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https-immotmari · 4 months

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❝ I'm going blind from this sweet, sweet craving ❞ ─── twst octavinelle!

WRITER'S START OF A SWEET RAMBLE!

Second request came in as if it's a fresh baked pastries out of the oven! Awww, don't worry, I'll make sure I'm always taking care of myself! You too as well （＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ

fandom! .twisted wonderland character(s) used! .azul ashengrotto, floyd & jade leech gender of reader! .gn!reader head start! .mention of azul's trauma, reader is not yuu here

. . .azul ashengrotto!

❝ Waste time with a masterpiece, don't waste time with a masterpiece ❞

it was a nice day for octavinelle trio and azul's significant other, summer break just hit and somehow the head mage allowed every student to have a vacation.

so, with the weather just right, the rather hot sand underneath them, the ocean waves dancing around and with sounds of laughter, indicating the other three's enjoyment.

tell me why azul ashengrotto, the prefect of the octavinelle and manager of the mostro lounge, is just sitting underneath the beach umbrella with a rather blank face?

he was thinking, that's for sure.

"...zul?" a soft voice brought him back to reality, a voice that soothes him whenever he had his downs. the said glasses man turns his head to his left and saw it was his significant other calling for him.

"yes, dearest?" "are you alright? you seem to be spacing out a lot."

azul parted his lips a bit before closing them back, hesitating to answer a question he's always been asked and yet never knew what he was answering them.

is he.. alright? it was passed his overblot era and thanks to the first years helped, he was brought back to his senses. even after that, was he truly alright?

"okay," azul ashengrotto's significant other, (name), started, "how about we do a guessing game where I guess what's going on your pretty mind?" they suggested.

the octo-merman eyes widen a bit, surprised at the sudden game that his significant other suggested. he then shakes his head, "no. it's fine, dearest. I don't want to be a burden to you."

(name) frowned, disappointed at azul for thinking about that, nonetheless she guessed, "is it work?"

azul sighs, should have expected that when it comes to (name), they never stop until they find what he's thinking and worrying about. "no.."

"is it the twins?" he shooks his head, "is it the other prefects?" another shook.

(name) paused for a moment, thinking what else could azul be worrying about, it honestly took a moment for them to open their mouth and say, "is it about... your past? your octo form?"

silence. the silence from azul was all they need to confirm their guess. now that they think about it, while they were having fun with the twins in the ocean, azul looked rather.. jealous, probably towards the twins since they can transform into their merform so freely, unlike him.

azul felt his significant other moving closer to him, resulting in him getting hugged by them. "you know.. those people who made fun of you are a bunch of fools.." (name) suddenly commented, "they were bullies who did nothing but, to see others suffering because in reality, they're life is trash."

"you're an amazing man, azul. you've already proven to those fools that you're greater than them so, stop dwelling on the past and look forward to the future, a future with me in it."

to the great seven above, no prayers nor words can describe how grateful azul ashengrotto for having somebody as loving as his significant other.

the couple sat, all the while hugging, in silence underneath the beach umbrella as the other two are minding their own business. (name)'s reassurance made azul's day even better than before and he couldn't thank them enough for it.

"wanna eat with me the cupcakes I've baked?" he nodded in response.

. . . floyd leech!

❝ You should be rolling with me, you should be rolling with me ❞

"floyd-! stop!" the troublemaker twin's significant other whines, shielding themselves from the splashes of water by using their arms. "stop it! I don't wanna get wet for now!"

the troublemaker simply grinned mischievously as he continues to splash them with water, "come on, angelfish~ you're already in your bathing suit.!"

however, his significant other frowns at him, now annoyed that they're completely wet by now thanks to the huge splashes floyd did to them.

"I didn't even want to get splash, I came over here to ask if you wanted any snacks.." they murmured.

all floyd did was chuckled, "I know~ just wanted to tease my angelfish~" he claimed with that oh-so silly lopsided grin.

(name) sighs while shaking their head, "I honestly should have expected that." he's floyd leech, it's self-explanatory. (name) then turned their body around and started walking towards the sandy land.

"wait, angelfish~" they didn't stop, "don't make me do it~" and yet they didn't stop.

(name) then heard floyd sighs so disappointedly at his significant other before they heard rather loud footsteps, and splashes of water coming towards them.

(name), upon hearing those, started walking faster though thanks to the water below them, it slightly slows them down.

just then, they felt themselves being held up high, a squeal out of surprised came out of their lips as floyd let his silly smile creping on his face.

"I warned you, didn't I~ now, angelfish needs to be with me!"

floyd carried his significant other as if they were a child, snuggling his head on their neck as he sits down in the ocean floor near the shore.

(name) huffs and puffs, trying to wiggle their way out of floyd's monstrous grip. floyd just tighten his grip more the more they try to get out of his hands.

"stop tightening your grip, floyd! I might end up dead if you continue this." they whined.

"eeh~ don't wanna~"

"I don't know why I dated you."

"hehe~"

eventually, (name) just let floyd be floyd, thinking that nothing could get worse if they comply to floyd's silly wants. they just hoped they'll get to eat the sandwiches jade packed them earlier.

for now, they'll just enjoy being in their significant other's embrace as the sun comes down ever so slowly.

. . .jade leech!

❝ You're a real-life fantasy, you're a real-life fantasy ❞

sometime, after having fun in the ocean with his significant other, the two of them went out of the water, drying themselves out before laying in each other's embrace in the large beach towel, where they're picnic is at, underneath an umbrella.

it was a relaxing day for jade leech and his significant other, floyd was enjoying the ocean as he drags their boss, azul, in the water even though azul protested.

just a wonderful summer.

"aaahh.." his significant other, (name), sang, holding a mini sandwich near jade's mouth, waiting for him to open it.

jade, who was reading a book, chuckles at his beloved's adorable behavior and open his mouth, (name) feeding him the mini sandwich. "thank you, beloved." jade lets his other hand ruffle their hair, a token of appreciation.

(name) softly chuckles, "no problem, dear."

they then reach out in the picnic basket another mini sandwich and feed themselves, letting out a hum as a way to let their satisfaction known.

"so, what'cha reading, jade?" they asked, taking a peek at his book and finding an illustration of a green tail mermaid with red hair as well as a quite chubby fish with its blue strips and yellow scales and a lobster.

"ahh, reading the oh-so famous tale about the mermaid princess that the great sea witch encountered, huh?"

jade nodded, "yes it is, beloved. thinking about how where going to the beach today gave me the urge to bring this book along."

"well, I can certainly see why.." (name) muttered, seeing how the beach quite resembles the one in the tale. "it's like feeling the nostalgic of it just by being here."

jade hums, agreeing to what they said. "want me to read this a loud to you, beloved?" he asked.

"wait, let me just get comfortable.." they trailed off, trying to find a perfect spot where they can be comfortable while jade reads to them the tale, all the while jade chuckles at them. "there!"

their head is placed on jade's lap, in which was covered by a towel, oh-so comfortably. "you can read now, jade!" they said. they also looked like an eager child wanting their parent to read them a bed time story.

the said man nodded and began to read to them the tale they always heard about since childhood, about the great sea witch encountering a mermaid princess who's wanting to be human after encountering a handsome human prince whom she had saved from the shipwreck the other day.

all the while jade's reading it a loud, (name) had a smile painted on their face, hearing jade's soft and lovely voice as he reads the story honestly makes their day a lot better.

the two lovers stayed underneath the umbrella all day, finding comfort in their embraces as they reminisce the childhood tale they have countlessly heard over and over again and yet they never grew tired of, especially when it's coming from their lover's mouth.

WRITER'S ENDING OF A SWEET RAMBLE!

honestly, I relate too much about azul's past, like, some people need to stop shaming others just because their appearance. everyone is beautiful in their own way (✿◡‿◡)

that aside, hope this satisfy you, @bi-panicatthedisco! I think I went away from the beach picnic a bit but, I hope you still like it!

rules! + masterlist!

#❝ Dream that I can never have again ❞ ─── mari's tales #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader

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overgrown3d · 9 months

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Messages from your person 🫂 (PAC)

💭What do they have in their mind? What words have they left unsaid? What is something they want to tell you the most, be it about love, gratitude, and friendship? !REMINDER! This is a general reading, take what resonates.

✨How to select your pile?✨

1. Slow your breathing, taking deep inhales. Focus on feeling present in your environment.

2. Looking from left to right, use your intuition to pick the pile meant for you (what you connect most with.)

3. Doesn't resonate? No worries! Pick another, it's message may be just right for you.

!!For Entertainment Purposes Only!!

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

🔹Pile 1 ;

Cards: The Hermit (rev), The Sun, King of swords (rev), 9 of swords, 10 of wands, 8 of swords

"Dear Pile 1,

There are so many things in my head that I want to say, but I struggle to say them. I feel so burdened with responsibilities and tasks, I am not the lover I want to be, I am not the person that I so badly need to be. I'm in a dark place right now, and it feels like I'm doing the wrong things to get through it. What I need the most is to step up for myself, to find peace and confidence. There are nights where I am kept awake, and days where I am kept moving. I'm sorry, I feel like I disappointed you, and I disappointed myself. Truth is, what I need is help. Carrying my burdens alone, I don't think I can make it out of here."

🌊~~~~

Alright, that was really depressing 🥲. Pile 1, this person feels trapped right now. Daily responsibilities can be taking a toll on them right now, I also heard that they aren't meeting expectations? They have pretty bad self esteem, undermining themselves despite all the work they do. I'm getting that this person is pretty impressive in how much they can handle. But right now, they are at their limits, they can't take anymore. A lot of their feelings of being "trapped" are their own insecurities, they have a lot of things in their mind that they can't control. Honestly, it's like they know they need to focus on themselves more, but their daily schedule and habitual thoughts don't allow for that change to come smoothly. I'm getting that they just need help to go through these things, they don't want to be alone. They do have a lot of things to say, but it's like they're not in a space where they can voice their thoughts out. Maybe it's also their role that they are considering.

If you chose this pile with your FS in mind, this is most likely where they are right now in life, or could be the same energy when the two of you meet.

🔹Pile 2;

Cards: Page of Wands, The Devil, Strength, The Hanged Man, 10 of swords, 6 of Cups, 10 of Cups

"Dear Pile 2,

You really changed me, you let me see the light in my future way beyond what I could've ever imagined. I never thought I could have my own happily-ever-after, but I learned that it wasn't too impossible in the first place. I'm so grateful for the new experiences you brought me, and experiences we went through together. I was able to learn a lot from you, like being introduced to spiritual concepts, and having more faith in the divine. I'm making the steps to change my life for the better, with newfound strength. I appreciate you for these new insights."

🌊~~~~

Pile 2, your person mentions you a lot in this reading. There is a lot of emphasis on their gratitude towards you, and whatever you've done, it really helped them open up to a new experience or thought patterns. Like, they have a lot of confidence in creating a future for themselves, and are enthusiastic to be walking down that path. Perhaps you gave them advice, or commented on how they can process their trauma and emotions, maybe even introduced them to Tarot, Astrology, Meditations, etc. They now adopt this in their lifestyle, and it's greatly serving them to the point where they give you a bunch of credit for it haha. Habits are standing out to me here, they could've been the type of person to really struggle with temptations & being lazy, but now they're psyched to start acting. I'm heavily feeling like you helped them break old patterns and gave them hope. You kinda changed the trajectory of their life. They think it's thanks to you, and want you to know it!

