#someday they will heal i believe in them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rynwritesreid · 3 months

Text

Mind games~Spencer Reid

Chapter three~ nothing’s new

Chapter summary: The FBI gives you time off, allowing you time to heal after what happened to you. But after news spreads, someone from your past contacts you, making old wounds resurface, making you turn to none other than Spencer Reid.

Chapter warnings: Talks about the BDSM community and BDSM dynamics. Talks of fainting. Submissive reader and dominant Spencer. Alcohol consumption. Mentions of what happened to you in the previous chapter but nothing serious. Reader cries but Spencer comforts her. Mentions of emotional wounds from previous relationships.

A/N: I might start releasing these every week instead of every other week, but I am not sure. I also hope this is a good description of what BDSM and specifically D/S relationships are like, I know that community gets a lot of really bad stories written about them.

~mind game’s masterlist~

~join the mind games taglist~

Everyone on the team had been looking after you, making sure you were okay. Spencer, however, had been a godsend. He would send you texts throughout the day, even though the man hated technology. He had opened up to you about what he had been through, maybe in hopes of you opening up, or maybe he just wanted to show you he knew how you were feeling. But you didn’t really care, you were just happy that he was no longer horrible towards you.

You did want to open to Spencer, to everyone, and let them know what you had seen, but you just couldn’t. And the fact that people from academy had been texting you, telling you they had heard what happened and that they couldn’t imagine how you felt, just made it worse.

It had also made it back to your ex-boyfriend, who after 1 and a half years of ignoring your texts, had decided to call you. Part of you wanted to ignore the call, to push away any connection to the past. But another part of you was curious about what he had to say after all this time.

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call. His voice sounded distant and strained as he spoke, "Hey... I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

The sincerity in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, you were reminded of why you had loved him in the first place. But then reality set in, reminding you of the pain and heartbreak he had caused.

"I appreciate your sympathy," you replied coolly, trying to maintain a sense of composure. "But I'm doing my best to move forward."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear him searching for the right words.

"I understand if you don't want to hear from me anymore," he finally said, his voice filled with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I've changed. I've done a lot of soul-searching and therapy since we broke up. I wish I could have been there for you when you needed me."

Your grip on the phone tightened as his words struck a chord within you. The longing for closure and understanding warred with the pain and bitterness that still lingered from your past.

"It's too late now," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You had your chance, and you blew it."

There was silence on the other end, and you could almost picture him taking in a deep breath before speaking again.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I hope that someday, maybe, you can find it in your heart to let go of the hurt I caused."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you like a wave crashing onto the shore. The pain of his betrayal resurfaced, threatening to engulf you once again. Part of you wanted to believe in his sincerity, to believe that people could change. But another part of you feared being hurt all over again.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. You didn’t care what he had to say anymore, so you just hung up.

You couldn’t hold back any more and you just began to sob. You picked up your phone and decided to call Spencer, it probably would have been smarter to call one of the girls, Spencer wasn’t the only one who understood what you had gone through, but Spencer was the only one who could truly understand you.

As the phone rang, your tears continued to flow, blurring your vision and making it difficult to see. The weight of your emotions felt like an anchor dragging you down into a sea of despair. Each ring seemed to echo in the cavernous void of loneliness that had enveloped you.

Finally, Spencer's voice broke through the haze of your anguish. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.

You tried to steady your voice, but it came out choked with sobs. "Spencer," you managed to utter between gasps for air. "I... I need you."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Spencer's voice softened with understanding. "I'm here for you," he said gently. "Take all the time you need, and when you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

“I’m ready now Spencer, please.” In that moment, you could hear the urgency in your own voice, the desperation for comfort and solace. The pain of your past relationship had resurfaced, triggering a deep yearning for someone who truly understood you. And Spencer, with his unwavering support and compassion, was the only person who could provide that.

Silence lingered on the other end of the line, and you wondered if perhaps you had overwhelmed him with your sudden vulnerability. But just as doubt began to creep in, Spencer's voice filled the void once again.

"I'm on my way," he said firmly, his words laced with determination. "Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Relief washed over you like a gentle tide, easing some of the turmoil in your heart. You trusted Spencer implicitly; his presence was a balm to your wounded soul.

Spencer rushed into Hotch’s office, telling him that you needed someone with you right now, and that he will be back to work as soon as he can be.

And Spencer, a man who was always true to his word, was at your door within 20 minutes.

You opened the door, your tear-streaked face betraying the pain you had been holding inside. Spencer took one look at you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, brought a sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm here," he whispered softly into your ear, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're not alone anymore."

You clung to him, seeking solace in his presence, as he led you to the couch and sat down beside you. “You don't have to face this pain by yourself”, his voice was calming, “everyone on the team loves you, they all would be here in a heartbeat for you. I mean they are discussing what to get you for when you come back to work.”

You let out a weak laugh, the first sign of a smile since the whole ordeal began. It was comforting to know that you had a support system, a group of people who truly cared about you.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don't know where I would be without all of you."

Spencer's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with genuine compassion. "You're stronger than you think," he assured you softly. "And we'll be right here with you every step of the way."

In that moment, as you sat there with Spencer by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. The pain and heartache were still present, but now they were tempered by the love and support surrounding you.

“Would you like to talk about what happened, or is there something else on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to relive the details of the past, but then you realized that Spencer was right. It was time to face what had happened and start the healing process.

Taking a deep breath, you began to share your story. The words tumbled out, sometimes in a rush, other times choked with emotion. Spencer listened attentively, never interrupting or judging. He offered gentle words of encouragement, his presence a constant reminder that you were not alone.

As you recounted the painful memories, it felt like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Each word spoken was an act of defiance against the pain that had consumed you for so long. And with each passing minute, you felt a little bit stronger.

When you finally finished, there was a silence that hung in the air, as if the weight of your story needed a moment to settle in. Spencer broke the stillness with a soft sigh.

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, “you should never have had to have gone through that. He will rot in prison. And that ex of yours, he did not deserve you.”

You nodded, grateful for Spencer's unwavering support and understanding. His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, validating the pain you had endured. Your heart ached with the realization that you had been in a toxic relationship, but knowing that you were no longer alone gave you the strength to move forward.

"Thank you, Spencer," you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes once again. "I don't know how I would have made it through this without you."

Spencer's gaze softened, his hand gently wiping away your tears. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Being there for you is what friends do. We look out for each other."

The word "friends" lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Spencer. The connection you shared felt deeper than mere friendship, but you were both still healing from past wounds. It was too soon to explore those feelings, and not long ago, Spencer had shown his dislike for you.

After about two weeks, you were back in the bullpen. Garcia had decorated your desk, telling you that this always make her feel better and she thought it would do the same to you, JJ and Emily informed you on all the gossip you had missed, Hotch had gone full dad mode on you, making sure you were okay, Rossi had invited you over to his for a private cooking lesson, Morgan had told you all the pranks he had pulled on Spencer. Spencer on the other hand seemed to keep his distance, he had smiled at you, but ever since that day he had come over something seemed to have changed.

You couldn't put your finger on it, but there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between you and Spencer. He was still kind and supportive, but there was a subtle hesitancy in his interactions with you. It was as if he was holding back, as if there were unresolved emotions swirling beneath the surface.

You desperately wanted to address it, to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between you, but you feared that doing so might jeopardize the fragile bond you had built. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he saw you as nothing more than a friend and confidant?

You pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the work at hand. The team had a new case, one that required their full attention. As you discussed the details with your teammates, you noticed Spencer's gaze linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Throughout the day, you found yourself stealing glances at Spencer whenever you could. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a connection that had grown stronger during your time of need. But you both had been through so much already, and neither of you wanted to rush into anything without being sure.

As the case progressed, Spencer's presence beside you became more prominent. He would stand just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours as he passed you a file or offered his insights. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes about what he was feeling.

Even JJ had commented on it, asking if something was going on between the two of you, but you assured her nothing was going on. But the truth was, you weren't quite sure how to define whatever it was that was happening between you and Spencer.

After the case was over, the team decided to go out for celebratory drinks. This was the first time you had gone out since what had happened to you. You were sat in-between JJ and Garcia, they were both talking about their funniest sex stories and you couldn't help but laugh along with them, grateful for the distraction from your own thoughts. Across the table, Spencer was engaged in a lively conversation with Rossi and Morgan, his laughter ringing out in the crowded bar.

You don’t know what compelled you, but you decided to share yours, and you were almost certain Spencer couldn’t hear you.

“If you want to mine”, you paused, allowing the girls to give you their full attention, “I told my ex that I was into BDSM and he thought that just meant me calling him daddy. So, when I told him what I was really into, he nearly fainted. It was definitely an interesting and eye-opening experience." The girls burst into laughter, their faces turning red from the combination of alcohol and amusement.

The sound caught Spencer's attention, his ears perking up as he turned his head towards you. His eyes locked with yours, and you could've sworn there was a flicker of interest in them.

"Wait, what did I miss?" he asked, leaning closer to catch the tail end of the conversation.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you glanced at the girls. JJ nudged you playfully, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, Y/N's just regaling us with her kinky adventures," Garcia chimed in with a teasing smirk.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and surprise evident on his face. "Is that so?" he asked, trying to hide a smile.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. The playful conversation seemed to have opened a door, allowing for a light-hearted connection between you and Spencer. You took a deep breath, deciding to seize the moment.

"Yeah, well, it was definitely an experience," you replied, matching his playful tone. "But let's just say, I've learned my lesson about dating vanilla guys."

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I can assure you, I'm far from vanilla," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

JJ and Garcia exchanged knowing glances, silently urging you to take the plunge. They had seen the connection between you and Spencer long before either of you had acknowledged it, and they were more than ready to play matchmakers.

"So," Garcia interjected with a sly grin, "are we going to sit here and talk about kinks all night, or are you two going to finally address the elephant in the room?"

“I-erm what elephant?” you asked, there was hint of confusion in your voice.

“Oh, come on.” JJ stated “Even when Spencer hated you, he couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze shifting nervously between you and JJ. You could see the internal battle raging within him, the fear of rejection warring with his desire for something more.

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I... I have to admit," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I claimed to dislike you, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards you. You're intelligent, compassionate, and..." He trailed off, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reciprocation.

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached across the table, gently placing your hand on top of Spencer's. "And what?" you prompted softly.

He let out a shaky laugh, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And beautiful," he finished, his voice filled with sincerity.

JJ and Garcia exchanged triumphant glances as their matchmaking efforts paid off.

“You know, I think it’s time you two go home, so you can discuss this somewhere Hotch can’t hear you.” Emily said in a hushed tone.

You and Spencer laughed, realizing that your friends were right. It was time to have a more private conversation about the growing feelings between you. As the night came to an end, you and Spencer found yourselves outside the bar, away from prying ears.

The air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. You leaned against the side of the building, facing Spencer who stood only a few feet away. There was a comfortable silence between you as you both took a moment to collect your thoughts.

Finally, Spencer spoke up, his voice filled with vulnerability. "I never meant to push you away before. I was scared...scared of opening myself up to someone, scared of getting hurt. But seeing what you went through, how strong you were...it made me realize how much I care about you."

Your heart swelled at his words, grateful for his honesty. "Spencer, I understand why you acted the way you did. We've all been hurt before, and we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves," you replied softly. "But I want you to know that I care about you too, and I'm willing to take the risk if it means we can be together."

Spencer's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of relief and hope. "You would really give us a chance?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A gentle smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer to him. "Yes, Spencer, I would. I would give us a chance," you confirmed, your voice filled with certainty. "Because the truth is, Spencer, I've been falling for you ever since the first case I worked.”

Spencer's eyes widened, surprise mingling with joy. "Really? Even when I was being an insufferable jerk?"

You chuckled softly. "Especially then," you admitted. “But I do have to know what you mean when you say your far from vanilla.”

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson. "Well," he stammered, "I've always had a... deep fascination with role-playing scenarios and exploring different power dynamics." He paused, his gaze searching yours for any sign of judgment or discomfort. “And I can say I enjoy being the dominant one more.”

“Is that so? What have been your favourite scene you’ve done so far?”

Spencer cleared his throat, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Well, one of my favourite scenes involved a classic teacher-student dynamic," he confessed, his voice laced with excitement. "I got to play the strict professor, and she was my eager and naughty student."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "Oh? And how did that play out?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's just say there were some detentions and extra credit assignments involved," he replied coyly. "It was all about the power play and the thrill of breaking the rules within the safety of our consensual role-playing."

He then once again looked to see if you were unconformable. “What about you? What do you enjoy.” He asked.

“I, erm- well I enjoy being the submissive one. I was in a dynamic relationship with someone, and they gave me a necklace to wear, to show I belonged to them. They used to tell me what outfits I could wear when going out.”

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Did you enjoy the feeling of submission, or was it more about the trust and surrender that came with it?" he asked gently, his voice filled with genuine interest.

You took a moment to consider his question before answering honestly. "It was a combination of both," you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. "There was something incredibly liberating about giving up control and trusting someone else to take care of me. It allowed me to let go of my responsibilities and just be in the moment."

Spencer nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he took in your words. "I understand," he said quietly. "The power dynamics in BDSM can be incredibly nuanced and fulfilling when both parties are open and communicative about their desires and boundaries."

