#like the basket yesterday! and this quilt today!

[tj-crochets]

I had exactly enough purple scraps left from the starry purple quilt to make a baby quilt! Well, the quilt top isn't exactly done yet, but pretty close, just one more round of ironing and sewing left

[glittergutts]

Yesterday, Chris and I folded like a month's worth of laundry. I had to lint roll the dog hair off everything, and it was a pain in the ass and hopefully, next time, I won't ignore the clean basket for nearly as long. Not being able to find clothes easily made taking showers and everything else difficult, too, so I'm seriously glad it's done now.

I've also been neglecting to refill my weekly pill boxes for the past 2 weeks and I'm most certain I can't keep up with all my meds without it. So I'm going to try extra hard to do that today.

In bringing the kids to meet up with some friends at the amish market to pet the animals this afternoon and I'm so proud of myself for not being stressed about it (at least not yet) I even reached out to the mom already to confirm we're still meeting up. I love feeling like I can do normal adult things like talk to other adults lol

I've got a bit to do around the house, so I'll be ready to get my tooth pulled on Wednesday. I'm nervous as fuck but it's also kinda relieving to think it won't hurt fir that much longer. I'm scared about all the other work I need done, but I guess it's one thing at a time, and eventually, all my teeth can get repaired. I keep talking like they're all falling out and it's not really that bad I just have some painful cavities in my molars and my gums are probably kinda fucked up. I'm going to order some teatree mouth wash to help my gums get healthier.

I sat outside again this morning to listen to high-frequency healing music and be barefoot on the earth for a little bit. It was a little chilynso I brought my quilt and by the time I came in it had warmed up significantly.

Also, I saw cute purple flowers on one of my bean plants! My mom is bringing me some fencing stuff so I can put my plants in the ground. I might start some more herbs I'm not sure.

My mom is also giving me an Amazon gift card she wasn't going to use, so I'm going to get some arnica for the swelling after my extraction and a few other little things I need. I found my all-time favorite incense on Amazon in a big box, and I've been saving my last single stick for idk what, but I'm looking forward to finally burning it :)

Anyway, I need to go get ready to do today 🙃 I hope I can stay in a good mood and feel productive.

[yutaabyss]

requested/ mommy and daddy

characters: husband!jeno x female!reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: unprotected sex, cum, teasing, oral (f), pregnancy kink, Jeno being a dom, slight overstimulation,

author’s note: this got crazy. I’ve recently been thinking about how much I want a baby so I’m glad I saved this request. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!

“Lina, come on we have to get dressed for the park” you yelled for your three year old as you walked down the hall to her room. Her little feet came running behind you, her little giggle resonating through the halls as she got excited. You laughed gently while turning to watch her run toward you. “Are you excited to play and eat snacks with mommy and daddy?” “Yeah!” she yelled, hugging you. “Me too, now let's get dressed so we’re all ready when daddy gets back from the store, okay?” you smiled at her sweetly. “Okay mommy” your heart swelled at her small voice. It was hard for you to even believe your baby was already three. You’d cried countless nights in your husband Jeno’s arms over the fact she could walk and talk. But you cherished every moment of her ever growing self and were elated to spend the day with her and your husband.

“Girls, I’m home,” Jeno entered your small home with grocery bags in his hands. “I’m coming!” you yelled back, slipping Lina’s dress over her head quickly. Walking to where Jeno stood, taking his shoes off, you stopped in front of him and waited. “Hey baby,” he said as he slipped his shoe off. A smile formed on your lips at the name, “hi,” your voice was quiet. Jeno’s hand gripped your waist, his face leaning in towards yours. “Are you waiting for your kiss?” his soft breath fanned your face. “Perhaps,” your eyes gleamed. He chuckled softly before leaning into you and kissing your lips. ��Dad!” Lina called out behind you, causing both of you to pull away and look at her. She stood with her arms out, showing off her new sundress she got yesterday with you. “Oh my goodness Lina you look so pretty” Jeno fake gasped at his baby. She giggled, “I know dad.” You laughed at her confidence as you picked up one of the grocery bags, “Lina, tell daddy thank you.” “Thank you daddy,” she smiled up at Jeno. “You’re welcome princess, now let’s help mommy pack the picnic basket so we can leave!”

There couldn’t possibly be a nicer day for a picnic than today. The sun was bright, with just enough cloud coverage, and the breeze was lovely; the perfect fall afternoon. “We’re here miss Lina” you tilted your head to see her asleep in her carseat. “I wish I could nap like that in the car,” you laughed at Jeno. “Lina,” he shook her leg gently. Her dark lashes blinked until her brown eyes opened. “We’re at the park baby,” you smiled at her. Lina smiled back at you, melting your heart even more, “we can play now?” she asked. “Of course. We can play for a bit and then eat.” You unbuckled and got out of the car as Jeno also did. He grabbed the blanket and picnic basket as you got Lina out of the car. “Let’s go!” her voice called out, her feet already running for the playground. Jeno grabbed your hand in his and walked after your daughter. “Here, I’ll put the blanket down. Is right here okay?” you asked Jeno. “Wherever you want to sit baby,” his eyes smiled. You placed the red quilt on the leaves near a tree before sitting down and sighing. Jeno put the basket in the middle and sat next to you, rubbing his hand on your exposed thigh, “This is nice,” he kissed your cheek. You hummed in agreement, eyes watching Lina play with another little girl on the slide. “Look at her Jeno, she’s so big now and she’s even making friends” Jeno’s eyes followed yours. His hand continued to rub your thigh soothingly while you watched Lina play with all the kids. “Should we call her over so we can eat?” he asked you. “I’ll just go get her,” you placed your hand on his, bringing it to your lips. Jeno leaned back and watched you walk across the playground. His mind couldn’t help but think about how beautiful you look. Your brown dress falling perfectly over your curves and your curls resting perfectly on your small shoulders. He was infatuated with you, he’d always been infatuated with you, and the fact you were his wife and had his child sent fire through his body. “Daddy, look my friend gave me a leaf!” Lina’s voice snapped Jeno from his thoughts. “Oh wow,” he replied as Lina showed off her new gift. “Isn’t it pretty?” she enthused. “It’s very pretty Lina,” you chimed in, taking the sandwiches you’d made out of the tan basket. “Here, I made this one for you,” Jeno’s heart raced at the smile on your face when you handed him his sandwich. “Thank you baby.” Lina and you began eating while Lina talked about all the clouds in the sky but Jeno just sat back and watched the two of you giggle. He was entranced by the way you held Lina next to you; how were you so attractive when all you were doing was sitting next to his daughter? Jeno wondered. You turned to him, “not hungry honey?” you questioned, noticing that he hadn’t eaten anything, not even the sandwich you’d made for him. “Huh? Oh I was just enjoying the view,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes and patted the open space next to you, “stop staring and come sit next to me.” Jeno crawled across the blanket until he was right by your side, his leg touching yours. “Dad, try this,” Lina held out a half eaten cookie she’d been eating. You smiled at her, “how sweet of you to share with daddy.” Jeno took a bite humming in satisfaction. 

The sun started to fall behind the trees as you packed everything back into the basket. “Are we ready to go home?” you brushed Lina’s black strands of hair back, her eyes drowsy from a long day at the park. “Yes mommy,” she yawned. Jeno picked Lina up while you carried the basket and blanket back to the car. “Mommy, can we come back?” “Yes baby, we’ll come back another time.” 

“I’ll carry her inside,” Jeno whispered to you in the car as you both got ready to get out. At this point the sun had set and Lina had fallen asleep. “She needs to brush her teeth,” you said softly. “Y/N, she’s completely passed out,” Jeno chuckled. “It will be okay just this one time.” You sighed, “fine.” When you got inside, Jeno put Lina in bed, tucking her in. Meanwhile you emptied the basket in the kitchen. You didn’t even hear Jeno come into the room, only realizing when his arms wrapped around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his hand tucking your hair away from your face, lips kissing your neck. “Hmm, did you have a good day?” your eyes closed as you mumbled out the question. “Yes, every day with you is a good day,” his lips traveled down to your shoulder. “Y/N,” his voice pulled you from your lulled state of mind. “Yes baby?” “Maybe we should have another,” his breath was warm on your exposed skin. “Another child?” you asked. “Yeah, I think Lina should have a sibling.” “Oh, this is for Lina?” you laughed at him. “I mean yes, it just so happens it’s also beneficial for me” his deep laugh sent shivers up your spine. “You’re gross,” you scoffed, “what made you even think of this suddenly?” “I miss when Lina was a baby,” you nodded. “Anything else?” you knew there was more to his story than the cutesy answers he was spewing out. “...and you’ll look so good with my baby in your tummy again.” His veiny hand moved from your hips to your lower stomach. “I knew it,” you whispered. “Knew what?” he looked at your smirk. “You make it so obvious you have a pregnancy kink,” Jeno feigned shock. “Wha-” You silenced him with your lips. “Shh, I like it too. Like it when you cum inside me,” you confessed. “Hmm fuck,” Jeno moaned as you rubbed his already hard dick through his jeans. “Will you get me pregnant?” you whined in his ear. Jeno pulled away, grabbing your hand, basically dragging you to your shared room. He kicked the door shut before locking it, his hands already shoving you on the bed. “Tell me how bad you want it,” he leaned over your sitting frame. “Jeno please, I need it. I want you to cum in me and get me pregnant” you pleaded. Jeno shoved you down, climbing on top of you, “be my good girl hmm?” you nodded in agreement. His big hand gripped your thighs, spreading your legs open for him. Your chest rose and fell as your breath quickened in anticipation, his fingers playing with your panties. “Please Jeno.” Jeno pulled the thin fabric down your legs, sending chills up your body and heat to your core. “So wet,” he kissed the juncture between your core and thigh. Lips trailing to where you wanted him most, you gasped as his tongue licked a strip up to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle. Your legs tried to close around his head but he held them apart as he began eating you out. Loud slurping noises filled the room followed by your moans and pleas. “Je-jeno I can’t,” he fucked his tongue in you while you gripped the sheets cumming hard. He licked all your juices up before sitting up and pulling his shirt off. “I’m gonna fuck you so good baby,” his hands started to undo his jeans. You were a panting mess, still coming down from your high, as you threw your dress over your head to be fully naked for him. Jeno slapped your pussy once with his hand and then with his free erection. You whined at the sensation, desperate for him to fill you up and use you. “You’ll have my babies, can’t wait to see you all swollen and pregnant,” he moaned, thrusting into your entrance and placing his hand on your lower stomach where it bulged from his cock. “Shhh, you have to be quiet. Don’t want to wake her up,” he shushed you as you moaned loudly. Jeno began to slide in and out at a slower pace than you’d like but you couldn’t even formulate a thought at the moment. “Hmm, I’ve waited all day to fuck your brains out,” his hips picked up speed. “Jeno, I need more, please” you cried for him to go faster. He complied, hips ramming into you and an almost painful pace, but you didn’t mind. His lips found yours, kissing you sweetly like he wasn’t railing you right now. His hands rubbed up and down your sides in an attempt to comfort your now aching core. “Just like that baby, almost there,” he grunted in your ear. “Fu-ck Jeno I’m,” you clenched around him, walls fluttering in pleasant chaos. He moaned at the feeling, fucking you faster, chasing his release. Jeno’s hips stuttered until they completely stopped, his cum filling you up while he held your hips in place for him. “Ah fuck, you’re so good baby,” his moans made your pussy flutter. This didn’t go unnoticed. Jeno’s cock hardened inside of you again at the sensations of pleasure. “You want more baby? Just have to make sure you get all my cum, huh?” he teased, thrusting gently. “Please, I-” you attempted to speak but you couldn’t continue as the feeling of another orgasm fastly approached. “You better not let a single drop of cum out,” he pressed his dick further in. “I won’t, I-i promise, just please give it to me Jeno.” Your legs squeezed into his waist as you came again around him, shaking in pleasure, moaning loudly as he kept going. Jeno continued to fuck you until he finally came inside you a second time. He slid his dick out gently as you whined at the feeling, his cum gushing out as you clenched around nothing. “Tsk, you promised you’d keep it all in, let me help you baby,” his long fingers shoved his cum back into your sensitive hole. Kissing you, Jeno laid next to you, fingers still fucking his cum back in. Your eyes were closed and you breathed shallowly, the feeling of his fingers overstimulating. “Jeno, please, it hurts,” “Shh, it’s okay,” he withdrew his hand, satisfied with the amount of cum still inside your abused pussy. “I’m sorry baby,” his lips were soft and hands comforting as they went through your hair. “No, I liked it,” you confessed. Jeno chuckled, kissing your lips, “so dirty.” You smiled next to him, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “I can’t wait to have your baby Jeno.” Jeno’s eyes formed into a smile at this as he squeezed you into a hug. 

[bokettochild]

Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

A new prompt for you! (Finally :3)

I'm picturing multiple couples or a family group (4+ adults) who share a cottage together in the middle of nowhere, living off the land. Winter is coming, bringing with it its chill winds and early dustings of snow. The people are hard at work every day, chopping wood and putting aside the last of the food for winter.

It's the worst possible time to get sick, yet someone does, coming down with a miserable, streaming cold and high fever. What do they do about it? How do the others respond?

Could have definite cottage core elements, or fantasy (since you're so good at writing that!) or contagion if you choose. Can't wait to see the results :)

It’s been so long since I’ve written a real, honest to god fic, so this will be my debut back into snzfucker favor!

Okay, okay, who to include in this house of contagion?

We need a soft healer boi that takes care of everyone before themselves, of course. A very strong, stoic, hardworking warrior with muscles of steel - but the same can’t be said for his immune system. A hyper comic relief (like if Scout from TF2 was in a fantasy setting) that insists he isn’t sick, but can’t keep back his sneezes long enough to prove his point. And, of course, a tall, thin scholar whose cold heart is only melted by his fever.

Adventurers packing it in for the winter and preparing for journeying in the spring, now only at most a few yards from each other and having shot immune systems from the exhausting work. Illness doesn’t have to travel far to infect…

Oh, this is gonna be good.

***********************

“Look look look! Otto, you’re not gonna believe this!”

Barlow skidded to a halt, almost tripping over his own two feet before regaining his balance. Otto chuckled.

“Alright, alright, que pasa? What is so exciting?”

Barlow fumbled with his cloak before pulling a shiny coin out of one of the pockets.

“I got this off a path when I was pickin’ berries! Must’ve been a merchant or something…”

Barlow’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Or maybe a warrior! Ooh, or a knight! Definitely somebody with a cape.”

