul-de-sac was bustling with life, but it was as if he was the only one there with me. Drowning out everything else in a haze of warm, woodsy cologne and perfect smiles. The warmth made each vein in his large, rough hand rise. It was nearly impossible to keep my eyes trained on any single spot of him. He cleaned up good.

He led me to his truck, opening the door and helping me up.

The ride was near silent, only the radio covering the thrumming of my chest. The nerves electrifying my every fiber.

He kept his hands off of me through the entirety of the ceremony, though our eyes often drifted to each other through the vows. The soft music.

The reception was dimly lit, candles gracing every surface they made sense on, baskets overflowing with blooms of every shade to mark doorways, placed on tables as centerpieces, a chandelier of candles with wildflower blooms laced in every spare beam.

Joel was seated firmly beside me at a table full of strangers. Eventually his hand found a spot to rest on top of mine, our fingers tentatively lacing together. Both of us obviously nervous. It was different than last week on the walk back to my house from his. I was keenly aware of his every movement, the feeling of his skin. The flush of my face, and each beat of my hammering heart.

Eventually I heard the slow, soft guitar and words sung so softly it was like a private prayer.

Darling I’d wait for you

Even if you didn’t ask me to.

Tie a lasso around the moon

And bring it on down to you.

His eyes found mine again and he rose from his seat, keeping our fingers laced together, glancing around at the other couples slowly moving along to the beat, “Normally I’d say I have two left feet… But this time… Dance with me?”

It took a moment for the words to leave after the nod of confirmation, “Of course.” I whispered as he took me toward the middle of the room. One hand pressed into my lower back, bringing our waists together, his other holding mine so delicately I was sure I must be dreaming. The candlelight illuminated his face in a golden haze. Surely things like this are only in fairytales

Cause, Baby, when your arms are around me.

I’d swear that I’m holding the sun.

“Joel,” I started, “Thank you - for coming with me.” his eyes were so warm I could have melted in them.

“There isn’t a way I’d have missed something like this.” he squeezed his hand at my back, bunching up tulle and soft fabric.

You could have the stars and the trees.

When dividing up the universe.

My breath hitched as words failed me entirely; and my hand, pressed firmly onto his shoulder, loosened, slipping further up and around to the back of his neck, burying in the soft hair at his nape.

His brows furrowed, almost a question. Almost a hope. We studied each other as everything else fell around us. Deeper and deeper. Until all that remained on the crowded dance floor was Joel. Me. And the words of a lullaby.

Darling, I wish that you

Could give me some more time.

To herd the whole sky in my arms,

And release it when you’re mine.

At the same moment he leaned in, so did I. It was hardly even a kiss. More like a tentative brush, testing the waters before making a full swan dive in deep water. He pulled away only to look at me again for confirmation. I nodded and he sealed his lips to mine.

I’d put the beach in your backyard

In hopes to be enough for you to stay.

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou au #joel miller x ofc #neighbor!joel

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mjart12699 · 12 days ago

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Decided to post a fic I wrote a while ago on here since I have been too busy lately to write anything else anyway enjoy some Muriel’s not the Step Father He’s The Father Who Stepped up content

Woodcutters

I’ve always liked the woods. It’s always been calm, but not silent. There are little noises I can pay attention to and identify as I walk the path, feeling the dirt beneath my shoes.

It’s different now though. The woods are filled with the noise of people, scared people who came here out of fear of the city and settled right in the yard of my zio’s oldest friend.

The friend who is now my ma’s boyfriend, it seems.

Muriel seems nice, and from what Asra has told me he’s a good person. I feel calm around him, and so do the chickens and other animals that live here, so I suppose I can trust him. What’s weird is seeing how my ma is around him.

My ma was not very trustworthy of other people before she got sick, and she still had a lot of social anxiety after she woke up again. She’s been working on it. According to Asra and Finn, I’ve been a big help since we’re really similar. She got a lot better after we found Wojtek, a puppy that grew into a bear-like dog a few months after she was okay again. To see her so relaxed around someone, let alone Muriel, is a bit weird.

“Hey, Sawyer.” Finn’s deep voice pulls me back from my thoughts, and the scratch of my pen on the paper I grabbed comes to a halt. “Did you hear what I said?” He sits down next to me, and I feel his eyes on the paper more than see them. I shake my head in response, tracing imaginary lines in my mind across his dark hands as he fiddles with a foraging bag. “The adults are having another meeting, so your mama is going to be busy again for a little bit. I figured we could go look for some more of those honeysuckle flowers that you like, maybe practice some illusions?” I think on it for a moment before nodding, packing up my art supplies in my bag and standing up.

“I have to put my stuff away.” I sign to Finn before running off to my tent. It’s near ma’s and Muriels, towards the back of the hut and away from the people. Ma made a few jokes about how the three of us have that in common, the need to be away from the noise.