🔹Pile 3 ;

Cards: The hanged man, 6 of swords, the tower, the hermit, king of words, queen of wands, the star, 4 of swords, 4 of pentacles

"Dear Pile 3,

Life has been pretty good lately. I feel in control of things like my thoughts and emotions. They don't go haywire anymore, haha. I'm not leading the life I used to. I'm doing better each day with all this healing and stuff. I'm focusing a lot on resting, trying to build up my assets, and mature a whole lot more. Life has been steady, and I'm slowly rebuilding it. I'm lucky to have another chance at life, and I'll be sure not to waste it."

🌊~~~~

Your pile is different from 1 & 2! This message is addressed to you in the form of a check-in letter. I'm getting the vibe that this is a relationship where you aren't closely in contact right now, or interactions could happen occasionally. This honestly feels like they are telling you not to worry about them, since their life is going pretty well right now. This person could've been in a bad place before, which justifies you having worries about their life, but low-key they're kinda thriving lmao! They seem to be in a steady and good place, probably a drastic comparison to their past or how you first met them. Their life is in the process of balancing right now (though it can be that they are financially struggling), but this is more of their headspace being balanced. They're pretty zen, which might come up as a legitimate shock lol. You most likely were included in their old life somehow, enough for them to want to update you on their life.

🔹Pile 4 ;

Cards: 6 of wands, 2 of Cups, queen of cups, 4 of cups, 5 of cups, 5 of wands, page of cups

"Dear Pile 4,

I've been at a loss, and I know it's in my best interest to put things behind me. I still grieve, grieving over many things. Among the many, is the past. Nonetheless, I move on -- I'm still learning and growing. I know I'm not lacking in support, I have you among other things. There are days where I'm not sure how to pinpoint my emotions, inside of me are inner conflicts at times. It's a battle I'm going through, but do believe that after trial and error, it's one that I'll win."

🌊~~~~

Pile 4, this person cares so much about you. Honestly, it's tempting to say that this is romantic, but it honestly applies to platonic relationships given the context. They have a lot of care for you, so much so that they want to be emotionally open about these things. To them, you're their rock, their shoulder to cry on. You're the Queen of Cups while they're the Page. Honestly, you help this person process their emotions, because I'm seeing that they greatly benefit through having you around in tough times. From the 2 of Cups, this is definitely a union, energy is heavily pointing to this being a close connection. This person may be overcoming a loss, hence the help you provide. Arghhh it's like they want to improve themselves not just for their sake, but also yours. They want to move together as a team, but they feel that they need to develop themselves emotionally still. They do want to let you know of their appreciation, but it's like this is something they want to do alone, this will be their own victory.

🌊~~~ You reached the end of the reading, 'till next time!

#tarotblr #pac #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #for us delulus

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whetstonefires · 2 years

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jiang cheng is a funny character because i fully support either liking him or not liking him, but i see so many takes (especially when he shows up in a supporting role in fic) that seem completely unhinged until i pin down which of what i consider the fundamental facts of his character are just not being applied at all.

it’s like:

1) this is not a mentally well guy, especially after Plot starts happening, and he spends the entire story getting less okay. the only time we ever see any improvement happen in jiang cheng is when wei wuxian piths himself getting the guy out of his suicidal phase, causing many more problems going forward but fixing that one. jiang cheng is not okay and it’s all downhill.

2) he cares so fucking much. like you can write a jiang cheng who is a deeply selfish bastard and you have an excellent textual basis, but it's not because he doesn't care about other people, at least the ones that are his; that's a different kind of problem than the one he has.

he would in fact be less of a problem a lot of the time if he cared less, because he does not have the emotional management tools to be useful about it. also the narrative is conspiring against him but like.

(there are a lot of ways to be selfish and jiang cheng and lan wangji are actually remarkably similar in the basic type of selfish impulses they have. they just have very different childhoods and values shaping how they act about it. and then lan wangji manages to become a mostly functional adult, while jiang cheng is generously an electrified pile of bad coping mechanisms. he's functioning! but like. at what cost.)

3) jiang cheng is dutiful. even the most selfish jiang cheng is someone who perceives and values himself in terms of his function and obligation; he and wei wuxian have different personalities and worldviews, and for that matter expectations placed on them, but they both learned that lesson, presumably together.

4) sort of an extension of 1 and to a lesser extent 2, Jiang Cheng is emotionally insecure as a base state. his parents made some major errors, at least half of which should have been avoidable except they would have had to deal with their own shit first.

it's not out of the question, in a different lifetime where he didn't get several years of compounded irresolvable traumas as his coming-of-age present and then left alone to stew in pain and denial for over a decade, for him to have learned to handle it better and even mostly get over it! that could have happened! it just didn't.

to an extent he's insecure about different things as a grown man than he was as a boy, life experience makes a difference. he's built confidence about some things and become absolutely shattered about others. but he's a person who is easy to wound, in all kinds of complicated identity-related ways, especially by Wei Wuxian specifically, and his kneejerk response to that is to lash out in reply, whether the wounding was intentional or not.

the fact that Wei Wuxian spent most of their lives giving every evidence of being completely immune to being harmed by this reaction masked its toxicity until things got real ugly real fast.

jiang cheng absolutely has the capacity to not do this! it's a deeply rooted bad habit, not actually a fundamental of his character. but it requires self-awareness, will, and (if he's going to keep it up) a lot of practice. it's not the kind of thing that just goes away on its own, even with a bunch of alterations in context.

i don’t have like a closing argument here i just keep finding that takes on jiang cheng that don’t work for me, whether generous or condemnatory, always seem to disagree with me on one of these main points.

#mdzs #cql #jiang cheng #hoc est meum #meta #honestly i'm unable to interpret wangxian entirely in isolation from #the way parts of wwx's character were formed by codependency with jc in their youth #so i keep coming back to jiang cheng even when i don't intend to #i wasn't going to post this lol #but then my browser crashed #and i pieced it back together using textarea cache plugin #and now i don't want to waste the effort #i earnestly believe that jiang cheng is the deuteragonist of the tragedy #that gets superceded by the gay romcom where lwj is deuteragonist #which i think is the funniest use of genre meta as character subtext i have ever seen

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celestial-toys · 1 year

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Paralyzed

As your shift in the daycare came to a close today, something triggered a terrible panicking trauma response in you. You've locked yourself in the storage closet in an attempt to get away from it all. When Sun eventually manages to get the door open, his heart breaks at the state he finds you in. Cue 4k words of ensuing caretaking and comfort.

Pairing: Sun/Reader/Moon Word Count: 6,014 Contains: [NSSI/Self-Harm] [panic] [PTSD] [crying] [emotional & physical hurt/comfort] [bandaging wounds] [undressing (not the sexy kind)] [caretaking] [cuddling] [literal sleeping together] [established relationship] [GN!Reader]

“Sunshine? I know you’re hurting right now… but you need to let me in there with you so I can help…”

A faint rattling comes from the locked doorknob, shortly followed by silence.

You barely hear it from where you’re slumped, back against the far wall of the pitch dark supply closet.

You’re far too consumed in your own suffering to even consider the impact of your actions right now. You have to make these feelings stop. You have to make it all go away. You can’t take anymore today.

Through your panicked haze and ragged breathing, your ears barely pick up on the faint sound of metallic tinkering, and Sun’s muttering on the other side of the door.

“Oh, for heavens sake… why does the supply closet even have the ability to lock from the inside in the first place?”

Your panicked breaths come faster and faster, until you begin to feel lightheaded from it all. The pain of your memories. The fear of whatever trigger had set you off this time. The shame of causing Sun such distress, having to see you like this.

You told yourself you’d never let them see you in such a state, yet here you fucking are. Trembling and soaked in sweat, tears, and snot, curled up on the cold tile of the supply closet floor.

It was bound to happen eventually, you suppose. You could lie and say you were doing better but this always comes back to drag you down again eventually.

You register the sound of a bolt shifting, before a few small screws fall down and roll across the floor in different directions. You watch the door creak open slightly, and thin, long robotic fingers snake their way around the edge and take hold of the loose doorknob before it can fall and clatter to the floor.

You feel your stomach drop at the knowledge that your time in hiding has come to an end. The door swings open slowly, the daycare’s bright lights casting into the room. The light makes a path all the way across the floor, from the open doorway across to your darkened form curled uncomfortably in the back, like a wild animal, cornered.

You lift your head enough to glance at him and you catch the sight of his silhouette, backlit in a way that has him looking more intimidating than he likely realizes. You instinctively curl back down into yourself and miss the way he subconsciously shrinks in on himself when he sees your apparent fear.

He’s the last person on earth that you should fear. He just wants to help you. He was built for this, wasn’t he? Taking care of the vulnerable?

Why’d they have to make him look so terrifying, then?

He pushes his own thoughts aside, his hand curling around the doorframe in search of the light switch. He quickly locates it, flipping it up and flooding the room with fluorescent light.

The proper sight of you breaks his mechanical heart.

Your hair is an absolute mess and your clothes are all bunched up around you as you’ve contorted yourself to take up the least amount of space possible. Like someone was trying to hurt you even though you were alone in here. He doesn’t even need to do a full body scan to tell that you have been hurt, actually. When his optics pass over your left hand, warning signs flash across his vision.

Injured. You’re injured.

In his daycare. Under his supervision.

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Not you. Not like this. Not ever.

He has to fix it. Fix you. Make it better.

Yes. Yes, he can make it better. He- he can fix this. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You have to be. He… needs you. They both do. You have to be okay.

They’ll make it better.

You keep your head tucked away into the pulled-up hood of your jacket, waiting. You don’t even know what you’re waiting for, exactly. Yelling? Screaming? Panic? Anger? Disappointment? Rough hands, grabbing, pulling, hurting you again?

If you were thinking straight right now you’d know this isn’t necessary. You’d remember where you are, and who you’re with, and that you are absolutely safe here. Sun and Moon wouldn’t ever lay a hand on you in anything other than love. Their touches don’t hurt. Neither do their words.

You’re not thinking straight right now, though. Your mind is somewhere else entirely. Completely caught up in the past, your mind replaying all the bad that you’ve ever encountered, like it’s trying to teach you a lesson you already know. Trying to warn you of a threat that is no longer there.

Sun slowly lowers himself to the floor and makes his way over to you on all fours in the least terrifying way he can.

His voice is about as quiet as he can get it to go but you still flinch when he breaks the silence.

“Sunshine, are you here with me right now? Can you hear me?”

You’re about halfway here and halfway gone, to be completely honest, but you manage to nod your head, the movement stiff and jerky. Your muscles are all so goddamn tense it’s a wonder you can move at all.

“Do you think you can take a deep breath for me?”

You try to, and fail miserably, the air catching in your throat and coming back out as a choked sob. Gods, you can’t even breathe right, can you? You shake your head vehemently, tangling your messy hair even further in the process as you start mindlessly muttering apologies between short, quick breaths.

“I’m-I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry…”

Sun’s hands flex open and closed, held firmly down at his sides to prevent their urges from taking over and just allowing himself to scoop you up into his arms the way he wants to.

“Hey… e-easy, love. There’s no need for apologies here, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Your tears pick back up again at that, voice accidentally coming out in a sudden shout, only muffled by the balled-up sleeve you’ve brought up to try and hide your face.