He flung the back of his cloak behind him and stood tall, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied grin. However, Barlow couldn’t keep the pose long - the frigid air made him close the thin burlap around himself again, shivering. Otto knitted their brow.

“You’re wearing your summer cloak,” they said, looking Barlow up and down. “You must be freezing, chiquito!”

Barlow waved his hand, as if batting away Otto’s concern.

“Don’t worry about it, doc. It’s gonna take more than a little wind to get me down.”

As if to prove a point, he spread out his arms and spun around, laughing at the many leaves he kicked up.

Otto would usually be charmed by the sprite’s antics, but their concern soon outweighed their amusement.

“Just make sure to change into your winter clothes soon, okay? I would hate for you to get sick.”

Barlow stopped spinning, coughing a bit as he caught his breath with chilly autumn air. His hot breath clouded around his face like smoke.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, “I’ll grab it when I go by the cottage. Forgot my basket anyway. See you around, doc.”

With a quick salute, Barlow ran off, cloak billowing behind him, still clenching the coin in a tight fist. Otto shook their head and sighed. They knew that Barlow just didn’t want them to worry - but that only made them worry more. The healer in them couldn’t help but notice red-tipped fingers, congested voices, and pallid complexions. Besides, with a harsh winter underway, a cold could very quickly rear its ugly head, turning into bronchitis, pneumonia, and even infect a person’s magic…

Otto took a deep breath. Their thoughts had run away with them - and now, more than ever, it was important to stay focused.

The doctor gathered up their scrolls, pulled their coat close, and started back to the cottage.

Perhaps a little tea would calm their nerves.

***************

“it’CHEW! CHEW!”

“Salud.”

“Ugh…thanks, doc. Snf!”

Otto looked up from his knitting to see Barlow rubbing his long, pointy ears with a pained look on his face.

“Do your ears hurt?”

Barlow put his hands in his lap. “No! Just, uh, a little itchy.”

Severin, who had been reading on the sofa across from Otto, hid a smirk behind the yellowed pages.

“Someone must be talking about you,” he drawled smugly. “Considering the way you conduct yourself, I’m not surprised.”

Instead of snapping back, Barlow still scratched at his ears. Severin slit his eyes and continued to read. He almost seemed disappointed.

“Could be thragweed,” Godric rumbled from a large wooden stool, rubbing his beard in thought, “but they usually shrivel up by the first frost. Didja see any three-leaved plants while you were out foragin’?”

Barlow shrugged, wincing as he rubbed harder. “Um…maybe?”

Otto frowned. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep scratching like that.”

“S-sorry, I…huh-hold on…”

Barlow buried himself in his cloak, with only his mop of red hair showing.

“hit’SHEW! Huh…it’TCHEW!”

The sprite continued to let out sneeze after sneeze, his wrinkled, pink nose only showing when he needed to come up for air. Otto got up from their chair, and they were soon holding him by the shoulders to keep him from knocking himself over.

Barlow finally finished, snuffling into his sleeve. He looked up at Otto with bleary eyes.

“Sorry, doc, I don’d dow whad’s gotten into be…”

Otto hushed him with a gentle pat, using their free hand to feel Barlow’s forehead. They clucked their tongue.

“Oh, mijo, you have a fever...”

Barlow’s breath caught, and he coughed into his shoulder. “Nah, I…I’b okay, Otto, really. I’ll be…snrk…fide in the morning. Just gotta sleep it off…”

Otto smiled gently. “Well, you’re right about one thing. A good night’s sleep is exactly what you need. And maybe a little salve for your poor ears…”

Their hand still on Barlow’s shoulder, Otto guided the sprite to his bedroom, mumbled protests and miserable sneezes trailing behind them.

***************

Barlow’s fever never grew very high - his burning ears and nose, however, kept him up for most of the night. By the time morning came, he was too exhausted to even feign health. Otto had to put him back to bed, which was only met with pitiful murmurings.

“‘M fide, doc, I…hetch’CHIIIEW!”

“Pobrecito! You sound even worse than yesterday…”

“C’mon, Otto, I…”

“I don’t want to see you out of bed today, okay, cariño? You need to rest.”

“Nngh…”

Otto and Severin split the foraging work, since their respective jobs were mostly planning and budgeting the winter ahead of them. Godric promised to keep a good eye on the patient, but that didn’t lessen the doctor’s worry any.

“I wonder how Barlow’s doing,” Otto murmured, probably for the umpteenth time since they’d begun their work.

Severin scrutinized his severely pricked thumb. “Children always carry around such nasty things. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught the plague instead of a simple cold.”

Otto froze mid-pick, and Severin hurried to correct himself.

“Peace, my friend. It is just a cold, after all.

He grimaced.

“One I dearly hope he keeps to himself.”

They both continued to fill their baskets with berries, wiping the frost off their shiny, black skins. However, Otto’s mind continued to race.

I shouldn’t have left him. Godric only knows so much. What happens if his fever spikes? I’m a healer, I’m not supposed to leave the sick behind. Should I go back? I should go back. No, I promised Barlow I’d get his foraging done. But I can’t keep a promise if he’s dead. What if he’s already dead? What if Godric’s on his way right now to tell me? What if I’m already too late? How will we bury him, the ground is too hard. Otto, your friend has died and all you can think about is how to bury him. You must be the most selfish -

“Otto.”

Otto snapped back to reality to see Severin giving him a fierce side-eye.

“It’s only a cold.”

Otto took a deep breath. “Right. Gracias. I…I lost myself, didn’t I?”

The afternoon went by in a quiet fervor, both of them trying to fill their baskets before the sun went down. With Otto’s quick fingers and Severin’s thin ones, it was an easy job, and the managed to get back before it got too dark.

Otto wasn’t two steps through the door before they were at Godric’s heels, wringing their hands and stammering through the worries that had built up through the day.

“Are you sure…how…did he…should I…?”

The warrior just chuckled and put a gigantic, calloused hand on the their head.

“He’s on tha’ mend, doc, on the mend. Sneezin’ his head off, sure, but gettin’ better.”

As if on cue, two loud sneezes interrupted them from one of the bedrooms, followed by a mumbled curse and a few wet sniffles. Godric shook his head.

“Been like that all day, poor tyke. When he wasn’ dozin’ off, tha’ is.”

Severin took a few scrolls out of his dragon-scale satchel.

“I understand you have a more…pressing engagement. Why don’t I take the calculations tonight?”

But Otto was already on their way to Barlow’s bedside, medicine bag in tow. Severin only lifted his eyebrows and turned on his heel, setting up the many notes he had taken and a few quills on the oaken table.

“Besides,” he murmured to himself, “I don’t want to get near whatever affliction that sprite’s come down with.”

*************

Barlow was scratching at his drooping ears, which were now covered in a red, peeling rash. Otto gently pushed his hands back under the quilt.

“I know it itches, but you need to try not to scratch.”

The healer took a small glass container out of their bag, dipping two fingers into the greenish-gray ointment inside. They began to apply the salve to Barlow’s ears, taking care not to put on too much.

“Tell me when you need a break,” Otto said.

Barlow nodded, eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes, his nostrils started to twitch, and he held up a hand.

“G-gudda…huh…!”

He jerked forward into his knees.

“hit’CHEW! hhhit’SHEW! Uh…hut’SHIEW!”

Barlow snuffled into the quilt, and Otto handed him a tissue.

“Salud.”

“Ugh…sorry, doc…”

Otto put the cork back into the glass bottle and set it on the bedside table.

“It’s alright - most sprites have the same reflex.”

“No, I beant…for…”

Barlow bit his lip, his ears drooping even lower.

“For geddin’ sick.”

Otto put a hand on the sprite’s back.

“Oh, mijo…”

“I-I didn’d mean to,” Barlow whimpered. “I…I should’ve god by coat like you told be to…and dow w-we’re - hic - gudda starve…”

Otto hushed him, pulling Barlow into an embrace and rocking him slowly back and forth.

“We will be fine, mijo,” they whispered, their voice soothing Barlow into a sniffle. “We will forage until you are better, and not a day before. That is what friends do. They protect each other, they take care of each other, and they love each other like family. And that is how I love you. Like my family.”

Barlow hiccuped, trying to speak through his tears.

“Shhh, mijo…it’s okay…”

Otto wrapped the quilt tighter around Barlow and laid him down, pushing hair damp with both tears and sweat out of his face. The sobs quieted, then dissolved into shaky breaths. Before Otto even made it through the doorway, they could hear small, congested snores coming from the pile of blankets.

*****************

Scritch scritch scritch…scriiiitch…

Harried quill scratching filled the air as Otto entered the living room, putting on their tweed coat and wool gloves. They stretched out their arms.

“Buenos días!”

Godric lifted his coffee mug as a greeting, his famous half-smile dancing over his lips.

“Well, aren’tcha bright as tha’ north star this mornin’!”

Otto beamed. Barlow had slept soundly through the night, and he was still fast asleep when they had checked on him. Not a sniffle or a sneeze came from that room.

“Severin, I was thinking we could pick up acorns today,” Otto thought aloud, buttoning their coat. “There is a beautiful place in the forest…”

Silence. The quill scratching only grew more manic. Otto glanced up.

Severin was hunched over the table, writing madly on several open scrolls, only pausing to move a few beads on his abacus. Otto went back to getting ready. Sometimes it took a while for Severin to answer if he was engrossed in his calculations. He would respond when he got to a stopping point.

After about fifteen minutes of fidgeting with their scarf, though, Otto tried again.

“From what I’ve seen, we should be ready for winter in a week, maybe less. All that’s left is the dried vegetables and a few more logs for firewood.”

Again, there was no answer. But now that Otto was a little closer, they could see why.

Severin’s eyes were inflamed and painful, as were his gaunt cheeks. His long, usually well-preened hair was matted against his forehead, with stray hairs sticking up this way and that. Thin shoulder blades came together with each labored breath. Long fingers shivered around a red quill, leaving stray marks on the parchment.

“Mi sombro,” Otto breathed.

The shadowling blinked, raising his head stiffly. Pools of sweat, shaken loose by the movement, streaked down their face.

“I…couldn’t sleep,” Severin croaked. “Have I…have I been awake…?”

Godric looked up from his mug, finally noticing the sorcerer’s state. “Stars above, lad! Ya look like hell frozen over!”

The shadowling stared straight ahead, his breath coming in ragged strains.

“Could someone…please put out the fireplace…?”

Otto clucked their tongue, putting their hands on either side of Severin’s neck. His dark eyes fluttered shut, as if with great relief.

“Mm…”

“Ay, tu cabeza,” Otto cooed, putting their hand on Severin’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Severin finally looked down at the doctor. His tense gaze was now dazed, vulnerable - even afraid.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said again, hoarsely.

Otto rubbed their thumb on Severin’s feverish cheek. “I know, cariño. I know.”

***************

It took a lot more doing to get Severin to bed than it did Barlow. Not only did he insist he was perfectly well, only warm from the unlit fireplace, but that he had seen terrifying visions outside the window.

“Their eyes, doctor…they stared into my very essence…a…a beast of some kind…we’ll be killed…”

“Shhh, my love. It’s only a nightmare from your fever. You will feel better soon.”

In the end, the only way Otto could leave the cottage was by taking a small talisman Severin had in his cloak. They weren’t superstitious, but Otto wanted to do anything they could to put the sick sorcerer at ease.

Now with one less healthy person in the group, Otto rushed to get the last of the supplies for the cold winter ahead. The first snowflakes were beginning to fall, which made finding acorns that much more difficult. Before the sun reached its peak, the ground was completely covered in a thin layer of snow. But, for once, Otto’s anxiety was an advantage.

They plowed through every task as if their life depended on it. Another of their friends falling ill had kicked their healer instinct into high gear; whenever they were fatigued or sore, all it took was a few words of the healing oath to get them going again.

“From the monsters of the cave, of the sea, of the heart,” they whispered while peeling wild wolf onions, “I shall protect and provide for those who cannot.”

As morning turned to afternoon, the light flurry of the morning became a bitter gale that howled through the trees like a hungry animal. The world was silent except for the frigid wind - all the creatures of the forest knew well enough that the winter ahead would not be kind to them.

But Otto knew nothing of this.

And so they marched forward.

It was quite past dark when Otto returned to the cottage. Much to their delight, a fire was flickering in the fireplace, and a wonderful, familiar smell lingered in the air - a mixture of tender meat and spices.

As Otto had hoped, there was a pot of stew left over the flames. The broth still bubbled with warmth, and the chicken and vegetables gave off a heavenly steam. Their stomach suddenly felt very hollow.

They hadn’t eaten all day, had they?

With raw fingers, the doctor tried their best to use the ladle, which was as big as their entire arm and weighed twice as much. Gripping the handle with both hands, they brought the brew to their lips, taking care not to burn their tongue.

A beautiful, soothing flavor poured down Otto’s throat. They leaned their head back and closed their eyes, making sure to drink up every last tasty morsel. It was a long time before the ladle was empty again.

Once they were finished, the healer felt a heaviness collect around their eyes. Finally, at long last, they could rest. The cottage was fast asleep - and now it was time for Otto to follow suit.

Sleep came upon Otto too quickly for them to retire to their own bed. Like a hound after a successful hunt, they crawled onto the sofa and curled into a ball, dead to the world before their head hit the soft cushions.

*******************

Otto wasn’t sure how long they slept. They remembered bits and pieces of dreams, of words, or memories - but mostly a comforting darkness that lulled them into a deep drowse.

When they finally awoke, the first thing they saw was the flitting of the fire. The flame had all but burned itself out during the night. Otto rolled over, stretching and sighing with satisfaction. That was the best they had slept in several days.

They indulged themselves in a large yawn and shifted off the sofa, cringing from cold stone against their bare feet.

The cottage was still silent with sleep - not a thing stirred but the creaks and groans of the wooden beams. A frigid wind had picked up outside, and bits of snow swirled in the air.

How cold Godric must be this morning, Otto thought as they padded towards the hallway. The warrior was always up and working by first light - quite before anyone else was awake - but came back inside to drink some hot coffee and see how the preparations were going. Godric made a strong cup of coffee. One could smell it and be ready for a new day; that’s usually all most could stand without sputtering.

Today, however, there was no earthy aroma of it brewing. All Otto could smell was a hint of the stew they had eaten the night before - the husk of a beautiful, delicious dream.