I open the flaps of the tent as I undo the locking spell, walking on my knees to avoid letting my dirty shoes touch the floor of the tent. I know it will get dirty anyway, but I don’t like the feeling of dirt touching my skin when I sleep. I tuck my art supplies under my pillow, shaking out my bag to make sure I didn’t miss anything and then repacking what I will need to take with me. My stuffed mammoth, my mini sketchbook, a piece of charcoal, gloves, extra socks in case the ones I’m wearing get wet, a sweater, and some candy so I don’t chew the inside of my cheek. Once that’s packed, I wiggle back out of the tent, closing the flaps and redoing the protection spell. I nearly fall back when I stand up and turn around to see Muriel, kneeling down to pet Wojtek right outside my tent.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He doesn’t stand up, which I’m okay with. The man is ridiculously tall, my earliest memory of him being when Asra took me out here, I think I was a toddler. He had been wearing his chains, and his hair had been a lot longer. I also remember he didn’t seem as soft as he does now, a feeling I can’t really explain. “Your mom and I have to meet with everyone again, to talk about what’s going to happen. We- I mean, she wanted you to know where she was in case you’d need anything.”

I nod in response, feeling my hair brush against my neck and slapping it away when it itches. Muriel’s face changes when I do that, the same way that other adults do when I do anything considered weird. “It’s itchy.” Is all I sign before I walk away, finding Finn and his cat, Annette, on the outskirts of the settlement and taking one of the more wild paths with him.

I practice my magic a bit as we walk, summoning small gusts of wind in my hands and holding up leaves or flowers in midair with it as we walk, and sometimes coming up with small illusions. Finn’s job when we are not hiding from a bloodthirsty monster and his band of mercenaries is to dig up old bones and study them, paleontology. I went on a lot of his digs with him the year that we left Vesuvia while mama was sick. He had always kept me in the shade, putting big hats on my head and making sure I was wearing enough sun cream to “keep the people who make it from ever going out of business”. He talks about the bones he’s found as we walk, telling me what he thinks they might have looked like and asking me to summon the description in my hands, then summoning his own to compare. It’s a fun game we play, something that keeps my mind from wandering to the bad stuff.

By the time we find the grove where the honeysuckle is, the sun has started to head more into the evening, and a chill blows through. I pull my sweater out of my bag, the soft purple yarn smelling a little bit old and in need of a wash, but comforting.

“I admit that I brought you out here with another ulterior motive.” Finn’s large hands pluck several of the white and yellow flowers at a time before he deposits them in his bag. “You’ve been looking a little sad, and it’s easy to see why.” I turn away as he talks, knowing that he knows I am still listening. “It was nice and calm for a while, then the Countess hired your mama for a weird job. A week later she has to go down south with a scary lady and the best friend of your uncle, who looks and seems like the exact opposite.” Annette climbs some of the branches, her soft fur shining a warm brown in the dappled sun, her golden eyes watching me knowingly. “ Then she comes back after months of being away, right before the biggest party of the year, dating said guy.” He’s right about that, it was weird to see them together. Asra seemed really happy about it, and tried to tell me stories of him and Muriel when they were growing up while he and my ma were down south, but it still felt strange. “Next thing you know we are all running away from the city and into the woods and we have to set up camp around a bunch of other people, some of which have obviously not learned about camping etiquette.” This makes me laugh a little, because it’s true. Not a day goes by out here where someone doesn’t start an argument with another person about something stupid. I feel Finn’s hand on my shoulder, and look up to see that he also finds it funny. He kneels down to my level picking some of the flowers on the forest floor as he does, all ones we can use for medicine or food. “The point is, you’ve been holding in a lot, and it’s okay to miss your ma. I know you think that because you’re one of The Big Kids out here that you have to act brave and happy all the time, but you need to remember that you are nine years old. It’s okay to have all of the bad feelings.” I don’t like that he’s able to read right through me, but that’s what happens when you spend most of your life around someone.

My throat feels sore and wet, and the area behind my eyes hurts. I know it’s a sign that I’m going to cry, but I still don’t like it. Finn pulls me down, leaning against the small tree the honeysuckle had been growing around and letting me sit against his side. I rock back and forth against the tree, not able to do anything else to calm myself down. Finn fishes my stuffed mammoth out in response, tucking it into my arms and rubbing his hand up and down my back as I hide my face in my knees. Annette comes down from the tree, purring as she wiggles her way into my lap and kneading her paws in order to get me to release my legs from my grip, preventing marks that I would normally scratch into my skin. It feels like forever has passed before I stop crying, and it still feels stupid to cry over something like this when I’m done.

My legs feel heavy when we decide to go back, so Finn hoists me up so that he’s giving me a piggy-back ride. If I weren’t so tired from today I would protest, especially since I’ve been getting a bit too big for that, but Finn doesn’t seem to mind, and carries me easily all the way back to camp.

I’m nearly asleep when we do get back, but I’m awake enough to help Finn and Mazelinka, Zio Julian and Zia Portia’s kinda-grandma, with making dinner. Mazelinka tells stories as we make the soup, her time at sea and the antics Portia and Julian would get into when they were younger. Everyone who was at the meeting, the Satrinava’s, Asra, Muriel and Ma come and eat with us when the sun starts to set even more.

The soup is good, and it makes me feel nice and warm despite the temperature drop outside. Finn sits between Ma and I, chatting with her about what happened in the meeting as we eat. He’s always felt like a nice protective bubble for when I don’t want to talk, but I know from experience that Ma will ask me what’s wrong soon. She has a weird sixth sense for it. By the time I’m done with my dinner some of the adults have gotten out drinks, some dancing around controlled fires and others laughing loudly with each other.