“YES I HAVE! I-I-I don’t know what… but I must have done something… something to end up like this.”

It’s getting harder for Sun to close out of the numerous warning pop-ups that flood his vision. His voice is a bit more strained when you hear it again.

“No-no-no not at all! You haven’t done anything to make this happen. This is just… something that happens sometimes, yeah? And-and-and I’m here now to help you through it!”

He eyes your left hand again, lying lifeless on the cold tile beside you. It’s completely red and swollen, with long, angry red lines running down along your forearm and the back of your hand. He knew he’d heard the sound of repeated, dull banging when he first discovered you’d locked yourself in here, but he hadn’t wanted to think about what you might be doing to yourself.

He’s gonna find out now, though.

Losing yourself in your panic again, you shakily pick your stiff hand up off the tile, balling it into a fist as you bring it up just to slam it back down on the cold, hard floor with as much force as you can possibly muster. Sharp pain runs through your wrist as the already swollen joint is forced to take the impact of yet another hit. A hiss of pain is immediately ripped out of you, and you revel in the small relief that it brings, forcing you to take a deep breath to distract yourself. You’d been at this for a solid thirty minutes now, based on Sun’s calculations of when this whole ordeal started.

Sun’s body locks up at the sight, and he can’t even feel the black, watery fluid that begins to leak from beneath his eyes, running down along the curves of his faceplate like tears.

He’s paralyzed. Stuck in between two equally important rules.

They sound off on repeat like warning sirens in his mind.

[ Protect you. ]

[ Never touch you without permission. ]

[ Protect you. ]

[ Never touch you without permission. ]

[ Protect you. ]

[ Never touch you without permission. ]

He’s forced to sit there, glued to the ground and watch as you lift your fist and slam it back down once again, your body reeling forward in response to the pain.

He suddenly feels Moon’s presence fighting to take control in their shared headspace.

He watches on helplessly as an unauthorized edit is made to one of the rules cemented in the forefront of his mind.

[ Protect you. A̵T̸ ̶A̶L̶L̶ ̵C̵O̴S̴T̷S̴.̸ ]

He immediately breaks from his paralysis just in time to reach forward, his movements lightning fast, and wraps his massive hand around your fist as it makes its way towards the ground once again. He moves your connected hands downward together, trying to follow the motion so as to not hurt you any further by suddenly stopping you mid-swing.

Your hands both slam down onto the tile, but you hardly feel the pain this time. Sun registers that the back of his hand took the brunt of the impact, no real damage done given his sturdier components, and his body nearly collapses from the sudden relief.

His other hand quickly reaches out and loosely wraps itself around your wrist, needing to hold you still. He’s careful to not aggravate the swollen joint, nor the stinging lines of broken skin you’d torn across the back of your hand.

You stop crying in your shock, and your head jerks up to look at him, and the both of you stare at each other, unsure, for a long quiet moment.

He breaks the silence first.

“I’m sorry. I-I-I know we can’t touch you without permission but-but-but you weren’t LISTENING and I-I-I had to. You were hurting-hurting-HURTING yourself.”

His repetitions are getting noticeably worse, and so is his volume control. He’s stressed beyond his limits, clearly.

Your remaining panic evaporates at the realization and guilt suddenly takes over, washing over you in waves that threaten to drown.

Your right hand is trembling as you pull it away from your face, poking out of your sleeve and reaching out towards him, no longer caring about the absolute hell you must look like right now.

You grab onto one of his upper arms and pull yourself towards him with what little strength you have left in you. He sat up straight as a board in response to your sudden shift in position, clearly not expecting you to fall right into him. He quickly recovers though, gingerly adjusting you to be more comfortable in his hold.

Your voice is miserable and thick with tears when you speak, face making a mess of the soft, colorful ruffles around his neck. He doesn’t mind it at all, at this point. They can be washed.

“Don’t, please… don’t apologize. Just…”

You let out a shaky sigh.

“just hold me… please.”

That’s permission enough for him, and he quickly gathers you further up onto his lap, adjusting so he’s leaned back against a cabinet and you can lay against him.

“Okay… okay. We can do that.”

He slowly brings your injured hand up to inspect it better in the light, and mutters another string of quiet apologies when you whimper in pain. From a quick scan he can tell that nothing is broken- thank heavens - but it will definitely bruise something awful. He also quietly takes note of the way your sharp nails must’ve broken skin, as there’s tiny dried specks of blood along your forearm when he cautiously lifts your sleeve.

The injury warning pop-ups are still flashing in his vision, but they’re easier to see through now. You’re stable. You’re safe. There will be time to patch you up once they get you calm.

Speaking of they, Moon is now throwing an absolute fit inside their headspace, more impatient than ever to be released so he can do his job. You need to be calmed, you need to be soothed, you need to rest.

[ LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT ]

Sun shoots him a silent response as he brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head against his chest, heart breaking all over again at the way you still tremble against him.

[ You know I would if I could. We have to wait for the lights to go out. Have patience. It’s nearly your turn. ]

He outwardly flinches at the sudden sharp volume of Moon’s voice in his mind.

[ PATIENCE? I just had to sit back here and witness them actively HARMING themselves like a helpless SPECTATOR and you’re telling me to have PATIENCE, SUN? REALLY? ]

Sun settles you back down against him when you stir in response to his sudden movement, assuring you once again that you haven’t done anything wrong.

[ Moon. Please. Look at them. Now is not the time to be fighting. ]

Moon doesn’t reply, so he adds on.

[ I… sincerely thank you… for editing the rule for me, you know? ]

He hears Moon sigh in exasperation, and feels the tension in their headspace begin to slowly dissolve.

[ …yeah. You’re welcome. Don’t make me have to do it again. ]

As if on queue, the lights power down in the plex all at once, and their transition begins. They feel the way you suddenly tense at the realization, and they hush you as their voice shifts from Sun’s into Moon’s.

“Shhh, shh, shh. You’re okay. Everything’s alright, little star. No need to be scared. I’m right here. You’re still safe.”

You keep your head buried in the fabric when you speak.

“Moon?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you… mad at me?”

He struggles to keep it together when he hears how scared you sound.

“Not at all, doll. Never. Never mad at you.”

He brings your left hand back up a bit to get a better look at it through his own eyes, and his body releases a soft burst of warm air from his vents.

“Mad at ourselves? Mmmaybe. But that’s none of your concern. It’s over now. We’re gonna fix this. We promise.”

He shifts a little, and whispers a soft question.

“May I move you up to our room so we can clean you up?”

You nod against him, humming in unenthusiastic acceptance.

His movements are incredibly careful and fluid when he picks the two of you up off the floor. Walking out of the storage closet, he calls down his tether and adjusts his grip on you to assure that you won’t slip.

You cling tight to him with your good hand, and close your eyes to avoid the unpleasant sight of being so far up in the air. Before you know it, you’re being lowered onto their bed so carefully one would think you’re made of glass.

When you finally detach yourself from his chest so he can put you down, you finally notice the dark tear-tracks leaking from his eyes. They shimmer, reflecting the dim string-lights hung throughout the room. You reach out to him, trying to wipe them away and failing miserably, smearing the dark stains further across their faceplate.

He gently takes your hand and brings it to his smile, pressing the equivalent of a kiss against your skin before placing your hand back down in your lap.

“Don’t you worry about us right now, star. You do that enough already. It’s your turn to be taken care of now.”

He shifts from his crouched position by the bed and moves to stand, intending to go fetch the first aid kit. You stop him by clinging to his hand with a nervous whine when he pulls away. You don’t even recognize how small and vulnerable you sound when your thoughts slip out of you.

“Where… where are you going?”

He crouches back down to your level, brushing your messy hair back away from your face.

“Just need to run down and get some things to patch you up with, doll. I’ll be back within a minute. Do you think you can wait for me here while I go do that?”

He’s slipped into caregiver mode, speaking to you like he’d speak to a frightened child in the daycare, but honestly… right about now, you don’t feel much different. His kind, patient tone works wonders to quiet your lingering fears.

“Okay… yeah, I can wait.”

He moves to press another kiss to the crown of your head when he stands back up, whispering to you.

“Very good. I’ll only be a moment. Wait here for me, starlight.”

You don’t count the seconds it takes him, but from what you can tell he stayed true to his word, for it couldn’t have been more than a minute before he was swinging himself back onto the balcony, arms full of various items.

He quietly sets them down one by one on a table in the room, and turns to you, crouching down again to be on your level.

“Now, patching up injuries is usually Sun’s thing, but I’m fully capable of it as well, if you’ll let me.”

You nod in silence, looking down, letting the shame, guilt, and embarrassment wash over you again. He picks up on it, and is quick to reassure you, crouching even further down and tilting his head at an angle so as to catch your gaze again.

“Hey, hey, hey… you don’t need to be ashamed of this. We’re not angry with you, and you don’t have to explain anything tonight if you don’t feel up to it . ”

Some of the tension bleeds out of your shoulders at that, and you take a resolving breath before granting him permission to tend to you, holding your left arm out towards him.

“…Thank you.”

He takes it in his, and reaches to grab a cleansing wipe from his pile of assorted things.

“It’s our honor to care for you, love.”

He hesitates, looking you over for a moment before setting the wipe back down and turning to you.

“It’ll be easier to do this if we take your jacket off first. Would you like assistance?”

You raise your arms out away from you, nodding sheepishly.

If he could smile any bigger than he always is, he would have.

“Alright, then. Mind your hand…”

He gently removes your jacket and folds it over the back of a chair. Then, returning his attention to your arm, he tears the pouch open and pulls the cloth out.

“This will sting at first, but it’s necessary, okay?”

You nod, only wincing slightly as he cleans your scratches and then pulls out a tube of some sort, twisting the tiny cap off with nimble fingers.

“This will help you heal.”

You watch quietly as he takes the utmost care to evenly coat each red, stinging line with the ointment, and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is a bit overkill for a few scratches… but you’re hesitant to turn him down. It couldn’t hurt, and you were rather enjoying the treatment. Far, far more than you’d like to admit, honestly. The torn lines of skin run all the way down your forearm to meet your knuckles, and he doesn’t miss a single spot.

He then turns away, pulling out a thin roll of gauze, and gestures for you to hold your arm out once again. When you offer it, he begins wrapping your arm up, starting from your hand. He’s extremely careful to not put undue pressure on your swollen palm and wrist, and once it’s secured around your hand, he winds the dressing all the way up around your arm, covering every little wound.

You’re nearly in a trance by the time he fastens the bandage in place and pulls back, pilfering through the other things he brought. You snap out of it when his voice breaks the silence again.

“Would you like my assistance while changing into something more suited for sleep?”

You nod before you even really register the inquiry, still too caught up in how good it felt to be bandaged up the way he did. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you undress before, anyways, so you don’t dwell on it too much when he guides you to stand and helps you remove your wrinkled work clothes.

Digging around in their dresser, he pulls out a plush pair of your sleep pants that you leave here for unplanned nights like this, and an oversized Superstar Daycare logo t-shirt.

He squats down, letting you use his shoulders to support your unsteady frame as you step into the pants, pulling them up around your waist before guiding you to sit back down on the bed. Reaching for the shirt and motioning for you to lift your arms, he makes sure the sleeve doesn’t catch on your bandages as he drapes it down over you.

You’re tempted to collapse back into the mattress then and there, but he’s not done coddling you yet.