The doctor peeked his head into Barlow’s room. The sprite was laying on his stomach, eyes closed and breath soft. Though they had been feeling better for the past day or so, Barlow’s nose frequently ran away with him, and was still very pink and sensitive. His upright ear twitched ever so slightly, but there was no sign of him stirring any time soon.

Severin, on the other hand, had fared much worse. Despite the many wet rags coating almost every inch of his febrile body, his breathing was still heavy and labored, and his eyes darted under closed eyelids. Bite marks covered cracking lips. Otto made sure they made little noise as they tiptoed from the doorway. Severin needed all the rest he could get.

Otto turned from his patients, a familiar heaviness weighing upon their heart. Such misery in what was supposed to be a warm season of reaping and feasting.

Perhaps it came back with them from market, or from the many travelers that take the nearby road into town. With how hard everyone had been working, and how many nights were left unslept…

Otto massaged the bridge of their nose, dashing from one possibility to the next, feeling more and more ashamed by how little they prepared, how stupid they must have been, how utterly selfish! They had been so busy with preparations that they had barely noticed that their journeymates were wasting away!

They could have done something. This was all their fault, wasn’t it? How could they be a healer if they couldn’t even keep the ones they loved safe?

Otto was roused from their guilt by the sound of harsh coughing. They peeked their head into the past two rooms, fearing that one of them had been awakened by their footsteps. However, both of them were still out cold. Or out warm, in Severin’s case.

No, the coughing wasn’t coming from their rooms, Otto realized. It was coming from the third bedroom - the one that they and Godric shared.

The door creaked open as Otto shuffled inside, already knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Doc? Is tha’ you?”

Godric was sitting up in bed, quilt wrapped around him, his chest heaving with another hacking fit. His cheeks were flushed with effort and fever. Otto went to his bedside, their heart dropping into their stomach.

“Real nice ‘a this cold to leave the healer last, eh?” the warrior joked before laying back down with a quiet groan.

Otto pushed the hair off Godric’s neck and felt his lymph nodes, which were not only hot, but terribly swollen.

“I can chop those few pieces ‘a wood, an’ then I’ll-”

“You are not getting out of this bed,” Otto said sternly. Then, with a kinder tone, “I know you want to finish your work, but you are very sick. You shouldn’t be out in the snow.”

“But how-”

“I will take care of it, cariño. Just rest.”

Godric opened his mouth to say something else, but just coughed and covered himself up with his quilt.

“Take care of yerself, doc,” he said before Otto went to check on the others. “There isn’t anythin’ I can’t do after I’m back on m’feet.”

***************

Between taking care of three sick creatures and the final preparations, Otto ran themselves ragged over the next few days. None of their friends were particularly hard to take care of - especially after Severin’s fever broke - but the heaviness of their heart continued to weigh upon them.

With no other options, they threw themselves into work.

If they chopped enough wood for an extra week, they chopped enough wood for two extra weeks. The larder was more than full. Their fingers and hands and back and everything else was sore, but they couldn’t stop for long without feeling their guilt gnaw away at them.

One frigid morning, Otto had taken to the axe, splitting wood and putting them in the shed to keep them dry. They had run out of pre-cut trunks a long time ago, so they started cutting sticks in half for kindling. Out of the corner of their eye, mid-swing, they saw a figure marching through the snow - lifting their foot high before stomping it down again with a crunch.

After a few minutes, Otto could finally see a pair of long ears fluttering in the cold wind.

“Barlow!”

The sprite grinned as he approached Otto, holding up a steaming container of something in his mittened hands.

“I got soup!” he called out, trying to move faster in the deep snow. “Godric felt a lot better today, so he wanted to try somethin’ new. It’s real good! Even Severin ate a whole bowl of it, so you know it’s gotta be great.”

Barlow sat next to the chopping block, and patted a mound of snow next to him. Otto sat down, wincing as their sore muscles twinged.

“Godric says we’re all packed up for winter,” Barlow continued as he handed Otto the food. “And we’ll even have stuff to eat in the spring, too.”

Otto didn’t answer, but tucked into the soup, not even blowing it off before putting the spoon in their mouth. Barlow thought for a little bit, then spoke again.

“Doc, Godric told me that we got more than enough food and wood to last through the winter. If you wanna come inside, we’ve got a checker game goin’…”

Otto didn’t respond, but they had started to shiver from the cold. Barlow took of his coat and draped it around Otto’s shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get back. Everybody’s waitin’ for us.”

Barlow took Otto by the hand and pulled them up, then led them back towards the cottage. Otto trailed behind like a quivering lamb, both exhausted and numb. They couldn’t think of much else than putting one foot in front of the other.

When the pair finally got back to the cottage, a warm, cozy scene awaited them. Severin was on the couch, doing needlepoint with half-open eyes and content look on his face. Godric was above the stove, stirring a pot and putting one seasoning or another into it. The fire was blazing in a lovely orange hue that painted the scene with a beautiful glow.

While Barlow went right inside and was greeted by the others, Otto stood in the doorway, weary eyes closed, soaking up the light and warmth as much as they could.

“Doctor?”

Severin was up now, his quiet wisdom regained. Before Otto could answer, the sorcerer started to remove their soaked outer layers with quick fingers.

“If Barlow didn’t bring you here,” Severin said, “you would have worked yourself to a frozen skeleton.”

Otto suddenly jerked his head to the side.

“het’TCH! TCH! TCH’UH!”

“Many blessings, doctor.”

Severin smiled and tilted his head.

“Many, many blessings.”

Otto sniffled, rubbing their nose with stiff fingers.

“Nngh…gracias. Just a little…heh…htch’CHU!”

“Aye, I don’ like tha’ sound of that,” Godric rumbled from the kitchen, turning his head to see the sickly healer.

Otto waved their hand. “Just a li-hih-ttle sdiffle…”

“One that is long overdue, I think,” Severin said, putting the last of their wet things away.

Otto was ushered in front of the fire, still at the mercy of his nose. With each sneeze came a chorus of blessings and, if need be, another handkerchief.

“That’s a real nasty cold, huh?” Barlow commented after a particularly forceful fit. “Even I didn’t sneeze that much.”

As the day came to a close, the group all gathered on the couch, listening to the wind howling outside and treating themselves to Godric’s famous roast and sweet apple tea. Otto didn’t eat very much, but the hot tea soothed their sore throat.

“Tank you for taking such good care of be,” Otto snuffled.

Godric chuckled. “Ya care so much about us, doc. It only makes sense that we’s care an awful lot about you, ‘specially when ya aren’t feelin’ well.”

“And after you tended so well to us, may I add,” Severin said, leaning his head back.

“Yeah!” Barlow agreed, not exactly as good with words as the others, but still just as thankful.

Otto, overcome, buried their face in Godric’s side and began to cry, letting out everything that they had felt in the past few days. They wanted to stop, they wanted to explain, but it was lost in desperate sobs and hiccuping. Godric held them closer to him while the others offered quiet support until the doctor quieted.

“There ya go,” Godric said, putting a large hand on Otto’s head. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Filled with comfort and warm food, Otto quickly dozed off, and the others weren’t far behind. The only sounds were the falling of fresh snow, the crackling of the fireplace, and the snores of deep, contented sleep.

And, as winter finally settled into Harbinger Woods, they all settled down for their long winter’s rest.

******************

Not only do I want to dedicate this to @perfectpaperbluebirds , who gave me the prompt, but also @sneezytomatosquish , who has been feeling emotionally and physically under the weather lately. That may have changed by the time this fic is finished, but I shall gift it to you anyway. You are one of my favorite creators, but I want to create something for you for a change. You deserve it.

Get well soon!

[iantimony]

tuesday again no porblme

listening: catching up on the locked tomb pod and extremely aggro about how one of the hosts Insists that there is Zero proof of harrow being romantically in love with gideon through any of the books. shakes them by the lapel. 'i am undone without you'

also TDH act iv on repeat all week. my spotify wrapped is gonna look soooo predictable

reading: i started flipping thru some of the quilting books i got from the library! mainly for inspiration and vibes, i should start looking at some of the techniques tho and planning out my little wall hanging for my mom :)

watching: many things...on saturday my roommate and i did a horror movie swap so we watched the descent (my rec) and insidious (her rec), insidious was fun but not very scary imo...darth maul lookin ass.

we also started interview with the vampire which i am deeply invested in now but not invested enough to Purchase AMC Streaming so im pirating that this week to continue this weekend...started severance today because we realized that her boyfriend has apple tv for us to steal...excited to get into that one months after its been relevant

playing: n/a

making: shawl progress continuing, almost at the point where i was before i had to frog a bunch of it! i also did a lot of embroidery this week on the sweater design that i offered to do for a friend literally a year ago because i want to try to finish it for the holiday season this year!

BONUS: what delights have I experienced?

walking around: minor walks! mainly a little stroll around downtown after picking up our vegetables (see deliciousness). there is a little catholic bookstore on main street that is never open and has weird hours but IT WAS OPEN so my roommate wanted to go in and this fucking book was in there and i lost my mind a little bit

fellowship: movie day with roommate on saturday ... not too much otherwise

deliciousness: ooooo okay so my roommate (and i think her bf is also gonna chip in some $ for it) signed up for a $40/week veggie basket from a local farm and it is soooo worth it. abundance. so much produce. carrots, radishes, dill, INSANE HUGE green onions (like two feet long at least), miscellaneous lettuce and kale and other greens...

we made a big italian wedding-style soup on sunday with some of the veg. yumb

goofing: i was gonna put n/a here but i was showing my roommate that atrocious clip of gigi hadid saying 'big slay' but i forgot how to pronounce her name so i said gigi with a hard g sound and that was a good goof

transcendence: went into a fugue state yesterday on my math homework. blacked out for two and a half hours and it was done.

amelioration: n/a

coitus: i got a coffee on our silly little downtown stroll and it fucked so hard

enthrallment: n/a

wildcard: there is glass in our garbage disposal because i broke one of my nice blue tumblers in the sink and a piece got stuck in the thing >:(

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Twelve ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3433

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity if you prefer!**

A/n Sorry for the delay! Thanks for your patience and for reading :) Also, I’m so glad you liked the cuteness of the last chapter <3

I wake to an insistent pounding on my door.

I grumble against the noise and the sunlight, pulling the thick duvet over my head.

“Cosima,” a voice sings from behind the wood. “Rise and shine, it is well past lunchtime.”

I crack open an eye. The sun shimmers aggressively, forcing me into a state of awareness. Too early. But Rumil’s wake-up calls and knocking are insistent, so I haul myself out of bed and dress quickly, running a washcloth over my face and a brush over my teeth. When I’m decent, I swing open the door to fix Rumil with what I hope is a withering glare.

He grins brightly. “You look tired.”

“Wow, thank you,” I deadpan, opening the door wider to allow him in. He jaunts to the chaise lounge and reclines on the pillows, evidently in the mood to borrow the luxury of my guest room.

I offer him a glass of lemon water and pour one for myself, then sit on the couch opposite him.

He gives me a sly look. “You know, Haldir came into our room quite early this morning.”

I freeze mid-sip.

Rumil nods gleefully. “Woke me up—quite rude, if you ask me. Though I do have to wonder, what kept him out so late? Surely he was exhausted from his long day at the borders.”

I take a deep breath, trying to relax the tension that has shot its way into my shoulders. Rumil just likes to tease. You didn’t do anything wrong or scandalous — not even anything of interest.

He continues. “And then I come to visit my friend out of the goodness of my heart and find her sound asleep at two in the afternoon. She greets me at the door with such dark circles under her eyes — did she sleep at all? What was so interesting that kept both my brother and my good friend awake into the early hours of the morning?”

I roll my eyes, trying to seem nonchalant about it. After all, there’s no reason to feel cornered like Rumil is so obviously trying to achieve. “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to the gardens when I ran into Haldir and he ended up coming with me.”

“To the gardens?”

“Yes.”

“Late at night?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, Rumil,” I huff.

He looks positively delighted. “And what did you do to pass all that time in the gardens late at night by yourselves?”

I squirm under his gaze then force myself to stop. It looks suspicious. “We talked a little. And then stargazed. At some point I fell asleep, he woke me up and walked me back to my room. The end.”

“The end,” Rumil echoes dubiously.

“Yes,” I insist, just about done with this conversation. It’s ridiculous — we did nothing to warrant this questioning. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask your brother.”

“I did.” My eyes blow wide in disbelief. Somehow, Rumil looks even more smug than he did a second ago. “He quite forcefully told me to leave him and you alone. Such a strong reaction over a little thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

I fight the urge to groan loudly and instead take a sip of my water. I cross one leg over the other. “Is there something you would like to say or are you just here to interrogate me?”

He shrugs, looking completely unapologetic. “No, I think I am done for now. I’ll let you know if that changes, though.”

“Please do,” I snark.

He stands, placing his glass on the table. “I did actually come here for a larger purpose. Orophin and Lavandil went riding and missed lunch, so we’re having an impromptu picnic in one of the towers. It has some lovely views. Would you join us?”

The emptiness in my stomach begs me to agree, but the word ‘tower’ gives me pause. Rumil guesses the direction of my thoughts and huffs. “The tower is encased in stone, it is perfectly safe. You would have to jump onto the barrier and lean over to be in danger of falling off.”

I consider his words. That doesn’t sound too bad, and I am hungry. “Alright,” I agree. “But I’m inviting Alex.”

Rumil makes a noise of general acceptance and gives me directions to the tower. Before leaving, he snatches one of the thicker quilts from a storage basket. “Cost of attendance is the blanket we use to sit on. See you there!” With a cheeky wink, he disappears, leaving me feeling whiplash from the quick turns in our conversation.

Before leaving to find Alex, I pull a few pillows from the seating area. They’ll make for some extra cushion on the hard stone. And, since Rumil annoyed me, he will not be getting one.

Ha.

At my knock, Alex throws his door open, greeting me with a wide smile. “Hello, Cosima.”

Well, that’s not what I was expecting. I blink and step into his room, careful not to tread on one of the many books and scrolls scattered around the floor. “Uh, you’re more chipper than I thought you would be after yesterday. How are you doing?”

He shrugs, throwing his hands into his pockets. “I mean, it didn’t feel great to find out that Elrond can’t help us, but I am holding out hope for Lady Galadriel. In the meantime, though, I’ve borrowed some materials from the library to see if there’s anything I can learn to help in getting us home. Most of them are in that Elvish language—Sindarin—so I’m having to learn the basics of the language first. Baranor offered to help — we’re meeting this evening after he’s done with his shift in the healing wards. Want to read the English ones with me and then come along? I’m sure he’d be fine with teaching you, too.”