I don’t like it.

Ma see’s that easily enough, and when Finn begins to dance with Asra and Julian she scoots closer to me.

“Time for bed?” I nod, leaning against her and breathing in the smoky scent that lingers on her clothes from the fires around us. Wojtek follows us when we stand up, yawning and stretching before sending a deep bark out into the woods, earning a howl in return. “We’re going to head off to bed, you gonna be okay?” I already know she’s talking to Muriel. I hear him hum in response before she takes hold of my hand and we walk back to the tents together.

It gets cold pretty quick once we leave the community fires, but even then I am slow to get into my tent and into my pajamas. Ma gets hers on from her own tent, tapping the outside of mine in silent question. I open the flaps to let her and Wojtek in, which makes the tent really cramped pretty quick.

“So, today was pretty long, huh.” Neither of us are good at small talk, or starting conversations, but it’s surprisingly nice that she’s trying to ease into what she wants to talk about. I nod, grabbing my quilt and wrapping it around my shoulders before leaning into her, nearly melting when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me down onto the pile of furs that make a bed for now. “I’m so sorry baby. I haven’t had a lot of time with you lately, and when I do there’s always other people around so it’s never just you.” I tell myself that I’m listening, even as she runs her tattooed fingers through my hair and the thump of her heart tries to sing me into sleep. “I can’t promise to spend tomorrow with you, but after all of this is over, we’ll do whatever you want. Day and dinner, does that sound nice?” I nod as I hum in response, and it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep after she brushes my hair out of my face and Wojtek curls around me.

The snow is up to my knees out here, and my breath freezes as it leaves my mouth. There are structures that surround me, old and worn so much that it would be impossible to fix them up again.

Suddenly, the red sky no longer weeps little white flakes. Instead, they’re gray, and it smells awful. The ash nearly chokes me as I try to run through the snow, but I’m not paying attention, so I fall through the ice and the cold water seeps through my bones as sharks swim in protective circles. I don’t have the time to scream. I try to kick my way back to the surface, I should know how to swim, but it feels like something is holding me back.

I don’t look down to see what it is.

I can’t.

But I can feel her bones, and hear her soft voice.

I’m on the shore again, but the scene is different. It’s an island this time, and there’s no snow. Only ash. I wonder if it’s the same ash from before as I push aside the dry branches to walk through it, the feeling of dread in my chest doing just as much damage as the ash in the air.

I come to a building, brick and mortar and on fire. Ash piles out from it and I can’t tell if those who were once inside are still screaming or if it’s just the flames and coals. Something touches my shoulders, the same thing from earlier, and when I turn to see what it is my screams die in my throat.

The specter doesn’t have any defining features, just embers within shadows. Empty eyes see right through mine, and their hand reaches for my shoulders again. The touch is gentle, and filled with so much sorrow that it’s overwhelming.

I nearly vault out from my blankets, any sound dying in my throat when I throw up next to my bed. Wojtek is gone, and the tent flaps are open. I barely process that Ma comes in when I throw up again. She rubs my back and holds my hair away from my face for a few more minutes to make sure there’s nothing left in my stomach. I think she asks if I want to go to bed with her. I think I nod. Muriel is standing outside the tent, not enough space for him to come inside. I think I hear her say something about cleaning up, and then I’m passed to him.

He smells nice.

We go into his and Ma’s tent, where he gets water and a rag and sits me down near the bed. There’s a small orb of light, just enough that we can see but not too much to hurt our eyes in the late hours. He helps me clean my face, rearranging the furs in the tent so they’re more spread out before sitting me down in the middle. He leaves the tent for a few minutes, I think, and when he comes back Ma is with him. She gets me to drink some water, running her hands through my hair and pulling me close. I think I hear her and Muriel talking to each other, asking out loud if I might be sick. I shake my head, but I’m too tired to explain. I just want to sleep.

Ma lays down first, pulling me with her so that I can use her arm as a pillow. Muriel is the one that pulls the blankets over all of us, his thick arm wrapping around both her and I. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m here, and the little nagging voice that tells me I’m in the way nearly shuts up when he pulls us both closer.

I’m confused when I wake up, and feel like I’ve been boxed in by a million blankets. It takes a few seconds longer than I’d like to admit for me to remember what happened last night, and another few for me to process that the reason I’m so squished is because I am surrounded on all sides. Wojtek managed to lay on top of me in the night, further boxing me in between Ma and Muriel. It was nice last night when it was nearly freezing outside, but right now, under a thick quilt and the sun beginning to rise once again, it is not.

I resign to my fate, however, when I remember that Wojtek is nearly twice my size, and even if he wasn’t here on top of me I don’t want to wake Ma and Muriel. I take a deep breath and settle back in, tracing imaginary lines on Muriel’s face while he sleeps.

I like studying peoples faces, it’s something I’ve always done as far as I’m aware. I’m not very good at telling how someone is feeling just by their face, and I have difficulty recognizing people whenever there is a slight difference in appearance, like when they change their hair, makeup or even the metal of their jewelry.