He begins climbing all around you and gathering up every pillow in the room, propping you up and placing them around you to form some sort of… protective nest, you suppose? Whatever he’s doing, it seems like very important work in his eyes, so you let him fuss over the arrangement ‘til his heart's content, watching him with a small smile and tired eyes.

Once he seems satisfied with his work, he gently picks your left hand up and places it on its own special elevated pillow. He takes a ridiculous amount of care to make sure all of your bruising fingers are spread out in the best possible position, and then looks to you in question.

“Is this okay? Comfortable like this?”

You nod with a bemused smile, and he tilts his head for a moment, gauging your expression. Whatever he makes of it, he seems content now, and so he returns to his duties.

Reaching back to the table, he pulls over an ice pack, carefully wrapping it with soft fabric before situating it over your hand and wrist. He spends a few quiet moments just holding it there, practically staring straight through the ice pack and down into your injured hand. There’s something almost… far away about his voice when he speaks this time, but it’s gone again before your tired mind can question it.

“This should help bring the swelling down…”

You give him a tired smile, and a quiet thank you in acknowledgment.

That seems to snap him out of whatever momentary daze he had slipped into.

He moves back, stopping to take stock of the things he brought with him for a moment before grabbing a wet-looking washcloth and settling himself down on the bed in front of you.

“You’ll sleep better if your face isn’t all hot and tear-stained.”

You’re not gonna decline him, but you do feel compelled to say something.

“You really don’t have to go to such lengths like this, Moon… I don’t really feel like I deserve all this pampering after the burden I’ve been here lately...”

His body language visibly falls, seeming almost hurt by your words.

“Let’s get one thing straight, doll.

You are no burden.

Second of all, if you think that this is pampering…”

He lets out a small, sad laugh, looking down and obviously thinking something over internally.

“…then you’ve need to raise your standards, love. This is just basic care.”

He turns back to meet your gaze again.

“Besides. We’d be some pretty awful caretakers if we couldn’t even do this, wouldn’t we?”

His faceplate spins until it’s done a 180, reversing its path and righting itself once again as he speaks. That gets a small smile out of you, and you drop the subject, closing your eyes and leaning in to let him wipe the mess of your breakdown from your flushed skin.

Once you’re cleaned, he steps away for a moment, placing the damp cloth back atop the first aid kit on the table. He’ll put everything away in the morning, but for now, he’s quite hesitant to leave your side again. The small mess of assorted items and today’s dirty clothes will have to wait until tomorrow.

Leaning down to pull their belled slippers off, he places them neatly away to the side. You eye his long fingers as he lifts the back of their neck ruffles, deftly undoing the small bow holding them on, and watch as it unravels. He tosses the fabric onto the same chair he hung your jacket from, and your eyes follow his hands as they move down to his waist, fingers working to undo the tie that holds their pants up.

You avert your gaze as the star patterned fabric drops to the floor, pooling around his ankles. It’s not like there’s anything about each other you haven’t already seen before, but it still feels a bit inappropriate to just sit here doing nothing and watching him undress.

As you lean your head back to stare up at the sea of glow-in-the-dark stars that decorate the ceiling, he steps into the longest, softest pair of black palazzo pants known to mankind, a rare find of yours from a lucky trip to a thrift store.

You hated it when you first found out that they either had to sleep in their work clothes or nothing at all, so you had begun to buy up any casual clothes you could find whenever you happened across something that might fit their unusual frame.

He wraps the ties around his thin waist twice, tying them into a neat bow in the front. He then grabs a baggy, cream colored open-front cardigan and slips one arm after the other into it. Loosely wrapping the sides across his front, he turns and makes his way back over to the bedside. He didn’t particularly care one way or the other about wearing any sort of shirt to bed, but you often fell asleep on him and weren’t a big fan of waking up with your cheek adhered to the silicone of his chest plate.

When you notice his approach in your peripheral vision, you pull your lidded gaze away from the stars above you to look at the Moon beside you.

He settles himself down right next to you, careful to not disturb the nest he’s created, and then reaches out to the bedside table one more time, returning with a bottle of water and a packet of your favorite crackers, which he presumably snatched from the daycare’s pantry.

Why on earth it is that this is the gesture that finally does you in will forever remain a mystery to you, but at the sight of him presenting you the food and water, your eyes well up again with tears you didn’t think you had left.

He visibly falters for a moment, unsure if he’s done something wrong. He drops the crackers down onto the bed, freeing a hand to reach out and cup your cheek, guiding you to look at him. His voice is heavy with a quiet concern.

“Hey, hey, no more tears… Why are you crying again, starlight? Is something still hurting you?”

You smile in spite of your shining eyes, and lean into his touch.

“They’re good tears this time, Moon. I just… Thank you. For everything, for all of this, thank you. Both of you.”

He seems to relax a bit at that, and his thumb runs over your cheek to brush away a stray tear. His eyes get that distant look in them for a moment and you realize he’s listening to Sun.

“Thanking us is not necessary, but you’re very welcome all the same.”

He opens the water bottle for you, assuring that you’ve got a good grip on it before he lets you take it. As soon as it hits your throat you realize just how thirsty you were, greedily downing about half the bottle before Moon’s hand appears in your line of sight, gently ushering it away from your pursed lips.

“Please pace yourself, starlight.”

You swallow your current mouthful of water as you watch him open the package of crackers, expecting him to hand it to you before you remember that you’ve got a bottle in one hand and an ice pack on the other. He picks one piece out of the package and as he brings it up towards you, you connect the dots quickly enough.

“Open.”

Oh, brother, he’s really giving you the full treatment tonight.

You feel heat return to your cheeks once again, albeit for a different reason this time around. Your voice comes out in a mixture of embarrassment and want.

“You don’t have to feed me…”

His faceplate angles down to the side, cocking his head at you. If he could smirk you’re sure he would be right now.

“But we want to.”

He gently nudges the cracker at your closed lips and you side-eye him as you part them just enough to snatch the food in between your teeth. You pull away with a small smile as you chew, and for some reason you struggle to look him in the eyes.

If circumstances were brighter, he’d likely be teasing you for being so shy, but tonight… Tonight, he sets the jokes aside. He patiently feeds you one cracker after another, reminding you to take a small sip of water every few bites. At some point, when your mind slows down enough for you to notice the silence permeating the room, soft music begins to play from the speaker hidden in his chest.

It’s the tune that he reserves especially for nights like these with you, one that he never plays during nap time. In spite of how little Sun and Moon have to call their own, they still manage to find small parts of themselves to share only with you.

Once you’ve finished your snack, you let him place the remainder of your water back on the side table. When he turns back to you, ready to get you laid down to sleep, you’re fixing him with a thoughtful stare. His faceplate tilts 45 degrees, his tone curious.

“What are you looking at?”

Your tired gaze roams across his faceplate, following along the smeared oily tear tracks he seems to have forgotten about. You then look past him, over his shoulder, and your eyes land on the still-damp cloth on the table.

“Would you hand me that cloth for a second, please?”

He’s silent for a moment, processing your question, but eventually reaches behind himself to retrieve it for you. When he places it in your open right hand, you use it to gesture out in front of you.

“Can you move to sit in front of me for a minute?”

He tilts his head the opposite direction in confusion once again, but does as you requested. You motion for him to lean down a bit until his face is level with yours.

Once you can reach him, you pinch one corner of the cloth between two fingers and set to work wiping away the dark tear tracks. You follow the path they’ve made down from beneath their eyes, around the inner curve of their cheeks and down to their mouth. The trails of inky fluid had weaved their way through the crevices of their smile and eventually converged, pooling in the bottom curve of the crescent moon.

You feel his eyes, now tiny pinpricks of red in a black void, following your every movement. Not really in a dangerous sort of way… he just seems more taken aback than anything. When you’ve wiped every last trace away, you meet his gaze briefly as you give him one final look over, and you give him a small smile.

You go to hand the cloth back to him and he doesn’t move to take it, still sitting there with his hands clasped in his lap and staring straight at you. Oh god. Knowing your luck, your attempt at returning the favor has broken him. Cautiously reaching out, you take one of his hands in yours and maneuver it until it’s face-up. You ball the cloth up and place it back in his palm as your hand comes to rest over top of it, eyes darting across his frame in search of any movement, any sort of response.

“Are you still with me, Moon?”

At your words, his faceplate suddenly clicks back and forth a few times before making one full rotation, the bell on the end of his hat grazing the pillows below you along the way. Life seems to finally return to him, and his fingers close around the cloth in his hand as he leans back. Silently, he moves from his spot seated in front of you to return the cloth to the table before settling himself back down in his prior spot beside you. You turn to look at him, uncertain, and his gaze is settled on the bed sheets when he speaks.

“I never left you.”

Your tired mind struggles to understand what exactly that means, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh?”

He tilts his faceplate to look down at you, still being a head taller than you even when you’re sitting next to him.

“You asked me if I was still with you.”

His hand reaches out and he carefully laces his long fingers between yours.

“I never left.”

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at the sincerity in his voice and in that moment, you can’t do anything other than lean into him, gently resting your forehead against his shoulder. After a little while of just breathing in the moment, you speak again.

“I just… wanted to return the favor. You two take such good care of me, wiping your tears is the least I can do…”

One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head against him.

“It’s entirely unnecessary but we both appreciate it nonetheless. We really do. We’re just… not used to it. Being treated so gently is… unfamiliar to us.”

You pull your left hand out from beneath the ice pack in order to wrap your arms around him in a proper hug, talking into the fabric of his cardigan.

“Oh, come on, guys… you’re starting to sound like me now.”

Moon resists the urge to reprimand you for moving your hand, instead allowing their body to lean into the embrace, wrapping long arms around your soft, vulnerable body. His voice sounds far more exhausted than any animatronic's voice ought to when he speaks.

“…it’s well past your bedtime, little star.”

You put the last of your energy into squeezing him as tightly as you can before you finally let go, allowing him to re-situate you however he deems fit.

You know that there’s a heavy conversation to be had tomorrow, and you’re gonna have to find a way to hide or explain away the remnants of your obvious injury to little questioning minds on Monday. You’ll have to think of all the right things to say to anyone who may ask questions, and you’ll come up with something, you’re sure. One thing you can find comfort in though, is that you don’t have to worry about any of that with Sun and Moon.

They deserve a more detailed explanation of course and they’ll get it when you’re ready, but at least for tonight… the three of you can rest knowing that you’re safe and understood in each other's arms. None of you are strangers to this, and you both know that things will be okay again. One step back doesn’t erase any of the progress you made beforehand.

So for now, you breathe in deep and focus on the feeling of gentle, strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe from anything that may seek to harm you.

Even if that’s yourself.

A/Ns: Crisis Text Line provides free, 24/7 support via text message. They're there for everything: anxiety, depression, suicide, school. Text HOME to 741741. Or, you can click the link here to visit their website for more information and resources. As usual, if you want to see all of my commentary and additional context in regards to writing this fic, you can find that in the notes right here on AO3!

Image Sources: x - x - x

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demaparbat-hp · 3 months

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Even if zuko has a plan to end the war, making katara work amongst people who likely hold racism towards her and aided and supported the genocide of her people is still weird, especially since zuko benefits from the fire nations oppression of people throughout s1 when hunting the Avatar. Not good choices to make in a zutara au :/

Believe me, I've made these arguments against myself over and over again.