“Um…” I trail off, feeling guilty. I’m attending a picnic with my friends while Alex is pouring over resources and learning the language of this land — he’s doing something helpful to try and get us home.

But if I’m being honest, I don’t want to do research right now. It’s not like there’s likely to be anything we could do, anyway. The best option is to just wait for Lothlórien and see what Lady Galadriel says. I clutch the bulky cushions tighter in my arms. “Can I take a rain check? A few of us are going to the tower to have a late lunch. That’s actually why I came here. Want to come?”

Alex looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You don’t want to see if there’s something in these books to help us?”

I shift my weight uneasily. “Not now…I haven’t eaten yet, and I already said I would go to the picnic. And I mean, come on, how likely is it that there’s something in those books Elrond isn’t aware of? It’s his library.”

“It has forty-two thousand volumes.”

“He’s lived a long time,” I defend weakly.

Alex’s eyes tighten into a glare.

“Look,” I try, “I’m gonna go eat, but what if I joined you and Baranor this evening? It’s smart to learn the language. And then maybe later I can help you look through these books.”

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, looking frustrated but resigned. “Yeah, that’s fine. We’re meeting at five-thirty on the second floor of the library.”

“Okay,” I exhale, relived to have avoided a larger argument “I’ll be there. You sure you don’t want to come eat?”

He shakes his head, crouching to the ground to pick up a particularly withered scroll. “No, I ate in the dining hall. See you tonight.”

“See you,” I mumble, backing out of the room. I feel bad for not helping him, but hopefully joining him and Baranor tonight will smooth things over.

Following Rumil’s directions are relatively easy and, before I know it, I’m navigating the hallways to one of the towers built into Elrond’s home.

“Cosima!”

I stop in my tracks and turn at Haldir’s call. He jogs to catch up to me, having just entered the long hallway, and greets me with a pleasant smile. As always, he looks perfectly rested and put together — not a strand of hair out of place. Today he wears a tunic of deep grey, his clear blue eyes standing out in stark contrast.  

“Hi!” I wait for him to fall into step beside me. Unbidden, Rumil’s gleeful teasing enters my mind, and I feel my face go hot. What? I clear my throat. “Are you going up, too?”

“Yes, it’s—here,” he pulls the four bulky pillows from my grasp into his. My arms drop limply at my sides, suddenly relieved from their task. To give them something to do, I tug on the sides of my dress, trying to smooth the wrinkles that have somehow already appeared.

Haldir continues. “Rumil insisted it would be fun and it’s such a nice day I figured, why not?”

We turn a corner and begin our ascent up a tall spiral staircase. I remember a snippet of our conversation from last night. “Has Glorfindel come around?”

The edge of Haldir’s mouth pulls into a frown. “No. I talked with Elrond anyway and he’s agreed to my plan. It has set Glorfindel and myself at odds though, since I went over his head.”

I purse my lips. Though Haldir doesn’t say it, he’s clearly bothered by this outcome — it’s obvious he hoped to resolve things peacefully with Glorfindel and gain Elrond’s support. I hurry to try and make him feel better. “You did the right thing. So what if you went over his head? If it keeps people safe, I doubt it really matters how the plan came to be. And as commander, isn’t it his job to recognize advantageous strategies regardless of where they come from? I wouldn’t worry too much about being at odds with Glorfindel — the two of you will reconcile soon enough. And in the meantime, it’s good that Elrond agreed with you. Now Imladris has more time to better prepare.”

Haldir pauses on the step above me, turning with his head tilted slightly to the side.

I freeze. “What?” Did I intrude? Did I offend him somehow?

“No, it’s—I…” He sighs, offering me a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Oh, good. I breathe out in relief, returning his smile. We resume our climb.

“Elrond gave the order to call up the entire force and rotate the soldiers — they should all be switched in about a week. He’s asked me to oversee their training, to teach the strategies I use with my own guard in Lothlórien.”

I snort. “You’re going to work while you’re on vacation? That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard.”

He rolls his eyes, but the smile never leaves his face. “It’s important and something I enjoy, so I am happy to help. I haven’t forgotten my offer to you, though.”

I furrow my eyebrows. Huh?

“Do you still want to learn how to defend yourself?”

“Oh! Yeah, definitely, if you’ve got the time.”

He steps onto the landing, moving forward to make room for me. “Of course I’ve got the time.”

I step up next to him—

And immediately return to the staircase.

Haldir alternates between looking at me in confusion and scanning his eyes over our surroundings, wondering what would make me practically jump away from the landing.

He doesn’t have to wonder long.

“You said it was encased in stone,” I shout accusingly over Rumil’s wailing laughter.

“Did I say encased? I meant made of. Whoops, my mistake.”

“Rumil,” Haldir grumbles in annoyance, but that only seems to make his brother laugh harder.

The tower is not, as Rumil promised, encased in stone, but rather a circular platform with only a roof and four stone pillars to protect from falling. There is no guard wall or even a thin railing. And we are stories above the ground.

“Cosima, it’s alright,” Lavandil coos, though her encouraging words are damaged by her giggles. “Elves have wonderful balance, no one is going to let you fall. And look—we are set up right in the middle.”

“If it helps, I can shove Rumil off the tower to demonstrate elven reflexes,” Orophin offers through a chuckle.

This does make me feel slightly better, and I crack a small smile. On the step above me, Haldir waits patiently. Maybe I’m just being silly. I take a deep breath and step up to join Haldir on the landing.

And nearly sway in fear.

To my right and left are open sky — and too many feet below, the hard, deadly ground.

I suck in a sharp breath.

Rumil waves in joyful greeting. “Good to see you both. Now do sit down, Cosima, I worry you will faint and tumble over the edge.”

His words resonate with a very real fear and I scurry forward and practically throw myself onto the blanket. Haldir follows closely behind, offering a cushion to myself and Lavandil before using another to hit his youngest brother over the head. Even in my nervous state, I can’t help but join Orophin and Lavandil in their shocked laughter.

“Didn’t our parents teach you not to lie,” Haldir drawls, dropping the cushion to my left and sitting upon it. He tosses the other to Orophin, raising an eyebrow at Rumil as if asking him to challenge his choice.

Rumil grins, completely unaffected. “Then I apologize, dear Cosima, but your face was hilarious. And don’t you know we all like you too much to let you die?”

I huff, rolling my eyes and feeling better as long as I focus on the faces of my friends rather than the nearness of the edge. “Thanks.”

Lavandil wisely changes the subject. “No Alex?”

I shake my head. “He’s doing some research today. I’m supposed to meet him in the library at five-thirty — Baranor’s going to teach us Sindarin.”

A chorus of approval runs through the group.

“That’s a useful skill,” Rumil nods, taking a sip of what looks like orange juice.

“I’d be happy to practice conversation with you once you learn the basics,” Lavandil offers, and I accept readily. From the little I’ve spoken with her, I like Lavandil, and it would be nice to spend more time with her.

Tired of being the focus, I turn the conversation on my friends. I gesture between Lavandil and Orophin. “How did you two meet?”

Lavandil launches into an animated account of her relationship with Orophin from start to where they are now. Apparently, they met eight years prior when Haldir and Orophin were part of a company escorting Lady Galadriel to Imladris. Orophin was taken with her immediately, but it took Lavandil a little longer to come around.

“I always swore I would marry an architect—anyone but a solder,” she laments with comical exaggeration. “But eventually he persuaded me to give him a chance, and I haven’t looked back since.”

Orophin takes her hand in his and squeezes, staring at her like she’s the center of his world.

I don’t want to pry, but I do wonder how elven relationships differ from human ones. Just the time they’ve been courting—eight years—is much longer than I think is the standard for humans. I am lacking in memory, but surely with how short human lifespans are, they get married quicker? I make a note to ask Lavandil or Rumil about this later. Though, with all Rumil’s teasing of late, Lavandil is probably the safer option.

After I learn how Lavandil and Orophin got together, I have a lot of other questions about the lives these friends of mine lived before I knew them. As afternoon passes into evening, I discover that Rumil—unsurprisingly—has been the instigator of no less than four human bar fights, Lavandil once snuck from her childhood home to try and explore the mountains (and was promptly sent back to a furious mother), Orophin is apparently the life of the party after a bottle of Elvish wine, and, in his first few years of the guard, Haldir constantly challenged his superiors, to the point where they would send him off on solo trips just to be rid of the relentless suggestions. Before I know it, the first stretches of sunset streak through the sky and it’s nearing the time I set to meet Alex and Baranor.

I stand, sighing with no small amount of regret. I wish I could stay here with them all night. “I’ll see you tomorrow! I’ve got to get to the library for lessons.”

Rumil waves goodbye. “I’ll drop the blanket and cushions in your room. You know, as penance for tricking you.”

I roll my eyes, concentrating on his face rather than the open sky all too close to my feet. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it, but thank you.”

“Do you know the way?” Lavandil looks up at me with mild concern. I assure her that I’ve visited the library before and am mostly confident in my ability to not get lost.

Haldir wraps an apple and some bread in cloth and passes me the bundle. In response to my raised eyebrow, he quirks a knowing smile. “Baranor is likely to keep you well past dinner. He loves his lectures.”

I chuckle, agreeing that Baranor probably will, and thank my friend. After a final round of goodbyes, I hurry as quickly and carefully as I can to the security of the stairwell and head in the direction of the library.

{***}

Sindarin is complicated. Baranor seems to have an endless reserve of patience — how? I have no clue.

Alex struggles just as much as I do, but it is clear that he is more dedicated than I and pushes to keep his attention into the late hours of the night. I’m grateful Haldir had the forethought to send me with food, as are Alex and Baranor, who share the dinner. By the time ten o’clock rolls around, I’m fighting back yawns. I think I’ve got the alphabet down, though that isn’t even technically Sindarin — it’s the writing system called Tengwar — so I don’t even have any conversational phrases to try with Lavandil.

At midnight, Baranor finally calls it, acknowledging that he will need some sleep if he is to put in a full day tomorrow of researching with Elrond and doing a shift in the healing wards. But he graciously commits to teaching us three evenings a week after dinner and maintains that, after practice and time, we will improve.

We say our goodbyes and I practically stumble out of the library. I can think of nothing more than my plush duvet and cool mattress. Alex, on the other hand, somehow almost vibrates with energy. He seems rejuvenated, renewed, and for the first time, I recognize him as the same man in my memories — no longer is he weighed down by malnutrition, injury, exhaustion, and defeat. But it’s more than that. He’s no longer angry — hope lights up his eyes. He smiles broadly and insists on walking me to my room.

“Worried you’re gonna fall over, Cosi,” he reasons, sending me a wink. Even in my tired state, I have to blanch. It’s like being with a whole new person. But at the same time, I know this person. I like this Alex. At the very least, I know what to expect from him — he’s the friend I remember.

Though I do worry…what will happen to him if this search for answers is a dead end? What if we can’t get home?

I don’t want to think about how he would feel, then.

I don’t want to think about how I would feel, then.

We climb the stairs and reach my door, pausing outside it momentarily. I turn to my friend, giving him a sleepy smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too,” he agrees, leaning against the doorframe. “I just needed something to do. Now I don’t feel so helpless. And you’re okay? After yesterday’s setback?”

I sigh against the drowsiness. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Don’t you worry about me.”

He nudges my shoe with his. “Good. Alright, I’ll leave you alone. Sleep tight, Cosi.”

I smile, waving as he walks down the hallway. “Night, Alex.”

Entering my room, I see that Rumil kept to his word and left the folded blanket on my couch with the four pillows stacked neatly on top. Still doesn’t atone for all his foolishness today. Crawling into my bed, I instantly fall asleep.

A/n Thanks for reading! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Comments, likes, and reblogs make my day! 

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

[master-sass-blast]

Picnics and Planning.

Hi, I hurt my back and I have no idea how; have some plot free fluff.

Summary: You and Piotr decide to have a picnic dinner in your backyard --and have some important life conversations while you're at it.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: G for fluff.

Word count: 1.2k.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical” and before “Period Pains.”

Taglist:  @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

You grin when you hear the front door open and close, followed by Piotr’s signature heavy stride. “Hey, honey! How was work today?”

“Not bad.” His keys clatter against the dish you guys keep by the front door for holding essentials. “Russell passed Russian language final with flying colors.”

“Hooray! That’s great!” You pad out of the kitchen, smiling sunnily as you step into your husband’s waiting embrace. You sigh, melting against his burly chest. “Hi.”

“Privet, myshka.” Piotr kisses the top of your head, then tips your chin up so he can press his lips against yours. After a moment, he breaks the kiss and asks, “How was your day?”

“Good. Did some grading, reviewed some essays for the freshmen writing course –oh, we’re out of grapes. I ate the last of them for lunch.”

Piotr chuckles. “I guess we will have to make run to store soon.”

“And here I thought you had a lifetime supply of protein bars squirrelled away in your office.”

Piotr arches an eyebrow at you, grinning whilst you giggle. “Very funny, myshka.”

“Thank you; I certainly thought so.” You squeal when he tickles your ribs, then settle back against him, laughing breathlessly. “Does anything sound good for dinner?”

“We have mac and cheese—”

“Not anymore. I ate that for lunch, too.”

“Ah. We could make pancakes—”

“We’re out of eggs. You polished them off for breakfast yesterday.”

“Oh.” Piotr ‘hmms,’ fingers idly playing with your hair. “We could do pizza –no, finished box on Saturday.”

“Yeah.” You look up at him, smiling hopefully. “We could get take-out.”

He grimaces. “Nyet. Pozhaluysta.”

“Okay. Well, I think that leaves… sandwiches.”

“Sandwich is fine,” he says with a shrug.

“Sandwiches it is. You want to have a picnic outside?”

Piotr grins down at you. “I want nothing more.”

“Sounds good.” You grin back, then roll up on the balls of your feet to kiss him.

 ***

 The two of you settle on the lawn space just off the back deck. You lay out a massive, fluffy, light green quilt while Piotr carries out a basket with your sandwiches, some chips and other sides, and a couple of water bottles. It’s early evening in the beginning of May, meaning that the air is balmy against your skin and that the air is still filled with the sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing.

You flop down onto the blanket, letting out a content, relieved sigh. You gaze up at the early evening sky, smiling as the world slowly goes golden in the warm summer light. “This is nice.”

“Da.” Piotr sets the basket down on the center of the blanket, then sits down next to you. He smiles softly at you, stroking his fingers through your hair. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.” You beam up at him, then sit up so you can kiss his cheek. “I’ve got you. Of course, I’m happy.”