I’ve never really studied his face before. He wasn’t around enough to warrant interest, but now he’s around all the time. He doesn’t seem to like it when people stare, though, and after Finn explained why I just avoided looking at him in general. He has a scar on his cheek and brow. I mentally trace the scar on his cheek, and look at how there isn’t hair growing close to it like there is on the rest of his face. I wonder if the hair can no longer grow there.

I’ve gotten bored of tracing his face by the time Wojtek yawns and gets up, somehow managing to not not step on any of us as he leaves the tent for the morning. The change still wakes Muriel up, while Ma still holds on to a few more minutes of sleep. I had closed my eyes and pretended I was still asleep when Wojtek left, and I turned over when Muriel got up to get ready for the day. He’s still wearing most of the Masquerade outfit that the Countess gave him, although he took off the cape part, leaving only the shirt, pants and boots. Everyone else had managed to find their normal clothes after the fact, except for him.

He’s weird.

Ma finally wakes up after a few minutes, brushing my hair out of my face again before getting up. I wiggle back under the covers, knowing that it’s time to get up but not wanting to leave the cozy nest. I don’t know if they know that I can hear their hushed voices.

“Do you want me to stay while you talk to him?” Muriel’s deep voice is easy to identify on any day, even with the failing enchantment The Hermit gave him.

“If you want to, I won’t pressure you, but it has been a few weeks since we’ve been out here, gah, I don’t know how to talk about this…”

“It’s fine, I think I get what you’re trying to say… and you’re right, I shouldn’t just avoid being around him… I’m not sure how to explain why I have been either.”

“It’s okay, it’s understandable. You don’t have to explain right now, but I do think it’d be good for him if you were here while we talked.”

He hums in response, and I feel Ma’s footsteps come closer before she kneels down and gently shakes my shoulder.

Despite being awake before them, I still feel groggy. I turn over to see that she’s already pulled half of her hair back, although a lot of it still frames her rosy face. I sit up, still pulling my blanket around my shoulders and groaning when my stomach growls.

“Buon giorno piccolo, ti senti meglio?” She rests her hand on my forehead while she talks, pulling it away after a few seconds and scooting over a little closer when Muriel comes to sit down, a cup of water in his hand. “Do you still feel sick?” I think for a minute to see if my stomach still feels all twisted up, and nod when the thought of eating makes the nausea worse. Muriel hands the cup to me, his brows knitted together making the scar on his forehead move slightly. A little voice in the back of my mind wonders if it still hurts.

“Bad dreams?” I hadn’t expected him to speak, and everything feels slow before I am able to nod, doing my best to drink the water and get rid of the bad taste in my mouth.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ma rubs her hand up and down my back, sending shivers through my brain and down my spine. “We’re pretty good at listening.”

My head throbs when I think about it too much, but I do my best to tell her anyway. “The sky was red, and I fell through the ice. There were sharks, and something was pulling me down.” Wojtek comes back into the tent, sitting down across Muriel’s lap and extending his paws into mine. “Then I was back on a beach, and I went through the woods to the building. It was on fire, and the thing that pulled me down just stared at me.”

By the time I’m finished with what I could recall from the dream I can hear Vesuvia waking up for the day as well, mixed conversation muffled from the tent. Ma pulls me closer, nearly into her lap and continues to rub my back, using her other hand to comb through my hair. Muriel looks at the floor, his hands busy petting Wojtek.

“Maybe drawing the thing in your dream will help a little, we used to do that all the time.” Ma’s idea normally works. Most of my memories of her from before she got sick are of us drawing together, her showing me how to mix paints to get the color I want and the way different brushes would have different strokes. We haven’t done it in a while. I nod against her shoulder, the movement making me skull throb, before standing up and going to my tent to get ready for the day.

We have breakfast just outside our tents, the first one in a while that’s at least a little quiet. Muriel had the idea in the first place, and Ma went to the campsite to tell Asra we’d be having breakfast alone.

I’m so used to someone trying to squeeze by me for something or bumping into me that it’s a little bit weird that we get to make breakfast and eat in silence.

I pull my hood up over my head, hiding the tangled mess my curls had become overnight and sitting down a few feet away from Muriel, close to the fire. I watch as he shakes the frying pan with the eggs, thinking of the paint colors I would need to get the right shade of yellow for the yolk.

“Do you want to try?” Muriel’s voice breaks my thought, and I look to see he’s holding a spatula out to me. I scoot closer, looking at him before grabbing it and trying to flip one of the eggs. The yolk ends up breaking, but when I try to give his spatula back to him he just scoots closer, putting his hand over mine to hold the spatula and flip one of the other eggs. That one doesn’t break. I still give the spatula back to him, preferring to watch and not fail at something so early in the morning. By the time ma is back from talking with Asra everything is cooked and served on three plates.

“Sorry that took longer than anticipated, Finn wanted to know if you were doing okay and then Nadia heard and yada yada yada…”

“It’s fine, Sawyer helped me with the eggs.” Muriel hands her the plate and gets the kettle off of the fire, pouring the hot water into three cups before settling back and getting his own plate.

“Did he now?” She has a weird look on her face, even as she stirs more cinnamon into her tea and crosses her legs to balance her plate, it’s like she’s hoping for something.