I know I'm putting Katara in an extremely difficult and unjust position in this AU with—from an outsider's point of view—little to no reason other than "I just wanted to see her in Fire Nation armor and kicking ass" and no consideration for the context. I'm not trying to somehow forgive nor redeem the Fire Nation's actions in war just because...well...just because. Not at all. People who've read Soundless (or any other of my wips, really) know that's not the case. On the contrary—I always do my best to see the war through a realistic, mature lense. And that includes everything that makes the Fire Nation so terrible in the first place.

That being said, there are some things I considered when deciding to make Katara side with them (even if her true motives lie elsewhere) in this AU. And they are not excuses. Just, different layers of context.

First of all, she was desperate. By this point in her life, her mother was dead, her father had left to fight the war, her brother followed behind a few years after, and she was left filling the empty spaces when, by all means, she wasn't ready for the responsibility. She had been feeling helpless and hopeless for years, and ached to do anything to help her people beyond doing chores and taking care for the children.

Let it be known that Aang's apparent betrayal comes from a place of trauma and misplaced anger on Katara's part. Much like how she put the Fire Nation's sins on Zuko's shoulders in S3. She is not on the right here, but this is her natural way to process and understand grief. There are many different aspects of her development as a child involved in how she views the Avatar—and, by extension, Aang—but more on this later.

Katara was young, and reckless, and she had just been "betrayed" by the first person who ever looked at her and saw more than the perfect caretaker she was forced to be. She was not in the right state of mind to make a decision like that and, to be honest, she couldn't have predicted the consequences. She saw a clear path to contribute to the end of the war, and by La she would take it.

On Zuko's end, you might argue that he should have known better than to let her join him and, well, you would be right. But there were many things about Katara's trauma response and state of mind that—unless he had known her for a long time—he couldn't have known. He will definitely blame himself later on, when the racism and cruelty towards Katara begins, and especially when word reaches her family at sea.

It's Katara's job to smack some sense into him from time to time and tell him that, yes, he should have tried harder to stop her (and she would probably be better off because of it) but what's done is done. And, by all means, the decision was hers to make. If anything, it's their fault, not his alone.

Now, Katara doesn't suffer the entire AU. That would just be cruel.

Zuko's crew was handpicked by Uncle Iroh, so you can expect dissidents, traitors and a few White Lotus agents who were smart enough to keep their true opinions quiet. There are...mixed opinions in that bunch, of course, but that's expected and, to be honest, rather easily dealt with. They are mostly honourable people just doing their best to end the war from the inside.

The real problem comes when they cross paths with, say, Zhao's fleet (or Hakoda's, let's be real).

And you may ask why Zuko is hunting down Aang, then, if he's secretly a goody-two-shoes himself... I'll explain that later in depth, so stay tuned.

In short, I know the decisions I've made, as a creator, are debatable at best, and downright blasfemous at worst. But they're deliberate.

I want the readers to feel conflicted about Katara's choices in this AU. I want people to have mixed opinions about the war, the (apparent lack of) morality, the characters, you name it!

I'm not trying to glorify a victim of war joining the side of the ones responsible for her people's genocide, even if it's just for show and she's actually set on destroying their government from within. Not at all.

Katara made a stupid, horrible decision, and she's going to suffer the consequences. But she's also going to fight to reach her goals, because she's stubborn like that.

I know most people may have a little trouble understanding where I'm coming from, because they don't have all the information necessary to make a full opinion.

I'm really thankful for these kind of asks. They let me explore these concepts and AUs in depth, and see what you think about them. I'm only human—my opinions are not infalible, nor The Right Ones, and this is a kind of discussion that I love to have.

So, keep the asks coming!!!

#dema answers #atla #zutara #zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #hunters au #Katara joins Zuko AU #zutara au #zutara fic #Sorry for making this so long. But I loved writing it and thinking about it from a different pov #So thank you again for not shying away from making these kind of questions #It's always good to see things from a critical perspective #Please share your opinions about these themes! It's doesn't matter how different or seemingly nonsensical they may be.#Every single one is important #And the more asks the more I get to share and think about this AU #So it's a win win situation

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Be careful who you bring home : Morpheus x reader

part 2 is up

request/summary by anon: you know how people get pets for emotional support? reader with anxiety or fear of loneliness finds a big black cat in a park and she is just: yeah, you are coming home with me. cat happens to be post imprisonement!morpheus. he wants to argue, but she quickly takes him to her apartment which is conveniently close to the park. reader cooing to cat: who is my little baby and Matthew seeing it from the street and laughing at his boss. with 142 for reader (maybe he said something while being a cat) and 153 for morpheus.

142 was "it's just your imagination", 153 was "put me down" I might have changed the request a little bit but I hope you'll like it. Also thete is a bit of a twist/ crossover in the story. Wonder if you'll get it :D

***

„Have you ever considered getting a pet?”

The girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in comfy, black clothes sitting in front of the therapist frowned in confusion.

“A pet” she repeated “and why would I need that?”

“You know, it is proven that they have positive effect on people who suffer from depression and anxiety, so maybe this would be a good idea for healing process”

“Do you give such advice to all of your patients, doctor Raynor? Did you give such advice to Bucky, as well?”

“We both know he is not that kind of guy.”

“Really, why not?” the girl shrugged “he had some goats in Wakanda after all.”

“Stop joking around.”

“Jeez, fine. I won’t get a pet. In my current mental state I can barely take care of myself, let alone any other living being. Any other words of wisdom coming from you?”

“Not with this attitude. You may leave for now.”

“You know if I was paying you that would be the shittiest session not worth a dime.” She grabbed her coat and without a word, hands in the pocket left the room and not-so-pleased therapist.

A pet. Good joke. A four legged animal who would wake her up in the morning and at night asking for food or caress. A being that would turn her life upside down since it would require constant care and supervision to avoid destroying her apartment. Nope. Thank you very much. She was good enough by herself. Determined to get her head and broken soul back together and get clearance to get back to SHIELD and field operations. She missed that, but apparently beating up a bunch of bad guys leaves you in emotional trauma and in need of recover. Bullshit! She was an agent, for god’s sake, not a crying mess. Her attitude was far from cheerful and optimistic but just today she had to curb her murderous thoughts since one of her nieces were supposed to visit. Jemma was five years old and was still going through her princesses, pink glitter and unicorns faze. She was a challenge to be around, but definitely worth it. Her father, agent’s sister were supposed to drop her in straight to the house, but just a minute ago she got the message about the change in plans. Since the weather was beautiful and it was not often this time of the year, he took the chance for a little walk in the park and decided to meet his sister there instead of in the four walls. As she approached the park, she noticed her family amongst other walking people. Jemma was running around, picking leaved and jumping into the pools with loud, happy squeals. She could not hold back the tiniest smile on her face.

“She’s gonna get all wet and dirty and then who will tend to that?” the girl mocked while coming closer

“Hm, don’t know. I think at this point she would be someone else’s responsibility.”

“Hello, brother.”

“Hello sister” he hugged her tightly “how you’ve been? Life still kicking you in the guts?”

“I mean, when it doesn’t? You know my line of work….” Her brother was convinces she was just some regular office worker dealing with boring documents, since that was simply safer for everyone.

“Right, so mundane and ordinary…..” he rolled his eyes

“Auntie!” Jemma turned around and run straight to her favorite relatives not caring about the mud she left on her trousers while clutching to her legs.

“Hi, cupcake. Don’t you have to much energy?”

“I have so much to tell you! About the rhyme I’ve learned and some new letters I came across and my friends and everything” little girl jumped around in excitement “And I know a new magic trick dad showed me. But I still don’t quite understand it….” she frowned

“It;s ok, cupcake, we can work on that.”

“Oh, thank god. Like I said, your responsibility now. Good luck.” Girl’s brother was quick to get himself some freedom “just don’t give her too much sweets, you know how she gets after that”

“Yeah, too well. See you in a couple of hours then. Come on, Jemma” she took her niece’s little hand sticky with some mysterious substance “ let’s go home.”

If only it was that easy. They only took a couple steps when the little one broke out from aunt’s grip.

“Look, auntie, a cat!” she run over to the bench where unusually big and beautiful animal was soaking up the sun. Before he realized what hit him, he was squeezed and carried by a little pair of still sticky hands and it was visible he did not like it.

“Jemma! Leave that animal alone. It may hurt you.”

Do not refer to me as “it”. I am a male personification. And put me down! Immediately!

She could swear she heard something in the back of her mind, but let it go. After all, cats do not talk and she was in therapy for mental trouble so it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Can we take him home, auntie, he’s so sweet, please” little girl pouted

“No. Of course not, look at… him. He is very good looking, so most probably belongs to someone. Not a chance he’s a stray cat. “

“I can’t see anyone looking for him” a couple tears showed up in Jemma;s eyes. “Please, auntie, please….” Great, now she was crying out loud getting the attention of few pedestrians.

“Ok, fine, fine, just please stop crying.”

“Thank you” Jemma stopped her actions in a second and smiled widely showing the jags in her mouth. “I will carry him so don’t worry about it, auntie” she held the cat even closer not caring about him writing in her embrace.

“Just be careful so he won’t hurt you” she warned following her niece, wondering what the hell she got herself into.

I will not hurt this little mortal.

At this point, the older girl was pretty sure she was going crazy. And to think that Raynor wanted her to have a pet to help her mental health, not deteriorate it.

***

“Auntie, look, I made him pretty”

“Mhm, great” she did not even bother to look up from some records she was currently reading “wait, you did what, Jemma?” a second later she came to realization what a five-year-old girl can mean by saying “made pretty”.

“Look, auntie” said five year old was quick to get the cat out from behind and proudly present it. Despite her rather gloomy attitude the older one could not hold back a laugh. Black fur was now embellished with colorful glitter and was wearing a crown. If it wasn’t for the lack of resources at home Jemma would probably extend her imagination even more.

“Oh” she cooed “look who’s pretty boy” her grin was now getting wider and wider. She was no expert on animal behavior but the look on its face clearly indicated it was not happy with the situation.

“I wanted to give him a braid, but the fur was too short” Jemma saddened

“Don’t worry sweetie, it looks just perfect. Like a ….”

“Princess!” Jemma squealed and turned around with the cat still in her embrace.

“Don’t you both dare. This is humiliating”. Once again there was this little voice inside girl’s head.

“Ok, honey, why don’t you let go of the cat now. I got a snack for you.”

“Chocolate cake?” Jemma asked innocently while playing with her fingers and shyly looking at the floor

“Apple and carrots”

“That is boooooring. And I don’t like carrots” Jemma whined

“Well, too bad for you. I heard veggies give you strength. And then your skin looks healthy and shines almost like the cat’s fur. Wouldn’t you like to look beautiful?”

“I’d rather be smart” Jemma retorted taking her aunt aback with maturity of this sentence “but I guess beauty can help in future. I saw on TV that pretty girls always have what they want so whatever” she shrugged and rushed towards the kitchen where the snack was already waiting for her.

“Unbelievable” her aunt shook her head “but she’ll be busy for a while, so how about we get you all cleaned up, huh?” she picked the cat from the floor and walked towards the bathroom ignoring the writhing animal, who was not happy about forced wash.

Put me down! It demanded again and the girl stopped looking him straight in the eyes trying to check out if she was really going nuts.