Piotr ducks his head, cheeks flushing. His mouth curves into a pleased smile, and then he turns his head and kisses your lips. “Ya tebya lyublyu, myshka.”

“I love you, too, baby.” You kiss him again, then grin up at him. “Sandwiches?”

Piotr chuckles and nods; he reaches for the basket. “Sandwiches.”

It’s a simple affair. There’s a couple of plates tucked in the basket –because your husband packed the basket, so of course he included plates—to set your sandwiches on, but the two of you largely just kick back and relax. Take in the outside weather. Bask in the summer warmth and your love for one another.

It’s perfect.

“How’s lesson planning going?” you ask between bites of your chicken salad sandwich.

Piotr nods as he chews his bite, then swallows and washes it down with some water before replying. “Is good. Kurt and I are redesigning foreign language and culture program in school for upcoming term. We want to include more projects for students, make courses more interactive.”

“Ooh, very cool,” you say as you pluck a few grapes off a larger cluster. “What do you guys have in mind?”

“Cooking projects, more assignments involving music and film –perhaps couple of field trips, if school can afford them.”

You grin. “That sounds like fun. I’m sure your students will love that.”

He smiles back. “Spasibo, myshka.”

The two of you lapse into silence, instead enjoying the sounds of the birds chirping and the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees.

“What happens when I get pregnant?” you ask.

Piotr blinks, then stares over at you. “Chto?”

“Like—” you shrug “—do I stop being an X-Woman? Do we both stop to take care of the baby? Like… what’s the plan?”

“I guess we would have to talk about this,” Piotr says, shrugging back at you. “Where—” He chuckles. “Where did this come from?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging again. “We were talking about school and the upcoming year and your ‘kids,’ so my mind went to babies. It makes sense to me.” You stick your tongue out at him when he laughs again. “Laugh all you want, dorkus. It’s still a valid question.”

“It is,” Piotr agrees, nodding. He lays back on the blanket and looks up at you. “You will be one carrying and giving birth to baby. What do you want?”

“We’re both raising the baby –or babies, depending on how many we have. We both need to have input on this,” you fire back. You lean back, support your weight on your palms. “I know you love being an X-Man.”

“I do.” He reaches over and takes your hand in his. “But pregnancy and birth will have larger impact on you than me. I want to make sure you are supported.”

You squeeze his hand and smile down at him. “Thank you, baby. And I know you’ll take good care of me while I’m pregnant. I’m more worried about while the kid –or kids—is growing up. Like… what do we do while they’re in school? Is it right of us to keep running missions while they need us to raise them and be around to take care of them?”

“Aah.” Piotr nods to himself, staring up at the sky as he mulls your question over. “I… am conflicted.”

“How come?”

“I love being X-Men,” Piotr says, watching birds fly overhead. “Gives me purpose, sense of role in society. But… I do not think it would be right to our future children if their lives are always turned upside down by being X-Men. They deserve stability. Security.”

“But is that any different from parents who serve in the military? Or as firefighters? Or any other number of ‘risky’ jobs?” you ask. “Are we being irresponsible by being on the duty roster, considering that there are thousands of families in similar situations as us?”

“I do not know, myshka,” Piotr says after a moment. “I do not think we will find answer tonight.”

“I know. I just think we need to settle on an answer before we decide to have kids.”

“Agreed.”

You sigh, then lay down next to him, pillowing your head on his chest. You sling one leg over his hips, nestling yourself against him. “Love you, baby.”

Piotr puts an arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “I love you, also, dorogoy.”

[smallpotatoknitwear]

WIP blanket update 3/21/21

Here we go, another WIP blanket update! It’s been a good... two and a half? weeks since my last one, and I’m wrapping up a project, so I figured it was a good time for a new post!

Not pictured: Scrap c2c, because I finished it; Granny Square Quilt, because I’ve put it on pause until I finish my other Caron Chunky Cakes blankets; and Ten-Stitch, because I’ve only done one more color stripe on it, which isn’t even a whole “side” of the square of progress!

Mitered Granny Square

Remember this “came out of nowhere” blanket from the last WIP post? Well, now it’s the one I’m closest to finishing 😂 My goal is to finish this blanket by the end of the weekend—the end of today, that is. I took these photos yesterday, when I was about halfway through skein five out of six, and I’ve already finished that skein and started on the final one! So, here’s to hoping I can get through that skein today! Technically, after that, I’m still going to do a border, and I’m toying around with the idea of adding some flowers to the blanket, but we’ll see how it goes. No matter what, this blanket will be done before I get around to doing another WIP post!

Also, as you can see, Bunchy is a big fan of the yarn for this one, if nothing else. She went a little wild while I was trying to get these pictures taken, and tried to eat the yarn😅

Made using Caron Baby Cakes in Candy Heart and a US size H hook. I referenced this pattern on Ravelry to start, but modified it after the first few rows—and unfortunately, I really have no idea what I did to get to the point I’m at now for working on it.

Tilt-a-Whirl Afghan

I haven’t spent much time on this blanket lately, because I’ve devoted most of it to working on the mitered granny, but I have gotten a few more squares done! My goal is to have this blanket finished by 4/10. Why 4/10, you ask? Because that’s the one-year anniversary of the first quarantine blanket I made, and I want to be able to add this one into the count of blankets I’ve made since then (along with the mitered granny). It may not have the border 100% done by that time, because I plan to do a fairly wide one, but as long as the blanket itself is done, I’m counting it! 😂

In my last post, I put a mock-up of how I was altering the pattern of this blanket—switching colors around, and changing the outer rows to solid-color squares to sort of “frame” the pattern. I had the “frame” done in black in the mock-up, but found this lovely charcoal to use instead! I think the charcoal will be a little less stark of an outside edge than the black would have been, and since the blanket is sort of sunset themed/inspired, I think it’ll be better.

Total pieces: 7/42, plus four halves.

Granny Stripe Blanket

It’s back! This blanket didn’t pop up in my last WIP post, because I hadn’t worked on it, but I’ve done an additional... two? skeins, I think, since the last time y’all saw it. I’m really bad about breaking this one out to work on, so I have a new rule that any time I uncover the project basket, or move it, or anything like that, I have to do at least one row on the blanket—which means that I did a row even when I took it out to take this picture. That way, at least I’m making a tiny bit of progress on it! I’m loving the way the colors have pooled so far, but I’m glad that they’re sort of starting to switch around as I work also so that the blanket doesn’t end up being basically half and half 😅

This blanket is based on this Granny Stripe Baby Blanket pattern by Repeat Crafter Me, but I’ve made it about three times as wide—my starting chain was 309 stitches, instead of 109. I’m using Red Heart Super Saver Stripes in Retro Stripe, and a 4.0 mm hook.

[sparkmender]

Here’s the first chapter of Close Encounters, the Faebug/Hive AU series I’ve been working on. I’m gonna cross post most of this stuff to Tumblr too just in an effort to keep things organized. :>

It’s Monday night—

The last Monday night before the end of the world, not that anyone knows it—

And there are two blue, pupil-less eyes the size of the headlights on her beat up VW Beetle staring at her through her bedroom window.

They blink out almost as soon as Charlie twitches. Whatever it was probably got spooked off by the fact that she jolted upright in bed and stared right back at it, compelled by— something. That feeling of being watched. The remnants of a nightmare. Whatever.

If whatever the eyes belonged to made noise as it departed, she couldn’t hear it over the buzz of the heavy fan her mom helped her drag into the big bedroom when she moved in to the old Ochoco house. It might as well not’ve been there at all.

Except for the fact that she saw it, and all the hair on the back of her neck and along her arms stood like she’d rubbed a balloon over herself to see the static electricity.

Lots of things had been a little weird since yesterday, though. Especially in the upper Northwest. It’s not exactly every day that a volcano goes off in the United States. Even if Oregon is a state away from Washington, Sunday had been stressful, to say the least. Some part of her had anticipated another explosion at some point. Guillermo had teased her for being a worry-wart and then started listing off all sorts of possibly apocalyptic events from most to least likely on his fingers. He got to ‘alien robots who disguise themselves as kitchen appliances’ before Charlie threw a shoe at him.

Under the quilt next to her, Guillermo sleeps as he always does, an arm shoved under his ridiculous stack of pillows and his long legs tangled in more than his fair share of the sheets.

Maybe it’s all in her head. Dreams were supposed to be how the brain processed stuff that happened during the day, right? So.

So she’s not crazy. It’s just her brain trying to make sense of the whole active volcano thing compounded by childhood fears and the well-ingrained camping habit of keeping an ear out for bears trying to pilfer your supplies.

Probably.

Charlie doesn’t sleep the rest of the night, or she could have sworn she hadn’t, but between this blink and the next the alarm is going off on the nightstand and Memo’s already in the kitchen, fighting with the coffee maker he can’t stand to get rid of because he bought it with his first paycheck from his magazine gig. (Who knew speculative sci-fi nerd writing not only paid, but paid well, with the right kind of publisher?) If he’d heard anything in the night, he doesn’t mention it.

After pulling her socks on but before shoveling flapjacks into her mouth, the eyes are forgotten.

If they’d ever existed at all.

————

In fact, the eyes remain forgotten all the way until her third break of the day, hanging out with two of the older rangers who’d come back to the main office after clearing out a couple of downed trees off the Crater Lake hiking trail. Samson Jr.— who usually went by ‘Spike’— was a lanky, shaggy brunet a few years older than Charlie who still got carded at every bar they went to, with a permanent sunburn across the bridge of his nose and a personality so sunny it bordered on obnoxious. On the other hand, his father, Samson Sr., was a warm, stocky man who worked construction before throwing his lot in with parks and recreation and could have been anywhere from his mid 40s to his late 60s. They’d both been there when Charlie had started as an intern in college and were probably both going to still be there if she ever decided to leave or get transferred somewhere warmer, like California, or something.

She liked the both of them. Samson was more of a family figure to her than her stepdad Ron, and he’d helped her get a permanent spot on the team. Sometimes she and Memo went out with Spike and his girlfriend Carly, and Memo and Spike had more than a few interests in common. Mainly Star Wars, but also stuff like He-Man and tabletop games and computers. Most of it went over Charlie’s head— she’d grown up a music nerd thanks to Dad and a car fanatic thanks to Uncle Hank, never much one for pulp fiction— but she and Carly enjoyed teasing the two of them for being ‘Oregon’s own X-Files department.'

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Spike brought up his perennial fixation, Bigfoot theories, again.

“I don’t know,” he’d started, mouth full of half of a Snickers bar as he waved the other end of it around for emphasis. “I don’t know. But I don’t think that those trees just fell over for no reason. I mean, there were some aftershocks from the eruption, right? But nothing out here. It kind of looked more like some kind of impact hit them, sort of like a boulder had rolled down the hill and toppled ‘em over. But that doesn’t make any sense either, since there’s no loose rocks large enough to knock over three whole fir trees on that side of the trail. Maybe it was a Sasquatch. I bet they mark their territory by brushing up against trees like the bears do, and this one just got over-enthusiastic.”

Samson snatched the other half of the candy bar before Spike could accidentally smack Charlie with it, just to toss it back into the basket of goodies on the windowsill again.

“First of all, stop raiding the candy stash. That’s for visitors, and last I checked, you haven’t been a visitor since you were 16,” the older man scolded, but he couldn’t quite keep the amusement off his face— Spike had to have gotten his enthusiasm from somewhere. “And something tells me that if there really was a ‘sat-squash’ or whatever it is, it probably wouldn’t be hanging around where there’s regular humans coming and going all day, every day. At least if it knew what was good for it. It was just a regular tree fall, it’s been cleared, and now we’ve got more firewood for the campers.”

Though mourning the loss of his candy, Spike was quick to poke a finger in the air triumphantly at Samson.

“Okay, but how do you explain the fur clumps we found scattered there, huh? Way softer than any regular sort of wild animal.”

Charlie had been absently nodding along to their pseudo-argument, only to perk up at Spike’s outburst, dropping the pen she’d been fiddling with. And then curse herself out silently as both of the older rangers turned to her at the way she’d reacted. In the back of her head, she remembered: that split-second glimpse of those unnaturally big eyes, framed by fluff and set into a broad, flat face.

“Uh.”

Spike grinned.

“See? Charlie agrees with me—”

“She said ‘uh,’ Junior, that’s not an agreement—”

“I mean, maybe,” she blurts out before she can stop herself, heat flushing her face at the outburst, awkwardly picking up the pen she’d dropped to snap the cap over it again. “I don’t know what’s out there. You know what they tell us when we start ranger training; don’t go off the trails.”

God, it’s like Charlie can’t help herself, suddenly, as superstitious and paranoid as one of the characters Memo would write into his stories. It was all just stuff the trainers would tell them to haze the kids starting out, the sort of shit teenagers joked about or camp councilors made up to freak out their campers. None of it was actually true. But in another life, maybe, to someone more interesting or smarter or less lucky (or luckier, some stupid impulse wants to say) than Charlie—

For a moment, vivid and shining, Charlie felt some spark of pure terror in her.

The thing in her bedroom window. Was it still near her house? Was she going to come home to find Guillermo missing, or worse?

“Sure, some of it is just common sense safety guidelines, but what about the weirder ones? The rules about not climbing random staircases in the woods— don’t stop to listen to any music if you’re not near a registered campsite, like that’s ever been a thing? Or never telling someone you meet without gear on a trail what your name is? I mean, there’s got to be some kind of a reason for these things, or else we wouldn’t all have them hammered into our skulls over the course of three years,” she rambles, pulse thudding in her ears. “Nobody makes up how-tos about things for no reason.”

In the quiet pause in conversation that followed, Charlie felt the embarrassed burn on her face spread to her ears and creep down the back of her neck.

“…Or it’s an opportunistic raccoon?” she squeaks out.

“Probably a raccoon. Damn.” Spike finally relents, shoulders slumping with a dejected sigh. He really looks genuinely disappointed, soon ambling over to drape himself over Charlie’s desk in the hopes of some sympathy pats as Samson chuckles in the background about how today’s cinema is rotting everybody's brains out their ears.

————

Nobody notices the candy basket on the windowsill going missing as they head back out to do rounds of the campgrounds.

[lucrezia-thoughts]

Dearest Lucrezia…

Hello! I hope you’ve been feeling better since yesterday, and that this weekend can be a little more restful for you :)

Not really a request, but just a continuation of the cottagecore theme I had going on for our lovely Will…

Okay, so, quilts.