"Would you ever consider exploring that dynamic with me?" you asked cautiously, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. “I mean, I would still be the submissive one.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, filled with warmth and reassurance. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I would be honoured to explore that dynamic with you," he replied softly. "But only if we establish clear boundaries, practice open communication, and ensure that both of our needs are met."

You smiled, relieved by his understanding and respect for the importance of consent and communication in such exploration. "I couldn't agree more," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "We'll take it slow, step by step, and create a safe space for both of us to express ourselves."

~taglist~

@iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123 @ula-revolution @pleasantwitchgarden @vvampwebb @alysena2 @sujan39 @nini123 @xoxo-lyss @rory-cakes @marantha @http0kms0jpg @peppersapro @mommymilkers3000@spicycalabaza @shinixpo@dr-reidsslut@[email protected]@potatochip-111 @stars-n-stuff15 @nugget1234567@00047c@carley12041@earth2stxr@cosavuoi-me@sewmxx @bibissparkles @frgtmenotes @mdanon027 @drreidsfavwhxre@yourfavoritefangirl @sunnyyyyyyyynnus @mega-kittyglitter-1 @loliakeoghan23 @7bel-o@dreamsarebig @kohordosara16@ashlynt @waywardhunter95 @millreid0607@spencerstits @ruby-d1amond @harrrystyles5 @maoricth @sarcasm-and-stiles @r-3dlips @khxna @k3nz13a @reidtopia @danelhi@fictionallifestuff @girl_lost_not_found@bbggarcia@b0nesnotcals@super-btstrash-posts @blacksoul-27@reidsgirlhottie@alexxavicry @olives-and-sunshine @skulliecadaver-blog

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #rynwritesreid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid

162 notes · View notes

sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

BESTIE okay so fourth part of Apothecary series and it's abt how Mizu and Her wife met and I need to disclose backstory about Apothecary wife.

So basically Apothecary wife is a Ex-Shinobi warrior who ran away from that life because it was super traumatizing since she needed to kill her siblings to prove she's worthy to her father. (Her older brother also taught her to be an apothecary).

So after that she became an apothecary and works as a doctor in a nearby town but instead of living in the town she lives in the mountains away from people (Tanjiro core lol), so her home mostly un occupied until she comes home from being a doctor.

One night Mizu finds the home with no one inside and let's herself in for refuge from the cold and like a few hours later the reader comes home to see Mizu inside and she immediately freaks out threw poisoned laced Kunais at Mizu in defense (It's only poisoned lace because she's an apothecary and she knows ALOT abt poison).

So Both Mizu and Reader have an epic showdown (More like a small argument) and reader sees that Mizu is injured and offers a truce to help heal Mizu and that's when their love blossom 😍🫶

(Most of readers backstory is inspired by Tengen 😭)

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): blood, injury, swearing, poison, you know the usual. not a warning but reader obviously believes mizu is male.

a/n: WE ARE GETTING THE BACKSTORY BABE. TRAUMATIZE THEM

summary: I believe the ask summarized this quite well lmao <3

word count: 1,270 words / 6,802 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your eyes are locked onto your fathers.

the gaze was fiery. It held passion, it held determination.

you weren’t going to hurt your family. you weren’t going to touch your siblings, let alone kill them.

they were your family, your little sister and brother, two people you had vowed to never hurt. you wouldn’t hurt them.. not to prove yourself, to to save yourself, never. you would rather kill your self than do that.

you blinked. you blinked away the thoughts, choosing to focus on happier ones. like how your elder brother had taught you your skills.. he had trained you in the ways of kindness, in the ways of healing, rather than hurting.

you'd never wanted to hurt. anybody.

you wondered where your brother was now… if he had ever taken over. if he had died in your footsteps, and if that was maybe your fault—

—no. you weren’t going there. he would never blame you for such things.. he wouldn’t. so why should you blame yourself now?

you were headed out into the town, to the collect what herbs you needed. the herbs you hadn’t managed to find in the peaks of your mountain home; than you were on your way to stock the shop for the morning. than back home, to rest in the nestled creaks of your home.

you had a basket on your arm, a hood concealing your face. you were worried someone would recognize you, someday, or simply kill you for being that of a woman who worked for her keep.

you walked into one of the local shops, the bell ringing as you opened the door. the shopkeeper was a friend of yours; someone you could let your guard down with. you pulled down your hood, greeting him with a smile.

“back again, are you?” he chuckled, “what are you in need of this time?”

“I am in need of shisho, kuromoji and mitsuba. I was unable to find them outside, and I and the shop are in need of them. a few extra for cooking, yes?” you laugh softly watching as he folds the herbs into a cloth for you. he placed them in your basket.

you bow, handing over five iron coins. you leave the shop with a smile, pulling your hood back up. if was half to protect your face from the cold, and half to conceal your identity.

your shop was two doors down. a pretty painted door illustrated with cranes and flowers, like the ones that littered her kimono's desgin.

she pushed the door open, settling the basket down inside. she grabbed the herbs out of it, leaving only a few behind for her personal use.

she made her way to the back, a wall of baskets greeting her. she sorted the herbs into their respective baskets, which were all labeled which was which. she was organized, that much was true.

once finished, you whisked your basket away and headed for your mountain home. the only reason you had decided to live in the mountains was the seclusion; definitely not the work it took to get there and back each and every day.

you spent your walk thinking about your family again. It had been years since you had seen them; since you had hugged them, or brushed your little sisters hair.

you assumed that they were dead. you basically knew they were dead; you had been ordered to kill them, and when you did not, you were sure your father had finished off the job. they were only half his children, after all, but they were family to you. no matter how related you were or not.

you sighed. you never wanted to think about your horrible past ever again; you wished you could cleanse your mind of these memories. but it would never be possible.

you were coming to the door of your cabin. that’s when you noticed the door cracked open, the snow slipping in.

your eyes narrowed. who was in your cabin, and what were they taking?

you held four kunai's between your fingertips; laced with poison you had fused with them. whoever was in there was about to regret their damn decision.

you stepped inside, tossing the kunai's at your intruder. This effectively trapped them, pinning the fabric of this man's clothes to the wall.

he looked to be a samurai. tall, broad, a hat and glasses covering his eyes and face.

you were absolutely freaked out; a man rifling through your things. only god knew what he had been doing before you had arrived home.

“who are you?!” you yelp, removing one of the kunai's from the fabric of his clothes and holding it to his chest. “and—and why are you in my house?!“

he gazed at you, expression stone cold and heartless.

“I thought it was unoccupied,” he grumbled, eyes narrowed. “now I see I was wrong.” he glanced down at the kunai you were holding to his chest. “you can put that thing away.”

“not until I get answers,” you hiss, inching it closer to his chest. the poison was dripping from the tip onto his clothes.

“you're getting me all a mess,” he said nonchalantly, as if you weren’t holding a sharp object to his chest.

you roll your eyes, “answer my questions,” you reply. “what we’re you doing in my house, when I found you? what did you take, what did you touch—“

“I didn’t take jack-shit, miss, if you would just let me explain, I could—“

“you have three minutes,” you step away from him, removing the kunai's from his clothes. he nods, dusting off his coat.

“I am a samurai. I am traveling alone, to complete my quest. to fulfill my duty,” he said rather calmly. “if you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold outside. I was simply looking for refuge and a place to bandage myself up.” he gestured to his wound, “I saw your cabin and assumed it was uninhabited, being so high up in these mountains.”

“hm.” you narrow your eyes, “so you didn’t steal anything?”

he shakes his head, “no.”

for some reason, you felt.. trust, to this man. he seemed to be telling the truth.

“you were lucky that you stumbled across my keep,” you murmur. “I am an apothecary. I have knowledge of healing and medicine.. if you would like me to assist you. I offer a truce.”

he looked skeptical, that stoic expression never fading, even for a minute.

than he shrugged, letting his muscles relax.

“I will accept, only for your healing,” he seemed amused by your words, settling down on a nearby stool.

you gather up a poultice, that you had been mixing. you apply it to the wound, taking bandages you had on hand, and wrapping them tightly around the wound.

you gazed him up and down. there was something about him. some kind of presence, a feeling you couldn’t shake.. your heart was heavy just thinking about it.

you hadn’t felt that way in a while.

“.. you may stay the night, if you so wish,” you whisper. “I have extra keep.”

the samurai bows, “I thank you for your hospitality. may I know of your name?”

you nod, “it is (y/n),” you reply softly. “and may I know yours?”

“It is mizu,” he forked over his name so easily. as if he trusted you already.

mizu.

you repeated the name in your head as he disappeared into one of the rooms. waves.. the name meant waves, that you knew.

and he was like a wave. a wave that washed onto your beach and sucked you in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: OUHGHHHHH I AM INVESTED

#mizu x reader #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #new fic #ask #asked and answered #fic request #request

177 notes · View notes

gauloiseblue · 11 days

Text

Medic!Reader × Poly!141

Part I | Part II | Part III

[Tags: platonic, fluff, self-indulgent]

A/N: This fic is dedicated for @rainlovesyou12 hope you like it <3

You are a medic, and you come from a rich family, so naturally you're placed in an elite team, at least populated by polite men

While you're not a spoiled brat, you sometimes dare to challenge anyone when you disagree with them. Your "courage" is usually dubbed as rich kid syndrome in the military

Strangely, the captain (Price) is amused by your behavior

He never scolded you, even when people said he should

Your job is a medic, but you're more like a secretary of the team.

You help Price with the paperworks, taking care of the base, and sometimes even their foods.

He also asks you to accompany him to meetings or private talks with the superior, the reason? They don't give him a proper secretary, even when they should.

When you first come in, the team is still on a mission. It took 3 whole months before you met the whole team

Your first reaction: "Wow, life's so unfair."

Their heights tower you that it's almost unreal

When you greet them one by one, a member catches your eyes

It's Soap

As a medic, it's your obligation to heal them if they have any injury. So when you see the blood on his clothes, you immediately point it out to him

"You're injured!"

He seems confused for a second as he looks down to his gears, before he laughs. "Tha' ain't my blood, bonnie."

"Still, I have to check if you have any wounds."

Surprisingly, most of them are minor

You begin to check the other members, but it's the same for them too. Just scratches and bruises

They'd dismiss you, if not for your question about their discomfort, or if they had any dislocation

And that makes them all your patients

Even the reluctant Ghost finally gave in. "Fucking hell Price, she's a pushover." He said, "You'll come to like it someday" Price replied

After that, you and the team settle in the base, trying to get used to each other's company

(You also didn't ask questions on why the big man is still wearing a mask even though he's in the base)

Soap, and Gaz are the easiest to talk to, while Ghost is just polite, but still keeps his distance.

The three of you bond over food, because it's mandatory to cook if you wanna save money. You and Gaz are great at it, while Soap is strictly prohibited from entering the kitchen

Soap absolutely ravaged the foods that you joked about how he always makes the plates squeaky clean

On rare occasions, the giant man does show up at the table

When you ask him about what they eat usually, you can't believe your ear

"I ate the ratio that's been provided by the base." "You ate that dogshit???"

You end up scolding him (unintentionally) and end up telling him to eat the cooked food, but when he gets defensive, you tell him he doesn't have to eat together, just reheat the food whenever he's hungry

He didn't touch the food for 2 days, until one day, the leftover is gone, and the dishes were washed

You have no idea when did he do it, but you're glad nevertheless

Remember when I said you're more of a secretary than a medic? That Price often took you to meetings? Well, that leads you to an unfortunate meeting with Graves

Even Price was hesitant to bring you along

When you first met him, he's exactly the man that you picture in your head; arrogant, stuck up, flashy, and playboy. Basically all the bad stuff

He shamelessly flirts with you, to the point that Price has to clear his throat to remind him of the ongoing negotiation

One time he asks you (forcibly) if you'd like a bottle of a fancy wine that you don't even know

"You look like a girl that'd enjoy the Chateau Lynch-Bages' Pauillac." He'd smile

After several failed attempts to decline, you eventually give up

"I'm flattered that you'd give me such luxurious items, but I'd love to receive basic ingredients for cake. That way I can repay you back, how's that sound?"

He literally takes it as flirting

The next day, you literally received the high quality flour, eggs, sugar, etc etc that come in 2 boxes, along with a message: "While I hope you'd return the favor in some other way, I can't wait to taste what you made" and a scribbled wink

You end up baking a peanut caramel chocolate cake (A/N: try it, it's soooo good) because of the amount of chocolate he gave

The team watch you as you assemble the cake

You cut the cake into a good size for gift, and give the rest to the team

They treat it like a delicacy

After you sent it via his man, you received his reply on the next day

"I know you didn't give me all of the cake, so I hope you'll make up for it the next time. Ps. I like it, you should make more for me in the future" along with the abominable wink

Although you're irked by his narcissism, you feel a bit embarrassed and puzzled that he knew it's not the whole cake

You try to figure out how, and finally it clicks; he purposely bought a bigger size pan, and a medium sized box. Along with the evidence of a long rollcake box that somehow can fit the rest of the cake. You sigh, this man is really petty

And stubborn as well

The pile of unopened letters, with his name signed on the back would be the proof of it

Soap and Gaz tease you about him when they read the notes, but you dismiss them by saying: "I'd rather date Ghost than him."