“Oh come on, girl, get yourself together. It’s just your imagination.”

She walked straight into the bathroom and started gently combing out the fur. Surprisingly, her action bring the animal comfort because surprisingly to both of them he started purring.

***

Two hours later, tired and sleepy Jemma was picked up by her father and her aunt could finally let the cat out into the wild. It was impossible earlier since the little girl was checking on him every five minutes, refusing to drop this action.

“Sorry about today. “ she muttered opening the door “but hey, on the bring side at least you have a nice story to tell to your fellow cats. Besides, you really are a pretty animal.” maybe it was another impression or the flicker of lights, but it seemed like the cats fur became a bit reddish and he squinted. “go, now, find your owners, get home safe, fella.”

It was just a couple of hours, but the girls was actually starting to think that maybe, hypothetically, Raynor was right about this whole “emotional support pet” stuff.

***

Morpheus bristled and crossed the street. Only on the other side of the road he changed back into the anthropomorphic personification of dreams.

“Um, boss?” his loyal yet rebellious Raven perched on the branch, tilting his head slightly. If he was still human he would probably laugh himself silly.

“Not a word, Matthew. Not a single word about it. To anyone” he reached for his sand and completely ignoring further words of the bird transported them back to the Dreaming “Do I make myself clear” he made sure before entering the palace.

“Sure thing, boss. But it was funny don’t you think?”

“Hold your tongue, Matthew!”

@somest1 @pinksirensong

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nedjsmlfavs · 1 year

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So Derision Broke Me…

Derision (Miraculous S5E14) made some choices that fundamentally broke Marinette’s character for me to the point where I’m having trouble motivating myself to keep writing for this fandom. I figured I’d write down my thoughts and see if that helped me get into a headspace where I can ignore this episode like I do any other writing choices I’m not fond of. If anyone has some words of wisdom, I'd love to hear them.

In Derision, we learn that Marinette has some serious trauma surrounding love. When she was 13, she confessed her love to Kim and was rewarded with a box full of spiders. This “prank” understandably left her traumatized and shaken to her core. In response to that trauma, she vowed to never confess her love to another boy. Not unless she knew everything about him.

This “prank” and several others are revealed to be the fault of Chloé. As for why she’s doing this, well, we’re never given a reason why Marinette is the target. However, we are told the motivation for Chloé’s actions. Rose blames them on the fact that Chloé was abandoned by her mother. Mylène responds to this observation by pointing out that she was also abandoned by her mother, but that didn’t turn her into a bully! Which is a fair point. People react differently to trauma and trauma doesn’t justify bad behavior or undo the effects of those bad behaviors. At the most, trauma explains why the behavior is happening. A lesson that Miraculous has given us before.

In the character Félix’s titular episode, Félix shows up and starts treating Adrien poorly. This leads to this exchange between Adrien and Plagg:

Plagg: What's up with that cousin of yours? First, he searches through your things, and then, the most unforgivable thing of all, he squashes my hunk of goat's cheese under your pillow! I'd been maturing that baby for two weeks! Do you realize? Two whole weeks! Adrien: Listen, Plagg. Félix lost his dad not so long ago, he's probably not himself. Plagg: I'm sorry, but there's just no excuse! You never touch my cheese, and yet, you just lost your mother not so long ago, right?

And, once again, this is a fair observation! The fact that Félix’s father died does not justify Felix trying to ruin Adrien’s life. All it does is explain his motivation.

Trauma does not excuse hurting others. When trauma has negative effects on us, it’s up to us to work through those feelings either on our own or, ideally, with the help of loved ones and therapists. We are never justified in lashing out at innocents who had nothing to do with our trauma.

This brings us to the topic of Marinette.

The fact that Marinette has trauma around romance does not justify her treatment of Adrien. Breaking into his home, trying to sabotage his relationship with Kagami, and all of her other obsessive behaviors are not okay just because she was traumatized by Kim. If Chloe and Felix are not excused by their trauma, then neither is she.

So why am I only bothered by this now?

Because, before this episode, Marinette’s behavior was very clearly a joke. It was, in my opinion, a bad joke, but it was a joke and, when it comes to writing, jokes have to be looked at differently than things that are played straight.

Miraculous relies heavily on absurdist humor. That’s why you’ve got an episode where Adrien and his teenage friends throw an unchaperoned party attended by a bunch of random adults. A thing that would be horrifying and upsetting in reality, but is fine in the show because it’s clearly played as being ridiculous and over the top. I mean, just look at this scene. Anyone taking this seriously has clearly lost the plot.

Marinette’s obsession fell under the same category. Something that would be very wrong in reality, but was obviously being played up for laughs. I was always under the impression that, without the absurdist humor, she’d be significantly toned down and that’s why I just sort of tolerated it in the show. Not my idea of a good joke, but clearly a joke so meh. I can overlook it while watching the show and, when writing her, I can be true to her character while not including this level of obsession because I don’t write crack fic.

Derision changed that. It took 4.5 seasons of questionable jokes and tried to justify them. And that? That is a terrible idea. Because there is no justification for Marinette’s behavior just like there is no justification for Chloe’s behavior in the exact same episode. What they’re doing is wrong and, at best, their trauma explains their behavior. It does not justify it.

Plus, hey, remember how Derision said Kim was a terrible person for laughing at Marinette’s trauma? Isn’t that the exact same thing that we’ve all unknowingly been doing for 4.5 seasons? Kinda makes it hard to rewatch old episodes where her crush was played for laughs, doesn’t it? I hope you’ve never laughed over Marinette’s behavior because, if you have, you’ve been making fun of her trauma and so have the writers.

And that sums up why this episode really bothers me. I either have to ignore a character’s trauma or I have to accept that her trauma has apparently made her unhinged and address it. Because if her behavior is not a bad joke, then the salters are right and Marinette is a total creep. I’m trying my hardest to choose option one, but I’m struggling.

It’s not that Marinette is the only character with questionable behavior. Adrien as Chat Noir is often written as overly persistent and obnoxious when it comes to his crush. It’s not great behavior, but it’s not a consistent characterization nor is it a major flaw. I can fix it with a quick character arc about boundaries or ignore it and (in my head) say that arc happened off screen because I have no doubt that this sort of common teenage issue could be overcome with relative ease. Because when Chat Noir is put in a situation where he could clearly violate Ladybug’s boundaries? He doesn’t. He is, ultimately, respectful. He just needs to be told that respect is more than listening to the explicit “no”.

Deep-seated trauma that leads to stalking? That’s not a minor flaw. It’s a major issue that reveals the need for psychological intervention. I’m not gonna give that to a teenager and fix it with the power of friendship and communication. Nor will I give the stalker her prize. I’m gonna keep him safe because, if Marinette has this level of romance-based trauma, then she is not mentally well enough to be a relationship with someone.

You see, I’ve had people with obsessive crushes who violated my boundaries. A loved one of mine had to get the police involved because of someone’s crush on them. Stalking and obsessive behavior is not a joke. It’s traumatizing, but even though I have that trauma, Miraculous never bothered me because of how the stalking was played as a joke.

Joke's over, though. As of Derision, we are supposed to take Marinette's behavior at face value.

So, yeah. I don’t know where I go from here. It’s been a week and I just have no desire to ever touch Marinette again. If anyone has some words of advice, I’d love to hear them. And I’m sorry, but it may be a while before anything of mine updates.

#miraculous salt #marinette salt #ml season 5 #ml derision #derision salt #derision spoilers #ml derision spoilers #ml s5 spoilers #ml writing salt #ml season 5 salt #miraculous season 5

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mischiefmanaged71 · 1 year

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The Great War (1/10)

Summary: After landing in a place he has no idea about, Tom comes across someone who can finally help him get back to Manchester

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! reader

A tired hand ran down her face as she walked down the hall of the infirmary, performing her checks on the new influx of patients. The hospital received a load of men from the shore - soldiers from a shipwreck at Dunkirk. She expected the same sight of doctors and nurses tending to bloody wounds, and unconscious patients. To her surprise, she heard a series of loud voices shouting over each other as she followed the cacophony of a struggle down the aisle of beds.

Her sight was blocked by a few men crowding a bed, the patient seemingly unwilling as he shouted as they tried to get him to lay back.

"Get your grubby hands off me!"

"We're trying to help you!" Dr O’Conner shouted.

He had bandages wrapped around his shoulder, and blood was still stained on his skin.

“How are a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?” he said, leaning into the man's face intimidatingly.

“What’s going on here?” she spoke up, waving a hand to grab their attention. The situation diffused as the men stepped back from the bed. She felt the man’s eyes on her as she glanced at him, waiting for an answer.

“He’s refusing treatment.”

She paused, nodding in understanding. The woman clasped her, “Alright. I'll see to it. Move onto the next patient.”

The doctor nodded in response, the flock of men around him leaving with him. She held her head high as the men tipped their heads at her as they left the room. Her gaze finally fell on the man in the bed as she felt him studying her.

“What’s your problem with them? They’re just trying to help you.” She stood in front of the bedpost.

“Oh yeah, like all the help we received before, right?”

“We can’t judge people for the actions of a whole group. As I’m sure you’re not actually angry at them.”

Y/N could see as he visibly relaxed, grimacing as he tried to sit up. She moved forward, offering an arm as she helped him sit against the bedframe. Her hands felt the tension in his muscles as he strained, exhaling as the pressure came off his injury.

“That’s a little close, love. We’ve only just met.”

She sighed at that, holding back a chuckle as she moved back to stand at the bedside. “Why are you refusing their help?”

“No one’s coming here to help us. I don’t have time to sit around and wait for the Germans to pick us off.”

“I understand that, but you just barely survived on that beach. You need to accept medical attention.”

“I need to get back to English soil.” he rebutted.

He was a stubborn one, if anything. She furrowed her brows, a sigh building in her throat. Her hands felt into her pockets as she tilted her head. “You’re not going to be able to go anywhere when you can’t walk.”

“Oh, this.” he pointed at his wrapped shoulder, “This is nothing. I’ll just be on my merry way if you’ll point me in the right direction.”

He leaned up to get off the bed, evidently straining against the pain stretching at his limb. Her hand found his arm as she leaned down, urging him to sit back. “You should trust me.”

“I don’t know you.”

She nodded, “Yes, but you don’t have many options, especially out there. You're a clear target on your own. And you’re likely suffering from head trauma.”

“My head is fine.” he caught her gaze defiantly.

She narrowed her eyes, assessing his pupils “Yes, you’re dilated pupils tell me that perfectly.”

“You staring into my eyes, love?” A smirk sliding onto his features.

At least he was in better spirits than before. He did have beautiful blue eyes, she noted.

“I’m a nurse. That’s my observation.”

He sighed, visibly tired from his efforts, “Then when can I leave?”

She folded her arms across her chest, “When I can see that you’re not about to collapse or fall to infection.”

“At your mercy. That’s how it is.” he nodded.

“You don’t know the terrain here. You’d get lost.”

“I’d figure it out. My determination to get home would outweigh it.”

“Of course.” she smiled, a smugness behind her look as she assessed the work of the previous doctor, grazing her hand over the bandage. “And how would you get past the German soldiers at the checkpoints? The patrols? They're around every corner checking identification, which I suppose you have, of course."

His smirk fell from his face, his jaw clenching.

"And you don't speak French." she caught his gaze. “If you want to get back, you’ll need to learn to trust.”