Personally, I have no idea how to make a quilt, even though I do know how to sew and use a sewing machine. Can’t be too hard right? But I would love to just learn—one, because cool life skill and I like using my hands, and two, can you imagine giving a quilt to somebody as a gift??? So soft, ughhhhh.

So with that in mind, making a quilt for Will (because he is a blankie boy and deserves only the finest of handcrafted, love-sewn covers). I can imagine doing fun lil patterns like herringbone or basket weave with cute colors? Hiding it from him because you want it to be a surprise—squirreling away supplies and getting really good at stuffing it places quick because he’s come home earlier than expected?

I feel like Will would know something was up, but upon your insistence to keep it a surprise, he would humor you (he doesn’t rub me as the kind of guy to snoop against someone else’s wishes). And then finally, finally, giving it to him for his birthday or for Christmas or just because he deserves a nice, handmade quilt to keep him warm at night??? I imagine he’d be so soft and happy and he wouldn’t stop smiling.

Later, when you’ve cleaned up dinner and come out into the living room, you see him laid out over the couch (his feet hanging off over the edge because mans is tall) all snuggled with the quilt pulled up to his chin—next thing you know he’s opening it up to pull you into him, swaddling you both in your hard work 🥺

Sending copious amounts of hugs your and Neville’s way as usual,

-🐞

Bonus: making quilts for your kids if you and Will decide to have them :3

My dearest 🐞!!

There is clearly a conspiracy afoot today to turn me into a puddle of goo incapable of doing more than swooning...

But I am NOT COMPLAINING!!!

This is so outrageously sweet!! It makes my heart ache in the best possible ways... and OMG!!! SNUGGLING UNDER A HAND MADE BLANKIE WITH WILL AND THE NUGGET???????

[GIFs not mine, all credit goes to original creator]

[nonbinary-octopus]

so this weekend is my usual bi-weekly grocery weekend, and so since I will probably be going out tomorrow (probably. still need to write a grocery list, but I definitely need to get food tomorrow or sunday), of course I went to check up on my mask situation.

There were two masks in the drawer where my masks are supposed to be, the flat, accordion style mask (I do not know what any of the mask shapes/styles are called), and the first one I made out of the same turtle flannel I used in the baby shark quilt, and the other I made with pink rose fabric with white fabric for the inside and the straps. I dunno if I ever showed or mentioned on here, but I made a double circle skirt a bit ago out of pink rose fabric, and white shorts to wear underneath, and that mask is made of the same fabric. But I don't really like going grocery shopping in them, cause they squish my nose and over the duration of a shopping trip it gets pretty sore. First masks I made, learning experience. Plus the rose one's a little small because I didn't measure too carefully. anyway.

in my laundry basket, one mask, of the kind that's made of two curved pieces of fabric sewn together, and it's got a pumpkin face on it. Sort of a reverse pumpkin face, it's black background with orange jackolantern nose and mouth. Got it at a cvs. (all my storebought masks (currently all of them but the two accordion masks but that will change) are from cvs.) I wore it to go down and get a package earlier today. probably should have worn one of the acordian masks since it was such a short trip but oh well.

so since I can't wear the comfy mask because it's in the laundry and obviously it has to be washed first before I put it on again, but I can't just do laundry to fix that because I did laundry yesterday and there's not enough dirty clothes for a load, and I don't want to wear the accordian masks because they're not comfortable, I went looking for my other masks.

went digging in my closet. specifically in the pile of clean clothes in my closet. it's not on the floor of my closet but only because I happen to have an extra bed in my closet and I dump my clean laundry on it. though now they're mostly on the floor because I had to move them off the bed to search. or at least the stuff that goes on hangers is in a pile on the floor. the stuff that goes in sorty bins by the door are now in the sorty bins by the door.

And I found one more mask! The first mask I bought from a store. It has dinosaurs on it. It's a flat mask, but it's not a rectangle, so it's more comfortable than the accordion masks. I dunno how that works exactly, but it does. Problem is it's kinda smallish and I don't feel like it quite covers my face as much as I'd like

I mean, I'm sure it's sufficient, it covers both my mouth and my nose, but if I open my mouth as wide as I physically can, I can get it past the edge of the mask

so I'm like. I know I have at least two other masks. There's the hexagons one (same cut as the pumpkin one), and the green one, which is a shaped mask, with a fold in the middle, a dart for the nose, and a chin triangle. (kinda the same resulting shape as a chin dart, but the seam is in a different place. requires more cutting AND more sewing, but it might be more comfortable?)

Problem is, I've gone through the entire thing of clean laundry, and they're nowhere to be found. So I'm thinking, okay, tomorrow morning, I need to make another mask, a comfy one. I'll use the pattern I made from the green mask. (Unfortunately, despite being a super comfortable shape, it's made of a kinda scratchy material I don't particularly enjoy touching my face, but fortunately, I spent a good portion of last saturday using it to make a mask pattern, which I then used to make a prototype out of my white mockup fabric. (it's not in the house right now, it's in a different state, but it was very comfortable and I will be making more.))

And then I remembered that I forgot my last load of laundry in the dryer, so I went and got it, and lo and behold, both missing masks were in there. So now there are SIX masks in my mask drawer, where they are supposed to be, and I will wear probably the hexagon one to go grocery shopping because it's the most comfortable one in the drawer

[bee-kathony]

“Your Nose is Blue” - Jamie and Claire 

This is my ‘One Quote, One Shot’ fic, thank you @balfeheughlywed and @notevenjokingfic for organizing this! nswf at the end 

My quote is: “Your nose is blue,” I remarked conversationally. I glanced downward. “And so are your feet.” He grinned and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “So are my balls. Want to warm them for me?” 

Lallybroch December 8th, 1743

Snow had been falling every day since the first of December. Jamie and I had been at Lallybroch for almost two months, and it had been the happiest two months of our entire marriage. Granted, we hadn’t been married very long, but there was a simplicity with Jamie at his childhood home that we hadn’t found anywhere else.

I relished in every story that Jamie told me about growing up here. Even the ones that didn’t favor him in a good light — him and Ian sneaking away, getting into all kinds of mischief which led them to both be disciplined by Jamie’s father. I wondered what it would be like if both of Jamie’s parents were still alive, much in the same way I wondered the same about my own.

His sister, Jenny had been wary of me at first, and I didn’t blame her. I was a stranger who had come into her home, wed to her younger brother — I’d be cautious too. But over the past few weeks, we had grown close and I began to consider her my own sister.

I was still getting used to the idea of settling down and making a life here. There were still mornings when I would wake up and forget what century I was in. When I looked over to see Jamie, his hands folded across his stomach, and a small smile on his lips, I was grateful to be here — with him.

It was another chilly morning, much like it had been the past several days. My toes were ice cold and I turned over in bed to snuggle up to Jamie. I pressed my feet against him, warming them to his hot skin. He started to squirm, his eyes fluttering open and I felt him wrap his arm around me.

“Ah, Sassenach,” he said groggily. “Yer feet are freezin!”

“Sorry,” I started to pull them away, but he pulled me closer.

“Nah, tis alright,” he grinned, placing a kiss to my forehead. “Twas just a shock this early in the mornin’.”

“Would you be able to go and get some fresh wood for the fire later?” I asked him, resting my head on his chest. The heat radiated off of him, and he knew as well as I did that the fire was for my benefit only.

“Aye,” he said. “I’ll go chop some down after breakfast.”

“Get enough for the whole house if you can,” I looked up at him, tracing my finger along his chin. “I think everyone must be out as well. The whole damn place is freezing!”

“Och,” Jamie turned me in his arms, pressing my back to his chest. “They say a quick way to warm up is to take all yer clothes off and lay yer body next to another.”

“We can’t bloody walk around naked all day,” I laughed. “That only works when we’re in bed. What about the rest of the time?”

Jamie sighed, his hand settling over my stomach. “Hmm, well then I reckon I’ll have to keep ye in my bed all day.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I chuckled, turning my head to look at him, noticing his smug expression. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve seen you ever lay in bed all day. You’re constantly doing things around the stables or with Ian.”

“Aye, yer right about that.” His hand moved along my arm, fingers lightly tracing my skin. “There’s much to do, even wi’ the snow. Ah!” He suddenly shouted in my ear. “Ye can help Jenny wi’ the clickit. I saw her start a new scarf just yesterday.”

“Clickit?” I asked, turning back to look at him. His brows rose near his hairline and he rose to his perch himself on his elbow, staring down at me like I’d just cursed his mother’s grave.

“Claire,” he said incredulously. “Are ye tellin’ me ye canna clickit at all?”

I shook my head, twisting to lie flat on my back.

“And what did ye do for your winter stockings in yer time, then?”

“Bought them,” I said simply.

He looked from me and then out the window, “Well, I dinna see any shops about, I suppose ye’d best learn, aye?”

“I suppose so,” I eyed him dubiously.

“Tis no’ that hard, Sassenach,” Jamie shook his head. “Once we go downstairs, I’ll show ye how to get ye started.”

“You can clickit?” I asked, surprised.

“Well of course I can,” he laughed. “I’ve known how to clickit wi’ needles since I was seven years old. Do they no’ teach bairns anythin’ in your time, Sassenach?”

I thought for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. “Sometimes they teach little girls to do needlework, but not the boys.”

“Tis no’ fine needlework, Sassenach,” Jamie sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to his waist. “Just simple knitting.”

Muttering under his breath about raising children the proper way, he climbed out of bed, stark naked in search for his sark. Once he found it, he shrugged it over his shoulders, now grabbing his kilt.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” I asked, admiring him from bed, my arms stretched above my head.

Jamie came over to me, looking down with both hands on his hips, kilt still in one hand. “There’s no time to waste, Sassenach. Ye’ve gone this long w’out learnin’ how to clickit, tis time for yer teachin’ to begin.”

“But breakfast,” I said, rolling over in bed and then I felt something land on top of me — it was my shift. He was bloody serious about me learning how to clickit, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I got dressed, watching the puzzled looks that crossed his face every now and then. There were a handful of times that I wished it were possible for Jamie to travel through the stones — if only to see what my time was really like, how things were different.

Once we were both dressed, Jamie led us downstairs where he proceeded to tell the whole household about my clickit skills — or lack thereof.

“What do ye mean she canna clickit?” Jenny asked, pausing from serving bowls of porridge on the table.

“Claire was never taught it as bairn,” Jamie shook his head, taking his seat at the table. I followed, feeling embarrassed at my lack of knitting knowledge. It just wasn’t a skill I had ever needed. When I wanted to wear something warm, I would buy it — necessity was the mother of invention and in my time, shops were invented so we didn’t have to knit.

“Well, I ken what we’re doin’ today,” Jenny said and shoveled porridge into my bowl.

++++++

It was an hour later, and I was sitting with Jenny in the living room, my fingers cold and feeling strained. Both Jenny and Jamie had explained it to me — draw the thread out of the closed fist, make a loop around your thumb, slip it into the needle and you cast a row. It looked simple enough, but every time I tried, it all came apart.

After watching me fail again and again, Jamie had shrugged, and left me in Jenny’s capable hands while he went to fetch firewood.

“Maybe by next Christmas I’ll have managed a small scarf,” I said helplessly. “I’m quite skilled with a knife or needle, but only when it comes to flesh, not knitting.”

“Och, ye’ll get the hang of it, Claire,” Jenny smiled, her fingers working quickly on her own scarf. She had no trouble at all casting a row, and I tried to watch, but my brain and hands couldn’t work together in that way.

I set aside my mess of a scarf, and picked up a bit of yarn, rolling it into a neat ball. In the winter, there wasn’t so much to do outside of the house besides tending to the animals. My hands were itching to hold a real needle in them or dig up the earth for planting. It was no wonder so many babies were made in the winter months — there wasn’t anything else that could be done!

“I think I’m going to go and lie down for awhile,” I said and stood up. “Will you tell Jamie when he comes back that I’m upstairs?”

“Aye, of course,” she smiled. “I expect he’ll be back soon wi’ the fresh wood. We could use it, looks like it’ll be a cold one again tonight.”

I left Jenny in the living room, and rubbed my hands together for warmth as I walked up the stairs. I wanted Jamie to hurry up and come back, not only for the warmth of the fire, but for the warmth of holding him next to me.

Climbing into bed, I pulled up the layers of sheets and quilts to my neck to try and get warm. My teeth were chattering, and I pulled the quilt above my head, hoping sleep would take me under.

What felt like a minute later, my eyes opened to see the sun’s shadow in a different place. It must have been an hour or more since I’d come up for a nap. The room was quiet, and the fire wasn’t lit which meant Jamie hadn’t come back yet.

Brushing my hand across my face, I rose out of the bed and walked downstairs in search of Jamie. Jenny was gone, her knitting needles stored in the basket near the couch. The fire in the main room wasn’t lit either.

“Jamie?” I called out.

Noise came from the kitchen and I followed it.

“Has Jamie come back yet?” I asked Jenny as she poured herself a cup of hot tea.

“No, I was just startin’ to grow worrit for him myself. The wee numptie should have been back by now,” Jenny shook her head. “He kens this land like the back of his own hand, so I dinna think he would be gettin’ lost.”

“Do you know where he would have gone to cut the wood?” I asked, already looking around for my wool cloak.

“Tis just back behind the house, near the tree line.” Jenny looked up from her cup of tea to find me tying my cloak on, and stepping into my shoes. “Oh, Claire, ye canna be thinkin’ about goin’ to find him. Ye’ll freeze!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about with Jamie,” I said. “If I can’t find him, I’ll come back. And if I’m out there too long, come and find me.”  

I heard Jenny mutter something under her breath about being stubborn and I laughed — she was one to talk, the other half of the Fraser siblings.

It must have still been early afternoon, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freezing. My breath puffed out in front of me and I began walking in the direction of the tree line behind the house. It was a ways back, and I hoped for Jamie’s sake he had thought to take his coat and gloves.

“Foolish man,” I muttered, stepping through the snow. There were a few possibilities of his lateness running through my head and none of them good. Looking up to the sky, I could tell that it would snow soon — I could practically smell it in the air.

I crossed through the trees, trying to keep an eye out for a mop of red hair. Jenny said he wouldn’t go too deep into the woods, and so I turned to my right, stepping over a fallen branch.

“Jamie?” I called out, placing both my hands to my mouth to make the sound carry.

There was no answer, and I couldn’t help but think of all the horrible things that could have happened to him. A sound came from my left and I looked to see a small grey rabbit hopping through the brush. For some reason, I decided to follow it.