Fast forward, Price and Gaz'll leave for a mission for months. But Soap and Ghost stay behind

Weeks would pass relatively quiet, and they're still radio silent. You couldn't help but worry, though Soap quickly assured you that they'd be fine

Ghost still kept a distance between you and him, until one night, when you and Soap fell asleep on a movie marathon, you woke up startled by the sight of him on the sofa.

"Shit, you scared me."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"Why are you here?" You quickly corrected yourself, "It's not that you're not welcomed, but you're not around much, so…"

"No reason, just feel like it."

Silence

Then you gather the courage to say, "By the way, I'm glad that you didn't eat those ratios anymore. Let me know if you crave something in particular, I'll try to make it."

He just stares at you, before saying, "I don't understand, Price can just order takeouts for us, why should you burden yourself with cooking? Aren't you a medic?"

"Well," you scratch your head, "I'm the one who suggested it, because I couldn't stand eating takeouts everyday. The foods he ordered were greasy, and I didn't want to get sick because of it."

He lets out a snort, "You don't have to care about your weight when you're in the military."

"It's not about that." You shook your head, "But if you said it that way, well, I won't be here forever, so I have to maintain it somehow. Besides, I'd like to keep my cholesterol level normal so I won't die of heart failure or something."

That catches his attention as he gives out a small laugh, "The doctors I knew are either dead or diabetic. You're the first one that cares about your own health."

You shrug, "As I should. You should too."

For a split second, you let out a cold sweat, wondering if it somehow offends him for some reason, before you let yourself relax when he continues watching the TV. The two of you watch in silence, before you fall asleep again

Nearing the arrival of your team, you decide to busy yourself with dinner. Which, more like grocery shopping and planning on the dishes

"They usually eat pizzas after a long mission, ye don't have to do that." Said Soap one morning

"I don't care if they end up ordering pizzas." He furrows his brows at you, "I just feel the need to do that, I don't know why."

He playfully grins, "Wife instinct?"

"That's not it," you laugh it off, "It's just that, Price ever said to me that maybe one day, one of them won't ever come back. It has stuck with me ever since, and I don't wanna think about that at all."

He nods understandingly. You need a distraction

"Let me help then."

You both settle with beef bowl, eggs, and potato salad, based on his input that 'they'd probably want to eat a lot, so just make them easy to get refill'

You bought a ton of sliced beefs and onion, rice, and potatoes

The day that they come back, you're hit with a bad feeling and fear the worst, but after seeing them both in one piece, you let out a relief sigh

Still, the dark mood is still persistent

They look like they don't have any appetite, even for a pizza

You actually would let them rest, if they didn't look like they're malnourished

(Actually, when you think back, it's just an excuse to feed them. You actually just want them to eat your food)

"Would you guys like a beef bowl?"

Price perks up at the offer

"Well shite (Name), just what I need."

You tell him there's also potato salad, but that day he just wants the rice

They end up eating one portion—a small size compared to what they usually eat

They're still quiet even after the dinner, so you decide to excuse yourself, giving them space and the rest they need

You're in the office, sorting through documents until Price knocks on the door

He looks weary but still offers you a smile

"I'm sorry for being so gloomy tonight." He told you

"That's fine, really. You don't have to apologize."

"I feel like I have to, especially when you too are affected by it."

You let out an awkward chuckle, "Well, it's nothing like that. I know you guys are tired so I don't wanna bother you with too many questions." You shrug, "Anyway, I'm glad you guys are alright."

A warm smile spreads on his lips, "You're a good girl, too good for us men." He uncrosses his legs as he leans away from the door frame, "Thank you for the food, we'll talk again tomorrow, yeah?"

The two of you exchange a "goodnight" as he walks away, and you come back to your work

After Price, you didn't expect anyone to come to your place again, until the second person showed up at your door. You lift your head and see Gaz standing there, almost shyly

"Oh hey." You greet him, "Didn't see you there. Need anything?"

"Hey." He greets back, "No, I don't need anything. Just checking on you."

You tilt your head, face clearly shows a questioning look but you cover it with a smile

"Uh, y'know what? I wish I could tell you what happened, you must've been worried about—"

"Oh, no, no. You don't have to tell me. I don't wanna know either." You offer him a reassurance, "Don't worry about it, Gaz."

He seems relieved upon hearing that

"You're right." He said, "But it doesn't mean that I can't tell you funny stories."

He pulls up a chair as he begins to tell you stories from the mission. From the horrible dad jokes, and a moment when Price slipped on the ladder. In exchange, you tell him about your encounter with Ghost, which makes him laugh

It actually surprises you to hear Gaz telling you stories and all. You assume that he only does it to cheer you up, or that's just his way to destress. Either way, it's nice to have a company like him

He'd keep going if you didn't remind him of the time, and you have to force tell him to sleep, promising that you'll talk tomorrow again

The next day, you're surprised to find almost all of the members are in the kitchen. Chatting and eating the leftover beef with reheated rice

All of them, except for Soap, but it's because he hasn't wake up

You didn't want to admit it, but seeing the pan empty makes your pride swell

You join their talk as you sit on the table, and they immediately complain about you not making enough batches for breakfast in a humorous way. You complain back by saying you didn't get paid enough for this

And that leads them to protest about the food budget to Price

He just sighs

By the time Soap joins in, all the food is already gone. And he's pissed about it

"You gotta order pizza for today." Gaz jokes

"Fookin' cunt."

As the conversation flows, Price announces something so suddenly, that you doubt your hearing

"What did you say?"

"You'll be on the same mission as us next month. Pack up and be prepared."

Gaz whistles, "We won't be doing paperwork then?"

"She'll focus on being a medic, so she won't be doing your paperwork."

He groans

"That's… great news." You responded when they all stared at you, "When will we be leaving again?"

"Exactly one month from now." He explained before he sighed, "But don't be too happy yet, because it's not easy to be stationed in the red zone. I know you can handle it but still." He shook his head, "The bad news is, and you wouldn't like it when you hear it but, the person who requested your assistance… Is Graves."

#I was planning to write a single fic but then it got too long. so I divided it into three #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #price x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #platonic relationships #very self indulgent #price cod #soap cod #ghost cod #gaz cod

108 notes · View notes

missycolorful · 1 year

Text

I know there's often complaints about the c!Syndicate and how they didn't really do a whole lot, that their existence almost felt pointless because they didn't do anything. Not even regarding how Techno's condition and then his passing severely affected this storyline, I think these complaints sorta misses the point of what the Syndicate became and why people like this group so much.

Like, yes c!Techno initially created it in the aftermath of Doomsday, a way to ensure no governments were being formed or used to hurt or corrupt others. He gathered others who shared the same beliefs. They had even gone to Snowchester to ensure that nothing suspicious was going on. And before his passing, cc!Technoblade had wanted to work on that plot involving Cyberknife, to give the Syndicate story a bit more meat. Which would've been great, yes.

But then you look, and you have all these moments of them just... they're just bonding; if not as a group, at least in sections: the streams of Technoblade and Phil connecting with Ranboo, Techno and Ranboo becoming mentor and mentee, Technoblade's birthday party. And then you hear how the Syndicate really mattered to these characters: how Niki was beginning to heal around those who made her voice feel heard, Ghostboo saying that Phil and Techno did care for and love Ranboo, Technoblade outright stating he had friends now thanks to the Syndicate.

And then there's the last Syndicate stream, which I think also sums this up well. There's no Syndicate meeting, no talks of taking down any governments. It was Philza and Niki making a cake. It was Philza panicking over hearing voices, and Niki being a physical presence for him when he seemed to be lacking one at the time. It was Kristin finding the members of the Syndicate and taking them someplace safe. The Syndicate made it to the End, alive and not necessarily okay now, but someday.

And it's just... yes, I would've loved to see more concrete stories of the Syndicate combating corrupted governments and tyrants. But just because they didn't serve their initial purpose as much as we anticipated, does not mean that this group coming together was pointless. If anything their story is a solid example of fighting against a constant narrative in the server; the cycle of power and revenge.

Cause I think about Las Nevadas. People who banded together who, for the most part, did not make deep connections or find comradery. Or even if they did, things fell apart (only Foolish really stayed with Quackity by the end of the Las Nevadas lore). All because Quackity lost himself in his quest for, well, power and revenge. Las Nevadas could've been more than Quackity's need for control and power, but it was never able to reach that point.

Then you look at the Syndicate. Where from the start of the Syndicate's creation, Techno made sure everyone in the Syndicate was equal, that no one was in control of another. Where they never sought violence, wanting to only resort to drastic actions if they believed a location was a threat to others. Where they celebrated Technoblade's birthday and took pictures and had cake and were just friends. I just think there's something a bit profound, intentional or otherwise, in how the Syndicate may have tragically been underutilized, but the group wasn't just an anarchist group. It was a group of people hurt by a nation coming together and not actively seeking any goal toward gaining power or control over others. Yes, they wanted to fight against power. But they also wanted to just... be.

Just something I think about when of the few who managed to survive the Dream SMP, the ones who managed to escape with their lives were the ones who formed this anarchist group, a group that people say didn't do much, and... yeah, they're right, but isn't that a good thing?

#the syndicate #technoblade #philza #ranboo #missy rambles #lore discussion #just saw stuff on twt and i just got really fond about them again #niki

729 notes · View notes

oonajaeadira · 11 months

Text

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 1: Spring

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: eventually Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Mostly just Ellie being a swear mouth. There’s a lamb birthing. Fluff…this fic is sloooooow.

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson and you introduce them to the sheep.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Here it is, y’all. Not much happens. It’s just life in Jackson. There’s more Ellie here than Joel, but that’s because I figure Joel wouldn’t even turn his head toward someone if Ellie didn’t love her first. I’m just setting the stage for healing, for giving Ellie and Joel a nice home and good things. Nothing happens. Life is slower and softer here. Welcome to the Roost.

You were there when Tommy Miller was ushered–bloodied and busted–by the patrol through the gates of Jackson. The hard steel of Maria’s eyes through the slit between her hat and kerchief found you in the crowd and told you with a glance, I know what I’m doing. Meet me at home.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” you’d confirmed to her later that afternoon as one of the Roostlings tended to his split lip and eyebrow in her living room. “I say we leave him to the coyotes.”

You’d trusted them once upon a time, the Fireflies. But your experiences with them were a deep education in morals and humanity. What you’ve come to believe is that everyone has an equal right to life and compassion and protection. And you might not have found that in yourself if the Fireflies hadn’t come through your papa’s ranch touting that sentiment but living up to a totally different set of rules, one where everyone had an equal expendability for the greater good of the survival of the species.

Fuck the species. If humans were meant to die out, then they would. Nothing is permanent. Not civilization or any one species, not even the mountains that surround your town–even the wind and rain would take them someday. All you can do is be good to those here and now, nurture what you have, and mourn what you lose with a little humility and gratefulness that you got to enjoy it in the first place. There’s already enough suffering. Why add to it? Or prolong it? Just let us all wane with kindness and compassion. Spend our days eating good food and caring for sheep, wildflowers swaying in the sunshiney breeze and stars twinkling at night–

“You go somewhere, Meadowlark?” Tommy teases as he passes you a plate of honey-glazed carrots, bean salad, and egg souffle, breaking you out of your reverie. You’ve come to prefer his tamales, but Maria wanted to use up some of last year’s supplies, so this Sunday’s family meal is harvest plate.

“I was just thinking about the day you came to Jackson.”

Leaning back in the wooden dining room chair, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, his smug little smile is insufferable. “You wanted my hide on a fence.”

“Stretched and tanned. Could have been useful for patching boots at least.”

“What was it changed your mind again? Oh yeah. Weatherproofing the storehouse, building out your Roost, constructing a working loom–”

“It was the cornbread. And maybe the tamales.” Keeping a deadpan glare between you while stabbing a carrot and taking a bite, you point your fork at your best friend. “And you’re good to my girl here.”

Maria chuckles through a mouthful, shaking her head down at her plate like a mother trying not to let two warring siblings know how amusing they are. “I regret everything. And nothing.” The same dark eyes that glinted with reservation on Tommy’s first day hold back none of her big, tough heart as they seek him out now. “But speaking of mending shoes…you reminded me. Tommy’s brother came by while you were at the Roost.”

Your fork, halfway to your mouth, drifts back down to the plate. “Joel? Here? How’d he find you?”

Tommy answers carefully, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “He didn’t, really. Patrol found him. Him and a teenager. They were looking for the Fireflies because…the girl belongs to them or something. Used my last known location and headed out west.”

“From Boston? On foot? And he survived?”

“All the stories I’ve told you about him and that’s what surprises you?”

Tommy’d been an open book from day one, answering Maria’s questions about his background, the QZs he’d lived in, why he felt the need to leave the Fireflies. As they’d grown closer and he joined in your family dinners, there were stories traded from the beforetimes, about his construction business with his brother, how his niece’s death changed them both, the things they’d done to good people just to survive. He held nothing back and owned up to his mistakes. Although he often blamed Joel for actions he willingly took part in. Still, admitted that he used his army training to teach Joel to shoot and unwittingly turned him into a killing machine.

But even so, he missed him. You could see that. Tommy missed his big brother. Wished it could be different, that he could have changed him, brought Joel back from his numbness before it was too late. Best he could do was run away from his regret, swing the other way and try to even out all his wrongs…but then found out that the Fireflies weren’t the answer to any of it. And despite all Tommy had admitted to doing, it was this ability to forgive, to take some fraction of responsibility, and to shelter his light through the darkness that Maria took a shine to.