“How am I gonna get out of here?”

A bout of silence passed between them, and Y/N sat down on the edge of the bed. She caught a glimpse of the desperation on his face, having seen it in every soldier that came through these parts. The once hopeful and determined faces, strained by war injuries and fear. They were all simply human, desperate to just go home and leave this bloodshed behind.

“I have a dad and sister back home.”

She relented, finally sensing he had calmed down, “Where are you from?”

“Manchester.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, confirming his accent was from the region. She had spent time abroad in England during her years of study.

“I’ve been there before. A long time ago. It was...different.”

His eyebrows raised at the that, a breathy laugh leaving his lips “Don’t sound so excited.”

“No, it was nice. It is certainly different from what I’m used to. That is what was comforting about it. I did enjoy the seaside.”

A smile crossed his lips as he side, his face relaxed “Not much else to do.”

“And what do you do? Back home?”

“Oh,” he wore this smirk that read of mischief that caused a stir in her chest at his handsome features. “I just get into trouble. You see, I’m what they call...a nuisance.”

She tilted her head at that, seeing where they could be coming from as she shook her head. He was certainly trouble from the way he smirked and flirted with her unapologetically.

“Does trouble have a name?”

“Tom. Bennett.”

“Tom.” she hummed, standing from her seat.

A hand grasped her’s, bringing her attention back. A warmth spread over her face at the contact, bringing her eyes back to his.

“You’re not gonna tell me yours? Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, love.” his eyes alight.

She chuckled quietly, leaning down “It’s Y/N.”

He waited expectantly, “Y/L/N.” she finished, flushing as he caressed her hand. Ever the charmer. She supposed he was always like this.

“Get some rest, I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not keep me company?”

“I have other patients to see to.” she smiled at his enticed expression, seeking out her attention. “Please, just listen to the doctors and try not to cause trouble.”

“You’re asking a lot!” he remarked, leaning back against his bed as she wandered to the exit.

“Tomorrow.” she promised.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #world on fire #ewan mitchell

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moeitsu · 20 days

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate and Arthur share a tender moment in the quiet of the night.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 9 - A Hundred Months Have Passed

After a few days had passed, the ebb and flow of camp life settled back into its usual rhythm. The air buzzed with the familiar hum of activity—girls diligently tending to chores, men venturing out in search of employment. Micah, having wisely refrained from his lewd remarks, seemed to steer clear of Kate since the encounter with her blade at his throat.

Kate, ever the reliable hand, lent herself where needed: scrubbing alongside Mary-Beth and Tilly, deftly stitching with Abigail, and even lending a hand in Pearson's kitchen to ease Sadie's burdens. The oppressive heat of Lemoyne clung to everyone like a stifling cloak, making afternoons feel interminable. Yet, the proximity of the lake provided a much-needed reprieve, promising a cool respite at the day's end.

Arthur slipped back into the role of the camp's indispensable jack-of-all-trades. Strauss had once again tasked him with money lending duties, a responsibility Kate chose to abstain from this time. Arthur, sensing her unspoken concerns, pledged a new approach—doing things properly this time. His efforts brought a smile to Kate's lips; she recognized his earnest attempts to turn a new leaf, even amidst his continued forays into stagecoach heists and homestead robberies.

This morning, Dutch and Hosea, accompanied by John and Arthur, ventured into Rhodes at the deputy's behest, hopeful for legitimate work. Kate felt a surge of pride knowing they were earnestly striving for honest wages, unaware of Dutch's clandestine designs. Rumors of a longstanding feud between the affluent Gray and Braithwaite families had piqued Dutch's interest, his mind already scheming.

While the boys were occupied, Kate found herself free from chores, engaging in a serene game of dominos with Tilly and Javier. The late afternoon light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the camp.

“I don’t like being this far south,” Tilly commented, her voice tinged with fear. “I feel like we ain’t safe here. I ain’t safe here.”

“You’ll be alright, Tilly. We’re all looking out for you,” Kate reassured her.

Tilly sighed and shook her head solemnly. “This lot don’t like folk like me, Kate. My mother was a slave until she was 15 years old.”

“We’ll keep you safe, I promise,” Kate urged.

Javier, who had been quietly playing dominoes with them, placed his domino and joined the conversation. “I don’t think these folks like anybody who isn’t white, if I’m being honest,” he said with a dry laugh. “I’ve been called ‘greaser’ by almost every pendejo in this country.”

Kate sighed as she played her domino, earning a few points. “This town is full of a bunch of drunks stuck in the past. They never recovered from the war, and they’d rather hang onto their grievances than move on.”

Tilly placed her last domino, earning no points, and stood up with a grunt of frustration. “Yeah well, I just hope we don’t stay here too long. We’re supposed to be going back west, not south.” She walked away, her steps heavy with frustration.

Now alone with Javier at the small wooden table, Kate leaned back and blew out a breath. The air was hot and heavy, weighing down any motivation to work.

“Is that why you haven’t left camp much?” She inquired, her voice tinged with concern. “Because of the way people are treating you down here?”

Javier shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorta, but it doesn’t really bother me that much.”

Kate’s expression softened. She hadn’t known Javier well, but since the night of the raiders and borrowing his guitar, he had opened up more. She sensed he was a quiet presence, always listening but rarely speaking. She also noticed how much it bothered him when other gang members picked on him, especially Micah and Bill.

She chuckled softly. “Well, you certainly have a lot of patience. I’m amazed you haven’t stabbed Micah yet.”

Javier grinned and met Kate’s gaze. “Oh, I’ve thought about it many times.”

He leaned back, stabbing his knife into the table. “People like Micah don’t scare me. You know, it’s been five years since I left Mexico. Those men chasing me, I still have nightmares about them. Those are scary men.”

Kate listened intently, intrigued by his story.

“If I go back there, I’m as good as dead. They killed my mother, and I mourn her every day. But I never got to bury her. My sister married a man and ran away, and I hope she’s safe, but I’ll never know for sure.”

“Why were those men chasing you?” Kate asked quietly, curious about his past and how he ended up in the gang.

Javier scoffed, memories fueling his frustration. “My crime? My crime was wanting food and fairness—for myself and for my people. That’s why they hunt me. When I came here, I found that it was not so different.”

Kate nodded in understanding. “This land is wild, far beyond being ‘free.’ I know that as much as anybody, and like most, I learned the hard way.”

“Everyone here steals and lies. The only thing they do better here is make you think it’s not that way,” Javier said, his frustration evident. “Mexico could be a land of plenty, but those cabróns in our government won’t even pay us a fair wage.”

He looked at Kate with a sad expression. “I know I’m a thief. But at least I don’t steal the lives and hopes of others.”

Kate spoke before he could leave. “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

He shook his head sadly, “I’ll be shot on site if I do.” Javier left her with those words.

Kate sat quietly, her eyes roaming over the camp. In the short time she’d been with this group, she had come to know many of their stories, and each one tugged at her heartstrings. There was no joyous reason that a band of misfits like them would ride together, yet the more she learned about each member, the more she understood their pain. They were all seeking a way to escape, all fleeing from something in their pasts. Some were orphaned, like Arthur and John, taken in by Dutch and Hosea. They were provided for, cared for, and yet, Kate couldn't help but doubt the sincerity of that care.

Dutch hadn't spoken to Kate since they arrived at Clemens Point. She wasn’t seeking an apology for Micah’s actions—Dutch wasn’t responsible for that—but his silence troubled her. During her time in the camp, she had observed how Dutch treated Arthur. He was dismissive yet domineering, always assuring Arthur of his position as his right-hand man, yet often prioritizing conversations with Micah. When Arthur approached Dutch for conversation, he always seemed preoccupied, only granting him full attention when there was work to be done and money to be made. Kate sensed a tension between them, a dynamic that left her uneasy.

As she gazed across the camp, Kate couldn’t shake the feeling that Dutch’s intentions for their group's safety and future were not as altruistic as they seemed. She wondered if their pursuits were leading them toward a better life or simply deeper into trouble.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, I think you have finally lost your mind," he remarked, eyeing Dutch with amused disbelief.

The boys had ridden into Rhodes earlier that afternoon, on a peculiar mission orchestrated by Dutch. The notorious gang leader had struck an unlikely alliance with Sheriff Gray, a key player in the ongoing feud between Rhodes' wealthiest families, the Grays and the Braithwaites. Their task? To reclaim stolen moonshine from the Braithwaites, which had found its way into the hands of Lemoyne raiders.

Dutch, ever the showman, had orchestrated their involvement under the guise of "helping the law." Now, adorned with shiny silver stars that marked them as deputized lawmen, the outlaws-turned-vigilantes cut an absurd figure in the bustling town.

"Amongst these drunkards, hillbillies, and slavers... good honest thieves like us, we’re bound to be moralizers in a place like this!" Dutch declared, arms outstretched as if claiming dominion over the entire town.

As they wrapped up loading the stolen moonshine into the wagon, John and Hosea offered to take the wagon to a secluded spot near camp, assuring the Sheriff that they would take care of "disposing" of the last of the moonshine. The Sheriff nodded knowingly, pocketing a couple of jugs for himself.

Before Dutch and Arthur departed, they couldn't resist indulging in their hard-earned spoils, taking more than a few swigs of the fiery alcohol to celebrate their successful mission before making their way back to camp.

“Hey you know what, why don’t I race you back to camp,” Dutch quipped, saddling his horse in an unsteady manor.

Arthur, equally unsteady on his feet, chuckled and climbed into Belle's saddle. "You're on," he agreed, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Later that evening, Arthur stumbled back into camp, his usually confident steps a bit less steady. The setting sun bathed the campsite in a warm orange glow, adding to the relaxed atmosphere. A faint scent of moonshine lingered on his breath, a testament to the drinks he and Dutch had indulged in before returning.

Kate looked up from where she sat near the fire, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Welcome back, Deputy Morgan. Looks like you've found yourself a new career path," she teased, giving a playful flick to the shiny silver star on his chest.

Arthur chuckled, brushing off her comment as he settled beside her by the fire. "Ah, quit it. I ain't cut out for lawman duties."

He turned slightly towards Kate, a warm glow in his eyes fueled by both the alcohol and the comfort of her presence. "How was your day, Kate? You tired of being surrounded by outlaws yet?" he asked, steering the conversation.

Kate smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting genuine contentment. "Honestly, Arthur, I've never been more grateful for the company," she admitted, her voice softening with sincerity. "After so long on my own, it's nice to be part of something, even if it's a band of outlaws."

Arthur nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the fire. Despite the daily lively chatter and the camaraderie of the gang, a pang of loneliness tugged at his heart. He had always been surrounded by people, yet somehow, he often felt a deep sense of solitude. The only time he felt seen, felt solace, was when he was with Kate. Her presence made him light up, whether it was a fleeting smile in the morning as they greeted eachother before going about their duties. Or on evenings such as this, when they talked about their day by the fire and simply enjoyed eachothers presence. She calmed the raging storm in his heart, and each day he grew more and more fond of her company.

The warmth of the fire and the alcohol in his belly emboldened him slightly. "Well, if it's all the same to you, Kate, I quite enjoy your company," Arthur admitted, a bashful smile playing on his lips as he shifted closer to her, their shoulders nearly touching.

Kate's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in to meet his gaze. "I'll admit, Arthur, I enjoy your company more than most," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "But don't tell the others that," she added with a wink.