They chatter back and forth as we eat, mostly about the battle plans and safety measures taken in the forest. Everyone’s talked about those types of things so much that I’ve learned to tune it out, but it also means that I tend to tune out important stuff.

Like when ma asks me a question.

I look up from my plate, ma has her head tilted the way a cat does when they’re curious about something, as though it makes more sense at an angle. “Repeat?” I have to use both hands to sign most of the time, so I just set my plate to the side.

“We were talking about the things we could do today. I think we all need at least a little bit of a break before tomorrow.” She looks between both Muriel and I as she talks, taking a sip of her tea in between. “Got any ideas besides painting?” I stir the eggs and mushrooms on my plate as I think, tidying them into their own piles so they’re not touching.

Of all the things we can do out here, I’ve done most of them. I’m not saying that I would be bored with anything I’ve already done, I’m just worried that none of them would result in anything useful.

Muriel leans over to ma, whispering something in her ear that makes her nod, her smile changing to the one she wears when she’s about to beat Asra at cards, a rare occurrence. He turns to me, his plate almost cleared of the mushrooms. “Maybe you could help me with renewing the charms around the camp? The forest has had more traffic than it’s seen in centuries and the protective spells we’ve had up are nearly burnt out.”

Well, I have needed to work on my charms… I nod, resuming my breakfast with a set plan for the day.

“That’s great! I do have some stuff I need to work out with the Countess, so you two will be alone in that endeavor, but I’ll come back to paint sometime after lunch.” Wait, us two? “I’ll see you later.” She kisses Muriel and then kisses my forehead, standing up with her dishes seemingly without any thought.

I help Muriel clean up around the fire pit after we’ve finished eating, washing the dishes and putting them away. Wojtek helped with the dishes too, licking off any remaining food from mine and then following me around while I did my morning chores.

When everything’s all done and put away I go back to my tent to get my bag, making sure that nothing was misplaced before putting it on and stepping out.

I haven’t gotten to do much with charms quite yet when it comes to practicing magic. Asra focused a lot on water types and illusions at first, teaching both Finn and I the simple stuff. Ma always taught me about hedge magic, and after she woke up we all learned about various magics from Asra, but we haven’t really focused that much on charms for a while.

Wojtek bumps his snout into my hand, indicating that he wants me to rest it on my head while he leads me somewhere. It’s how we walk through the markets on a normal day, and at the moment he’s leading me towards Muriel. His head nearly reaches one of the lower branches, and the fur cloak he wears makes him look a lot bigger.

“Most of the charms were made by Asra, but some of them are mine.” I’m surprised I don’t have to walk very fast to keep up with him, his pace being slower than Julian’s, who practically leaps everywhere. “We actually started making them when we were a lot younger, when we first moved out here. Some of them had to be replaced over time, mostly from weathering, but others have held on for longer.” We stop walking when we reach one of the trees, huge and covered in moss. “Like this one.” Muriel gets something out of his pockets, long strips of cloth that he wraps around his hands and ties off at his wrists.

I have to wave to get his attention before signing. “What are those for?” He pauses wrapping his other hand before continuing with an answer.

“They’re to keep my hands safe, and these,” he pauses before pulling out two smaller strips, “are to keep your hands safe.” Wojtek sniffs the fabrics before sitting down at the base of the tree, taking a deep breath like he’d just run a mile. Inanna seems content to sit with him.

“We’re climbing?” I might as well ask all of my questions before I can’t ask them.

“Mhm, can I see your hands?” Muriel kneels down in front of me, showing how to wrap the cloth the right way so that it actually stays.

It feels weird.

“I’ll help you up to the higher branches, but most of them are pretty close together, so you won’t have to worry.” He leads me to the base of the tree after standing up again, eyeing the branch for a moment before looking back at me. “I’m going to have to pick you up for this one, will you be alright with that?” Looking at the tree, I don’t think I’d get up there any other way, so I allow it. Muriel puts me on his back, the same way Finn does, and jumps to grab onto the branch. I have to squeeze my legs to avoid falling off, but he pulls us up to balance quickly.

I get back down, holding on to Muriel’s arm without thinking about it so I can balance myself. I’m not really used to climbing trees this big.

“I can show you the branches to grab before you climb, and then I’ll follow.” Muriel looks around at the branches above us, pointing to a thick one I can reach. “You might have to jump a little for that one, but you can push your legs against the tree. I’ll be right behind you.” He’s right, even at the base of the branch I have to jump a little, pushing my legs against the tree for leverage and clinging to it once I’m secure. It takes a lot longer for me to get upright than Muriel did, but he doesn’t seem to react, he just climbs up after me and shows me the next branch and the next one and so on.

It feels like forever has passed once we reach the top, where a small, worn out charm dangles from a branch on a piece of twine. Stones and seashells decorate the center with twigs woven around them to create a rune. The closer I am to it, the safer I feel, but it’s a different safety than Asra’s magic.

Asra’s protective spells feel like tempered glass around you, watching the ocean from inside and hearing the echo of the things that pass. Muriel’s feels like diving into a nest of blankets and furs in front of a fire when there’s a howling blizzard outside.