You involuntarily glance toward the living room, toward the mantle where there’s a polaroid of a ruggedly handsome thirty-five year old man and a girl in fluffy brown pigtails. “Shit, Tommy. You think he’ll head back here?”

“Said he was counting on it.”

There’s a somber silence at the table as everything comes to a halt. Maria’s not exactly chilly, just… reserved. Ah. They’ve already been talking about it.

“Should I be congratulating you on a family reunion or….?”

The sudden winter of their discontent warms to a spring as your old friend goes back to her plate. “Well, it’s yet to be determined. Of course he’s welcome here, but not if he brings trouble.”

“He’s not going to bring trouble, sweetheart. You should have seen him that night we talked. He’s got demons chasing him, but he’s tired of running. He needs good people. We’re good people.”

“Unless he finds those Fireflies and they take him in first,” you interject. “Seems to me they’re just like everyone else, and a man who’s that good at mindless, morally-gray protection is a valuable asset.”

That sets him laughing, breaking the tension, throwing you unexpectedly off-guard after you’d just darkly insulted his kin. “Joel? Join the Fireflies? Not a chance in heaven, hell, or all the shit between! He’ll be back. He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother and I know him. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”

________

The day after coming back from your next shift at the Roost, you find yourself ass to the mud on the street outside the Jackson stables. Two bodies–yours, and that of a larger child–rounding a corner in colliding trajectories. You’d been fiddling with the buttons on your walkie, not watching where you were going, your boots taking you home the way they’ve done for years.

But she’d been moving fast–not running, but walking with that speed that teenagers are only capable of when they’re stomping off in a probable fit of angry hormones.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she curses, diving for your wayward walkie and the batteries that spit out all over the ground as you get yourself up and your ass dusted off. “Here,” she says, clumsily dumping a cluster of plastic and tech into your hands. “I hope I didn’t break it. Are you like one of the marshals here or something?”

A quick rummage through the jumble in your hands shows no damage and you start pumping the batteries back in, casting a glance around for the compartment cover. “Not quite.” Seeing what you need a few feet away on the ground, you nod at it. “Would you mind getting that cover, miss…er… You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“Ellie.” She watches with interest as you clip the walkie back together and push the activation switch. “I’ve never seen one that small.”

“It’s actually an old kid’s toy. Meadowlark to Whippoorwill,” you mumble into the walkie, your lips nearly touching the plastic speaker, “just had a butterfingers. Testing the walkie.”

“What’s a butterfingers? Are those like code names?” Ellie asks.

Her eyes–black and sparkling–hold your own, a tense moment for both of you as you both hope for different reasons that the machine still works. “Something like that.”

“Whippoorwill here,” comes the voice through the can. “I hear you. Actually need a favor. Send a change of clothes through patrol tomorrow. The big one finally popped and she was a gusher.”

“Damn! I missed it by one damn day? Shit. One or two?”

“Three!”

“Uuuugh. Well that’s just fuckin’ fantastic. Glad you were there to catch ‘em, Whip. This is gonna be a good year. I think Hank’s on the round over there tomorrow. I’ll go pawing through your closet and send some things along.” Starting off in the direction of your friend’s house, you wave back at your new acquaintance. “See ya, Ellie. Nice to meet you. Take it slow around those corners, ‘hear?”

_____

The run-in wouldn’t have been memorable but for the next night when you show up at Maria and Tommy’s place for family dinner, carrying a warm basket of muffins, happy and singing to yourself as you dance in through the door…and come to a stop when four pairs of dark eyes turn to you from the dining room.

Guests? At family dinner? A man and–“Hey there…Ellie, right? Fancy meeting you here…”

The girl smiles from her seat at the table, waving with a hand covered by the sleeve of her raglan top. “Hi.”

“Oh. You know each other,” Maria says, lifting the basket out of your hands. “Then you must have met–”

No. You haven’t met him. But he stands up from the table, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it to receive yours. Manners. Polite. That’s unexpected knowing the little that you know. His hair is gray now and he’s a bit softer around the middle, more gravity in the cheeks. His ample shoulders have taken weight over the years–literal and emotional.

No, you haven’t met him. But you know him. You’d know those eyes anywhere; studied them in an old polaroid on the mantle just over there. Soft but strong. A good person from another lifetime who was scarred deeply by this one. Someone who cut his soul right down to the quick in order to keep others alive. Those eyes may be a bit more haunted now, but they’re still just as keen.

You never stopped to think that you might someday meet them in person.

“Hi. You must be Joel.” _____

It’s the girls at the table that notice your interest. If left unchecked, your eyes wander across and start to examine the gorilla grip on the fork, the protective hunch over the plate, the beard that’s been newly trimmed and hair recently shaped up (by Maria, no doubt), the scars across the knuckles…temple…nose…

The man’s been through hell and back since the polaroid.

Ellie though…is unscathed, unmarred.

Protected.

And observant. She finally smirks the third time she catches you staring.

Maria’s knee bumps yours to reign you in. He’s not a threat, her eyes say.

This isn’t the time to correct her assumptions, so you put all your focus on your plate or whomever is speaking, whatever isn’t Joel Miller.

“Tomorrow’s work is barrier wall on zone two,” Tommy chews both his words and his venison at the same time. “Once we’ve got that fortified, internal barrier can come down and we can incorporate it as a new section, start safely upgrading the housing there. It’s got a school facility. Be nice to restore that for its intended use instead of using the old record store.”

“Sounds good, count me in,” Joel grunts once he’s politely swallowed his mouthful. “Just put a hammer in my hand and point me at a wall.”

“Just like the good days, eh, brother?”

“Sure.”

“I could swing a hammer” Ellie pipes up.

“You can go to school.”

She scowls darkly at Joel. “Your face can go to school.”

“Ellie–”

“Whippoorwill to Meadowlark.” The walkie on your hip crackles to life and you swallow quickly as all forks stop and all eyes swing to you.

“Meadowlark here. I hear you.”

“Wanted to let you know that all three lambs are hale and made it through the night. Mom’s a little restless, but they’re all safe in the enclosure and I’m doing a sit-in.”

“Thanks for the update. Good to know. You’re in the lead.”

“I know, but Chickadee comes in next week and I bet she takes it. Anyway. Thanks for the clothes and the book, I knew I forgot something. I’ll leave you be unless there’s any change.”

“I’m giving the walkie to Chickadee tomorrow, so you’ll have to egg her on.”

“You know I will. Whippoorwill out.”

Once the radio goes silent, there’s a mix of reactions around the table; pleasant surprise from Maria and Tommy, Joel on guard, his eyes flicking between you and the others waiting to know what it all means, and Ellie’s head twisting around, trying to catch up.

“Three?” Maria trills. “You didn’t tell me there were three new lambs!”

“Yeah. Just missed them. Whip got to do the honors–”

“The big one popped! She was a gusher!” Ellie smiles as the table turns to her. “You were talking about sheep pooping out babies?”

“Ellie, manners. People are eating.” Her guardian glares at her before checking in sheepishly with Maria.

“It’s fine,” you make her excuse. “Ellie head us over the walkies yesterday and–”

“So what’s with the code names?”

The girl is practically vibrating out of her chair with curiosity.

This time it’s your turn to be scrutinized by the newcomers; two pairs of brown eyes hungry for answers.

So you explain while you pick at your dinner.

“There’s a wide acreage outside the settlement walls, on the west patrol loop. We have a good herd of sheep out there. Can’t raise ‘em all in town, there’s not enough room or grazing, although if the winter’s bad, we’ll bring ‘em in to some barns over at the old ranch house.

“But there’s four of us shepherds, each one taking a week at a time out there. Doesn’t require much. Sheep do the hard work of eating and sleeping and rearing their lambs. We do the shearing and milking, send back daily gallons with the patrols–that’ll be the cheese on your salad there. But mostly just make sure they’re healthy and taken care of. Scare off wolves and coyotes if they come sniffing.”

“You go out there alone?” She asks, wide-eyed.

“Sure. It’s pretty secure and the patrols check the fences every day. The Roost is added security for us, since it’s elevated.”

“What’s the Roost?”

“Ah, it’s kind of a fancy treehouse?”

“Thanks to me, I’ll add,” Tommy pipes up. “When I got here, it was nothing more than a shack on a platform. This one here had a target on my back until the day she had four stout walls and a pretty little porch. Won her over pretty quick.”

“Stick built?” Joel asks, shoving a fingerling potato in his mouth.

“Yeah. Reinforced. A-frame. Even pulled windows out of a lodge.”

“Smart.”

Ellie obviously has no time for Construction Corner with the Millers. “You don’t get scared?”

There’s something about her eager wonder that grabs your attention, pulls you in tight, makes you want to answer whatever question she’s got. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I mean, not for us anyway. All of us Roostlings grew up around here. We know the sounds of the animals at night, know they’re more scared of us than we are of them. We’ve seen infected out in the wilds, sure, know what to listen for, but we also know how to defend ourselves if the barriers don’t hold…and they always hold.

“But mostly, it’s relaxing. Quiet. Slow. Time to think. There’s nothing better than a night suspended in the treetops, with the sheep below and the moon and the stars above….”

Joel has stopped chewing, a wistfulness showing from underneath his gruff mask. There’s something thrilling about catching his attention.

A goofy smile cracks Ellie’s face and she giggles, reaches out to punch him on the arm. “Did you hear that? Sheep and stars. It’s everything you dreamed of, buddy!”

“I didn’t mean…” he winces at her brute force and shoots a guarded look at you. “I think I’ll leave the sheep to the shepherds. You said you grew up here?”

It’s the first thing he’s really said to you unprompted and now that you have an excuse to look him in the eye, it’s actually hard to do. “Ah, yeah. Family sheep ranch down in…well, down-river. Not far. Maria too.”

“Spent a lot of time at that ranch growing up,” she smiles. “You and your sister were bad influences.”

“Is that why you up and left us for the big city?”

Maria laughs. “Had to get out before I spent my whole life here. Whoops.”

Joel reins the conversation back. “So you haven’t spent any time in the QZs?”

“No. Holed up at the ranch with…with some folks,” you say as Maria looks away. “Then Jackson was starting up and it was safer here, so I brought in my flock.”

“Hmm,” he grunts, reading your expression, catching the slight omission in your speech. Recognizing survivor’s talk.

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, wondering what your answer is worth to him. You’ve heard of the quarantine zones, knew how rough and miserable they could be. Tommy and Maria both had their stories and you count yourself lucky for never having been unfortunate enough to have to scrabble for existence in one of them. Would have languished and suffocated. Wouldn’t have been able to breathe without the big sky, or sleep without the mountains keeping watch…

Does he think you naive? Or that–wrongly–you’ve had it easy? Does your answer tip the scales in his opinion for the worse?

And what about him? Has the QZ made him dangerous? Hard? Dishonest? Tommy always said he was an asshole…

“Can I see it?” Ellie interjects. “The Roost. Can I go out there with you?”

The question is surprising in more ways than one; most noticeably in its boldness and by your shock in a kid getting so excited about sheep. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s why there’s a bunk bed. We bring folks out there all the time. But you have to be willing to work while you’re out there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel grumbles with a tight jaw, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Maria had explained to you the circumstances of Joel carting the girl across the country. To get her that far unscathed? To get her to the Fireflies… He must not have found them or he would have come back alone. Maybe they were dead.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

The girl is smart. Better off here.

But it seems no amount of time can take the father out of the man and he’s fallen into the role for her pretty hard, his jaw twitching as he balances between politeness and worry.

“It’s completely safe, brother. Walled in. Patrolled. In communication, as you’ve witnessed. And the Roostlings are all pretty skilled with a shotgun. She’ll be fine. Might do her some good.”

“Come on, Joooooooel. It’s sheeeeeeeep. In a treehouuuuuu-suh.”

He takes his time chewing. Keeps his eyes on his plate.

“We’ll see.”

“Well,” you smile, winking at the girl across from you, “I just got off my shift, so you’ve got three weeks to warm up to the idea before I go back.”

“Do I get a codename?” She wiggles in her seat, grinning hard at Joel, goading him.

“Sure. I don’t know. You’re pretty spikey. How about Thistle?”

“What?” This dismays her and gets a choke–and then a chuckle–out of Joel. “Why can’t I have a bird name?”

“Because you’re not a Roostling. You have to earn your wings.”

This sets her jaw in a challenge. “Oh. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn it so hard you don’t even know. Bring it on. Take me to the fluffy bastards.”

“Ellie, dammit!”

_____

“So, he’s, uh….” you hand a dish to Maria so she can dry.

“Less than personable?” She finishes, keeping her voice down so as not to be heard by the brothers chatting on the back porch.

“Got some adjusting to do if he’s gonna fit in here, I was going to say.”

“He makes you nervous though. I can tell.”

“No. Not…like that…I just…” It’s best to avoid her keen eye, but catch her surprise out of the corner of yours. “It’s just–”

“My oldest friend in this god-forsaken world,” she declares, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and settling hands on hips. “You are telling me that? That is the man that is turning your head?”