“Are you going to lead me to my husband little rabbit?” I said out loud and immediately rolled my eyes. Talking to rabbits now, Beauchamp.

I continued to follow the rabbit, pausing when it would stop to munch on a leaf of grass or scratch behind its ear. Soon, it stopped and jumped behind a bush. My eyes traveled upwards and that’s when I saw him.

“Jamie!”

He was lying on his side, the ax near his hand and pile of wood at his feet. I ran to him, picking up my skirts so I wouldn’t trip and end up in the same state as him.

“Jamie,” I crouched down to my knees, both hands flying over his body. My fingers were at his neck, checking for a pulse and I sighed whenever I felt that steady beat. His cheeks were pale and his lips blue, much like the rest of him. I glanced down and saw that he’d taken his boots off and the tips of his toes were blue.

“Oh, please wake up,” I knelt over his body, pulling my cloak to cover him. When I pushed back my hand over his forehead, I saw blood congealed on the side of his head. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

I checked him for other injuries, and determined it was only his head that had received the brunt of it. Most likely, he’d knocked himself in the head with the ax, and that thought did make me grin, but only briefly.

Trying to recall all my knowledge about hypothermia, I remembered that body heat was one of the best ways to revive someone. I sat up, pulling off my cloak and started to undress, hastily pulling at the laces of my bodice — I needed to lie with him, to save him in any way I could.

Just as I was about to lift my dress off over my head, I heard a groan from the body underneath me.

“Sassenach,” he said groggily and my hands dropped, covering his cheeks. I pressed my head to his, catching my breath for the first time since I’d found him.

“Oh thank God!”

“Claire,” he said a little louder. “What the devil are ye doin’ wi’ yer laces undone?”

I looked down at myself, feeling heat creep up my cheeks. “Well, I was going to warm you up — body heat.”

“Aye,” he smirked and then winced as he tried to sit up.

“Don’t move,” I said and forced him back to lie on the ground. “You’ve hit your head and you might have a concussion - er, a blow to your head.”

As he laid back, his brows knitted in discomfort, I began to tie up my laces again, putting myself in order. Thank goodness he had woken when he did because I was ready to take it all off and cover his body with mine.

“Your nose is blue,” I remarked conversationally. I glanced downward. “And so are your feet.”

He grinned and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “So are my balls. Want to warm them for me?” Cold or not, he was plainly in good spirits.

“Perhaps when you aren’t lying in snow and sporting a head with blood,” I smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on the tip of his blue nose. “What we really need to do is get you inside and by a fire.”

“Christ,” he looked over at the pile of firewood. “I dinna think I can manage to make it back like this wi’ the wood.”

“Well, maybe Jenny or Ian could come and collect it,” I said. “I should have thought to bring out a horse, but who would have thought you’d hit yourself with an ax!”

“Is that what I did?” He rubbed at his head, pulling his hand back to look at the blood that covered it now. “I dinna remember it, but I do remember ’twas a bit loose sliding through my hands.”

I slid my hand under his back to help him up into a sitting position. The back of his head was wet with melted snow. Jamie groaned as he moved, placing his head into his hands.

“Are you dizzy?”

“Aye, a wee bit,” he said. “My head feels like it’s been split open.”

“You’ll need to get plenty of water and rest over the next few days,” I told him. “But first things first is getting you out of the snow.”

It took a few tries, but I managed to help him stand up. Swaying a bit on his own, he steadied himself by placing one hand on my shoulder.

“This will be a long journey back inside,” he said and looked down at me.

“It will be with that attitude,” I smirked. “And are you going to tell me what you were doing out here in the snow with your shoes off, hmm?”

As if he had just realized he was barefoot, he looked down. “Och, I guess my feet were gettin’ sweaty and I wanted to feel the cold between my toes.”

“You’re just lucky you didn’t get stuck out here for much longer or you might have caught something called hypothermia and lost both your feet!”

“Tis no’ my feet I’m worrit about losin’,” he touched his crotch, as if checking all the bits were still there.

“Come on,” I laughed, “Let’s go home.”

++++++

It had taken nearly twice as long to get back as it had taken for me to come and find him. Jamie was moving slow, and he was obviously much larger and heavier than me so I found it difficult to support his weight.

When we arrived back to Lallybroch, Jenny and Ian had been waiting.

“Ye hit yerself wi’ an ax?” Jenny asked and I could see a smile forming on her lips.

“Aye,” Jamie scowled. “I dinna want to hear a word about it either.”

“We had to leave the wood he chopped behind,” I told them. “Would someone be able to fetch it and bring it inside?”

“I’ll do it,” Ian said. “I can take Donas out. Ye’ll have left the cart to carry it, I suppose?”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. “I was just goin’ to pull it back myself, but ye can use a horse since yer no’ as strong as me.”

Ian flashed out his hand, lightly smacking Jamie on the side and laughed, limping away to the stables outside.

“Ye best be glad yer wife was concerned for ye,” Jenny said and came around to slide her arm around Jamie’s waist. “If it were up to me, I might have let ye stay out there all night so ye could learn yer lesson.”

We started to make our way slowly up the stairs, taking them on at a time.

“And what lesson is that?” Jamie asked.

“That ye keep as firm a grip on yer ax as ye would yer cock,” she snorted and I couldn’t help but burst into a laugh. The big heavy scot between us groaned, either in embarrassment or pain — possibly both.

Jamie landed in our bed with a thud, rolling onto his side to avoid the light from the window. Sensing his discomfort, I walked over and shut the blinds until only a sliver of light was left.

“I’ll have Mrs. Crook prepare some soup,” Jenny said. “And I’ll fetch ye another couple of quilts to keep him warm.”

“Could you see if she can make willow bark tea as well?” I asked and Jenny nodded before heading out of the room.

I looked over at Jamie, still shivering under the covers. Sitting down beside him, I ran my fingers over his cheek, which now was much warmer than before.

“You already don’t look so blue,” I commented. “How are those balls of yours?”

Jamie smirked and glanced down between his legs. “They could still do wi’ a bit of warming up.”

“That part of your anatomy is taking a bit longer to to get back to it’s normal body temperature,” I grinned, moving closer to him in bed. He was now rolling over onto his back, and his hair moved aside, showing the blood once again. “But first,” I reached out to touch his head.

Jenny came back with two more quilts and laid them on top of his body, tucking him in as any mother would do. I imagined this wasn’t the first time Jenny had to take care of Jamie after he hurt himself.

I scrounged up a bit of cloth and found my comfrey salve in a small medical chest I had brought from my days at Leoch. Jamie turned his head to the side, allowing me to cleanse his wound and spread the slave over it to help heal it.

“There,” I said and discarded the bloody cloths. “You don’t need any stitches. And I expect you’ll have a bloody good headache for a couple of days, but nothing you can’t handle.”

Jamie was looking up at me, almost innocently and childlike. So often since I’d met him, I had bandaged him and healed his wounds, and every time he had the same expression on his face.

“What?” I asked, moving to sit beside him again.

“I just love havin’ such a fine healer as my wife,” he smiled. “Tis quite useful.”

“You do seem to get into a lot of painful situations,” I laughed and leaned against him, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Sassenach?” He asked a moment later.

“Hmmm?”

“I wasna lyin’ when I said that my balls were still blue,” he said almost sheepishly. “Ever since I woke to find ye half dressed and ready to throw yerself on me, I’ve had half a cock stand.”

“So it’s my fault, hmm?” I glanced over at him, finding blue eyes gazing at me. He was already in such a delicate state — I would have done anything to make him feel better.

“Aye, tis always yer fault,” he admitted and pulled one hand out from under the covers, reaching up to cup my cheek.

Leaning in, I kissed him, tender and slow. He was laying on his back, his head propped up on two pillows. I shifted onto my side, pulling the covers up and over my legs so I could join him in the warmth and hopefully give him some of mine.

My hand settled on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat for a moment before sliding it to rest over his belly. I didn’t have to move my hand much further before I came in contact with his greedy length. Jamie moaned into my mouth, his tongue sliding over my bottom lip as I palmed his cock.

“Sassenach,” he muttered between kisses. He was only wearing a clean sark, having shed his wet clothes before climbing into bed earlier. I pulled the material up and took him fully in my hand. Jamie groaned, his mouth hovering just against mine.

“As your healer, I think it’s only right for me to check on the precise color of those blue balls,” I said against his lips and I felt him twitch in my hand.

“Oh, aye,” he smirked and he was already pushing back the cover to expose himself to me.

I slid down the bed, easily fitting in between his legs and sat on my knees. Gripping his pulsing length in my hand, I ran my fingers up and down twice, watching as his hips flexed. He was trying not to move, his hands gripping the sheets beside him.

“C-christ,” he stuttered as I pressed my thumb over the head, collecting the bit of seed.

“Try not to move,” I said softly. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your head any further.”

“Sassenach, yer tryin’ to kill me,” he muttered between his teeth and then after grazing his blue balls with my hand, I descended on him. I took him eagerly in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him. I glanced up to see him watching me, and I felt my own belly light with a fire.

My hand worked in tandem with my mouth and I hollowed my cheeks, sucking deeply. Jamie was moaning, and his hips lifted off the bed, pushing his cock back against my throat.

“I’m sorry,” he was now panting, reaching his hand into my hair and I pulled my lips off of him, briefly licking the tip.

“Don’t apologize,” I smiled before placing a kiss to his head and swiping my tongue along his shaft. My hand slid down easily, pumping him and I twisted my grip, watching as his eyes shut tight. I knew he was close, so I kept my gaze on his face, waiting for that perfect moment.

I wrapped my lips over him, feeling swollen and needy. He tasted salty and whenever I met his gaze, Jamie jerked and came. I had no option but to drink him down, tasting him on my tongue, and lips and I released him with an audible ‘pop’.

Jamie wasted no time in pulling me up to lie on top of his body, his hands coming to grip my sides.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you,” I said, placing my hands on his chest. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself so soon.”

“Who said anything about me exertin’ myself?” He cocked a brow and reached one hand under my dress, finding my center and rubbing slowly. A few seconds later, I sank down on him, shifting until he was buried inside of me. I leaned over, pressing my lips to his and began to move. He felt so good and warm, filling me in a way that I would never tire of.

Jamie held me close to him, his hands roaming over my back, tugging at my dress. It was no use, my laces were still tied in the front and I began to push back harder on him, searching for a release of my own.

“Uhhh,” I moaned, placing a wet kiss to his cheek and jaw. Jamie’s hands found my arse under my dress, pressing me against him as he lifted his hips. And just so, he hit that spot inside of me and I came with a deep cry. I trembled in his arms, feeling his release inside me and I lay on top of him, knowing I should move to not hurt him.

Carefully, I rolled onto my side, sighing as my head hit the pillow and I lay one arm across his stomach.

“Did that take care of any blue balls?” I asked, biting my lip between my teeth.

Jamie looked over at me, running his finger over my cheek. “Aye, ye’ve taken good care of them, as ye always do.”

“It was my pleasure,” I smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Then I sat up in bed, tugging on my dress and climbed out. Jamie started to protest, but I shushed him, pulling the covers up around him. “Now, you really do need to rest. I’m going to go check on that willow bark tea, and when I come back, there will be no more funny business.”

“Aye, captain,” Jamie pressed his hand to his head and tried to wink. Laughing, I left him on his own to get the tea.

When I came back upstairs, his eyes were closed and his mouth was hung slightly open, a bit of drool dribbling down. I don’t know how he managed to possess all the qualities that made me want to claw at his back one minute and the next, tuck him up and sing him a lullaby.

I took a sip of the tea before sitting it on the bedside table and shed my clothes, crawling into bed naked with him. After all, body heat was the best way to warm up.

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

How to Endure: Cancer in the Time of Pandemic

[Originally posted March 28, 2020]

Hi all, Welcome to a very special birthday post from me in which I mostly think about what it's like to have cancer in the time of a global pandemic. As a way of topping my last year's celebration--where I was just about to start chemo--this year the world is sheltering in place under quarantine orders as an unprecedented public health disaster unfolds around us. (Sorry if my prediliction for dramatic narratives is in any way responsible for this fact...) I've been trying to work up the energy to post and let you know that I'm doing ok in this time of a global emergency...as ok as anyone I guess. I should say right off the bat that I am not, right now, immunocompromised, although I am at risk for it. We can all hope my system keeps bouncing back as it has done to keep me out of the most vulnerable group. (I do also have lung tumors, so a respiratory infection would automatically come with complications.)

Mostly, I spent a lot of the past two weeks wondering not if but how the pandemic was likely to affect my cancer treatment and I finally have enough information to confirm that, as of now, I'm still able to stay on the study and get chemo as planned this coming Thursday (April 2nd). I had been scheduled to get CT scans on Tuesday, March 31st to assess whether the treatment I started at the end of January has worked well enough for me to continue on the clinical trial. Although I get so many that it has perhaps come to seem routine, "scanxiety" is a very real phenomenon because these are how you learn whether things are going well (or well enough) or whether the disease has "progressed" and you have to regroup and try again with a new treatment plan. It had been since October that I had had a positive scan, with November showing a halting of improvement and December and January documenting the reversal of recovery. So obviously I was anxious and wanted them as soon as possible. Hearing reports of "non-essential" treatments being canceled, my Penn oncologist and I decided to try to move my scans up. After many phone calls and the efforts and good will of a number of doctors and hospital staff I was able to get them on the 23rd in Princeton (avoiding both the drive into Philly and the potential for exposure there). I'm glad we did because I learned yesterday that the treatment has been working fine; not great, but well enough that a) some tumors got somewhat smaller, b) no tumors got bigger, and c) no new metastatic sites were observed. Clinically, that's ruled as "stable disease" b/c in order for it to be a "partial response" you have to have your cancer go down by at least 30%. But reversing the trend of growth is still a win, and perhaps more time will see more results. And crucially, I do not have to investigate a new treatment option or try to change in the midst of what is soon to be the crest of the pandemic wave of cases. It's only relatively lucky, but I will take it! I have also seen reports in the cancer community about people having their chemo canceled as non-essential, which was shocking to me. I wrote last year about feeling like cancer should always be a "red ball" case that gets rocketed up the chain for testing, insurance approval, etc. and being shocked that it just wasn't. I understand that in some cases where a cancer patient is immunosuppressed, even attending a treatment at a hospital may pose greater risk than delaying it because the risk of infection is such a threat. But that is an extraordinary statement to make, amidst a daily barrage of extraordinary statements. Not all the stories were that clear-cut, though, so I was glad to hear from my doctor that as a stage 4 patient my scheduled treatments will not be bumped. I cannot have any visitors (and it's a pretty rough thing to do alone), but I can and will get through this. We all will. Because we all have in us more than we know. *** Shortly after my beloved grandma died (suddenly, from complications during surgery) my dad told me that one of the last things she said to him was that she would be ok because, "I'm a warrior." And she was. From a tiny place in the woods of east Texas, as a teenager she ran her family's store during the Great Depression and cared for a mess of brothers. When my daddy was eight years old, she and my grandfather picked up and moved away from a community where they knew everyone and had for generations to Dallas--an unfamiliar big city--because his younger brother had been born deaf and they wanted to send him to a special school. She founded and ran her own school, an income she supplemented with other jobs while my granddaddy was away walking pipeline for an oil company. When I knew her, late in her life, she had lost her sight but continued devouring books on tape and listening to the clues on "Jeopardy!". I was the first and only grandbaby and I was adored (not to say spoiled). The only times she actually saw me, before she was blind, I was just a few months old, chewing clean laundry in the basket in which someone had deposited me. As I grew up, she would feel my face, my hair, my ever-increasing height (and joke each time that "I'm going to have to saw your legs off!"). She would listen to my voice on Sunday phone calls; do crossword puzzles with me, as I read clues while lounging on her velour sofa; offer a "piece of Hershey" or a stick of spearmint gum from the same blue tin on the table in which she kept her cigarettes. She could still piece quilts by feel, even though she couldn't see the fabric, and advised me on the 1ft patchwork square I made for my doll's bed. She was weakened, exhausted, blind, and often in pain (which she tactfully never mentioned with me around). Except when she changed to a polyester pantsuit for visiting the doctor, she wore carpet slippers and housedress with a pack of Marlboros in the pocket that she lit from a gas burner, leaning on her walker by an ancient stove. No one knew quite how old she was when she died--our best guess is eighty-three--because she was also the kind of Southern lady who told no one her real age. She was a warrior in that, despite all that had happened in her life and all that was happening to her body, she kept on going. She endured.