I sit on the branch as close to the tree as I can get, looking over the trees and across the horizon. I can pinpoint the camp from here due to the smoke that rises from some of the trees in the distance, and behind me I can see a few of the small mountains, which ma likes to call glorified hills.

Muriel shows me the process to recharge the charm, which seems to make it age backwards somehow. His hands take on a slight green and bronze glow as he focuses on the spell for the first half, but then he stops.

“Hold out your hands, and concentrate on the rune and what it means to you,” I do as he says, watching as my hands develop a dim bronze and orange light washes over them. It flickers even as I try to focus, giving way to the green and bronze light from Muriel’s hands. “For a first try you did well. It took me several to even make this work in the first place. Then there was getting them all put up.”

I have questions.

I wait until we’re done with the charm, watching as Muriel hangs it back up on the same branch, which makes it rewind in its age within a few seconds. Once he’s done with that he looks below us, eyes bouncing from branch to branch and plotting a route back down. Before he can move to get down I tap his arm, making sure I have his attention before signing.

“How old were you when you moved out here?” He makes a weird face, his eyebrows raising and eyes widening, an expression that Asra says means someone is shocked. He almost says something a few times, but then decides not to.

“How about we talk when we’re on the ground again.” He doesn’t seem to want to answer at the moment, maybe it’s because we’re so high up.

I follow him down, sometimes having to hold on to him while he gets us to the branches that are further apart, much safer than jumping down.

Wojtek and Inanna are still waiting for us at the bottom, and their tails start to wag once they can see us. Wojtek runs in a circle at the base of the tree until we get down, wiggling in place in front of me while I pet him. We get back on the path to the next charm after catching our breath.

“My childhood…” Muriel’s voice is quiet, a deep rumble in the distance. “Wasn’t very pleasant. I had Asra, and they had me, but that was it. I had thought for years that my parents had abandoned me because they couldn’t feed me, and I grew up avoiding being a burden at all costs.” The brush is thicker back here, and I have to raise my arms to get through. “The people of Vesuvia were hardly ever kind to the children of the docks, and Lucio’s rule made their wariness of us even worse, especially when he began to collect us for dirty work.” The next tree is shorter, and we go through the same routine as we go up. Muriel pauses to talk in between branches, explaining that his parents had not abandoned him, but he just didn’t know what had happened to them. He explains how he met Asra, and their eventual decision to go to the forest. “I had watched and helped some people build their houses at the outskirts of the city when I was a little older than you are, and once I thought I knew enough we went to the woods to build the hut. It took most of the spring and summer. I had to fix a few things as we got older, like the fireplace and the roof, but it was worth it to escape the city.” When we get down again I don’t even recognize that my legs feel sore, too many questions going through my head to even think about it.

I ask a few more questions as we walk, most of them just verification of Asra’s retelling of their childhoods together. Those seem to make him a bit less nervous, and I get to hear some of the stories that Asra never told, like the fact that when they first met my ma was because Faust had tried to climb in through her window at the shop.

“First time I actually met your mother was at the shop as well, and she was still pregnant with you.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. Your ma and her aunt were celebrating the solstice, and Matty had invited Asra and I. I hadn’t gone to the coliseum yet so I wasn’t as nervous about going somewhere like that if it had been a few months ago.”

“Did you like her then?”

“Hm?” The next charm is on top of a big rock that we’re approaching, so Muriel gets that one by himself pretty fast. It’s quiet for a minute before he answers. “I don’t really know. At the time I knew that she was someone who’d befriended someone I cared about, and I was really just making sure they were safe there.” He hits the ground with a thud, dusting his hands off and sitting down against the rock. I sit down with him and watch Wojtek try to play with Inanna. “I remember that she was more focused on making sure we all ate than making an impression, and that she enjoyed playing the banjo your aunt gave her. She fell asleep before everyone else though. I carried her up the stairs.”

“And me.”

“Yeah, I suppose I did. Don’t tell her I said that though. She won’t let me live it down.” I think he might be joking since he laughs after he says that, but I still won’t tell ma. “Let me know when you’re ready to go to the next one, we’ll take a rest for now.”

Inanna watches as Wojtek races around her, sighing when he starts to slow down a bit and walking off into the forest when she’s done entertaining him.

The clouds in the sky begin to gather, and the air begins to smell like it’s going to rain. I stand up immediately, but Muriel just kinda relaxes into the rock.

“We need to go back.” I jump up and down in front of him, pulling my sweater out of my bag and over my head to avoid any droplets. He takes a minute to stand up, dusting off his hands and unwrapping the cloth from them.

I try to make a run for it, keeping my sweater over my head and ignoring how my bag thumps against my legs. Wojtek runs ahead of me, his ears flopping and his fur getting soaked within a few seconds once the rain turns from a sprinkle to a downpour.

I’m not a fan.

I love the rain… when I am inside. However, when I am outside, it becomes difficult to enjoy. The water is cold and makes me shiver, making my clothes feel weird and stick to my skin. My hair gets frizzy and tickles my ears and touches my neck in a way that I just can’t stand.

Heavy footsteps follow behind me, getting closer and closer until I feel heavy furs wrapped around me and my body lifted up over someone’s shoulder.