“No. That’s not…He’s…” a growl of frustration follows, trying to scare your thoughts into cohesive order as you scrub glaze out of a pan. “It doesn’t happen that often, you know? Someone from the past showing up and there’s all this…change. I mean, he’s not really from our history, but you’ve had that picture of him and his daughter sitting out and there’s this face from the past just…looming. Like, there was this man who lived and worked construction and then the worst day happened and his child was killed and the person he was just got…replaced with that guy. It’s…I’m just morbidly fascinated by what twenty years in a post-hell society can do to someone. I mean…that smile in the polaroid…he was so warm and healthy…”

It isn’t until this moment that you realize what Maria begins to surmise. The pan and washcloth are abandoned.

“So you’ve had a crush on a man from the past all this time, making your castles in the sand. And you’re disappointed that he showed up and was that.”

She generously and lovingly gives you the time to think.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s still good looking, so you have to give me a little slack there. But I don’t know him. Didn’t know him. It’s just an interesting thing, you know? A little fantasy of the beforetimes? One that didn’t really line up way I imagined it?”

Maria begins to laugh kindly and quietly. Then a little less kindly and a lot less quietly. “Oh shit, that man came here for sanctuary and didn’t know he walked into a full-on trap.”

“Hey!”

“No. No. That’s not fair and I’m sorry,” she concedes, taming her laughter somewhat unsuccessfully. “Just go easy on him, okay? He’s Tommy’s brother.”

“Well, then that’s as good a reason as any for me to stay on my side of the creek bed. And, to be fair, those other guys? They came after me first. I have no interest in men that have no interest in me. So it looks like he’s safe.”

“For now,” she smirks. “But. If Tommy keeps me up at night complaining that you’ve busted a bottle over his brother’s head–”

“That was one time! And that guy was a fucking jerk!”--now you’re both laughing–”Which, I guess, yeah, if Joel’s as much an asshole as Tommy says, then maybe I should play it safe and apologize to y’all in advance!”

Thank goodness you have each other to lean on, or you’d both be rolling on the floor in a cackling mess. _____

It only takes a fistful of days and as many shy nods in passing around town for a knock to come at your door one evening.

“Well…hey there….Mr. Miller. What can I do for you this evening?”

The generated streetlights don’t come all the way down your block, and he blinks in the candlelight coming from your open door, his jaw gaping slightly before sealing shut, blocking any words that want to come.

Stepping back, you let the door open wider for him. “I was just putting a snack together. You wanna come in?”

“No, I..don’t…”

You’ve seen this look before from folks new to Jackson. From folks who’ve had to keep what they have to survive. Folks who lived among others who would never offer up anything for free without the expectation of payback and therefore have forgotten–or perhaps never experienced–the simple joy of receiving hospitality.

“You don’t want to come in? Or you don’t want to eat my cooking? Because I’d be offended by either.”

Walking away from the open door has the desired effect and he finds his way to the front room sofa in view of the kitchen on his own.

It allows you to watch him check off the boxes as you put together a tray. Telltale sign of the long-hauler as he scans the rooms for exits and places where a threat could be hiding. Check. Then the sign of the QZoner as he studies his surroundings, taking in a home that’s lived in but not damaged by twenty years of decay or depression. Check.

That finally leaves him open to be vulnerable, and you watch to see if he’ll allow himself to be at ease.

The way his fingers curl and uncurl on his knees, how he looks away when you catch his eye.

You wonder if he’ll ever really sink in. Having family here will help.

“You drink, Joel Miller?”

“Depends,” he answers vaguely, but nods with certainty.

Your offering is simple, rye crackers on a plate, a disk of sheep’s milk cheese with a knife in it, two tumblers, and a bottle of sunshine.

“You all are sure generous with your whiskey around here,” he comments as you pour him a full glass.

“Not whiskey. Cider.”

He frowns. “Cider? You make this?”

“I’m not that talented,” you wave your hand over the cheese and crackers. “As you can see, this is what I consider cooking. Like most things here, I traded for it. There’s an orchard a ride out. Gone wild. It gets harvested once a year and there’s a cider press in town. Couple of ladies spend a good month canning and bottling.”

“Seems like the women run the show around here,” he says, impressed, taking a sip and then staring hard at the glass. “Holy shit.” You’re not sure at first if that’s a good or bad expression until he goes in for another drink.

“That make you nervous? Ladies brewing up the good stuff?” You only laugh at his impression of a deer in the headlights. “I suppose if you’ve spent enough time around Maria, it’s easy to think that. It’s just a very empowered place for everyone. Everyone’s got something to contribute that gives them some pride and gets them some respect. And I guess, in that way, you don’t have to worry about Ellie here. I can tell she’s gonna find her place and do just fine.”

“That’s actually what I came by for,” he says, distracted by the cider. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a drink of something that doesn’t burn?”

“It’s sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been a minute since I had anything sweet.”

You let that hang, watch him examine the amber liquid…or, rather, a memory swirling in its depths.

Twenty years of a broken heart can’t be good for a person.

“You came to talk about Ellie?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re addressing him, but he only nods, and finishes the glass. When you pick up the bottle to pour him another, he quietly stops you with a gesture and the tiniest shake of the head. No. “You ever have raiders come by your Roost?”

“We’ve seen raiders in the area. They’ve attacked the town border before. Always small groups. Hungry. They don’t have the numbers or the ammo round these parts.”

“But what about out there in the open?”

Crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat, you let him know he’s being assessed, let it sink in that he might be over-protective and has the right to be scared but doesn’t need to be. Realize he may never grow out of his defensive conditioning.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Joel Miller. There’s always a chance. But I don’t know if there are any words I can say that would magically put you at ease. There’s one thing I can see though, you care a lot about that girl. I reckon you’re here tonight because she’s bugged you about going out there. And you hate disappointing her, so here you are. But you’re also afraid of letting her out of your sight.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just rolls his glass between his wide palms.

Ducking forward, you do your best to get your smile in his eyeline. “Since I can’t convince you with words, I’ll do it with evidence. Ride out there with me tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“I don’t…that’s not what…”

“Hey. Good parents want their kids to be safe. I know the type.” It was meant to put him at ease, but you realize a bit too late that your words were poorly chosen. It’s difficult to read his emotion; there may be a few going on at once.

Most of them break your heart.

An apology would only make it worse. “Tomorrow morning. Stables. Dawn.”

________

He doesn’t like to talk much, Joel Miller. Knows his way around a horse like a true Texan should, completely at ease with a shotgun strapped to his back, but doesn’t seem to want to spoil the silence. Or perhaps he’s just always on guard. That’s okay. You like the sounds of the morning. The crunch of the woodland floor, the sweep of the wind in the leaves. The birds have been up for hours already, their voices warmed up and singing clear. It’s still chilly at daybreak this time of year and steam rises from the horses’ noses, mixing with the fog of the dew evaporating in the rising sun.

After a good half-hour ride through dappled forest light at a leisurely pace, you take up the walkie that you’ve borrowed from Chickadee.

“Meadowlark to Whippoorwill.”

Seconds and trees roll by as you wait for your answer. No hurry.

“Whippoorwill here. You taking another shift? You’re a day early.”

“Nope. Just giving a new resident a tour and letting you know we’re coming in at the north passage. Put some clothes on and don’t shoot us.”

“I make no promises.”

“Don’t ever change, Whip.”

As you come to a ravine and dismount, Joel finally pipes up. “Put some clothes on?”

“Yeah,” you explain, leading the horse down the steep incline, “Whip’s a nudist. Don’t ever show up at her house unannounced if you aren’t ready for a lot of skin.” When he doesn’t know what to say, you smile over your shoulder. “Just fucking with you. Although, there is a stream to the south we all like to skinny dip in come summer.” Another baffled look from him, and another sly smile from you.

He’s distracted by this to the point that he actually flinches when the barrier appears before him. “The hell?” he exclaims, examining a hedge of vines growing up over a twelve-foot tall wall of stone. “You don’t even notice this from the top.”

“Nope. That’s the point. Doesn’t look like a wall from up there, just looks like a hedge from down here. Most people don’t want to make the effort to climb down but if they do, they just assume they have to find another way.”

“This is the meadow perimeter?”

“Well, this gate anyway. A lot of it is woven steel gage and cliffs that only goats can manage. Most of it is natural barrier or camouflage like this so you wouldn’t even know there’s anything being protected.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Welcome to Jackson Meadow, home of the Roost.”

After displacing and replacing some facing shrubs, you’re able to coax the horses through a narrow tunnel and up a gentle rise that eventually opens out into a sweeping field in a valley under the face of the butte.

It’s still early enough that the wildflowers are just slivers of purples and yellows behind their bud casings, but they spread far and wide across the green expanse, broken only by the random white-gray lumps of grazing sheep. The sun is just beginning to break over the surrounding mountains to the east, but once it spills over, it will only make the spring colors of the valley more vivid than any surviving photograph, more picturesque than any oil on canvas…probably. It’s been decades since you’ve seen a landscape painting, so what the hell do you know.

Able to ride side by side now, you make another study of your companion. And there’s a war going on inside him. You can tell he’s taken by the raw beauty of the meadow, but twenty years of looking over his shoulder makes him nervous in wide open spaces and his eyes won’t stop moving between the grasses and the treeline, constantly appreciating, constantly scanning.

“Relax, Mr. Miller. Enjoy the view. You’re in good hands. See that patch of trees up there?” You nod to a wooded area near the center of the expanse. “Roost is in there. I guarantee you Whip has eyes on us and everything in this valley right now.” Raising a hand over your head with three fingers raised, you use the other hand to point to them.

The walkie smacks on and Whippoorwill’s steady drawl comes out. “Three.”

You wave. Smile at Joel. “See?”

He relaxes in the saddle and a quiet, ponderous minute goes by before he works up the bother to ask whatever’s tumbling around in that head of his. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What.”

“Mr. Miller. I’m no mister. It’s just Joel.”

Things are slow in Jackson, people take their time. As you do with your answer. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping a distance, Joel Miller. You seem like the kind of man that likes people to keep their distance so he can get a good read and make sure it’s safe to approach.”

Twisting with a frown, he scans you as if he’s never really looked before, maybe a little annoyed that you have his number.

You dismount your chestnut mare some distance before reaching the trees, leave the reins to the saddle and let her be, walking over to the nearest duo of sheep–a mother and baby. The ewe bleats at you out of habit, but knows you’re no real harm. She watches her lamb though, chewing when she remembers to.

This lamb is still very young and you’re not sure if it will remember. There’s a bounce to the left, and then two to the right, and then each leg steps carefully as he haltingly makes his way forward. You’re able to scoop him up and turn him over in your arms like a baby, instantly quelling him, and his legs hilariously splay.

“What’d you do to it?” Joel, having followed suit and let his horse graze, walks up and there’s the tiniest smile as he gazes down at the creature in your arms.

“Nothing, that’s just what they do when you turn ‘em over. Here.” You don’t even tell him to put his arms out or ask if he wants to hold the lamb, you simply get close enough and the man’s instincts kick in. All you have to do is hand him off.

Joel’s surprised at first, flinches a bit when the lamb wiggles in his arms–the tiniest protest to being transferred to an unfamiliar nanny. But then both of them calm and you have to stifle a laugh as the two of them just…stare at each other. The lamb in his lamby wonder, and Joel like a new, star-struck dad.

Going about your business, you begin checking the creature’s general health, pushing at the belly, checking the mouth. “This one was born on my last watch, so he’s only about ten days old.”

“Really,” Joel sighs, totally enchanted, not even realizing that he’s instinctually bouncing the lamb a bit. The father in him showing its face again.

“Yep. And,” you indicate the mother, now watching a bit more closely since there’s an unfamiliar human involved, “I birthed that one too. And probably most of her whole line for the last twenty years or more. All of them were as little as this one, and all of them survived. And if the Roost can raise flocks and flocks of dumb little sheep, we can certainly take care of one smart little girl.”

When he scans you this time, it’s clear you’ve given him reasoning that resonates.

He allows you to lift the lamb from his arms, watching thoughtfully as the little thing springs away past its mother and tumbles into some lupines head first. After it recovers and bounces a little more, you bring Joel’s attention to the trees a few hundred meters to the south.

“You can just catch the Roost there, see? The A-frame sticks up above the treetops. And that’ll be Willa at the porch railing.”

He squints. “How do you get up?”

“Retractable ladder. Tommy rigged it for us. You gotta be in it to win it. You’re either up it or fuck it. Ergo, if the ladder’s up, you don’t get in.”

“Huh. How do you get supplies up? Pulley?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

It’s a quiet ride back to Jackson, and you do your best not to look over your shoulder to gauge his reaction, like Orpheus leading Euridice out of Hades trying not to lose a tenuous chance for Ellie to spread her wings. It’s not every day a young person wants to learn the shepherding gig. Most of them want to stay in town near their friends, or are too afraid of the world to venture out. Ellie though, she’s been in the world. Observant. Eager to learn. Fearless.

The sheep could use someone like her.

You could too.

It’s when he’s busy unsaddling his horse in the stables that he clears his throat, and you let the curry brush lighter over your horse’s coat so you can hear him think out loud.

“Yeah that works,” he mumbles. “Think it might be good for her.”

Poking your face over your mare’s shoulder and waiting to catch his eye, you release the hounds of smiletown. “You’re right. And probably good for you too, Joel Miller.”

____

“Whoa, coooooool!!!” Ellie says for the fourth time on the ride from Jackson as she spies the Roost through the trees.