When I search for inspiration to continue with treatments that make me feel worse than the disease, to fight so hard to save a body that's betraying me, to stay in an increasingly terrifying world that's betraying all of us, I think of her last words. I'm a warrior. I will endure. Believe it or not, you are also and you will too. In our struggles to continue with our lives in the face of monumental uncertainty and paralyzing anxiety, our greatest achievement is to keep on going. We fight (each of us different things) so that we may endure. It is not pleasant. It will reduce you to tears. You will exhaust all your emotional resources. But you will triumph. I have been fighting, existing in crisis mode, for 14 months and that is how I know that you can do it. You must grieve (and allow yourself time for it) for what you have lost, including a sense of safety or normalcy. But as you press on, you will find that inner strength or resiliency. I'm sorry that this is being demanded of you. It is not fair. But that will not change it. You may grieve, cry, fight, and struggle but, ultimately, you will accept that your way forward, your treatment, is to endure. I've reflected a lot on social media about how living with stage 4 cancer accidentally prepared me for the experience of the pandemic. I wrote a coda to an essay that will be published--likely this May--about the "Body as Data." Since the coda itself will probably change by then, the situating evolving as rapidly as it is, I thought I would share it here. Thank you for being with me and providing that community that has been the saving grace of treatment. Love, Bex *** As of writing this essay, it’s been 14 months since my diagnosis. I have tried three different treatments, two of which were clinical trials, one of which I am still enrolled in. It is approaching my thirty-sixth birthday [it's actually today - March 29th] and everyone is sheltering in place because of the coronavirus. I have lived more than a year now tolerating the same kind of existential uncertainty and fear of an alien invader in the body that the world as a whole is now experiencing. I have played my own doctor, watching my body for signs that a treatment is working, or that it is not, in much the same way. I have tried to anticipate what will happen if I become immunocompromised (as I currently am not, but am at risk for) and given up many of the pleasures that made my life better before (traveling, going out with friends) in the name of my health. I have offered my body up as data to research scientists with the goal of furthering not just my own treatment but the survival prospects of future patients. I did not know that throughout this year I was in training for a time when we would all of necessity be regarded as bodies with the potential to produce valuable data about the spread and effects of COVID-19. We are starved for numbers, for data on infections and recoveries and for statistical models that may relieve us of the uncertainty we feel about the future. I cannot provide that. But I can tell you to be cautious readers of data and statistics that speak with any pretense to authority right now, even though I crave them too. Cancer is invisible and so are viruses. This particular virus can inhabit the body but produce no symptom and live for days on surfaces. It may be in us. It may be in those we love. We are in the middle of the data. We are the data. Susan Sontag wrote in Illness as Metaphor that “Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place” (3). A pandemic transcends borders but does not do away with the kingdom of the sick. As someone already resident, I can say to you: welcome. The hardest thing about being here is the grief for what we have lost, including a sense of normalcy. The best thing, though, is what we may find: community in a time of crisis.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Can we ask for another chapter of Brian and Ellen AU?

Brian and Ellen AU

“Are ye sure ye’ve got that, lass?”

 Six-year-old Faith Fraser nodded fiercely, carefullybalancing the tray as she crested the attic stairs. “Aye, Grannie. Can ye knockon the door? Let Da know we’re here?”

 Ellen Fraser did – six quick knocks, followed by twoquicker knocks. They felt Jamie’s footsteps on the floorboards before he crackedopen the door – then opened it wider, to accommodate his eldest daughter.

 “Is that supper?”

 Slowly Faith crossed the threshold of Jamie’s attic hideawayand set the tray down on the simple table Ian and Robert had made.

 “Aye – a bit early today if ye dinna mind. Mrs. Crook justput a new roast over the fire, and yer Da and Robert are up at the far field tosupervise the planting, and – ”

 Gently Jamie bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I dinnamind, Mam. I ken weel how everyone is busy this time of year.”

 “Mama had to stich up two of the men yesterday – and shelet me help her!” Faith exclaimed excitedly as Jamie sat down at the table.Ellen sank to the foot of Jamie’s cot, smoothing out the creases in the quilt,and Jamie hoisted Faith onto his lap.

 “And I suppose ye did a fine job of it, hmm?”

 She nodded. “I disinfected the sutures wi’ whisky, andtold the men to stop yelling, because William was sleeping.”

 “She’s in charge, this one,” Ellen smiled. “Can’t imaginewhere she gets that from.”

 Jamie chewed on a hunk of bread. “Do ye want to be ahealer like yer Mam, when you’re older?”

 “Aye. Mama says I can have my own wee basket for herbsthis year, and that I can be her assistant when she goes out to forage!”

 Jamie swallowed and kissed his daughter’s forehead, warmwith joy. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to have such a dedicated assistant.”

 Just then, Faith sat up a bit straighter. She scooted offof Jamie’s knee and scampered to the window.

 “Someone’s here,” she announced.

 Immediately Ellen crossed the room. “Stay away from thewindow, Jamie.”

 Hands shaking, he set down his spoon. “Is there a man inthe house?”

 “Ian is downstairs, in the study. Fergus, too. And Claireand Jenny, of course – and all the bairns.”

 “Look – someone’s getting out of the carriage,” Faithremarked, nose pressed up against the window. “He’s old.”

 “Redcoats?” Jamie whispered.

 Ellen’s hand flew to her mouth.

 Jamie stood, alert. Waiting to pounce. “Mam?”

  “A Dhia,”she gasped. “It’s Ned Gowan.”

 --

 “May I thank you again for your hospitality, MistressFraser?”

 “Ellen, please, Ned – I’ve known you all my life!” Ellenre-filled Ned’s tumbler of whisky, still smiling ear-to-ear. “How long has itbeen since we’ve seen each other?”

 “Oh, my.” He scratched his head. “It must have been whenJamie was at Leoch, that first time.”

 “I was sixteen,” Jamie added, squeezing Claire’s hand asshe sat on the settee beside him. “It was when you and Da took me to Leoch.”

 “My first time back since Brian had stolen me away,”Ellen smiled. “Aye – it was quite the memorable experience.”

 The door to the sitting room opened – Fergus entered,followed quickly by Brian and Robert. Ned stood to greet the Fraser men.

 “Oh, I’m so sorry to have intruded on your day – ”

 “Nonsense.” Brian warmly clasped Ned’s weathered hand. “Thepotatoes can wait another day to be planted. It’s not every day we have visitorssuch as yourself here!”

 Brian sat next to Ellen, while Robert squeezed in besideJenny and Ian on the other settee. The fire crackled – Fergus added anotherlog, then sat on the floor next to his sisters and cousins. Rapt withattention.

 “This is a long way to come for a social visit, Ned.”Claire shifted her sleeping eight-month-old son to her other shoulder. “And it’sbeen more than three years since Culloden. Are you well?”

 In an instant, Ned’s face seemed to get even older – the linescut deeper – and his shoulders slumped.

 “Truth be told, my dear – I’ve lived quite the ragtagexistence since we lost Leoch.”

 They knew it had happened, of course – had heard tell ofhow the castle and its contents had been ransacked in the wake of Culloden,with the redcoats in power and no living MacKenzie brother to stop them. Butnow to hear Ned speak of it –

 “For a while I eked out a living in Cranesmuir. I’ll haveyou know, Mrs. Fitz and her kitchen lads saved almost all of Collum’s library –it’s in a safe house in the village, if I can ever figure out what to do withit.”

 “That was my father’s library,” Ellen breathed. “My sons havegood heads on their shoulders – they can figure something out.”

 “Anyway,” Ned continued, “I was able to practice law inthe village, for a time. That’s how Roddie MacKenzie, my driver, came into myemploy.”

 “Mrs. Crook is feeding him in the kitchen right now.”Jenny turned to her father, gesturing to the back rooms. “Puir man lookedhalf-starved.”

 “It’s been a meager existence, I’ll tell you that. Thisland is different now – far fewer people. The soldiers don’t begrudge me for myservice to the MacKenzies, given that I’m a man of letters – so I’ve been a bitof a roving solicitor. Adjudicating disputes, writing marriage contracts, andthe like.”

 “He did write a good one for us,” Jamie mused. Clairesmiled.

 Brian shifted forward in his seat. “Do ye need a place tostay for a while, then? Because we’ve room enough here – if ye dinna mindbunking wi’ Rob.”

 “He’s more than welcome,” Robert piped up. “I’ll takecare of him.”

 Ned sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “I – I would be mostgrateful.” He swallowed, blinking harshly from behind his spectacles. “You see,I’ve been in service to the MacKenzies for so long – and I don’t have anyfamily of my own…”

 Ellen leaned forward and took Ned’s hand. “You’re wi’ familynow, Ned. Ye can stay as long as ye like.”

 Ned looked around, at the smiling faces surrounding him.He sat up a bit straighter.

 “It would be my honor.”

 --

 Sometime later – supper, and at least three whiskys later– Ned and Brian and Jamie and Claire sat in Brian’s study. Footsteps thunderedoverhead as Ellen and Ian and Jenny and Robert tried to get the Fraser/Murraychildren – still excited by the new houseguest – into bed.

 “If ye say ‘thank you’ one more time, Ned, I may have toturn ye out into the dooryard,” Brian smiled.

 Ned set down his empty tumbler of whisky. “Well then –until I find my feet, of course I’m happy to consult on any legal matters forwhich I can assist.”

 Brian scratched his chin. “There’s all the deeds to thehouse and the land – we registered them with a magistrate before the Rising, sothat there would be no dispute as to ownership of the land.”

 “And I presume you still have a copy of yours and Ellen’smarriage contract?”

 Brian smiled and patted the thick, dark wood of his desk.“I do indeed – you wrote it very well. Clearly laid out the terms of Ellen andmy ownership of this land.”

 “Good. I’d be happy to take a fresh look.” Ned turned toJamie. “As far as I know, young man, you’re still an outlaw.”

 “Red Jamie, to be exact. And I am.”

 “Don’t forget, I’m the Stuart Witch,” Claire smiled. “Thoughthat all seems to have been forgotten now.”

 “And may I presume that the Crown doesn’t know you’rehere?”

 “They don’t – and they won’t, if we keep it that way.” Jamieslung an arm around Claire’s shoulders. “I lived in the far cottage for a time,and moved upstairs into the attic a few months back. My children have neverknown their father to live out in the open.”

 Ned pursed his lips. “I presume you haven’t attempted topetition the Crown.”

 Jamie sighed. “For what? The penalty for treason is death.You and I both know that.”

 Ned tilted his head, thinking. “If I could find a way foryou to be pardoned – for you to live openly – would you be open to that?”

 Jamie looked at Claire. She looked back at him, silentlysupportive.

 “Yes,” he replied, eyes still fixed on Claire’s. “There’snobody else I would trust.”

 Ned’s beaming smile was positively infectious. “Well then.I have work to do.”

[deadmomjokes]

Our baby shower was yesterday, and I am honestly SO overwhelmed--and not by the amount of people. By how amazingly generous they were.

Someone gave us a starter pack of high-end cloth diapers, someone else gave us a full series of fantasy books for us as parents to “keep us entertained while stuck at home,” we got a box full of toys, several really precious outfits, the staples like a grooming kit, disposable diapers, board books, wipes, and blankets, then some more of the “wow” gifts like a homemade quilt (I thought it was storebought!), a stocked diaper caddy, and a dang wipe warmer (that’s a big luxury item to me!).

Aside from that, some folks came over today to give us--for free-- a crib and a baby carrier. And I come to find out that the crib is upwards of $400 new, and the carrier is $150 new. Both are pristine. And they were just... giving them away.

Literally the only things we have left to get that we actually need before baby arrives are a car seat, a diaper bag, and a changing stand/dresser-thingy. I can’t even begin to describe how much of a relief this is. I was so worried about how we were going to get all the stuff we needed, and here we only have 3 major purchases, and one isn’t even that expensive.

I mean, we’re still probably going to get a few extra clothes and socks, maybe some baby wash, and loads of extra wipes and diapers so we don’t have to worry about going shopping in the first few days after, but as far as essentials go, we only need the carseat, a sack to hold the diapers/wipes/clothes we’ll need at the hospital, and somewhere to stash all the stuff we got given. We’re even considering just doing a cheap changing stand that has open shelves underneath, and getting little baskets to put on the shelves for the clothes.

So... Yeah. Baby Showers are a great idea, and it was totally worth all the people-ing and them making me feed my blindfolded husband some baby food as a “game.”

Also, success: No tummy touchers!