Muriel gets us back to the camp faster that way, and I don’t think he breaks a sweat the entire time despite all the climbing that we did.

The magicians in the camp work to make shields over the fires to keep them from going out and the people huddled around them dry. Almost everyone else has resigned to staying in their tents.

The tent ma and Muriel stay in is filled with light, and ma opens the flap before we can. “No entry until you’re dry, come here.” She laughs as she lifts her hands, filled with a warm light that sends away all the water from our clothes and prevents any more from getting on. “Leave your shoes too, they’re caked in mud.” I don’t even wiggle around much before I feel her take my shoes from me, and Muriel sets me inside the tent. I’m still wrapped up in the cloak so I lose my balance and fall to the ground, and judging by the laugh I hear from outside ma definitely saw.

Untangling myself from the cloak takes a minute, and once I’m out of that I can see that ma has Muriel sitting on the ground while she dries his hair with a fluffy towel. He reminds me of when we have to dry off Wojtek with towels, the rare smile on his face proof that he might be enjoying it.

I always feel like I’m intruding whenever I see them like this. It’s weird, I know. I don’t know how to explain. I’m not jealous, I know that. However, I’ve never really witnessed openly romantic relationships up close. Zia Matty tells me about herself and Husain, the archeologist she’s married to. I’ve seen people on dates or strolls throughout the city, but I’ve never seen anything besides that.

Thunder claps outside of the tent, and lightning follows soon after, making the darkness of the forest outside not as heavy.

“It seems we’re in for some worse weather than we thought, huh?” Ma pulls out her bag, embroidered with bees and violets on the cloth, setting it on the ground and pulling out paint brushes, paint and paper. “Good thing we had plans for stuff that we can do inside, but first!” She turns to me, pulling another towel from the makeshift clean laundry pile in a corner of the tent. “Devo farti i capelli, sembri un piccolo leone.”

I don’t have to scoot very far to be close enough that she can do my hair, but it is funny to watch Muriel’s face as he tries to piece together what she said with context clues.

Ma talks to the both of us as she does my hair, stuff about her morning and how the meetings went. I can tell she’s leaving a few details out since I’m here, but I’m not sure I would want to know anyway.

The feeling of the brush in my hair is a familiar one, bringing up both pleasant and bad memories. I hated having my hair brushed when I was little, and would run away from anyone who tried to do my hair in the first place. Asra said that it took a while for ma, Finn and them to find a hairbrush that I wouldn’t scream at, and we still use the same one years later. She rubs one of the oils we managed to get from the shop in her hands, rosemary and mint, another familiar scent that almost immediately makes me relax a bit more. She always puts it on my scalp, massaging it in and combing whatever’s left on her hands through the rest of my hair. Asra likes to joke that it’s why my hair grows so fast. The longest I’ve grown it was down to my waist, but that was before ma got sick, and when she woke up most of her hair had been cut off.

That was the only haircut that I ever asked for.

Muriel tells her about how our morning went, finding a few of his own things within the tidy piles of stuff we have in the tent. He uses a knife to carve into a block of wood, the chips curling when they fall to the floor. It’s nice to watch, and I nearly fall asleep before ma’s done braiding my hair away from my face and down my spine. It’s still a little damp when she’s done, and it will probably stay like that until tomorrow because of the weather and just how much hair there is.

Even with the storm raging outside, it’s nice and cozy inside of the tent. The spells were put on all the tents when we first got out here to prevent leaking and damage still intact thanks to daily check-ins.

We sit around the lantern, each person focused on their own tasks and almost completely silent. It’s not awkward, for once. If anything, it feels right.

The paintbrush in my hand glides on the paper, leaving streaks of color over white that will soon longer show through. My favorite things to paint are mammoths, an animal that I’ve always loved. A majority of my books back home are about them, and I’m pretty sure Zia Matty and Asra are to blame. Matty liked to show off her illusions before bed, something she did with my ma and her brother when they were little, and with me before she fled from the plague. Her favorite one’s to do were often about ice-age animals, talking about the theories about them and what we know so far. Asra likes to say that they encouraged my interest in them after they crocheted my stuffed mammoth for me. Finn helped me gather my collection of books about them due to his job, even making a cast of a mammoth's tooth as a gift for my birthday one year.

I hope none of it has been destroyed by the raiders.

While the rain continues to pour outside, it’s warm and dry inside of the tent. The fabric of the tent is a deep blue, a little taller than most of the other tents around the camp so that Muriel can stand up in it for the most part. Furs cover the floor, keeping it warm compared to the cool ground. More furs are piled on one side of the tent, the makeshift bed ma and Muriel have been using. A chest of clothes and useful things from home is next to the bed, flowers painted all over it adding color to the space without looking odd.

Most of the noise from inside the tent comes from the sounds of Muriel’s knife scraping against the wood block, or ma’s erratic sketching on her paper. I look over and see that ma is painting a field of rolling hills with tiny blue flowers. Mine is almost finished, since I painted what I had seen in my dreams last night. It’s not as good as ma’s painting, but she’s an artist for a living and an adult so she would be better anyway. I scoot closer to ma and show her the painting I did. She takes it from my hands carefully, blowing on the paper to help dry it while looking at it. Her brows furrow while she looks at the paper. We spend a few minutes like that, just looking at the painting. It makes my heart beat faster and my throat feel tight because I’m worried I did something wrong, but she pulls me close again and sets the paper down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head, and scoot back to my spot to grab more paper and my paint brushes again. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Muriel moves his head so that he can see the painting, and moves closer to ma to whisper something in her ear before going back to his carving.