Arthur chuckled softly, the sound blending with the crackling of the fire. They settled against the log, warmed by the fire's glow. As the night deepened around them, they shared stories of their day. Arthur recounted their new duties as lawmen and the complexities of the feud between the two families, outlining Dutch's plan to navigate the situation without causing undue trouble.

The sun had long set, casting a cool, gentle darkness over the camp. Most of the gang had retired for the night, leaving only the crackling fire and the symphony of nighttime sounds—crickets chirping and frogs croaking.

Amidst the tranquil atmosphere, the peace was shattered by the distant voices of Abigail and John, their argument drifting from their tent and cutting through the night's quiet. Arthur and Kate exchanged a knowing look, their conversation momentarily interrupted by the reminder of the discord that often simmered beneath the surface of their makeshift family.

Arthur sighed, his expression a mixture of resignation and empathy as Abigail's voice rose in frustration. "Why don't you use that tiny brain of yours? Whatever you think is right and proper, do the exact opposite! Then, you'll raise a man!" Her words were hushed, as if she were trying to contain her anger despite the intensity of her tone.

John's retort came swiftly, equally filled with annoyance. "Just like your mama did? Raise a real man, like you?" His jab was met with a sharp slap from Abigail, the sound echoing through the camp.

Kate winced, noticing Arthur pinch the bridge of his nose in response to the escalating argument. Before she could interject, the soft patter of footsteps approached rapidly. In a flash, Jack emerged from his tent, clad in nothing but a nightgown, and flung himself into Arthur's lap.

Unfazed by the sudden intrusion, Arthur pulled Jack close, his voice gentle and soothing. "Hey kiddo, can't sleep?" he asked, his tone calming.

Jack nodded against his uncle's shoulder. "Mama is mad at Pa again," he murmured, his voice small and weary. Turning his head slightly, he glanced up at Kate. "Hi, Auntie Kate," he greeted quietly.

"Hey, little man," Kate responded warmly, brushing a stray hair from his eyes as his cheek rested against Arthur's shoulder.

As the voices of John and Abigail rose again, Jack buried his face against Arthur. Concern flickered in Arthur's eyes as he glanced at Kate, who suddenly had an idea.

"Why don't we go get Lorena ready for the night? You wanna help, Jack?" Kate suggested, offering a diversion to distract Jack from the tension brewing between his parents.

With a silent nod, Arthur rose from his seat, cradling little Jack in his strong arms. Kate couldn't help but watch the scene unfold before her. His towering figure enveloped the small boy with an unexpected tenderness and care. As Arthur held Jack close, his protective embrace painted a stark contrast to the tough exterior he often projected.

In that moment, Kate glimpsed a side of Arthur that stirred her heart. The way he handled Jack with such gentleness and love sparked a yearning within her. She imagined how Arthur might have been as a father—patient, kind, and devoted.

The campfire's warm glow cast a soft light on them as they moved away from the escalating voices. Arthur's features softened as he whispered reassuring words to Jack, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding.

Kate fell into step beside them, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of Arthur's caring demeanor. Despite his gruff reputation, she sensed a depth of compassion that drew her in, melting away the rough edges.

As they approached Lorena, her mare nickered in recognition, sensing familiar company. Kate reached out, her hand running over the sleek mane of the horse affectionately. Before she could retrieve her brush from the saddlebag, Jack, nestled in Arthur's arms, spoke up with innocent curiosity.

"Does she like it when you sing her lullabies?" His voice was small and earnest.

Kate's smile softened at the question. "Yes, she does. It helps calm her down and makes her feel safe, knowing I'm right here to sing her to sleep," she replied, her voice warm with affection for the horse.

Jack looked up at her, a hint of sadness in his tone. "Mama used to sing me lullabies, but she says I'm too old for them now."

Arthur chuckled softly, his hand rubbing Jack's back comfortingly. "Well, you ain't a baby anymore, Jack. Yer gettin’ older and bigger," he reassured him.

Kate's gaze lingered on Jack as Arthur cradled him in his arms. It felt like a hundred months had passed since she held her own child, since she last sang a lullaby. A pang of longing swept through her. She understood Abigail's perspective—Jack was nearly five years old—but in that moment, Kate would have given anything to sing to her baby again, no matter the age.

Jack's eyes met hers, his innocence shining through. "Can you sing me a lullaby, Auntie Kate?"

Her heart swelled with warmth as she nodded in response. Jack reached out his small arms towards her, and without hesitation, Kate embraced him.

Arthur glanced at Kate, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He trusted her, but he didn't want to burden her with his nephew's needs. He had already come to terms with taking responsibility for the young child.

"Kate, ya don't have to—" Arthur began.

But Kate interrupted gently, reaching out to take Jack into her arms. "I don't mind at all, Arthur," she said sincerely, her voice warm with compassion.

Kate hadn't held a child since she laid her own in a dark casket with her father. The familiar weight of a child on her hip, his breath against her neck as he nestled his head on her shoulder, brought a mix of comfort and grief. She pushed the painful memories down, focusing on the present moment with Jack in her arms.

Arthur watched with a mixture of admiration and tenderness as Kate held his nephew, her cheek resting against Jack's head. As her eyes closed and she began to sway gently on her feet, rocking him as if he were a newborn, Arthur couldn't help but imagine what she must have been like as a mother—devoted, kind, and filled with love.

Kate started singing softly, her voice carrying a soothing melody into the quiet evening air.

When I was young, younger than before. I never saw the truth hanging from the door,

Now I’m older, see it face to face. Now I’m older, gotta get up, clean the place.

I was green, greener than the hill. Where the flowers grew and the sun shown still.

Now I’m darker than the deepest sea, just hand me down, give me a place to be.

I was strong, strong in the sun, I thought I’d see when the day was done.

Now I’m weaker than the palest blue. Oh, so weak in this need for you.

Arthur studied her features in the soft moonlight, savoring every detail—the graceful movement of her lips as she sang, the way her hair danced in the night breeze. Kate's gentle circles on Jack's back gradually lulled him to sleep, his breathing slowing, arms going limp around her neck. A smile touched Kate's lips, and she continued to hum softly, ensuring Jack remained nestled in slumber.

As Kate swayed, Arthur felt something profound stir within him, a warmth he had never experienced. It was as though her presence kindled a fire in his heart, leading him closer to her warmth. In her company, he felt alive, radiant like the earth basking under the sun, humming with a joyful tune from the lips of a woman. For the first time in years, he began to reflect on all the moments he had missed with his own woman and child.

Kate ceased her humming, her closed eyes and furrowed brow revealing the depth of her emotions. She released a shaky breath before speaking softly to Arthur, her voice laced with vulnerability. "When I held my baby girl for the first time, I saw her future branching out before me. Every possibility filled with something wonderful"

Arthur closed the distance between them, as if to shield her from the memories that still haunted her. Kate nestled her cheek against Jack's head, her voice trembling with unspoken sorrow. "I could have been a good mother," she whispered.

Gently, Arthur brushed his thumb across her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Kate's eyes fluttered open at his touch, reflecting the moonlight like shimmering pools of emotion. They held unshed tears, a testament to her resilience and the burdens she carried. Despite life's hardships, she fought to maintain her kindness, a quality that only deepened Arthur's admiration.

Moved by the connection between them, Arthur closed the final gap, his lips meeting hers in a silent embrace. The kiss was soft yet filled with unspoken longing, a gentle affirmation of the feelings blossoming between them. The world around them seemed to fade as they shared this intimate moment, each touch and breath carrying the weight of unspoken words and shared emotions.

Kate removed her hand from gently rubbing circles on Jack's back, finding a new warmth against Arthur's cheek. She tilted her face, deepening their kiss as Arthur's arm wound around her waist, drawing her closer. He smelled of moonshine and tobacco, a scent that mingled with the smoky air of the campfire.

As their mouths met, Kate sighed softly, feeling their connection deepen with each tender touch. Arthur's heart raced within his chest, the world around him blurring as if the only anchor to reality was the sensation of her lips against his. Her tongue brushed against his, a silent invitation for more.

Just as the kiss intensified, Jack stirred in his sleep, breaking Arthur from the spell. Reluctantly, he pulled back, his breath slightly labored, a silent turmoil brewing within him.

"Sorry," Arthur murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "I, um,” he hesitated, “I-I should take Jack back to his ma."

Kate nodded, her eyes reflecting a shared hesitation. "Of course," she replied softly, gently handing the boy back to his uncle.

Arthur carefully settled Jack more securely in his arms. He offered Kate a tender smile, though his eyes betrayed a hint of inner conflict. "G’night, Kate," he said, his voice a mixture of warmth and unease.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she replied, her tone gentle yet tinged with an unspoken question.

With a last lingering glance, Arthur turned and made his way toward Abigail and John's tent, Jack's form cradled protectively against him. As he disappeared into the shadows, Kate stood by her sleepy mare, her heart echoing the silent uncertainty that had clouded the moment.

Later that night, Arthur lay awake on his cot, the memory of their kiss haunting his thoughts. Moonlight filtered through the canvas, casting ghostly shadows around him. The scent of campfire smoke lingered on his clothes, a tangible reminder of the evening's events.

Arthur couldn't shake the yearning that had blossomed between him and Kate, nor the underlying unease that accompanied it. The fleeting intimacy they shared left him grappling with doubts about the future, and more importantly, about himself. He cared deeply for Kate, admired her resilience and kindness, yet the complexities of their lives and the dangers they faced loomed like shadows in his mind.

His own truth ached to be revealed, how he longed to tell her about his own son, but the guilt and shame he carried with the memories clouded all means of opening up. Kate missed her family dearly, that much was painfully obvious to him. He feared if she knew the truth about him, she wouldn’t see him the same. He too had a family once, and his own recklessness cost them their lives. He feared she would not forgive him for being so careless.

Lost in contemplation, Arthur sighed heavily, his thoughts drifting back to Kate's soft lips and the warmth of her touch. He couldn't deny the pull he felt toward her, a desire for connection amidst the chaos of his existence.

In the quiet solitude of his tent, Arthur wrestled with conflicting emotions, uncertain of what lay ahead for them. The night stretched on, filled with unanswered questions and the restless beating of his heart. He reached for his journal, its leather cover worn and familiar, and opened it to a blank page.

With a sketching pencil in hand, he drew an image from memory—the sight of Kate cradling Jack against her cheek. Underneath the tender sketch, he penned his thoughts:

Kate has a way about her that makes a man feel alive. She’s fierce, and she's kind. She’s strong and she’s passionate. She’s utterly beautiful. And she’s too sweet for me.

I kissed her tonight, I don’t really know why. The way she was singin’ and cradlin’ little Jack, it made me think of Eliza and Isaac. For the first time in years, I thought about all the moments I missed because I was off being a fool instead of a father.

I see things still haven't changed. You’ll always be a fool Morgan.

I think I’m falling for Kate. I just hope she can let me down easy. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes on the way down.

Closing his eyes, Arthur tried to still his restless thoughts. He imagined Kate's smile, the curve of her cheek as she cradled Jack, the warmth of her presence against him. The weight of his feelings tugged at him like an anchor, both comforting and disquieting.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur surrendered to the embrace of exhaustion. The world around him faded into darkness, and for a fleeting moment, his turbulent heart found respite in the realm of dreams.

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