Over the past few family dinners, Ellie asked a million questions about this week–how to stay warm, where to bathe, if the sheep bite–anything and everything, even if it was common sense.

And with every answer she’d listen, enrapt, her eyes flicking to Joel now and then. It became obvious to you–although maybe not to the others–that she was asking not so much for her own good, but to calm Joel, signal that she was thinking ahead and covering all the bases, that even if she already knew the answers it might calm him to hear them too.

A little overkill. But the concern they showed for each other while trying not to be sappy about it was endearing you to both of them.

And perhaps Joel was calmed; maybe not so much by the answers you gave, but the way you gave them--calmly, indulgently, and with just a little bit of sass to show you could keep up with Ellie’s tongue and put her in a figurative headlock when she got too cocky. You caught Joel smiling down into his plate a few times. And at you a few more.

He’s got a good smile. It comes out more often now.

A duffel bag lands on the ground at the base of the Roost’s tree and your horses jump a little. Then there’s a cheerful trill from above, “I’ll be right down! Just packing up the wool!”

“No rush, Goldie! We’ll go water the horses while we wait.”

Ellie follows your lead you as you dismount to pull the packs off the horses–bulky with a week’s weight of food, water, and clothes–before climbing back into the saddle and heading off to the south.

“There’s a creek up here flows right down from the Tetons. Purest, cleanest water you’ll ever see.”

“Can you drink it?”

“Absolutely. You, me, the sheep, it’s for all of us. We humans boil it first, of course.”

Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “Seems a waste. I mean, if it’s coming down from the mountains it’s really cold right? We hardly ever had cold water in the QZ. It’s so good when it’s cold.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you have to bathe in it.” Her face falls and you can’t help but laugh, hauling yourself out of the saddle and guiding the beast through the pebbled creekbed. “Believe me, come summer, you’ll be plenty happy with how cold it is.”

Once the horses are watered it’s a leisurely stroll back to the Roost, handing the reins over to a tall, veritable Viking of a woman, stong-boned and willowy all at the same time, the long golden braid spilling down her back and curls springing out from the sides of her face giving her the appearance that she’s wearing a lazy albino scorpion on her head. Her blue flannel matches her eyes and clashes with her sunburned cheeks.

“Ellie, this is Goldfinch, our junior Roostling.”

The woman takes Ellie’s small hand in her long, sturdy fingers. “Maybe not so junior if you pull yourself up on board.”

“Goldie started with us about ten years back when she was around your age.”

“Ten years ago?” Ellie asks. “There hasn’t been any new shepherds since then?”

The Rootling shares a concerned look with you before you answer, “Well, there have been, but not all of them stuck.” And you put the question to rest by helping Goldie pack up your horse. “Shit, this is a lot of wool. How many did you do?”

“About twelve?” She answers. “I’m only taking ten worth. Left the rest for you.”

“Damn, you must have been bored. Ellie, can you hand me that duffel? Thanks.”

As Ellie brings the bag to you, she’s also scanning the thatch of forest where the Roost stands. “So she’s taking the horses? She doesn’t have her own?”

“Horses are a sign of civilization,” Goldie offers. “Especially if they’re on a picket line. And we like to keep it not so obvious that we’re out here. We’d have to keep them on picket or they’d just wander off back toward the gate an s hang out there wanting to go home and give away that location.”

“Besides,” you explain, “won’t need ‘em until we go back to Jackson. Safest place to be in the whole pasture is the Roost with the ladder up and a loaded shotgun nearby, not trying to saddle up to ride off. If there’s trouble, we can hold out the time it takes for a posse to come down from town.”

“Is there ever trouble?” Ellie wonders, just slightly concerned.

“Never yet,” you wink.

Finally there’s the ceremonial clink of the walkies, acknowledging that the leaving Roostling is taking hers home and the new occupant has one with a completely restored battery. “Patrol, this is Meadowlark taking over for Goldfinch.”

A few quiet seconds. A pinecone drops nearby.

Then a man’s voice from the speaker. “Meadowlark, this is patrol, we read you. We’ll be hitting east gate around noon today. Anything you need?”

“Nope, we just landed. By ‘we’ I mean me and a learner. New girl, Ellie Williams. Callsign Thistle.”

“Copy. Welcome to the Roost, Thistle.”

Ellie beams, then blinks as you hold the walkie to her face, and you nod her a nod of encouragement.

“Thanks…patrol. Uh…Thistle over and out.”

“Good job, kid,” Goldie says, hoisting a leg over the horse and taking the reins of Ellie’s mare from you. “Have a good week, you two. May your days be filled with storms.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Ellie turns to you. “Storms?”

You strap a pack over each shoulder and start climbing the ladder. “We’re in friendly competition with each other to have the most lambs born on our watch and shear the most sheep. If it rains it can be miserable work at best and impossible at worst and we’re less likely to make good numbers. So it’s an affectionate curse.”

“Oh. Seems cruel to the sheep.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouldering a smaller pack, Ellie starts climbing behind you. “Wishing for storms when they have to be out in it.”

“Eh, they’re happy as clams when it rains. They’ve got wool sweaters already.”

“I’ve never worn a wool sweater.”

Reaching the top, you wait for her to crest so you can see the look on her face when she does. “Then you’re in for a treat. It takes a lot to waterlog wool. Rolls right off. You’ll see. You’ll love it. And that’s not even mentioning the socks!”

“What does happy as a clam mean–” she begins, but stops abruptly as her face comes to the top of the ladder, her mouth opening in awe, rounding in concert with her eyes. “Whoa! Holy shit!!!”

The Roost as a whole isn’t all that large and can be crossed in half a dozen steps. Roughly a seven meter square platform, it holds a one-room cabin with a balcony running along the north and east sides. The windowed, A-frame peak looks out to the north pasture and the roof slopes just out and above the east balcony to shade it in a cascade of knotty pine. Windows wrap all but the west side, the interior wall of which has a simple built-in double cabinet bed with a single bunk running across its head above.

It’s this cabinet bed that draws Ellie inside, and you watch her slowly take in the rest of the cabin, with its rustic table and chairs–Goldie left a couple Indian Painbrush in a mug of water in the sun–the windowed corner with the soft, plush, patchwork pillow chair and a basket full of wool roving, the opposite corner with its woodstove upon a harlequin tilework patch of floor and the spare array of cooking tools on spiraled iron hooks in the knotted wood walls.

The honey dark timber stretches overhead to a peak, from which hangs dried strands of vegetables and herbs, higher up a set of snowshoes, a number of straps and ropes–a butcher’s hook among them, the one arguably ominous tool, meant to make dragging a bloated carcass easier…although it is rarely needed anymore.

Even though the Roost has become your home away from home, the fresh smell off the boards and the dust motes dancing in the sun make you pause and smile every time.

It’s just comfortable enough for two people, a generous hideaway for one, and your favorite place in the whole world. There’d been more than one occasion where you thought about asking Tommy to build you its replica in Jackson, but it would be a shame to ruin its uniqueness…and, of course, there were higher priorities in town.

“Is that where you sleep?” Ellie points at the cabinet bed.

“Yep. Or you, if you want. There’s a bunk. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Bouncing over to the side of the cabinet with the recessed ladder, she climbs, pats the mattress, and frowns. “Why’s it all lumpy?”

“It’s filled with fleece. Same down here. It doesn’t feel lumpy when you sleep on it. Feels like a cloud hugging you. How’s the view up there?”

Ellie pets the bunk mattress another second or two, considering it, before turning out with a smile, “It’s–” but the smile fades when she sees beyond the four meter peak of the cabin and out through the windows for the first time.

Turning to face outward--to see though her eyes–-the sun is breaking fully over the butte, filling the valley like a warm, golden bath, serving up a green to the eye that exists nowhere else in the world. It never gets old and is beautiful from every angle, especially this view from the treetops, birds-eye.

Wordlessly she descends the bunk ladder behind you and wanders out to the balcony, resting her forearms against it, staring out at the vista, and you let her have it while you unpack the bags, situate the supplies, assess the woodpile, toss a set of fresh sheets on each bed.

Once finished with the settle in, you join Ellie where she’s drifted to the other side of the balcony, looking out at the north pasture where the sheep like it best.

After a moment she asks quietly, “What was this place before?”

“This land?” you specify, and she nods. “It was just this. A valley meadow. Native land.”

“It’s hardly touched out here. No broken buildings. No bomb craters.”

“Nope. This place was never really that urban. Even with all those people, some wild places remained. Some were actually sanctioned by the government as untouchable natural places, just to let the animals live and the trees grow. It was for everyone to enjoy.”

“National parks.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This was part of a park like that. But Jackson wasn’t densely populated. Didn’t spread as fast out here. We were low priority. No bombs. So many of us lived on our own land that when the governments came to round any of us up, we’d take up arms and hold our ground. It’s what my sister and I did when they came at our ranch. I think after a while military just left the area thinking if we all got infected it could only spread so far before it just finished off the population and had nowhere left to go.”

“Did it?”

“Oh it came, but it didn’t take everyone. It wandered in later, like everything does out here. Cordyceps are like a fashion. It spread in the urban areas first and made its way out here eons later. But there were fewer people in a lot larger space…and a lot more guns. It was easy to stamp out.”

Ellie’s not like most of the other kids in town who nod at your ancient stories of the olden times. To them, this is the world as it is and how it will be and stories of how it used to be are less than monumental, just a passing curiosity for aimless evenings around a fire. But Ellie’s attention reaches beyond the meadow, beyond the mountains, beyond what she can see. It stretches out in time and tries to divine the past and what might have been; she tries to calculate what exactly was lost and in what ways it’s actually better. A life she could have had versus the one that’s brought her here to this balcony in the morning sun.

A far off bleat becomes a signal for the reverie to break, and you bump your shoulder against hers.

“C’mon. I’ll show you how we do the rounds.”

_____

After a few days, Ellie is doing the morning rounds on her own, reporting in when she notices an ewe in a lay, keeping an eye out for cast sheep–“You see a sheep on its back, do whatever you can to right it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours until they die there of bloat and stupidity,”--and generally letting them all get to know her.

“You’ll need to take your time. Let the lambs come to you or the mammas get emotional about it. Treat ‘em light and gentle for a while. If the ewe sees no need to watch you anymore that means she trusts you and you can pet and pick up the little ones if they let you. But they start cryin’, best to put ‘em down and let ‘em run. Never chase them. You chase them and never let them come to you, they’ll run when you need to get to them most. Take ‘em some apple or carrot and they’ll be your friend forever. Squash and pumpkin are good too. Sometimes I’ll bring out a pocketful of oats. Don’t tell the stablemasters in town; they’d have my ass.”

By mid-week if you couldn’t find Ellie, all you’d need to do was climb up to the Roost and survey the green meadow for the contrast of her red tshirt and you’d spy her sprawled out in the grasses surrounded by a clutch of lambs and ewes. The girl was a sucker for animals.

Shearing went by faster with someone there to hold hooves and legs or just keep the lambs within sight so any ewe under the shear wasn’t kicking to check on her baby. It might have been Ellie’s least favorite part except for the evening time task of carding wool (“Boring”) and drop spinning (“Impossible”).

“Motherfucker,” she whispers, singing a song of hatred at the breaking threads on her spindle, throwing her hands out and taking a dramatic fall backward onto the wool rug she’s sitting on.

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’s not a fast skill; it can take years to learn to spin consistently,” you laugh in the warm glow of the lantern, your spindle wizzing as your yarn pulls at an even gauge, “and all you have out here is time. You’ll get it.”

“Grasshopper? Have I graduated from Thistle?”

“Nope, sorry. Old joke, before your time.”

Abandoning her work and rolling over to her belly, Ellie kicks her stockinged feet lazily in the air and pulls at the fibers in the rug. “There’s only one more day left and there haven’t been any new lambs.”

“Season’s slowing down some. They’ll be fewer and further between.”

“Don’t you wanna win?”

“Win at numbers? Not if it means the health of the sheep. They’ll birth when they birth. Besides, nobody’s beating Willa this year. Those triplets made that a certainty.”

“Whippoorwill’s name is Willa. Chickadee’s name is Addie.”

“Yup.”

“So everyone turned their name into the closest sounding bird except you.”

“Nah. We’re just not real clever with the names is all. Goldie’s name is Pam. We just call her Goldfinch because she’s a blond. Probably wouldn’t even have callsigns but that it makes it easier to hear over the walkie.”

“So what about yours then? Why Meadowlark?”

You smile. “Larks are songbirds. I like to sing when I’m out here. I’ve been caught at it so many times, I don’t even hide it anymore.” You belt a made-up melody loudly out through the open window into the night, “Isn’t tha-a-at ri-ight you wooly ba-a-a-asta-a-a-ards!”

A sleepy sheep calls back in irritation.

“You’re a weird lady.”

Ellie laughs begrudgingly, sits up with a grunt and starts picking at her thread again, squinching her mouth at the lumps. “So if I become a Roostling, I don’t get to pick my own bird?”

“I’m sure we could make an exception. Why? You got one in mind? Because left to us you’d probably be a red-bELLIEd something-or-other.”

“Ha ha. Fine. I don’t know much about birds. Mostly just pigeons in Boston.”

“Well fuck if I’m gonna call you Pigeon.”