I’m painting mammoths again. The field they walk in is covered in frost and small patches of vegetation, just like Zio Finn said they would. I like to paint them with bright colors though, using purples and blues and greens with the normal brown paints instead of just shades of brown. Ma is still working on her flower painting, adding small details with a thin brush and a careful hand. She’s used to tattooing skin and taking her time with it, so her paintings normally have a lot of tiny details that most people don’t notice in them. Muriel’s carving is starting to take shape too, and I’m starting to notice that he’s looking at my stuffie a lot in order to carve the mammoth.

The rain refuses to clear up, pouring harder with each hour that passes. The thunder and lightning doesn’t slow down either, and I wonder if we’re at risk of flooding. Muriel makes me think that he can read minds sometimes because right after I thought of that he told us that he built the hut here because it hardly ever floods, and if it does he has charms and protective spells around his hut to prevent leaks. He and ma enforce the charms on the tent for the same reason, checking the storm protecting thingy on top and drying themselves off when they come back inside. Muriel has me help him make more protective charms to put up directly outside of the camp and when we’re done with that I get out one of the books I managed to take with me and read while ma and Muriel do… whatever it is they do.

It was stupid to think we’d have a peaceful day.

The raiders attack when the sky is at its darkest, sending shouts through the camp and startling all of us in the tent. Ma tells me to stay put while she and Muriel go and help everyone, putting on her boots and cloak and leaving me alone in the tent.

I fiddle with the necklace my dad gave me and hold my stuffie while I wait for them to get back, rocking back and forth on the blankets and looking around the tent to keep myself busy. It’s hard to do anything else when I’m worried about my ma getting hurt or worse, and it feels like time moves slower while they’re gone.

It takes a while for them to get back, and when they do Muriel has a cut on his leg. Ma cleans it up and heals it, but falls asleep right after so he helps her into the furs and removes her shoes and cloak. I’ve seen her fall asleep after using a lot of magic, but never just from a healing spell.

“She fought pretty hard… no wonder she’s exhausted.” Muriel stacks the furs on top of her, brushing her hair out of her face and taking off the green bandana she has over her hair. “Are you alright?” I nod, finger combing the fur of my stuffie and rocking back and forth. “I… there has been a lot going on lately and if you need to talk to someone… I don’t mind.” I set my stuffie down to sign, my head tilted to the side.

“I’m okay.” I don’t actually know if I’m okay or not, but I tell him I am anyway. He sits with my ma for a few more minutes, not really doing anything when he grabs his carving stuff again. I watch as the wood curls when he pushes the knife against it, the pile on the floor slowly growing.

“Do you want to try?” He’s already carved out a rough shape for it, and he’s started working on details. “I’m not sure if your mom would be okay with you handling knives, but I started learning when I was about your age, and I’ll be right next to you.” I think his logic makes sense, so I move to sit cross legged on the cushions next to him and watch him carve the wood. He explains a few things while he does, and then hands the wood and knife to me. He shows me how to hold my thumb against the knife to guide it and how to keep my fingers away from the knife's path.

Muriel has taken over carving the wood by dinner time again, but he’s given me one of his older pieces to paint. It’s a carving of a bear, but I paint it green and blue with tiny flowers all over it.

Ma sits up and rubs her eyes, looking at us and at the top of the tent. “What time is it?”

“It’s close to sundown, if I had to guess.” Muriel puts his things away, looking at my ma when he’s done.

“I’m going to guess you two waited to eat until I was awake again?” I nod, bouncing my leg and still painting. “Well we should get started on that then…”

“You should rest, MJ.” Muriel tries standing, but while his leg is healed it must still hurt because he hisses through his teeth when he stands.

“You should too, but alas we are both adults here who need to eat and I’ve gotta feed this one here too.” She says all of this with a smile, standing up and ruffling my hair. Both of them end up working together to make something, ma heading out to the camp to check up on Asra once we had everything started. Dinner is okay, but I miss being able to cook on the stove back home. Even the fireplace in Muriel’s hut would be better, but he’s lent it to the Satrinava’s and Mazelinka uses it to cook for a lot of people at once most of the time. I show ma the carving Muriel let me paint after we’re done cleaning up, and I start to head to bed. Wojtek still isn’t back, but he’d be soaked anyway, so I start to get ready to go to sleep.

When I start to open the flaps of the tent, Muriel stands up, the carving he’d been working on in his hands. “Put this next to your pillow… it should help.” He hands it to me, and when I look closer at it I realize he’d carved runes into the back and the belly of the mammoth. I can see ma watching from the bed where she’s rearranging the furs and pillows before bed. She’s not very discreet.

“Thank you.” I sign to Muriel before heading to bed, doing a small spell to keep the rain from touching me before I get inside my tent.

I think the carving works, because I don’t have scary dreams that night.

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