The night’s starting to chill down a little and she hugs her knees into her chest, setting her chin on them in thought. It’s about time to close up the window and put a few logs in the stove, but Ellie’s attention wanders up and out among the stars.

You have so many questions. Were all the kids in Boston as stubborn and wild and foul-mouthed as her? Where were her parents? Dead, most likely, but how did she survive them? How did she meet Joel? Did she smuggle run with him? She’s a fair shot with a shotgun, but not practiced. Did he get her here all by himself? That takes a lot of luck and skill. He must care about her a lot to bring her with him all this way, to keep her safe….

“So it was just you and Joel out there for a long time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you’re happy to finally have somewhere warm to sleep. Traveling during the winter would have been rough. Good thing it was a milder one this time around.”

She gives a pathetic shrug. “I dunno. I liked it. Just us under the stars. We looked out for each other.”

“Well, you have a lot of folks who will look out for the both of you now. And if you need someone to look after, well, these sheep could really use you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, something you’ve said keeps her in the giggles for a while. “One night we were camping and I asked Joel where he wanted to go most in the world and he said he wanted to settle down and farm sheep. This is kind of his dream. But then he said that he wanted to be a musician. Maybe he should be the one out here with you to watch sheep and sing.”

“Maybe. Does he have a tolerable voice? The sheep are picky, as you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t sing for me,” she squishes her cheek into her knee, giving you a shit-eating grin and a teasing sing song. “But I bet he’d sing for you if you asked him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you smile and wink, trying to hide your chagrin under a swirling cape of nonchalance. “I can be very persuasive. But...I don’t think Tess would like that so much.”

“How do you know about Tess?”

“Tommy has his tales. They were quite a little family unit for a while. I’m actually surprised she didn’t show up here with you two.”

This sobers her, turns her attention back out to the stars, halting her response. “She would have…. but she didn’t make it.”

A chilly breeze sweeps through the window, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the drop in the air or your heart that makes you shiver.

Tess didn’t make it. In the world as it is, that means one thing. You wonder what happened. How. If it was horrific–of course it was, you can see it in Ellie’s hardened eyes that it was–and how much it affects her or doesn’t. It’s so difficult to tell with kids these days. In the end though, it hardly matters how. In all the myriad of ways it could have happened, it would have ended the same.

You wonder if Tommy knows.

You suddenly feel ashamed of that selfish little spark of hope it sparks in you.

But while what you know about Joel Miller could fill a book, what you don’t know about him could fill a library.

And you’ve had enough time pass through you to know that a lot of patience and a little observation can go a long way towards preventing disaster.

Thoughts for another time.

“What about you, kid, hmm? What was your answer? In all the world, where would you go?”

But you’d already guessed, seen the longing in her face every night this week and see it now as she looks out the window at the silent silver satellite in the sky.

_____

“Ow, dammit! Just keep a good hold on her back legs so she stops kicking me!”

The lamb is breach and you’re halfway up to your elbow in sheep, trying to push at the little one’s one back haunch to clear the way for the other leg. Ellie, wide-eyed and trembling with excitement keeps letting the ewe’s leg slip and you’d be laughing if the hooves didn’t pack such a punch.

You must have seen a thousand sheep born and assisted in a high percentage of those in your lifetime, but this one manages to give you a new rush. It’s the morning you’ll be heading back to Jackson and you were afraid you’d go all week without Ellie getting to experience a birth. Here it is, and she’s just as thrilled as you’d hoped and all you have to do is make sure both the lamb and the ewe make it through.

It doesn’t take much–a little push, a little twist, a little pull, a little gasp from Ellie–you’re able to get both back hooves in your hand and the little one comes sliding out in a gloopy mess onto the grass. Your favorite flannel is caked with blood and you’ll have to go straight to the launders with it on arrival back in town…

…but it’s all worth it when the baby bleats the tiniest baa and Ellie giggles and clutches her cheeks.

“Holy shit! That was awesome! It’s so tiny! Can I name it? Like Snowball or something?”

The footfalls making their way through the meadow proceed Willa’s answer, “You don’t have to do that. The earth and the sky and the wind will name her themselves.”

Leaning back to acknowledge not only your friend and her arrival, but also a broad form following her clad in denim and gristle.

“Brought you a friend,” Willa smirks for the girl’s benefit, tilting her head in Joel’s direction.

“Joel!!! Look!!!” Ellie’s grin is so full she can’t even close her jaw, gaping like a kid who just saw her first Christmas tree.

Another tiny bleat escapes the lamb as its mother begins to lick it clean and Joel’s eyes nearly disappear behind cheeks and crinkles. “Hey there, babygirl. You have a good time?”

“Fuck YES.”

Willa extends a hand to help Ellie up and Joel does the same for you, taking care to keep your dripping forearm at a good distance.

“She did real good out here; you’d be proud,” you praise the girl, squelching her grin with a big, wet, slap on the back. “I’d love to have her again.”

“Aw, maaaaaaan!” Ellie reels in disgust as you dig your palm into her shoulder, really getting the juices in there.

“You just earned your keep, kid.”

This snaps her head around. “Really? Do I get a bird name now?”

“Yup. And I think I know what’ll suit you just fine.” In a short second of mountain time, the wind picks up just a little, lifting the brown curls around her face and the sun comes up behind her over the bluff, kissing her pink cheeks as you lean down and look her straight in the eye.

“Welcome to the Roostlings, Starling.”

____

You let them ride ahead of you, allow the father-daughter team to catch each other up on the week’s news, watch adoringly as Ellie chatters on about the lambs and how they tumble and bounce and how cold the water is and how the Roost creaks and sways a bit when it’s windy, which sheep were her favorite and how much she hates spinning wool.

Next time you’ll have to teach her how to knit, you think. She’ll probably take to that a little better.

And when he’s not giving her his glowing attention, Joel’s only report is that he started work in the new section of town, nothing exciting except the house was blessedly quiet for a whole week thank god.

She still has stories to tell Maria and Tommy at family dinner, repeating again some of the highlights you overheard her tell Joel, and new ones she just remembered. Your friends smile and listen, bewitched, time enough to give her an ear and delighted with the novelty of an excited young person at their table.

“Looks like you have yourself a new recruit,” Maria laughs. “What did you settle on for a callsign?”

Ellie tips her head back, answering through a mouthful of potatoes, “Starling!” and slaps a hand over her mouth when a chunk goes flying.

“Ellie, dammit, talk OR chew, not AND.”

Maria ignores Joel’s curse at her dinner table to ask you, “What prompted that?”

You chew and swallow, pointedly showing off the patience that the girl couldn’t muster, a blatant tease. “Seemed a good choice. Kid’s a sucker for the stars.” You match Ellie’s smile before you sweetly add, “And, y’know. Because starlings are loud and annoying as hell.”

That earns you a bird of another kind.

_____

Tommy cuts a good silhouette against the coming twilight as he lines himself up to the peg and explains for his adopted niece how to score a ringer in an after-dinner game of horseshoes. He demonstrates the looseness of the grip, the swing of the iron, and Ellie soaks it up like a sponge, eager to learn.

He’s a good teacher. He taught Maria…who is currently beating his ass. But Maria is good at whatever she does regardless, always has been.

You concluded long ago that it’s not your game. Branded it a Texas thing and took up your spot on the back porch swing with a bottle of cider, kicking off your boots and putting your woolen-socked feet up on the railing to enjoy the setting sun reflecting off the mountain face.

There’s a cheer as Ellie tosses and the shoe lands with a loud clang.

The porch door opens when Joel returns with a bottle for himself. But instead of rejoining the game, he wanders over to sit next to you on the swing, upsetting it enough to pull your feet from their perch.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Pull up a seat, Joel Miller.”

Several lazy minutes pass, a sweet, comfortable silence filled with the occasional sip from a bottle and an exchanged smile as you push at the porch a little, encouraging the swing to do its thing. And he lets his knees go soft, keeps his feet on the ground but aids in a little gentle rocking.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, tipping his head toward his ward as she scores yet again, “for taking her out there. She hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

“Went on about the lambs, complained about how cold the water was. Said she was tired because she liked getting up early in the morning to see the sunrise but liked being in the trees at night and wanted to stay up to listen to the night birds. Said you liked to sing when you work and the fact that she didn’t complain about it–and from what I heard the night we met you–makes me think you’re not too bad at it. Not too fond of your cooking, though.”

That earns a snort from you. “Well I don’t blame her there; I warned y’all. I wouldn’t say she’s the most obedient kid, but she sure is smart, and really capable and brave. That girl eats the world with the spoon she’s so hungry to know all the things all the time. And strong–she swings an axe better than me. Got a mouth on her–”

“Sorry about that–”

“--and is beautifully, brutally honest, and pretty fucking hilarious. She’s really special.”

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Something like pride melts his shoulders as he watches Ellie joke around with Tommy, and then slowly evolves into gratitude as he turns to you, to someone who can see her like he does. “Funny, that’s what she said about you.”

There’s a pull to share in that pride and gratitude, to lean in and let yourself bask in the glow of the compliment.

But a wall goes up when you reveal, as kindly as you can, “She told me Tess didn’t make it.” As his eyes grow stony and deny you the pleasure of their focus, you chase after his attention by turning your body toward him on the swing, bringing a knee up and placing a hand on his forearm, gently urging him to stay here with you. “Hey. She didn’t tell me what happened and I don’t need to know and you don’t have to talk about it. But I do need to ask you one thing. That man out there might be your brother, but he’s my friend. And Tess might have been your lady, but she was still family to him. She was important to him. And he’s important to me. And I need to ask you if he knows.”

The arm under your finger tenses as his fingers grip the cider bottle and you move to let go–to let him know you’re not forcing him–but a hand claps down over yours. It’s now his turn to urge you to stay, to give him a minute, to let him bust through whatever is starting to well up in him so he can swallow and tell you, “He knows.” Another quiet minute as he stares out at his family on the back lawn, his jaw working to bring the air in and keep the tension out. “He knows. Thank you…thank you for… taking care of him too.”

His fingers flutter a little, scarred knuckles contracting and loosening like he’s fighting the instinctual urge to hang onto something. So you set your bottle on the porch railing and gently lift his away too, slip out of this awkward hold and instead shift his hand between both of yours, giving it warmth, giving it permission to hold onto you like it wants to.

“They’re my family, which means you are now too. As long as you plan to leave off your wandering and let us keep you safe and cared for, that’s thanks enough, Joel Miller.”

“Quit that,” he grumbles, clasping your hand in case you interpret his words as an ask for release, needing a stolen moment of secret comfort in the deepening twilight. “Joel’s enough. You sound like my mother.”

“Okay,” you compromise, trying to tame your eager heart, silently explain to it that there’s nothing here but the time to do things right. “Okay, Joel.” You smile. “Joel Joel Cinnamon Roll.”

“Shit,” he cringes, shakes his head slowly, stifling a laugh. “Now you really sound like my mother. That’s what she used to call me, how did you-- Tommy.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

Ellie scores another ringer and Joel smiles. “No, I don’t.”

________

NEXT: SUMMER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f! reader #joel miller x meadowlark #ellie williams #leave off your wandering

400 notes · View notes

leoascendente · 1 year

Text

PAC// What do you need to know? 🔮

Hi loves! Welcome to this new PAC, I hope you enjoy it💕

Take a deep breath and choose your pile. This is a general reading so take only what resonates with you and leave the rest. Choose more than one pile if you feel drwan to.

Decks I used: Goddess guidance oracle, ethereal visions tarot, shadows and lights oracle, shine from the inside cards.

Pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners.

Pile 1:

Intuitive message: Be open to speak your truth, you are wiser than you like to admit, but your wisdom is needed in this world. You have something important to communicate that will help many others to get in touch with a part of themselves they left forgotten. You are full of potential and in your future awaits a lot of abundance, your voice needs to be heard, don't be afraid to stand for what you believe is right, don't be afraid to fail and learn, and even less be afraid of other people's opinion about you, someday you''l be an inspiration for other people and an example to follow. You have something important to do in this lifetime, focus on that, you are a living master, trust yourself. Sagittarius season will bring you the close of a cicle, you'll feel a lot more confident entering the new year, use these lasts months of the year to leave behind any fear or work in any blockage you are having.

You are getting a higher level of understanding about yourself, mostly with your emotions and how you deal with them. You are ending a healing cicle and understanding why certain things have happened to you in your past, you are reaching a very high level of wisdom. You are learning to listen to your inner voice and attend its needs, maybe you are even in touch with your inner child (if you are not I really recommend you to do it).

For these few last months of the year try to release the burdens you still carry, stop for a while and focus on your healing because this time will be aligning with you for release you from the pain that still remains. Also try to spend more time with your close and beloved ones, time with them will bring you so much happiness and gratitude, you'll feel very supported and protected by them, they'll genuenly show how much they care for you and how much they want to see you being happy. You will find some new friends or collaborators who will help you with your projects.

Focus on: There are some issues that needs to heal yet and for releasing them you need more introspection and learning more about your emotional responses to some situations, you have left behind a lot of hurt but there are still some wounds, they are not bleeding but you need to let them be healed. I feel you already know where this pain comes and it probably has to do something about an important loss you had in your past, you are missing someone or something and that can be making you feel empty sometimes. Don't worry babe, remember all the progress you have made, this is just the remains of what you've been through, you have bloomed into a beautiful version of yourself and you keep blooming, give yourself this time to let that behind and move forward into the new year without unnecesary weight on your back.

Advices:

Breathe in bliss, exhale bullshit

Awaken your authentic self, unleash your wild side

Slow down and rest, you need it

Pile 2:

Intuitive message: You are like the sound of violins and the singing of birds at the same time, you are realizing your inner and outside beauty and getting comfortable in the energy of appreciating yourself as the work of art you are, you are tuning into your Divine Femenine but for the most of you I feel you already embodying it. You're powerful and your precense feels powerful too, you know your worth so don't settle for less than what you know you deserve. You have made a long travel to be where you are now and this journey has taken a lot of energy and sacrifice, value that incredible alchemy you have made within yourself, the mountains from within are the hardest to climb and you have done it greatly and gracefully, enjoy this irresistible essence you are embodying. PS: I hear something about pheromones, is that relevant for you??

You are having a glow up babe! you shine like the sun wherever you go, you are focused into improving youself and your image or aesthetic and it's giving it's fruits. You'll start seeing how people feel naturally drawn to you and it's all because of your energy of self confidence, I feel dark femenine vibes from this pile. You have learnt or at least I see you in the process of stablish healthy boundaries, you are done being a people pleaser, you've spent too much time thinking about other people's feelings or thoughts torwards you and now you are entering in an state of pleasing yourself, you are giving to yourself the value and respect you know you deserve. I see you are becoming a safe place for youself, you are trying to be your own protector and counselor, you could even be embellishing your home and decoring it at your style to make it feel comfy and warm (you could have Cancer Venus/Moon or have any of those planets in the 4th house)

You are in a lucky and fertility time, you are probably harvesting the fruits of your labor, a lot of inspiration and new ideas are coming your way, would be great if you could write them to keep focused on your goals and avoid forget any of them. Don't worry babe, the Justice card here reveals you are receiving your dharma after a long time of releasing karmic patterns, now you understand the importance of feeling good within yourself to feel good about the world around you, you are taking the reins of your destiny and writing your own story. You'll receive good news soon about something you have been dreaming of or even a manifestation of your desires.

Focus on: Allow change to happen in your life, don't try to force or rush anything, just go with the flow of circumstances and cut off any of them that is not giving you good feelings anymore. Clean yourself from any negative energy, take care of your soul, mind and body and give them what they need to have a good functioning, nurture yourself and your needs, even make a deep cleanse in your home or wardrobe if you need to Try to keep like this at least through the eclipse season, after this season pass you'll feel completely renewed

Advices:

Ask for help, it doesn't make you weak

Step out of your comfort zone and try something different

Surround yourself with your soul tribe

Pile 3:

Intuitive message: My pile of geniuses! Your intellect is so wide and rich, give it their proper value because your mind is able to reach answers that other people aren't capable of. You might have felt misunderstood in your past, it doesn't matter babe, you are ment to be understood by people vibing in your same frequency. You see the big picture of life and that can feel like a too big responsability besides of feeling lonley and misunderstood, don't worry babe, it seems difficult now but in the future you'll be so proud of yourself! Focus onn learning a new skill by now, or instead you can improve an skill you already have, just do what makes you feel motivated and comfortable because soon a member of your soul tribe will appear in your life and you'll never feel lonley or judged again

You'll be going through a deep transformation that will reforce your psychic powers and abillities, you are shedding your skin to evolve into a new whole version of yourself. You are going to feel very empowered in your own skin and able to get anything you want in life, dreams you had will become a possibility in your future, you can even get psychic glipmses of what your future will look like, would be great if you could start a dream journal or write in a notebook all the visions or feelings you get. You'll be more in tune with your intuition and your guides, you'll start having a deeper bond with them and somehow their communication with you will be a lot more clear, for some of you, you can even develop a new psychic gift you didn't knew you had. Your communication skill wil also improve and if you are having any problem related to your throat chakra will be solving too, for some of you I hear laugh, so you could be getting a more positive mindset that makes you laugh of the mistakes instead of punishing yourself for that, you'll be a lot more kind with yourself. If you've been working to make your inner child happy you must be currently feeling better with yourself and with a better mood.

I must warn you babe, there's a negative mascuine energy around you and you are aware of who is this king os swords reversed, this person has a very weird and uncomfortable energy, when I try to approach their energy I see the face of a man who was stalking me a while ago. My love, if you feel intimidated by this person and that's the reason you are not taking the action of taking them out of your life you need to tell somebody close to you about this situation or call the authorities of the place you live in. Depending on the circumstances with this masculine energy you'll take different actions but please, don't keep person like this near you, their energy is consuming like a black hole (I could give you more details but what I feel is really creepy and has me a little shocked reminding me of my stalker, I hope you don't mind me stopping here). If this energy comes from a romantic interest watch it with cold head, you might be projectingg your good traits into them and that's not letting you see their true face, you probably have an important karmic lesson related to this person.

Focus on: Try to look within yourself to understand why you have attracted a person with such negative energy, this inner discovery will be hand by hand with the transformation process you are in, this will give you many answers about yourself too. This might has something to do with understanding the signals and synchronicities that your guides give you and the meaning of all of them, for this I find very helpful learning about archetypes and symbolism, books about the meaning of dreams are great tools for learning this king of things.

Advices:

Change one thing today, start small

Commit to self care rituals

Be bold, don't be afraid to stand out

Pile 4:

Intuitive message: You are so loving and caring, your heart knows no limits when it comes to share love, kindness and compassion to others, sometimes you can feel these traits about yourself are not being valued by the people around you but your guides want you to know they don't forget any of your gentle touch in the life of the people around you. They really want you to redirect that loving energy to yourself, be a little more selfish whenn you need to and learn to say no when it's needed becaue now you ar being called to take care of yourself to enter in a new chapter of your life with your batteries charged, in a near future you'll be so amazed with the person you've evolved in.

😌Another glow up pile! Go read pile 2 if you felt called to, you might find extra messages there. You are entering into an state of unconditional love but fully focused to yourself and what makes you happy, you'll be healing your relationship with your physical body as well, treating it with the love and respect you know you deserve. You'll be getting more healthy habits like a workout routine or a change in your eating habits. You are so loving and caring but now you understand that this energy must be first focused to yourself, you'll be honoring your Divine femenine by taking care of yourself and your physical needs. You'll be receiving good news about something good you did to somebody else, this new will fullfil your heart with joy and gratitude. This is like a response of your guides reminding you how close they are for when you need their help, they want you to know how strongly protected you are.

This good new will also give you a new perspective about your life, you'll be more certain about your self worth and what you deserve, your self esteem will heal in such a beautiful way, you'll feel more confident about yourself and will not be afraid to raise your voice to be heard. Someone from your past can appear soon, you'll have the chance to be honest and tell them what you think (this person can be an air sign) you might expect an argument from this person but they will surprise you for the good. Somehow this person attitude or what they have to say will make you feel awesome about yourself. For some I see this person could hurt you in the past and you were expecting any kind of regret about the way they treated you, idk what plan you have torwards this person but after that you'll feel like a living goddess.

Focus on: Feeling sexy and irrisistible, pamper yourself with the things that makes you feel comfortable in your own skin. You can also change your style, your hair or the decoration of your place, make a sacred temple for yourself and water your inner garden. There's something important related to your sexuality you need to get more in touch with, try to make things to heal this energy, maybe you are a little like me, you have your moments of feeling like a living goddess but you get unconfortable when people stare at you or give you compliments, in my case I had to befriend with the siren archetype, you can try it too or look for the archetype you feel more identified with.

Advices:

Get creative and excite your imagination

Keep your thoughts possitive

Trust your intuition, she's always right

Pile 5:

Intuitive message: You are an strong fighter, my love, you have overcome so many battles and most of them just by yourself. You have trusted the Universe and have accepted its challenges for you even when you didn't wanted to, don't worry, this chapter of your life will bring you a reward, you just have to be patient and keep in the present moment. You are Divinely guided, my love, get close to your spiritual team, they are there to help you whenever you need it.

Well... This is a message of encouragement and recover hope in life, you've been through a lot, a I mean a looooooot in your life. It's pretty awesome that you are able to keep having faith that life has somethinig better for you, value and honor that hope you have within because it will be the compass that leads you to the life of your dreams. Your guides are providing you giving you what you need for the moment, when it's the time they will give you what you really want, this is just a process and a journey of self discovery and it's worthy to transit it. Your guides also tell you to start asking them more of their help, they are just right there but you have been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and they want you to know that you don't have to, ask them for guidance and they will give you a sign of their precense.

Your energy has been feeling very low for these past few months, I feel exhaustation and anxiety, maybe you've been even having problems for sleeping. You've been lacking enjoyment in your life, maybe you've felt a little depressive, if you feel like this I would recommend you any kind of therapy you feel comfortable doing, ik some of you might not like it but when we feel like this we need a helping hand that helps us understand what's going on and give us some answers, we can't do everything by ourselves always and we don't have always the answer to our problems. You deserve to feel happy and plenty, don't worry because you will be but first you need to attend yourself and heal from the pain you've been feeling, winter is always a wonderful time to rest, reconnect with our essence and gain strengths for the spring, so would be great if you could work on yourself and your healing journey, I promise that if you do you'll find a lot of relief and your guides will be there to help and provide what you need to keep going on, they will also make you feel you have a good company by your side when you get tired of humans 😊

Focus on: Your uniqueness and inner magic, get in tune with your intuition, try to practice any kind of divination, get a pendulum... anything that helps you develop the priestess you have within. You have psychic gifts and they are jewells waiting to be polished, don't be afraid because nothing bad will happen to you if you listen to your heart. The eclipse season will feel lighter for you but you might see the people around you tense and anxious, just focus on resting and cleaning your energy.

Advices:

Tune into your inner peace, you deserve a break

Trust your intuition, she's always right

You are pure magic

Pile 6:

Intuitive message: You've been projecting your energy outside for too long, it's time to rest and reconnect with your creative side and keep away from the negative energies around you. You have something relevant to do but there are people getting in your way or distracting you, for some you can be even recieving bad energy for making you stop progressing. Somehow you are conscious about these draining people or situations but you are not sure of what you should do. Don't put a mask to fit or be accepted by somebody else, if you have to fake who you are when you are with somebody that person is not giving you anything positive. You need to let yourself just be and enjoy, don't reject your beautiful essence for somebody else because that's cruel to you and you don't deserve to feel that unecessary pressure. If this energy comes from a brunette female, mostly a friend, be careful because there's a feeling of envy and competition coming from this female.

I feel an energy of discomfort from you, maybe this is a recent feeling or you've been dealing with it for a long time, whatever your situation is you are being called to groud yourself and work in your root chakra, probably heart chakra is calling for balance too. Your best skills to deal with this and keep evolving is to reconnect with Mother Earth, reforce your connection with nature and animals, spend more time indooors making a cozy home for you. Creativity is another important skill to improve, I'm pretty sure that the skills you develop related to these 2 themes is going to open a door for abundance in your future and this is just the learning process for you to do something important with your knowledge in the future, also this will help you relief that hard feeling you had.

The word that comes to my mind all the time is pressure and 10 of wands confirms that there's something feeling very heavy in your life, I feel it mostly related to somebody else's attitude torwards you or the relationship you have with somebody. You are not being grounded and this is leading you to be surrounded by confusing energies, you have the artist card too telling you that you are spending too much time in your imagination and not in the present moment, but I want to give you more happy news. Meditate more often, meditation gives you an space for the daydream too and you can use it to visualize the life you want to live, learn about asssumption law and manifesting so you can use your vivid imagination at your favor. Avoid focusing too much in resentment because karma is always working so it's not necessary for you to worry about somebody else's consequences of their actions, the most important thing for you should be have a clear conscience. For some of you I'm hearing something about feeling guilty, if that's your case you should know that guilt is a chatholic construction to makes us feel unworthy and hopeless when we make the "wrong choice", instead of guilt use the word responsability, if you did something that makes you feel uncomfortable with your own behavior take the responsibility of braking that pattern by healing yoursef. Learning to be generous with ourselves makes us understand better how can we be generous with others.

Focus on: Stop pleasing people and keepeng away from dramatic people or situations, sometimes the cost of being truly ourselves is making some people uncomfortable but that is necessary too, if someone to feel happy wants you to be someone you are not they don't love you unconditionally and you deserve unconditional love. this is probably a wound you have, to reject your happiness to make others happy, this is a beautiful trait that talks so well about you, but this also can make you naive and compleisant with insatisfaction. Who really loves you want to see you shine, will get happy everytime you overcome fear to become a greater and healthier version of yourself, don't worry babe, the correct people will come when it's the time and probably you have very good people by your side (mostly family) at the moment, then leave the people that leaves a negative influence behind and keep the ones that want you to succed close to you, you'll feel a lot lighter than before. This will also brings a healing process that feels very loving so I feel that you are going to have an extra spiritual guidance through this time, if you felt called to pile 1 or 5 go read it because it tells you too to approach your guides and ask them for help.

Advices:

Align your intentions with your actions

Stay away from drama today

Show off your sparkle and shine from the inside

#witch #witchblr #tarot spread #leoascendente #pac reading #tarot reading #tarot pac #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a card reading #tarot cards #tarot #divination witch #intuitive readings #oracle cards

1K notes · View notes